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LL have it, I tell you! Curse you!—there!" The long knife glittered, was sheathed, and was bare. The sawyer staggered and tripped and fell, And falling he uttered a frightened yell: His face to the sky, he shuddered and gasped. And tried to put from him the man he had grasped A moment before in the terrible strife. "I'll have it, I tell you, or have your life! Where is it?" The sawyer grew weak, but still His brown face gleamed with a desperate will. "Where is it?" he heard, and the red knife's drip In his slayer's hand fell down on his lip. "Will you give it?" "Never!" A curse, the knife Was raised and buried.