Every eye turned upon Bu-lot and Mo-sar, who
sat together directly opposite the king. The first was very drunk
though suddenly he seemed quite sober. He was so drunk that for an
instant he forgot to be a coward, since his reasoning powers were
so effectually paralyzed by the fumes of liquor that he could not
intelligently weigh the consequences of his acts. It is reasonably
conceivable that a drunk and angry rabbit might commit a rash
deed. Upon no other hypothesis is the thing that Bu-lot now did
explicable. He rose suddenly from the seat to which he had sunk
after delivering his toast and seizing the knife from the sheath
of the warrior upon his right hurled it with terrific force at
Ko-tan. Skilled in the art of throwing both their knives and their
clubs are the warriors of Pal-ul-don and at this short distance
and coming as it did without warning there was no defense and but
one possible result--Ko-tan, the king, lunged forward across the
table, the blade buried in his heart.
A brief silence followed the assassin's cowardly act. White with
terror, now, Bu-lot fell slowly back toward the doorway at his rear,
when suddenly angry warriors leaped with drawn knives to prevent
his escape and to avenge their king. But Mo-sar now took his stand
beside his son.
"Ko-tan is dead!" he cried.
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