We were sitting around the kitchen table when there was a knock at the door. It was late at night and we were startled for there are not many houses around us and not many of the people keep late hours. It was a peculiar knock--not like one people usually use. My father got up slowly and went to the door, opened it and saw the tramp. He immediately gave the screen door a push, the force of it sending the man reeling off the wide step onto the ground. My dad went out after him and a fight began. I was afraid he was going to hurt my father, so I picked up a knife and ran out the door. Mother following me. We stood there and watched the fight for a short time. Then, using the knife I held in my hand, I slashed at the tramp several times, until there was a great amount of blood on the ground. My father overcame the tramp, but being completely exhausted, he collapsed on the ground. Lying there, he appeared to have three hands. This woke me up. (The tramp was probably in his late 30's or early 40's.)