again, and again he deftly
turned aside the blow.

The two sailors sitting on the log looked at each other once more, but
they did not chuckle.

Robert, still watching the close-set cruel eyes, saw a look of doubt
appear there.

"My bad quarter of an hour seems to be delayed, captain," he said with
irony.

The man, stung beyond endurance, attacked with fury, the heavy cutlass
singing and whistling as he slashed and thrust. Robert contented
himself with the defense, giving ground slowly and moving about in a
circle. The captain's eye at first glittered with a triumphant light
as he saw his foe retreat, and the two sailors sitting on the log and
exchanging looks found cause to chuckle once more.

But the light sank as they completed the circle, leaving Robert
untouched, and breathing as easily as ever, while the captain was
panting. Now he decided that his own time had come and knowing that
the combat was mental as well as physical he taunted his opponent.

"In truth, captain," he said, "my bad quarter of an hour did not
arrive, but yours, I think, is coming. Look! Look! See the red spot
on your waistcoat!"

Despite himself the captain looked down. The sword flickered in like
lightning, and then flashed away again, but when it was gone the red
spot on the waistcoat was there. His flesh stung with a slight wound,
but the wound to his spirit was deeper. He rushed in and slashed
recklessly.

"Have a care, captain!" cried Robert. "You are fencing very wildly! I
tell you again that your play with the cutlass is bad. You can't see
it, but there is now a red spot on your cheek to match the one on your
waistcoat."

His sword darted by the other's guard, and when it came away it's
point was red with blood. A deep and dripping gash in the captain's
left cheek showed where it had passed. The two sailors sitting on the
log exchanged looks once more, but there was no sign of a chuckle.

"That's for being a slaver, captain," said Robert. "It's a bad
occupation, and you ought to quit it. But your wound will leave a
scar, and you will not like to say that it was made by one whom you
kidnapped, and undertook to carry away to his death."

The captain in a long career of crime and cruelty had met with but few
checks, and to experience one now from the hands of a lad was bitter
beyond endurance. The sting was all the greater because of his
knowledge that the two sailors who still exchanged looks but no
chuckles, were witness