repeated thrusts of his antagonist,
which kept him all the time on the defensive, while Santander appeared
equally astonished and discomfited by that far-reaching arm, straight as
a yardstick, with elbow never bent. Could the Creole have but added six
inches to his rapier blade, in less than ten seconds the young Irishman
would have had nearly so much of it passed between his ribs.

Twice its point touched, slightly scratching the skin upon his breast,
and drawing blood.

For quite twenty minutes the sanguinary strife continued without any
marked advantage to either. It was a spectacle somewhat painful to
behold, the combatants themselves being a sight to look upon. Kearney's
shirt of finest white linen showed like a butcher's; his sleeves
encrimsoned; his hands, too, grasping his rapier hilt, the same--not
with his own blood, but that of his adversary, which had run back along
the blade; his face was spotted by the drops dashed over it from the
whirling wands of steel.

Gory, too, was the face of Santander; but gashed as well. Bending
forward to put in a point, the Creole had given his antagonist a chance,
resulting to himself in a punctured cheek, the scar of which would stay
there for life.

It was this brought the combat to an end; or, at all events, to its
concluding stroke. Santander, vain of his personal appearance, on
feeling his cheek laid open, suddenly lost command of himself, and with
a fierce oath rushed at his adversary, regardless of the consequences.

He succeeded in making a thrust, though not the one he intended. For
having aimed at Kearney's heart, missing it, his blade passed through
the buckle of the young Irishman's braces, where in an instant it was
entangled.

Only for half a second; but this was all the skilled swordsman required.
Now, first since the fight began, his elbow was seen to bend. This to
obtain room for a thrust, which was sent, to all appearance, home to his
adversary's heart.

Every one on the ground expected to see Santander fall; for by the force
of the blow and direction Kearney's blade should have passed through his
body, splitting the heart in twain. Instead, the point did not appear
to penetrate even an inch! As it touched, there came a sound like the
chinking of coin in a purse, with simultaneously the snap of a breaking
blade, and the young Irishman was seen standing as in a trance of
astonishment, in his hand but the half of a sword, the other half
gleami