r than Paul's and when he faced the lad he
suddenly grasped the hilt of his weapon in both hands and twirled it about
until it made a glittering circle. The crowd set up a shout, but Paul felt
chilled through and through.

"I have no quarrel with this man," he called to Alvarez, "and I will not
fight him."

"You have no choice," replied Alvarez, and the more savage in the crowd,
who wished to see barbaric sport, shouted their approval. But some were
silent. Long Jim struggled with four men, and exclaimed, "It's murder!
He's only a boy!" But the four held him fast.

The swordsman, grinning in the certainty of easy triumph, advanced upon
Paul.

Now Paul understood. He was there to furnish sport, terrible, deadly
sport, and he must fight if he would save himself. As Alvarez truly said,
no choice was left to him. If he sprang for the barrier they would thrust
him back, and that was not a thing to be endured.

Francisco Alvarez, spurred on by the sting of his wound, and urged, too,
by Braxton Wyatt, who was mad for the deed the moment he heard of it, had
done this wicked thing. The strain of cruelty in his nature, inherited
perhaps, from far-off ancestors who had looked upon pitiless games in the
arena in the Roman cities in Spain, was completely in control.

"It is better than I thought," he said to Braxton Wyatt. "The ring serves
the purpose well. We shall have some royal sport If Kaintock will but
fight."

"He will fight," said Braxton Wyatt.

The swordsman advanced upon Paul and thrust with his shining blade. Paul
felt intuitively that he was a master of the weapon, reinforced, too, by
enormous strength. He, a boy, would have but little chance. Yet he parried
the thrust and replied with one of his own that flashed dangerously near
the man's side. The crowd again shouted approval, but as before some were
silent. Long Jim made another effort to drag himself loose, but he could
not. The men held him. Nevertheless, he repeated his cry: "It's murder!
He's only a boy!"

The rapid interchange of thrust and parry followed, and the swordsman grew
angry. He was there not only to furnish sport, but to have it also for
himself. He did not like to be held back by one over whom he had thought
victory so easy. Suddenly he exerted his full strength and broke through
Paul's guard. The lad felt his left shoulder and arm seared as if by a
great flame, and, with a cry that he could not repress, he dropped back.

The swordsman, t