ng little air from
soft Provence, and whirled his blade with such dainty skill that even
the stoical Indians gazed in awe upon the laughing cavalier. Fighting
through a bye-street, he met, steel to steel, a Spanish gentleman,
within the sweep of whose sword lay half a dozen of our good fellows.

De la Mora glanced at this silent tribute to the Spaniard's prowess;
his face lighted up with a soldier's joy. He planted one foot
staunchly across a prostrate corpse, and right jauntily rang out the
hissing music of their steel. Instinctively I paused to watch, and as
instinctively understood that though pressed to his best, de la Mora
desired to be left alone. Verily it was a gentleman's fight, and no
odds, for love and glory's sake, though the Spaniard might have had a
whit the better. As I fought on, I heard the swift hurtle of a flying
knife, and saw the Spaniard drop his sword. De la Mora glanced round
with indignant eyes to the Choctaw who had made the cast, now looking
for approval from this gentleman who sang like a woman and fought like
a fiend. The Chevalier was like to have wreaked summary vengeance for
striking so foul a blow. Through the press I could see him go up to
his late adversary, bare-headed and courteous, to extricate him from
the motley, bleeding group wherein he had fallen. Throwing his
powerful shoulder against a door, he broke it down, and tenderly
carried the wounded gentleman within. I could then see him quietly
standing guard at the door, waiting for the turmoil to cease, for it
was then quite evident that the day was ours.

Already the Choctaws were busy tearing the reeking scalps from the
living and the dead. De la Mora's face grew deathly pale at the sight;
his cheeks did play the woman, and one might deem him my lady's dapper
page, catching his maiden whiff of blood. This generous act kept him
from being in at the close of the fray, and robbed him of the greater
meed of glory which he might have thereby won. Twice that day, as he
struck down a pike aimed at my breast, did he make me to feel in my
heart like a lying thief--I, who was weak enough to imagine his
dishonor.

Just at the last there was a trifling incident occurred which my lads
insisted was greatly to my credit. News of this was carried straight
to the Governor, and much was made thereof.

Bienville, with his Frenchmen, battered down the gates, and before many
minutes the proud Castilian pennon lowered to the milk-wh