er took his eye from that of
de Mezy, and at last the count began to feel that something lay behind
that calm, smiling gaze. The drink and the multitude of lost hours came
back to demand their price. Something bit into his bone. Was it physical
weakness or a sudden decay of confidence? He did not see any sign of
weariness in his young opponent, and putting forth every effort of his
muscles and every trick and device he knew he could not break through
that shining guard of circling steel.

The strange apprehension that had suddenly found a place in de Mezy's
mind began to grow. The slow retreat of his young antagonist was
becoming slower and then it ceased entirely. Now the leaping sword
before him began to drive him back, and always the calm smiling eyes
probed into his, reading what he would keep hidden deep in his heart.
They saw the terror that was growing there. The disbelief in his
antagonist's prowess was now fast turning into a hideous contradiction,
and all the while drink and the lost hours that had clamored for their
price were taking it.

De Mezy began to give back. His breath grew shorter and he gasped. The
deep mottled red returned to his cheeks, and terror took whole
possession of him. He had struck down his man before and he had laughed,
but he had never faced such a swordsman as this strange youth of the
woods, with his smiling eyes and his face which was a mask despite the
smile.

Nemours and Le Moyne turned pale. They saw that their leader had never
once passed the bar of steel before him, and that while he panted and
grew weary Lennox seemed stronger than ever. They saw, too, that the
youth was a swordsman far surpassing de Mezy and that now he was playing
with his enemy. He struck down his opponent's guard at will, and his
blade whistled about his body and face. Nemours' hand fell to his own
hilt, but the watchful Willet saw.

"Be careful," the hunter said in a menacing tone. "Obey the rules or
I'll know the reason why."

Nemours' hand fell away from the hilt, and he and Le Moyne exchanged
glances, but stood helpless. De Mezy had been driven backward in an
almost complete circle. His wrist and arm ached to the shoulder, and
always he saw before him the leaping steel and the smiling mask of a
face. He caught a glimpse of the blue sky and the shining river, and
then his eyes came back to the one that held his fate. Well for de Mezy
that he had made the offer that morning to substitute Willet for