e about as well as any
officer, with a few exceptions. The captain was skilled in the use of
the sword, and had it not been for the more important battle around
them, both might have taken time to "try for points." But the present
contest was not merely one of skill, it was one for supremacy, and Deck
went at his man with a will from the very outset.

A parry and a thrust, and Deck felt the cold steel touch him in the rib.
But a rearing up by Ceph saved him from serious injury, and he went at
his man again. They had circled half way around, so that neither had an
advantage, so far as the ground was concerned.

Suddenly the captain made a savage blow for Deck's neck, putting forth
all his strength and quickness in the motion. Had the blow fallen as
intended, the major's head might have fallen from his shoulders.

But Deck was wide awake, and warded off the blow by an upper-cut which
nicked his sabre, but did no further damage. Before the captain could
recover, the major threw his sabre over on a side thrust, and the
Confederate received the point of the blade in his shoulder.

"Oh!" groaned the victim, and gave a gasp. He tried to recover, but
Major Lyon was too fast for him. He hit the sword sharply, and in a
twinkling it sailed into the trees, to lodge among some small branches.
The weapon had hardly left the captain's hand when a riderless horse ran
against his own, and he went down, under the runaway's feet. Ceph
swerved to one side; and then Deck was carried away from the scene of
the stirring encounter.

The combat had warmed the major's blood, and he rode to regain the front
of his battalion. It was some distance down the slope, and as he moved
along he saw Sandy Lyon having a hard time of it with two Confederate
sergeants, who seemed determined to bring the acting captain of the
fifth company to grief. All three combatants were on foot, and it was a
case of two pistols against a sabre, for Sandy's weapon was empty.

As Deck came up at full speed, or rather, as rapidly as the nature of
the ground permitted, he saw his cousin on one knee, he having received
an ugly wound below the left knee. One Confederate sergeant had fired
his shot, and now his companion was about to follow it with a second,
aimed at the acting captain's head.

Sandy Lyon made a stroke at the pistol with his sabre, but failed to
reached it. The Confederate pulled the trigger, and it must be confessed
that the young man who had fought so b