let me
teach you how to use a sword."

"Yes, I know; but my mother always objected. She doesn't like swords.
I do."

"Of course you do, sir. It's a lad's nature to like one. Ready?"

"Yes," cried Roy, standing on his guard; "but look out this time, Ben,
because I mean you to have something."

"That's right, sir; but mind this: I'm not going to let my stick travel
like a snail after a cabbage-leaf this time. I'm going to cut as I
should with a sword, only I'm going to hit as if you were made of glass,
so as not to break you. Now!"

The old soldier's eyes flashed as he threw one foot forward, Roy doing
the same; but it was his newly polished sword that flashed as he
prepared to guard the cuts, taking care, or meaning to take care, to
hold his blade at such an angle that the stick would glance off. The
encounter ended in a few seconds. _Whizz, whirr, pat, pat, pat_, and
the elastic ash sapling came down smartly upon the boy's arms, legs,
sides, shoulders, and finished off with a rap on the head, with the
result that Roy angrily threw the sword jangling upon the floor, and
stood rubbing his arms and sides viciously.

"You said you were going to hit at me as if I were made of glass," cried
the boy.

"So I did. Don't mean to say those taps hurt you?"

"Hurt? They sting horribly."

"Why, those cuts would hardly have killed flies, sir. But why didn't
you guard?"

"Guard? I did guard," cried Roy, angrily, as he rubbed away; "but you
were so quick."

"Oh, I can cut quicker than that, sir. You see I got in before you did
every time. I'd cut, and was on my way to give another before you were
ready for the first. Come, they don't tingle now, do they?"

"Tingle? Yes. Here, I want a stick. I'm not going to leave off
without showing you how it does hurt."

"Better leave off now, sir," said the man, grinning.

"But I don't want to," cried Roy; and picking up the sword which he had
handled with a feeling of pride, he took the other stick, and, crying
"Ready!" attacked in his turn, striking hard and as swiftly as he could,
but _crack, crack, crack_, wherever he struck, there was the defensive
sapling; and at last, with his arm and shoulder aching, the boy lowered
his point and stood panting, with his brow moist with beads of
perspiration.

"Well done!" cried Ben. "Now that's something like a first lesson.
Why, those last were twice as good as any you gave before."

"Yes," said Roy, proudly; "I thou