mpletely shutting out all view of the water. It
was a likely spot enough, having firm ground under-foot, with
sufficient room for a royal struggle, and here I determined to try a
passage-at-arms with my burly antagonist. It was useless to hope for
surprise. He was an old soldier dogging my steps, doubtless eying my
every motion, his own hand hard gripping his sword hilt, ready to cut
me down did slightest need arise. No; it must be foot to foot, eye to
eye, a club of steel against the dancing blade; yet I felt the strange
contest would not prove unfair, for he was a man not as agile as in
years agone, while his armor of proof, valuable as it might be in the
turning of a sword thrust, would be more burden than protection against
my rifle-stock.

"Senor," I said, in studied courtesy, stopping suddenly and confronting
him, "I have hunted across this wilderness more than one season, and
dislike greatly being estopped now by Spanish decree. Nor do I
comprehend your right in this matter. Have you warrant for opposing
our peaceful passage to the Ohio?"

He stared at me in undisguised amazement at my boldness, a grim smile
on his hard, set face.

"Ay! I have, fellow," he finally retorted angrily, tapping his hilt.
"'Tis in this scabbard at my side."

"Then draw it, Senor," I exclaimed, throwing forward my long rifle
menacingly. "And may God stand with the better man."

I have a conception that at the moment he believed he was being fronted
by a crazed man, yet there was in my face an expression quickly
teaching him otherwise, and, with a swift twist, he flashed his sword
forth into the sunlight, standing on guard.

"_Por Baco_!" he growled savagely, "you must be little better than a
fool to hoist that club. It will give me pleasure to teach you better
manners toward a grandee of Spain."

"Grandee, or not," I retorted, angered at his implied contempt, "I may
teach you a trick, Senor, with that same club, never learned in your
Spanish fencing-schools."

It was swift, intense fighting from the word, he proving past-master of
his weapon, yet my stiff rifle-barrel was no mean defence against his
lighter blade, with a reach preventing his point touching my body, and
sufficient weight to bear down the thin, murderous steel whenever the
two came into contact. It had been long practice with me, having
picked up the pretty trick from a French zouave when I was a boy, so I
swung the iron as if it were a single-stick; a