Alvarez was surprised. He had seen from Paul's position and the manner in
which he held his weapon that he knew something about the sword, but he
was not prepared for such a skillful parry.
"Good, Paul! Good!" cried Long Jim, a sudden hope bounding up in his
heart. "Go in! Trim him! Slice off his mustache for him!"
Alvarez was stung by the taunt. Braxton Wyatt made an angry movement
toward Long Jim, but the Spaniard again waved him back. His own pride
would not permit him to silence the taunter in such a way. No, he would
silence him in another manner. But the cry of Long Jim had its effect upon
Paul, too. It aroused him to a supreme effort. He leaped forward
suddenly, thrust quick as lightning, and then leaped away. The Spaniard
had parried, but the blade nevertheless cut the cloth of his brilliant
coat, making a long gash. The cut was not in the flesh, only in the cloth,
but Alvarez was stung by it and the sting became the more bitter when Long
Jim cried out:
"Hooray, Paul! That wuz somethin' like! He thought he wuz goin' to murder
you, but he ain't!"
Alvarez, furious, rushed in and Paul, keen of eye and alert of muscle,
fought on the defensive. Lucky for him now that he remembered all the
lessons taught to him by the old soldier of the great French and Indian
war, and lucky for him, too, that he had lived such a temperate life!
Steel met steel and the ringing sound filled the little glade.
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