Not to be outdone, I took off my sword, though that was more an
encumbrance than a weapon.

"I have but the two shots," I said.

"Then I will take but the two arrows," cried my opponent, shaking the
rest out of his quiver; and at this there was a murmur of applause.
There were some notions of decency among these Western Indians.

I bade him take a quiverful. "You will need them," said I, looking as
truculent as my chicken heart would permit me.

They took me to the eastern side of the wood, and there we waited for
the signal, which was a musket shot, telling me that Mayoga was ready
to enter at the opposite end. My companions were friendly enough, and
seemed to look on the duel as a kind of sport. I could not understand
their tongue, but I fancy that they wagered among themselves on the
issue, if, indeed, that was in doubt, or, at any rate, on the time
before I should fall. They had forgotten that they had tortured me the
night before, and one clapped me on the shoulder and seemed to
encourage me. Another pointed to my raw shins, and wound some kind of
soft healing fibre round my feet and ankles. I did my best to keep a
stout face, and when the shot came, I waved my hand to them and plunged
boldly into the leafy darkness.

But out of the presence of men my courage departed, and I became the
prey of dismal fear. How was I, with my babyish woodcraft, to contend
for a moment against an Indian who was as subtle and velvet-footed as a
wild beast? The wood was mostly of great oaks and chestnuts, with a