river's edge; I could hear it lapping their heels. His Lordship
sneered, looking at the veteran who stood in a gray frock of
homespun, for all the world, I fancy, like one of those old yeomen
who fought with Cromwell.

"Your sword, sir," my father repeated.

"Pardon me," said the young man, with a fascinating coolness of
manner, "but I shall have to trouble you--"

He hesitated, feeling his blade.

"How?" said my father.

"To fight for it," said his Lordship, quietly.

"Surrender--fool!" my father answered. "You cannot escape."

"Tut, tut!" said his Lordship. "I never heard so poor a
compliment. Come in reach, and I shall make you think better of
me."

"Give up your sword."

"After my life, then my sword," said he, with a quick thrust.

Before I could take a step, their swords were clashing in deadly
combat. I rushed up to break in upon them, but the air was full of
steel, and then my father needed no help. He was driving his man
with fiery vigor. I had never seen him fight; all I had seen of