“If this lad has been taught as they indicate he has, our ruffling bully, Jean de Mezy, is in for a bad half hour,” he said to himself.  Then he looked at Willet, built heavily, with great shoulders and chest, but with all the spring and activity of a young man.  His glance passed on to Tayoga, the young Onondaga, in all the splendor of his forest attire, standing by the wall, his eyes calm and fathomless.  It occurred all at once to Captain de Galisonniere that he was in the presence of an extraordinary three, each remarkable in his own way, and, liking the unusual, his interest in them deepened.  It did not matter that they were his official enemies, because on the other hand they were his personal friends.

“Now, Robert,” said Willet, “watch my eye, because I’m going to put you to a severe test.  Ready?”

“Aye, ready, sir!” replied Robert, speaking like a pupil to his master.  Then the two advanced toward the center of the room and faced each other, raising their slim swords which flashed in the flame of the candles like thin lines of light.  Then Willet thrust like lightning, but his blade slipped off Robert’s, and young Lennox thrust back only to have his own weapon caught on the other.

“Ah,” exclaimed the gallant Frenchman.  “Well done!  Well done for both!”

Then he held his breath as the play of the swords became so fast that the eye could scarcely follow.  They made vivid lines, and steel flashed upon steel with such speed that at times the ringing sound seemed continuous.  Willet’s agility was amazing.  Despite his size and weight he was as swift and graceful as a dancing master, and the power of his wrist was wonderful.  The amazement of young de Galisonniere increased.  He had seen the best swordsmanship in Quebec, and he had seen the best swordsmanship in Paris, but he had never seen better swordsmanship than that shown in a room of the Inn of the Eagle by a man whom he had taken to be a mere hunter in the American wilderness.

De Galisonniere was an artist with the sword himself, and he knew swordsmanship when he saw it.  He knew, too, that Lennox was but little inferior to Willet.  He saw that the older man was not sparing the youth, that he was incessantly beating against the strongest parts of his defense, and that he was continually seeking out his weakest.  Robert was driven around and around the room, and yet Willet did not once break through his guard.

“Ah, beautiful! beautiful!” exclaimed the Frenchman.  “I did not know that such swordsmen could come out of the woods!”

His eyes met those of the Onondaga and for the first time he saw a gleam in their dark depths.

“Their swords are alive,” said Tayoga.  “They are living streaks of flame.”

“That describes it, my friend,” said de Galisonniere.  “I shall be proud to be one of the seconds of Mr. Lennox in the morning.”

Willet suddenly dropped the buttoned point of his rapier and raised his left hand.