Alvarez laughed derisively and the others echoed the laugh of their master, but Paul held up his own sword, also, until it glittered in the light.  Every nerve and muscle became taut, and the blood went back from his brain, leaving it cool and clear.

“Come on,” he said to Alvarez.  “I’m ready.”

They stood in a level glade, and the two faced each other, the sunshine lighting up all the area enclosed by the cypresses.  Around them stood Braxton Wyatt and the followers of Alvarez.

FOOTNOTES: 

[Footnote B:  It is probable that the bluff, indicated by Paul, is the one on which the present city of Memphis stands.]

CHAPTER IX

PAUL AND THE SPANIARD

Francisco Alvarez never suffered from the vice of humility.  While he was planning to make himself Governor General of Louisiana he thought also that the selection was a most admirable one.  Nor would he have condescended now to cross a blade with this boy from the backwoods, but his pride had been bitterly hurt by the deeds of Paul and his comrades.  Such presumption must be punished, and the punishment must be of a humiliating kind.

The Spaniard took the point of his sword between his thumb and forefinger and bent the blade a little.  The steel was flexible and true.  Then he put himself on guard, and physically he was a splendid figure of a man, tall, compact, and obviously skilled with his weapon.

Long Jim Hart writhed again in his bonds.  His heart yearned over Paul, his young comrade.

“Stop it! stop it!” he cried.  “It’s murder, I say, fur a man used to them weepins to set upon a boy.”

“Shall we gag this fellow, Captain?” asked Braxton Wyatt, who enjoyed the scene.

“No,” replied Alvarez, scornfully.  “Let him make as much noise as he pleases.”

Paul heard Long Jim’s second protest, but now he did not answer.  He was intently watching Alvarez.  He had read the look in the eye of the Spanish leader, and he knew that Alvarez not only intended to punish him, but also to make that process as mortifying as possible.  But Paul was yet unafraid.  Although not as large and powerful as Henry, he was nevertheless a very strong youth, used to the open air and exercise, and wonderfully flexible and alert.  He held the sword lightly but firmly with the point well forward, ready for any movement by his antagonist.

Alvarez came a step nearer.  His sword flashed, but Paul dextrously caught the stroke upon his own weapon, and the blade glanced off, ringing.  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!”