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.  The others were silent, leaning a little forward, lips slightly apart.  A new element of uncertainty had come into the combat, and even Braxton Wyatt shared in the excitement that had been aroused by it.

Alvarez uttered a cry of satisfaction and then stepped back.  Paul stood still while the blood came slowly from a cut across his left arm and dyed his sleeve.  He had thrown out the arm just in time to ward off a thrust at his heart, but he received a slash in its place.  The pain was considerable but Paul scarcely felt it; his mind was too intent on the crisis, and his head was yet clear and cool.

“Never you mind, Paul!  Never you mind!” cried Long Jim. “’Twas only a lucky sweep uv his! you’ll git him yet.”

Paul gave his informal second a smile of confidence, for second he was with his encouraging tongue, even though bound and helpless otherwise.

Paul suddenly rushed in, struck swiftly, and, although the blow was parried, he thrust again so quickly that his blade passed inside the guard of Alvarez, pierced through his doublet, and wounded him in the side.  Mad with pain and rage Alvarez struck furiously, but Paul caught the blow so skillfully that the Spaniard’s sword broke in his hand.

Long Jim shouted with delight.

“You’ve beat him, Paul! you’ve beat him!” he cried.  “Go in now and trim his mustache right off his face!”

Braxton Wyatt struck him a blow on the cheek.

“Shut up, will you!” he cried.

Paul, sword in hand, turned away.  He would not cut down an unarmed man, and some strain of chivalry hidden beneath the Spaniard’s ambition and cruelty recognized the boy’s nobility.  He stepped aside and rebuked Braxton Wyatt for striking Long Jim.  Then he took off his doublet and one of the men bound up his wound, which was painful but not at all dangerous.  His heart was full of rage and chagrin, but he did not show either.