CHAPTER XV
A PASSAGE AT ARMS
He stood motionless, one hand grasping the limb of a tree, leaning farout so as to gaze up the river, totally unconscious of my approach.The fellow was tall, yet heavily built, wearing a great leather helmetwith brass facings, his body encased in a slashed doublet, the strapfastenings of a steel breastplate showing at waist and shoulders, whilehigh boots of yellow cordovan leather extended above his knees. Inoticed also the upward curve of a huge gray moustache against thestern profile of his face, while a long straight sword dangled at hisside. Evidently the stranger was a soldier, and one not to be despisedin feats at arms, although in what service I might merely conjecture,as his dress was not distinctive. Yet it was small likelihood anyother nation than Spain had armed men in those parts.
That he had discovered and was watching our camp, I entertained nodoubt, yet for the moment the surprise of seeing him was so great I wasunable to choose my safer course,--should I withdraw silently as Icame, or make quick attack? If the first, he would certainly see merecross the river, and suspect my mission. Nor was the otheralternative more promising. If I sprang upon him (and he looked aburly antagonist), such combat could not be noiseless, and surely thefellow was not alone in this wilderness. How close at hand lurked hiscompanions was beyond guessing, yet, if the sound of struggle arousedthat band of wolves, my life would not be worth the snapping of afinger. I felt cold chills creep up my spine as I stood hesitating,one foot uplifted, my eyes staring at that motionless figure.
I waited too long, until every vantage left me. Suddenly the soldierswung back from his lookout on to firmer ground, wheeled, and faced me.I marked his start of surprise, noting his right hand drop, withsoldierly instinct, upon the sword hilt, half drawing the blade beforerecovering from that first impulse. Then curiosity usurped the placeof fear. He took one step backward, still upon guard, surveying mecarefully with one glinting gray eye, for the other had been closed bya slashing cut, which left an ugly white scar extending half-way downhis cheek. Except for this deformity, he was a man of fair appearance,having a stern, clearly chiselled face, with a certain arrogant manner,telling of long authority in scenes of war. A half smile of contemptplayed across his features as he ran me down from head to foot,evidently with the thought I was little worthy of his steel. It wasthen I recognized him. There had been familiarity about his great bulkfrom the first, yet now, as I faced him fairly, marking the haughtysneer curl his lips, I knew him instantly as that officer who passed usin the boat with the priest.
"By the true cross!" he exclaimed at last, as if his breath had barelyreturned, "you gave me a start such as I have not often had in all mysoldiering. Yet you are no ghost; your aspect is altogether toohealthful for one condemned to exist upon air. _Saprista_! you musthave a light foot to steal thus on me unheard. Who are you, fellow?What do you here upon this soil of Spain?"
I leaned lightly on my rifle, so that I might swing it easily ifoccasion warranted, determined now not to fire unless it provednecessary to save my life, and made careless answer, using the sametongue in which I had been addressed.
"Nor are you more surprised, Senor, at my presence, than was I a momentback to stumble upon you when I supposed our party alone here in thiswilderness. Who did you say held dominion over this country?"
"His most gracious Christian Majesty, Charles the Third, of Spain," hereplied shortly. "As his officer, I require that you give proper heedand direct answer to my questioning. Who are you, and where are yougoing?"
The man's domineering manner amused me, yet I replied civilly to hiswords.
"A wandering hunter, Senor, from the Illinois country, homeward bound.I was not aware this territory had fallen into Spanish hands, supposingit still to be under French control. You are then a soldier of Spain?"
"Ay," he returned ungraciously, eying me in his irritating way, "of thebattalion of Grenada."
He was evidently in doubt whether to believe my word, and I rejoiced tomark such indecision, accepting it as proof he had not gained a glimpseof De Noyan, for whom he was in eager search.
"It may be, fellow," he consented to say at last, "you speak truth, andit may be your tongue is false as hell. These are times of gravesuspicion, yet there are means of discovery open to men of action. Ijust noted the position of your camp yonder, and have sufficient menwithin easy reach of my voice to make it mine if need arise. So I warnyou to deal fairly, or accept the consequences. The Marquis de Serratois not one given to speaking twice in such quest. I have a soft tonguein ladies' bowers, but my hand is hard enough in camp and field."
He uttered these words in fierce threat, his one evil eye glaring fullat me as though to terrify. Before I could answer, he shot forth aquestion, direct as a bullet from a gun.
"I beheld the flap of a dress yonder amid those trees; what means it?Women are not common in these parts--have you one in your company?"
"We have, my lord," I replied, holding myself to calmness, striving tospeak with apparent respect for his rank. "We are four, altogether;one has his wife along to cook for us."
"You are voyaging from New Orleans?"
"Nay; from the savannahs of Red River, where we enjoyed a good seasonof sport."
"You are French?"
"A natural guess, yet a wrong one, Senor. I am of English blood."
"_Saprista_! 't is a beast of a nation! I like not that such as youshould be here. I will call some of my men and visit your camp." Hespoke sternly, taking a step backward as if about to seek hiscompanions. "The tale you tell may be true enough, yet these aretroublous days along the river, and my orders are strict againstpermitting any to pass unsearched."
My hands clinched hard around the gun-barrel for a swing, while Ibraced my body for a leap forward, yet held back from such desperateaction, making hazard of one more effort to draw him out.
"I have met soldiers of Spain before, my lord," I said, speaking thewords with deference, yet managing to inject sufficient tinge ofsarcasm to the tone, "yet never previously found them so fearful of astray hunter's camp as not to dare approach it without a guard of armedmen. My companions yonder are asleep, excepting the woman; we are onlythree, and of peaceful life. You would discover nothing except warmwelcome at our fire."
I caught the quick responsive smile lighting his hard, thin face,observing how suddenly awakened pride and contempt combined to curl hisupturned moustache.
"Ah!" he exclaimed gayly, with a derisive wave of the hand, "so yousuppose it is from fear I proposed calling others to accompany me!_Caramba_! 'tis well you put your suspicion in no stronger words. Butstay; I trust not altogether the truth of your tale. Saints' love! asoldier can place faith only in what he sees--yet your face is frankand simple enough, and, as you say, there are but three of you, besidesthe woman. I did mark that much from yonder tree. It will be smallrisk to one of my experience in arms, and my men sleep in weariness.Lead on, fellow, yet do not forget I wear this sword for use, not show."
With muttered thanksgiving at my possessing so honest a countenance,and a blessing on the Spaniard's pride, I turned back, beginning toretrace my steps along the narrow ridge, never deigning to glanceacross my shoulder, yet confident he was close behind. Everyadditional step I inveigled him from his camp was to my advantage, norwould I permit him to feel suspicion on my part, as fearlessness wascertain to beget confidence, and my final plan of action was alreadymade. We thus passed the spot where I had climbed the steep bank, andwere, to the best of my memory, some twenty yards beyond thehiding-place of my boat, when the ridge widened, a thick fringe oflow-growing trees completely shutting out all view of the water. Itwas a likely spot enough, having firm ground under-foot, withsufficient room for a royal struggle, and here I determined to try apassage-at-arms with my burly antagonist. It was useless to hope forsurprise. He was an old soldier dogging my steps, doubtless eying myevery motion, his own hand hard gripping his sword hilt, ready to cutme down did slightest need arise. No; i
t must be foot to foot, eye toeye, a club of steel against the dancing blade; yet I felt the strangecontest would not prove unfair, for he was a man not as agile as inyears agone, while his armor of proof, valuable as it might be in theturning of a sword thrust, would be more burden than protection againstmy rifle-stock.
"Senor," I said, in studied courtesy, stopping suddenly and confrontinghim, "I have hunted across this wilderness more than one season, anddislike greatly being estopped now by Spanish decree. Nor do Icomprehend your right in this matter. Have you warrant for opposingour peaceful passage to the Ohio?"
He stared at me in undisguised amazement at my boldness, a grim smileon his hard, set face.
"Ay! I have, fellow," he finally retorted angrily, tapping his hilt."'Tis in this scabbard at my side."
"Then draw it, Senor," I exclaimed, throwing forward my long riflemenacingly. "And may God stand with the better man."
I have a conception that at the moment he believed he was being frontedby a crazed man, yet there was in my face an expression quicklyteaching him otherwise, and, with a swift twist, he flashed his swordforth into the sunlight, standing on guard.
"_Por Baco_!" he growled savagely, "you must be little better than afool to hoist that club. It will give me pleasure to teach you bettermanners toward a grandee of Spain."
"Grandee, or not," I retorted, angered at his implied contempt, "I mayteach you a trick, Senor, with that same club, never learned in yourSpanish fencing-schools."
It was swift, intense fighting from the word, he proving past-master ofhis weapon, yet my stiff rifle-barrel was no mean defence against hislighter blade, with a reach preventing his point touching my body, andsufficient weight to bear down the thin, murderous steel whenever thetwo came into contact. It had been long practice with me, havingpicked up the pretty trick from a French zouave when I was a boy, so Iswung the iron as if it were a single-stick; and, in truth, I know ofno better fence against the stroke of a straight sword, althoughfencing-masters, I have heard, make light of it. Nevertheless it wasnew experience to this Spaniard, and it did me good to note how itangered the fellow to be held back by such a weapon. He made suchstress to press in behind my guard that he began to pant like a manrunning a hard race. Nor did I venture to strike a blow in return,for, in simple truth, this soldier kept me busier with parry and feintthan any swordsman before, while he tried every trick of his trade, nota few of them strange to me. So I bided my time, confident he mustmake an opening for fit return if he kept up such furious attack, andthus, with retreat and advance, hack and guard, thrust and parry, wetramped up a wide bit of ground, while there was no sound of thestruggle, except our hard breathing, with now and then a fierce cursefrom him as his flashing steel nicked on my gun-barrel, or flew offinto thin air just as he thought to send its deadly point home.
Such fighting is wearing even to seasoned nerves, and the dazzle of thesun bothered my eyes, yet he had pressed me back scarcely more than acouple of yards when his dancing blade slipped stealthily up my brownbarrel, suddenly nipping the loose sleeve of my doublet. As it prickedinto the cloth, scraping the skin of my forearm, I let the fellow havethe end of the muzzle full in the side. It was not the best spot forsuch a thrust, nor could I give it proper force, yet I think it crackeda rib, from the way the Spaniard drew back, and the sudden pallor ofhis face; indeed, so ghastly white he got, I thought him done for, andlowered my barrel carelessly. He was more of a man than I had reckonedon, or else his pride made him averse to accepting defeat, for with onequick spring, like a wounded tiger, he was inside my guard, his uglypoint rasping into me just beneath the shoulder. Saint Andrew! It wasan awkward touch, especially as the tough steel held, the puncturedflesh burning like fire; but fortunately the fellow was in too greatpain himself to press his advantage, and, as we clinched and went downtogether, I chanced to be on top, throttling him with right good-will.
That which followed was but a small matter, yet I left him there,waiting the discovery of his comrades, in as comfortable a posture aspossible, confident he could give no alarm. That Spaniard was a braveman, and I have ever had respect for such.