“In Shibu Park,” the Japanese girl replied quietly. “I wouldn’t dare interfere without a strong reason. My brother is bound to vindicate his honor. If he has misjudged Mr. Perry’s acts then the situation is changed. Come!” she commanded. Helen Tillotson was too greatly relieved in her distressed mind to think on the words of her girl friend, and it was only a few minutes before sunset when the party arrived at the meeting place in Shibu Park. Leaving the carriage they followed Hama along the winding path, past many shaded temples to a low level stretch of grassy soil before a large Buddhist shrine. Before they had emerged from the wooded path the sound of strife came faintly to their ears, and Helen’s pale face blanched still whiter at the terrifying clash of steel upon steel. O’Neil had pressed ahead, and as he reached the clearing the sight that met his gaze made his martial spirit rise within him, and he could barely refrain from giving a yell of delight as he watched the evenly matched contestants. Phil towered above his small antagonist, while the two blades hissed and rasped one upon the other like things alive. Both faces were pale and set, and over Phil’s cheek a trickle of blood showed where his opponent’s steel had lightly touched. Sydney, for in spite of Phil’s wish he had insisted upon acting as second, and a Japanese lieutenant stood, swords in hand, their eyes following every movement of their principals, to see that no unfair advantage was gained by either. The young ladies stopped on the edge of the woods, enthralled by the sight. Deep down in the human heart, even in women, is an instinctive admiration for the fighting man; for one brief second each gazed at her champion, an almost savage lust for victory, even through bloodshed, in her eyes. Then the primitive instinct faded and the American girl saw the Japanese officer’s blade prick the breast of his opponent; she saw her boy friend give back a step, and with his sword strike up the other’s blade, while a deep red flow of blood gushed from the wound so deftly made. She gave a distressed cry and fell into the arms of the calm little Japanese girl behind her; while unheeding the interruption at hand the two modern gladiators fought on. “I hate to stop it, Bill,” O’Neil exclaimed excitedly as Phil’s serpent-like point pierced the sword arm of his skilful antagonist, “but they’ll be hurting each other soon if we don’t.” Before O’Neil could reach the side of the duelists, Phil’s powerful blade had wrapped itself about the singing steel of his antagonist, and with a powerful stroke down and out, aided by Takishima’s loss of power in his sword arm, sent his opponent’s blade far across the grass. It struck the temple wall with a metallic thud, and lay shivering as if alive on the wide flag-stones. “Neatly done, sir,” O’Neil cried out in hearty admiration, as he ran to Phil’s side and quietly but masterfully disarmed him.