John left the farmhouse with a wallet sufficiently stocked to stay his stomach until he should arrive at St. Malo--money he had refused to accept from the good farmer. The air was mild. It was one of those sunny days in late winter that give early promise of spring. Under the influence of the cheery weather our hero’s spirits rose, and he had a feeling that the tide in his affairs was about to turn. This presentiment was strengthened by an adventure that immediately befell him and which will not so greatly surprise us if we remember that he was once again in the vicinity of Mortagne, having gone forth and back in his long tramp. John had been following a short cut through a wood and had just emerged into the open when he came suddenly face to face with a traveler who was pursuing the same path in opposite direction. Each recognized the other immediately, and on the instant their swords flashed from the scabbard. They flung aside their cloaks and engaged without a word. Furious anger surged in John’s breast as he confronted Courcelles, one of the four French robbers to whose perfidy he owed his present plight and all the misery of the past months. For a moment he was tempted to rush upon the rascal and run him through, but that caution and coolness that ever characterized our hero in the presence of danger, soon took possession of his reason and prompted him to assume the defensive. Courcelles was no mean swordsman, and he saw before him a bareface boy whom he could not suppose to be a master of fence. Moreover, he was moved by the hatred which mean souls so often feel for those whom they have wronged. He made a furious attack upon the stripling intending to end the affair in short order. John calmly maintained his guard under the onslaught with his weapon presented constantly at the other’s breast. With a slight movement of the wrist he turned aside Courcelles’ thrusts and stepped back nimbly when the Frenchman lunged. The latter, meeting with no counter-attack, became more confident and pressed his adversary hard. But the skill with which his assault was met soon dawned upon Courcelles. He checked the impetuosity that had already told upon his nerves and muscles and resorted to the many tricks of fence of which, like most French swordsmen, he was an adept. He changed the engagement; he feinted and feigned to fumble his weapon; he shifted his guard suddenly; he pretended to slip and lose his footing; he endeavored to disengage; but John could not be tempted from his attitude of alert defence. Courcelles beat the _appel_ with his foot but John’s eyes remained steadfastly fixed upon his and the firm blade was ever there lightly but surely feeling his. Courcelles tapped the other’s sword sharply but John only smiled with grim satisfaction as he remembered how Signor Polaloga had schooled him to meet such disconcerting manœuvres as these.