While the militia was arranging, front and rear, for the attack, the boy and his companion were stealing through the bush that grew thickly about the walls of the fort, and wondering at the silence within. It required a half hour for Moultrie to get everything in readiness; and at last, just as he was about to give the word for the attack to begin, two figures bounded upon the walls from inside the fort; one was a handsome youth of seventeen; the other was a giant negro slave. Each waved a blazing torch above his head exultantly. “Colonel Moultrie,” cried Tom Deering, “the place belongs to you. The British have fled to their ships.” It was true; the creaking of blocks and the dark loom of a mainsail showed them a vessel scudding down the river. Fort Johnson had fallen without firing a shot. CHAPTER II HOW TOM DEERING MADE A NAME TOM DEERING and Monsieur Victor St. Mar, late of the French army, lowered the small swords and stood panting and smiling at each other, in the orchard one afternoon, not long afterward. “You grow proficient,” said St. Mar in very good English, considering that he had been in the colonies but a few years, “your guard is excellent and your thrust, monsieur, is growing formidable.” Praise from the French soldier was praise indeed, for he had been a master of the sword in the regiments of King Louis, among which were the greatest swordsmen in the world. He had paused for a time at Charleston on his way from New Orleans to Philadelphia; and during his stay he taught the use of his favorite weapon to the young men of the city. Tom was the youngest and most apt of his pupils; the youth’s strength, length of arm and sureness of eye made him a natural swordsman. At the French soldier’s praise he flushed with pleasure. “I am glad, monsieur,” said he, as he wiped his brow, “that you think I am progressing. I like the practice of sword play.” “The rapier,” said the Frenchman, “is a grand weapon--a gentleman’s weapon. I have taught many persons, and have studied the use of the cutlass, the broadsword, the pike, bayonet and dagger; but the rapier is the king of them all; with three feet of bright steel in his hand the master of the sword should fear the attack of nothing that breathes.” He began buckling the long, slender weapons into their leather case, but paused and looked up at Tom, seriously. “Study--practice steadily--experiment. That is the way to become a master. You have the material in you for a swordsman; but you must see to the defence--the parry--the guard. You Americans, I find, think the attack is everything. But it is not so. Study the guard. Some day you may meet a foe who has a thrust which you have never seen before. If you have not the parry to meet it your skill in attack will be like that.” He snapped his fingers and puffed out his cheeks; then he buckled up his sword-case and took his leave with many bows.