So there in that quiet cleuch we set to with might and main, with vast rivalry but with no malice. We were far too skilled to butcher one another like common rufflers. Blow was given and met, point was taken and parried, all with much loving kindness. But I had not been two minutes at the work when I found I was in the hands of a master. The great conceit of my play which I have always had ebbed away little by little. The man before me was fencing easily with no display, but every cut came near to breaking my guard, and every thrust to overcoming my defence. His incomprehensible right eye twinkled merrily, and discomposed my mind, and gave me no chance of reading his intentions. It is needless to say more. The contest lasted scarce eight minutes. Then I made a head-cut which he guarded skilfully, and when on the return my blade hung more loose in my hand he smote so surely and well that, being struck near the hilt, it flew from my hand and fell in the burn. He flung down his weapon and shook me warmly by the hand. "Ah, now I feel better," said he. "I need something of this sort every little while to put me in a good humour with the world. And, sir, let me compliment you on your appearance. Most admirable, most creditable! But oh, am I not a master in the craft?" So with friendly adieux we parted. We had never asked each other’s name and knew naught of each other’s condition, but that single good-natured contest had made us friends; and if ever I see that one-eyed man again in life I shall embrace him like a brother. For myself, at that moment, I felt on terms of good-comradeship with all, and pursued my way in a settled cheerfulness. CHAPTER XI HOW A MILLER STROVE WITH HIS OWN MILL-WHEEL I lay that night on the bare moors, with no company save the birds, and no covering save a dry bush of heather. The stars twinkled a myriad miles away, and the night airs blew soft, and I woke in the morning as fresh as if I had lain beneath the finest coverlet on the best of linen. Near me was a great pool in a burn, and there I bathed, splashing to my heart’s content in the cold water. Then I ate my breakfast, which was no better than the remnants of the food I had brought away with me the day before from Smitwood; but I gulped it down heartily and hoped for something better. There will be so much complaining, I fear, in my tale ere it is done, that I think it well to put down all my praise of the place and the hours which passed pleasingly.