"Ah! good!" he replied, "it is not oft I can find a man who is worthy of standing before Benet Killigrew"--this he said with a kind of mountebank bravado peculiar to him--"and it gives joy to my soul to meet a man. I do not know much about who is the true king. I joined the business because there was a chance of a fight. But I am sick of it. No sooner was it discovered that there would be three to one against us than they all showed the white feather, and so I was robbed of a rare bit of fun. But you have turned up, Trevanion, and by my soul I love you for it; and although I must kill you, because I have given my promise, I shall be fair grieved to do it." "At least we will fight as gentlemen," I replied, "and neither I am sure will take advantage of the other." "That goes without saying," he cried; "but come let us begin, we are wasting time! Guard!" I must confess that all my own love for a fight was aroused in me at that moment, and I needed no further invitation. At the same time my policy was to act only on the defensive. I knew that Benet would be careful, and would throw away no chances. I have thought since that the scene must in its way have been impressive. The great "danger fire" still cast its ruddy glow upon the dark faces of the men who formed a ring around us, while in the near distance the waves surged upon the rock-bound coast. It must have been far past midnight, and the winds played among the newly budding leaves which appeared on the trees in the woods nearby. Above the sounds of both wind and waves could be heard the clash of our swords and the sound of Benet's voice as we fought. For there was nothing cool and contained about this man. He could not help but express his feelings, and every time I parried his thrusts he gave a cry of pleasure and admiration. "It is a joy to fight with you, Trevanion," he would say; "By Heaven, you are a man! Good! Well parried!" His eyes continued to gleam with a savage joy, and he constantly laughed as though he were enjoying himself vastly. Presently, however, he grew more serious, for I was very careful. I contented myself with parrying, never offering to return his thrusts, and although he tried hard he could not so much as touch me. "By Heaven, fight!" he cried at length, but that I would not do. My policy was to tire him out if I could, and then disarm him. This, however, was easier said than done. He fought on with savage pleasure, showing no weakness. His wrists seemed to be made of steel, and his eyes continued to shine with a passionate light. We had been fighting for some minutes, when I thought it wise to change my tactics. I slowly yielded before him, and he thought my guard grew weaker. "Ah!" he cried with satisfaction. Just at that moment I heard a cry among the woods. "It's the Boscawens!" cried one of the bystanders. "Quick, Killigrew, we shall be in danger soon!"