’Twas thus--with one swift, glancing stroke I turned his sword aside and ran him through the body. Our eyes met as I drew my blade out, and ne’er shall I forget the look in his; ’twas one of such startled horror and surprise as haunts me to this day. He stood there swaying for a moment, staring at me like some stricken beast, then, with a sobbing cry of "Help! I’m done for!" reeled and fell back dead. Heaven knows that when I saw him lying there a poor misshapen heap upon the shingle I felt no glory in the deed, but rather sorrow. He had fought manfully, and had, moreover, scorned to take advantage of my lonely state when urged to do so. But there was little time for vain regrets, for barely had he fallen ere the other three came on with angry shouts and threatening swords. "Have at him! Down with him!" they cried, and so pressed forward with a will, albeit with some caution also. I fell back slowly till I reached the cliffs, then, having those behind me as a rear-guard, stood alert and ready, waiting for the onslaught; nor was it long in coming. There was a pause, then, as one man, they rushed upon me. A dazzling flash of steel broke out beneath my eyes as three long shining blades shot forward in the moonlight. With one great swinging stroke I swept them all aside, then with a downward blow clave Harland through from chin to chine. That was good start enough for anything, and made the other two draw back in doubtful wonder. But indeed they were fine lusty fellows, who by the look of them had known much fighting, and so next moment they came on again with still greater fierceness and determination. For a time I held my own, parrying their deadly strokes, and checking every artful trick for mastering me; but no man can go on against such odds for ever, and what I had already gone through now told a woeful tale. My breath and strength began to fail, together with that quickness, both of hand and eye, which meant everything to me just then. Suddenly my sword-arm stung with pain, and, by warm blood trickling down beneath my sleeve, I knew that I was wounded. At that I made a forward rush, then sprang aside and sought to gain some breath; but, perceiving how things stood, they got between me and the cliffs and drove me slowly back towards the sea. My firm resolve now was to die fighting; take me alive, I swore they should not. I would, at any rate, save Ferguson three of his proffered pounds. Thus, as they came slowly on, I watched their every movement, and, by the look of exultation on their faces, I knew that they accounted me as vanquished, and only waited for a good safe chance either to make me prisoner or cut me down. But just as everything seemed hopeless, and I was meditating one last desperate effort, a loud voice hailed us from the cliff-top, crying: "What’s that? Who are you?" "Help! help!" I answered, caring naught in my extremity whether I called on friend or foe.