Then began a battle royal. Sergeant Mason was a strong man, and knew the use of his weapon; but the Grizzly was a living instance of the truth of the saying, that a man who knows nothing of rule will very often puzzle an expert. So it was now, as Ephraim, fired with unaccustomed fury, lunged and thrust, parried and recovered, or swept his bayonet in narrowing circles round his antagonist’s head, to the utter mystification of Mason, accustomed to the one, two, three of the regulations. Clink! clank! rattle! crash! The sharp steel met and parted, parted and met again. The fighters could but just distinguish each other in the gloom, even as they stood now with bayonets locked, breathing hard in anticipation of the next rally. Clank! The sergeant disengaged, and lunged straight and swiftly out. The bayonet passed under the Grizzly’s left arm; but he brushed it aside with a wild swirl of his rifle, and thrust in return so close to the sergeant’s heart, that but half an inch further would have settled the question for good and all. Mason sprang backwards just in time, now hotly pressed by the furious Grizzly. Here was a foeman of a temper he had not bargained for when he made that light arrest. ‘Help!’ he roared at the top of his voice. ‘A spy! a spy! Over hyar by the ditch.’ Clank! clank! clink! clink! Fierce thrust and sudden parry. Another fiery rally. This time the sergeant felt the wind of Ephraim’s bayonet past his neck, and a hot spurt of breath upon his face, as the Grizzly, almost overbalanced by his frenzied rush, stumbled forward. With a mighty effort he recovered his footing. Clink! clank! Down swept Mason’s glittering steel. Another lock. A rapid disengagement; and, ere Ephraim could retreat, the long blade lunged straight at his face. The Grizzly dodged; but the sharp point, driven by the strong, angry arm behind it, found its way through his coat, and ploughed up the muscles of his shoulder. The pain drove him wild, and with a roar of rage he ran in upon his foe, careless of his own exposure, and raising his long rifle by the barrel, brought it smashing down upon the bare, defenceless head. Under that frightful stroke Sergeant Mason dropped his weapon, reeled from side to side like a drunken man, and dropped to earth as one dead. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XIII. HOW THE DESPATCH WAS BROUGHT TO STONEWALL JACKSON.