Suddenly there is a quick turn of Cary's wrist and a leap forward.

The Spaniard's dagger flashes, and the rapier is turned aside; Cary springs six feet back as the Spaniard rushes on him in turn.

Parry, thrust, parry--the steel rattles, the sparks fly, the men breathe fierce and loud; the devil's game is begun in earnest.
Five minutes have the two had instant death a short six inches off from those wild sinful hearts of theirs, and not a scratch has been given.
Yes! the Spaniard's rapier passes under Cary's left arm; he bleeds.
"A hit! a hit! Strike up, Atty!" and the swords are struck up instantly.
Cary, nettled by the smart, tries to close with his foe, but the seconds cross their swords before him.
"It is enough, gentlemen.

Don Guzman's honor is satisfied!" "But not my revenge, senor," says the Spaniard, with a frown.

"This duel is a l'outrance, on my part; and, I believe, on Mr.Cary's also." "By heaven, it is!" says Will, trying to push past.