the way the Spaniard drew back, and the sudden pallor of his face; indeed, so ghastly white he got, I thought him done for, and lowered my barrel carelessly.  He was more of a man than I had reckoned on, or else his pride made him averse to accepting defeat, for with one quick spring, like a wounded tiger, he was inside my guard, his ugly point rasping into me just beneath the shoulder.  Saint Andrew!  It was an awkward touch, especially as the tough steel held, the punctured flesh burning like fire; but fortunately the fellow was in too great pain himself to press his advantage, and, as we clinched and went down together, I chanced to be on top, throttling him with right good-will.

That which followed was but a small matter, yet I left him there, waiting the discovery of his comrades, in as comfortable a posture as possible, confident he could give no alarm.  That Spaniard was a brave man, and I have ever had respect for such.

CHAPTER XVI

WE CHANGE OUR COURSE

My attempt to recross the river proved difficult.  I had lost no small amount of blood from my wound, which, besides weakening me, had so stiffened my right shoulder as to render any strain upon the oars a constant pain.  Yet the excitement nerved me to the effort, and, crushing down weakness by sheer force of will, I drove the heavy boat straight through the low, overhanging bushes on to the soft mud of the bank.  Before I could arise to my feet Madame was standing beside the dripping prow, her great eyes staring at the blood stains discoloring my doublet.

“You are hurt!” she exclaimed, her lips white with apprehension.  “I beg you tell me, is it a serious wound?”

“Nay, the merest scratch, Madame,” I answered hastily, for it added to my pain to mark such anxiety in her face.  “Not worthy your thought, but I will ask you to call the others at once, and have them load everything into the boat without delay.  I will await you here, as I find myself weak from loss of blood.”

She stood gazing intently at me, as if she read my most secret thoughts; and no doubt my face was sufficiently white to alarm her, yet I smiled back into her eyes, and she turned away, running lightly up the bank.  Nor was she long away, or noisy in her mission, scarcely a minute having elapsed before the three came trooping down to the water-side, their hands laden with camp utensils, De Noyan wide awake enough, and filled with intense interest in my adventures, but the Puritan yet cock-eyed from sleep, stumbling as he walked like a man in a dream.

“Take the oars, both of you,” I said quietly, totally ignoring the question in the eyes of the Chevalier.  “I have tasted a sword point, and am weakened from loss of blood.  Pull up the stream, and be swift and quiet about it.”

“Hast thou been smitten of the Philistine, friend Benteen?” loudly questioned Cairnes, stumbling noisily across the seats.