In an instant the colour rose to Redgill’s face.
He drew his sword and darted towards Wildfire Ned.
“Come on,” said Ned, whipping up the old knight’s sword that lay on the table.
“Put down your swords,” the old man cried, getting between them. “What is the meaning of all this?”
Redgill looked for a second at the firm, handsome features of Wildfire Ned, and the eagle-like glance of the brave lad cowed his own craven heart.
He could not look him in the face.
“Come on,” said Ned. “Nay, turn not so deadly pale, coward.”
“Put up your weapons, I say,” the old man said, sternly.
Redgill did so, and bit his lips until they became bloodless and white.
“Why carry a sword if afraid to use it?” said Ned, scornfully turning on his heel.