After a little there came a lunge, a hilt pressed to lower blade, a swift twist of a wrist, and young Wallifarro's foil flew clear of his hand and clattered to the floor. He had been cleanly disarmed.
Boone drew the mask from his tousled head and shuffled his feet. That awkwardness which had been so absent from his moments of action descended upon him afresh as he awoke to the many watching eyes. Morgan held out a hand, which was diffidently received, and acknowledged frankly, "You're much the better man—but where in Heaven's name did you learn to fence like that?"
The mountain boy flushed, suddenly realizing that this too was a matter included in his pledge of confidence to Victor McCalloway.
"Oh," he evasively responded, "I jest kinderly picked hit up—hyar an' thar as I went along."
As soon as possible after that, Boone made his escape, and it was characteristic of his close-mouthed self-containment that at Saul Fulton's cabin he said nothing as to where he had spent his Christmas eve.
CHAPTER VIII
On the afternoon of Christmas day, as Boone stood by the gate of Saul's rented patch, looking off across the wet bareness of the fields to the gray and shallow skyline, he was more than a little homesick for the accustomed thickness of forest and peak. He at last saw two mounted figures coming toward him, and recognized General Prince and Anne Masters.
"We rode by to wish you a very merry Christmas," announced the girl, and the General added his smile and greeting.
"I'm—I'm obleeged ter both of you-all," stammered Boone as Anne, leaning over, handed him a package.