“I hate you and all your family, but we don’t want any one else to set up here, near our homes, do we?”
“No,” said Mark sharply.
“Then I’ll stand by you like a trump,” cried Ralph; “if you’ll stand by me now. It’s long odds, but we’ve got right on our side.”
“Shake hands on it then,” cried Mark— “No, we can’t do that, because it’s like making friends, when we’re enemies and hate one another.”
“No, we can’t shake hands,” said Ralph warmly, “but we can make our swords kiss hilts, and that’s joining together for the fight.”
“Agreed,” cried Mark; and the lace steel shells of their rapiers clinked together, making the men, who were watching them intently, exchange glances. “I say,” said Mark hastily, “wasn’t that a mistake?”
“What?”
“Joining like that. It’s making our swords friends.”
“Only till this skirmish is over,” said Ralph.
“Oh yes; of course. We can make the blades kiss then. Here, what’s that Captain what-you-may-call-him doing, waving his arms like that?”