"How?" said my father.
"To fight for it," said his Lordship, quietly.
"Surrender—fool!" my father answered. "You cannot escape."
"Tut, tut!" said his Lordship. "I never heard so poor a compliment. Come in reach, and I shall make you think better of me."
"Give up your sword."
"After my life, then my sword," said he, with a quick thrust.
Before I could take a step, their swords were clashing in deadly combat. I rushed up to break in upon them, but the air was full of steel, and then my father needed no help. He was driving his man with fiery vigor. I had never seen him fight; all I had seen of his power had been mere play.
It was grand to see the old man fighting as if, for a moment, his youth had come back to him. I knew it could not go far. His fire would burn out quickly; then the blade of the young Britisher, tireless and quick as I knew it to be, would let his blood before my very eyes. What to do I knew not. Again I came up to them; but my father warned me off hotly. He was fighting with terrific energy. I swear to you that in half a minute he had broken the sword of his Lordship, who took to the water, swimming for his life. I leaped in, catching him half over the eddy, where we fought like roadmen, striking in the air and bumping on the bottom. We were both near drowned when D'ri swam out and gave me his belt-end, hauling us in.
I got to my feet soon. My father came up to me, and wiped a cut on my forehead.
"Damn you, my boy!" said he. "Don't ever interfere with me in a matter of that kind. You might have been hurt."