Seeing that Wodrow's hand instantly wandered to the hilt of his sword, as if instinctively he saw a foe, the Afghan became alarmed, suspicious, and, pausing close by the door of the edgah, scrutinised the stranger; and whether it was that some of the dark paste had left the latter's face, or that there was some discrepancy in his costume, it is impossible to say, but the Afghan unsheathed his sword and shouted,
'Feringhee!'
He then levelled a pistol at the head of Wodrow, but it hung fire, and the latter, ere he could draw another, instantly closed with him.
He was a man of enormous stature and great muscular strength; he was, moreover, fresh and well-fed, while the luckless Robert Wodrow was faint, weary, and worn, having been feeding on fruit and wayside herbs, or little better, since the morning that saw the slaughter at the Residency inaugurated.
Wodrow carried an Afghan shield of tanned buffalo hide, elaborately gilded and furnished with four brass bosses; but simply as a portion of his disguise, which the Ghilzie had so quickly penetrated, but he knew not how to use it effectively, while his antagonist had a small one, not much larger than a dinner-plate, on his left arm, and when grasped in his left hand, it proved a defence which he used with wonderful skill and dexterity.
Both men were brave, completely master of their weapons, full of perfect confidence in themselves, and what Wodrow afterwards called 'a rattling set-to, in which the pot-lid,' as he styled the little Afghan shield, 'bore a great part,' now ensued.
The Ghilzie fought in the spirit of rancour, excited by difference of race and religion; Robert Wodrow in a spirit of desperation, to preserve his life and liberty, and to achieve this nothing was left him but to kill his assailant outright, if he could; but all that he had been taught by the hussar drill-sergeant and fencing, master—cut one and left point—two and right point—three and right point again—cut four and left point, &c.—was useless here.
They both used tulwars of equal weight, keenness, and length, but the Ghilzie was fresh for the combat, and his tiny shield of tempered steel grasped by a strong and active hand, if small, was handy, impenetrable, and was ever opposed to the shower of cuts and thrusts that Wodrow intended for its owner.
Ever and anon they paused to gather breath, though they panted rather than breathed, and their eyes glared into each other, as the rage of conflict and lust of destruction grew in their hearts—Wodrow the while feeling that every moment was to him most precious, as he knew not what succour or comrades his foe might have at hand.
He hewed, slashed, and thrust away, but there was no circumventing the use of that pestilent little iron shield, which rang and emitted red sparks beneath his strokes, and which there seemed no means of getting over, under, or round about.