Paul suddenly rushed in, struck swiftly, and, although the blow was parried, he thrust again so quickly that his blade passed inside the guard of Alvarez, pierced through his doublet, and wounded him in the side. Mad with pain and rage Alvarez struck furiously, but Paul caught the blow so skillfully that the Spaniard's sword broke in his hand.
Long Jim shouted with delight.
"You've beat him, Paul! you've beat him!" he cried. "Go in now and trim his mustache right off his face!"
Braxton Wyatt struck him a blow on the cheek.
"Shut up, will you!" he cried.
Paul, sword in hand, turned away. He would not cut down an unarmed man, and some strain of chivalry hidden beneath the Spaniard's ambition and cruelty recognized the boy's nobility. He stepped aside and rebuked Braxton Wyatt for striking Long Jim. Then he took off his doublet and one of the men bound up his wound, which was painful but not at all dangerous. His heart was full of rage and chagrin, but he did not show either.
"You have done well with the sword," he said to Paul, "I admit it, and I am in a position to know. But you must surrender it, and come as my prisoner. Your sword can be no defense against the bullets of my soldiers."
Paul yielded his weapon. It would have been folly to resist when the soldiers stood close by, loaded guns in hand, but he felt, nevertheless, a deep satisfaction. He had performed a deed of valor, worthy of Shif'less Sol or Henry, and he proudly took his place by the side of the other prisoner, Long Jim. The wound in his arm had already stopped bleeding.
"I didn't know it was in you, Paul," whispered Long Jim, "but I never had anything in my life do me more good. A lot uv wicked hopes wuz disapp'inted when you give him that slash in the side, an' then broke his sword."
"I did better than I expected," replied Paul briefly, "but the result is not likely to endear us to Captain Alvarez."