"It wants indeed courage to cross the lion country at night," replied the man meditatively. "Even when we go thither—and that is rarely—twenty men with bows can scarce drive them off."
"These gave us confidence," said Reeves, tapping the stock of the musket. "And here, too, is a weapon that, though small, would pierce a hauberk like an arrow shot through yonder tent."
"Have a care!" exclaimed the Croixilian. "Tell it not to our overlord, Sir Jehan, or his anger will be aroused. He loves brave men, but the boaster he abhors."
"I do not boast," replied Reeves calmly. "If you will but place your coat of mail in front of that shield, I will prove my words."
"Try him, Garth!" exclaimed the others.
Without a word the man placed the hauberk against the trunk of a palm tree, propping it up by means of a pear-shaped shield, and motioned to the correspondent to perform his promise.
The buckler was of heavy wood, nearly an inch thick, and strengthened with plates of iron; while the mail was made of links of steel.
"Put the armour in front of the shield, Rags," said Reeves, as he threw out his ten notched cartridges and recharged with two pointed nickel bullets.
Standing at less than ten yards' distance, the correspondent raised his weapon and, without apparently taking aim, pressed the trigger. There was a faint flash, a sharp crack, and a very thin wreath of smoke.
"You have failed!" exclaimed the man Garth. "Your arrow, or whatever you call it, has not even struck the hauberk."