"Can he shoot?"
"Not at all."
"Then let it be swords," I decided.
"Santisima Virgen! you are no swordsman. He will spit you with the first thrust of his rapier."
"I said swords, Don Faciendo. My thought was the straight cutlass of your Texas cavalry. I have hefted a sabre, and your cutlasses must swing much the same."
"It is true, amigo, that the regulation cutlass would put you to a slightly less disadvantage compared to the rapier. There would be more play for your strength. Yet Medina is an expert—a master swordsman. You would have no chance. He means to kill you."
"I have quickness and strength. The odds are not so great as you fear. But with pistols, he would be absolutely at my mercy."
"Then you insist?"
A lackey announced Walker.
"I insist," I replied, as Walker bowed himself in.