I have never seen a better swordsman. His wrist began to tire, but he instantly passed his hilt to his left hand and then came on harder than ever.
I looked at Barron and saw the smile go from his face as the Major circled backward past him. The old soldier's left hand was holding his scabbard lower and lower, until finally he dropped it entirely. Then Harrison saw his time had come for the finish.
Quick as thought he passed his hilt to his right hand again, for the final thrust through the Major's wavering guard.
Then happened the most uncommon thing about the whole affair. It was done so quickly my eyes could hardly follow it, although I was standing but a few paces away and looking directly at the men.
As Harrison passed his hilt to his right hand, the Major's weapon fell to the right of him with his foot still advanced, and as Harrison lunged strongly, the Major's broadsword rose and fell with a wicked "swish."
Harrison's sword passed neatly through the Major's shoulder and protruded fully a foot behind him, while the old soldier's weapon struck Harrison fairly on the head and stretched him limp on the sand. The heavy blade had struck close to the hilt, as he had lunged forward, otherwise it must have bitten in as deep as the eyes. As it was the blow was bad enough, and we rushed in to see what could be done for him. It was several minutes, however, before he opened his eyes and showed any signs of life.
While we worked to stanch Harrison's wound and revive him, the Major walked off a short distance and sat himself on the edge of the low, bluff-like bank beneath a willow. He then carefully stripped off his new uniform before Barron or Byrd thought of leaving Harrison to come to his assistance, tied up the rapier thrust, and prepared to move along in the direction of the Hall with his sword belt slung carelessly over his arm.