Once more they crossed, and the sparks flew from their weapons, and this time indeed neither man came off scathless, though the wounds were too slight to hinder either, and then came Nigel's opportunity: for in making a new attack Sir John did not recover himself quickly enough to prevent fleet-footed Nigel slipping beneath his guard, and by a turn of the wrist making it necessary for Sir John to have his own broken, or to let go his sword. Nigel had him at his mercy.
"Do you yield yourself a prisoner, Sir John?"
"Aye! do I! But for no long time!" He picked up his sword, and wiped it with a lace handkerchief and thrust it into its scabbard.
Nigel looked round. Coming at a sharp trot was a small troop of horsemen from the direction of Donauwerth.
"I doubt ye'd best cry quits and tak' your horse. They won't follow you if you're by yourself, but if you're hampered with a prisoner, I canna vouch for them." There was a kindly gleam in his eyes as he said it.
Nigel took the hint, and holding out his hand said, "Farewell, Sir John! And thanks for your courtesy."
"Farewell, Mr Charteris, and if at any time you should see fit to change camps, or need a friend in other ways, call upon Jock Hepburn!"
And while Nigel sought his horse, the other turned to his, and meeting the horsemen rode off with them.