king's name!"

At the first sound of her son's approach, Mrs. Stuart bent forward over
the table with a groan, and buried her face in her hands.

Gascoyne received Henry's speech at first with a frown, and then with a
smile.

"You have taken a strange time and way to jest, Henry," said he,
crossing his arms on his broad chest and gazing boldly into the youth's
face.

"You will not throw me off my guard thus," said Henry, sternly. "You are
my prisoner. I know you to be a pirate. At any rate you will have to
prove yourself to be an honest man before you quit this hut a free man.
Mother, leave this place, that I may lock the door upon him."

The widow did not move, but Gascoyne made a step towards her son.

"Another step and I will fire. Your blood shall be on your own head,
Gascoyne."

As Gascoyne still advanced, Henry pointed the pistol straight at his
breast and pulled the trigger, but no report followed; the priming,
indeed, flashed in the pan, but that was all!

With a cry of rage and defiance, Henry leaped upon Gascoyne like a young
lion. He struck at him with the pistol; but the latter caught the weapon
in his powerful hand, wrenched it from the youth's grasp, and flung it
to the other end of the apartment.

"You shall not escape me," cried Henry, aiming a tremendous blow with
his fist at Gascoyne's face. It was parried, and the next moment the two
closed in a deadly struggle.

It was a terrible sight for the widow to witness these two herculean men
exerting their great strength to the utmost in a hand-to-hand conflict
in that small hut, like two tigers in a cage.

Henry, although nearly six feet in height, and proportionally broad and
powerful, was much inferior to his gigantic antagonist; but to the
superior size and physical force of the latter he opposed the lithe
activity and the fervid energy of youth, so that to an unpractised eye
it might have seemed doubtful at first which of the two men had the best
chance.

Straining his powers to the utmost, Henry attempted to lift his opponent
off the ground and throw him. In this he was nearly successful. Gascoyne
staggered, but recovered himself instantly. They did not move much from
the center of the room, nor was there much noise created during the
conflict. It seemed too close--too full of concentrated energy, of
heavy, prolonged straining--for much violent motion. The great veins in
Gascoyne's forehead stood out like knotted cords; yet there was no