kill you!"

My antagonist did not join in the laugh this time. Indeed it struck me
that his eye wandered and that he was not so ready to enter the ring as
his mates were to form it. But before I could try his mettle, a hand
was laid on my shoulder. A man appearing from I do not know
where--from the dark fringe of the group, I suppose--pushed me aside,
roughly, but not discourteously.

"Leave this to me!" he said, coolly stepping before me. "Do not dirty
your hands with the knave, master. I am pining for work and the job
will just suit me! I will fit him for the worms before the nuns above
can say an AVE!"

I looked at the newcomer. He was a stout fellow; not over tall, nor
over big; swarthy, with prominent features. The plume of his bonnet
was broken, but he wore it in a rakish fashion; and altogether he
swaggered with so dare-devil an air, clinking his spurs and swinging
out his long sword recklessly, that it was no wonder three or four of
the nearest fellows gave back a foot.

"Come on!" he cried, boisterously, forming a ring by the simple
process of sweeping his blade from side to side, while he made the
dagger in his left hand flash round his head. "Who is for the game?
Who will strike a blow for the little Admiral? Will you come one, two,
three at once; or all together? Anyway, come on, you--" And he closed
his challenge with a volley of frightful oaths, directed at the group
opposite.

"It is no quarrel of yours," said the big man, sulkily; making no show
of drawing his sword, but rather drawing back himself.

"All quarrels are my quarrels! and no quarrels are your quarrels. That
is about the truth, I fancy!" was the smart retort; which our champion
rendered more emphatic by a playful lunge that caused the big bully to
skip again.

There was a loud laugh at this, even among the enemy's backers. "Bah,
the great pig!" ejaculated the girl above. "Spit him!" and she spat
down on the whilom Hector--who made no great figure now.

"Shall I bring you a slice of him, my dear?" asked my rakehelly
friend, looking up and making his sword play round the shrinking
wretch. "Just a tit-bit, my love?" he added persuasively. "A
mouthful of white liver and caper sauce?"

"Not for me, the beast!" the girl cried, amid the laughter of the yard.

"Not a bit? If I warrant him tender? Ladies' meat?"

"Bah! no!" and she stolidly spat down again.

"Do you hear? The lady has no taste for you," the to