gnized in the speaker, the same
individual who sought to rob him one night in the Park, and whose
gratitude he had won by presenting him with a fifty dollar bill.

The Dead Man glared from some moments in silence upon the bold fellow
who thus defied him. At length he spoke--

'Fool! you have presumed to dispute my authority as Captain of this
band, and your life is forfeit to our laws. But, by Satan! I admire your
courage, and you shall not die without having a chance for your life.
You shall fight me, hand to hand--here to-night, at once; the Knights
shall form a ring, and we will arm ourselves with Bowie knives; _cut
and slash_ shall be the order of the combat; no quarters shall be shown;
and he who cuts out his adversary's heart, and presents it to the band
on the point of his knife, shall be Captain of the Round Table. Say do
you agree to this?'

'Yes!' replied the Doctor, much to the disappointment of his challenger,
who would have been glad had the offer been rejected. However, there was
no retracting, and instant preparations were made for the combat. Sydney
was placed in charge of two men, in order to prevent his escape; and the
Knights formed themselves into a large ring, while the combatants
prepared for the encounter. Both men stripped to the skin; around their
left arms they wrapped blankets to serve as shields; and in their right
hands, they grasped long, sharp Bowie knives, whose blades glittered in
the brilliant light of the many candles. All was soon ready, and the
adversaries entered the ring, amid profound silence.--Poor Sydney
contemplated the scene with painful interest; how sincerely he prayed
that the Doctor might prove victorious in the combat!

Gaunt and bony, the Dead Man looked like a skeleton; yet the immense
muscles upon his fleshless arms, indicated prodigious strength. He
looked terribly formidable, with his livid face, deadly eye and jaws
firmly set--his long fingers clutching his knife with an iron grasp, and
his left arm raised to protect himself.--The Doctor was a large,
dark-complexioned, handsome man--an Apollo in beauty and a Hercules in
strength, presenting a singular contrast to the hideous, misshapen being
with whom he was about to engage in deadly conflict.

Cautiously they advanced towards each other, with knives upraised.
Standing scarce five feet apart, they eyed each other for two minutes;
not a muscle moved; with a howl like that of a hyena, the Dead Man
sprang upon his