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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The White Company"


He sprang out beyond sword sweep, and the pair stood breathing
heavily, while the crowd of young squires buzzed their applause.
"Bravely struck on both sides!" cried Roger Harcomb. "You have
both won honor from this meeting, and it would be sin and shame
to let it go further."
"You have done enough, Edricson," said Norbury.
"You have carried yourself well," cried several of the older
squires.
"For my part, I have no wish to slay this young man," said
Tranter, wiping his heated brow.
"Does this gentleman crave my pardon for having used me
despitefully?" asked Alleyne.
"Nay, not I."
"Then stand on your guard, sir!" With a clatter and dash the
two blades met once more, Alleyne pressing in so as to keep
within the full sweep of the heavy blade, while Tranter as
continually sprang back to have space for one of his fatal cuts.
A three-parts-parried blow drew blood from Alleyne's left shoulder,
but at the same moment he wounded Tranter slightly upon the thigh.
Next instant, however, his blade had slipped into the fatal
notch, there was a sharp cracking sound with a tinkling upon the
ground, and he found a splintered piece of steel fifteen inches
long was all that remained to him of his weapon.


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