The leaden slugs were on the point of leaping forth.
"Drop that sword!" The repetition seemed to close the opportunity for delay.
Farnsworth was on his guard in a twinkling.

He set his jaw and uttered an ugly oath; then quick as lightning he struck sidewise at the pistol with his blade.

It was a move which might have taken a less alert person than Alice unawares; but her training in sword-play was ready in her wrist and hand.

An involuntary turn, the slightest imaginable, set the heavy barrel of her weapon strongly against the blow, partly stopping it, and then the gaping muzzle spat its load of balls and slugs with a bellow that awoke the drowsy old village.
Farnsworth staggered backward, letting fall his sword.

There was a rent in the clothing of his left shoulder.