Grinding my teeth and swearing horribly, I drew that scimitar which never yet failed its blow,* and rushed at the Indian.

He came down at full gallop, his own sword making ten thousand gleaming circles in the air, shrieking his cry of battle.
* In my affair with Macgillicuddy, I was fool enough to go out with small-swords--miserable weapons only fit for tailors .-- G.

O'G.

G.
The contest did not last an instant.

With my first blow I cut off his sword-arm at the wrist; my second I levelled at his head.