Of the Man from Cornwall
of his breath, he gave up, and I heard only now and then the noise of his hard breathing. We had by this both grown very serious, and I’ll warrant that he wanted blood of me for his pricks as much as I demanded it of him. And then, as it fell out, the tip of my blade took his shoulder. He swore under his breath.
“’Sdeath, Ryder,” he cried, “’tis the way to my gizzard. Here’s for yours,” and came at me more hotly
And this state of affairs ran on for something over the half-hour, so that we soon came to feel worn. I felt now that I had the uppermost of him, being at once more agile in the darkness, and of sharper ears; whereas he may have been the better swordsman—I never knew. So all of a sudden, and when I was pushing him very hard and heard the sounds of distress in his throat, partly, no doubt, because of his wound, I says, “Sir Ralph,” says I, “this thing has gone far enough.”
“Ha!” cried he, through his panting. “I have you winded, my fine fellow.”
“Nay,” I replied, “for my own part I am
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