Adventure Magazine Cover — page 28: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

992 if he had to knight a man, he must needs avert: his eyes so doing. Dick and the Templar stared at each other. Were the friendly rivals glad or sorry? They scarce knew. Dick took a deep breath. And now, from the head of the table—his place by rights it seemed to have become— up spoke Captain Strongi’th’arm. From the moment he had recognized the young men, he had remained watching and listen- ing in unwonted silence. His single eye was more commanding than ever. He tapped the table with his two fingers, and there fell a stillness in the room. He spoke of kings and of her who was gone: of Mary of Scotland and of many instances he had known, at home and abroad, of men like the new King James, her son, frighted for life before their birth by a woman’s terror. Then, from Jamie’s horror of a drawn blade, came he to talk of fight and prize-playing and the like—thence to his darling theme: the great Masters of the Sword, alive or dead. “Aye, young masters, you may have had your snippets of travel; but had ye known the tall men, the great days! There was Cavalcabo, mark you, the mighty Ital- ian; but he is dust. Now, the nearest to him, in subtilty, was Eisenkopf (of Mainz in the Palatinate). He, for all his High-Dutch name, was from the south also: Capoferro was he . Now the Eisenkopf had a certain thrust he called Pigliafilo——” “T know the trick,” said Beckett, over his can. Captain Strongi’th’arm raised an eye- brow. “Vet, to my mind,” he went on, unheed- ing, ‘‘ne’er so great a man at the rapier— that is, for the single duello—as Petty Jean, in Paris. He it was devised the botte de Nevers ‘““Aye’’—from the Templar again. ‘‘ Petty John taught it well. But he teaches at Lyons now.” The Captain’s eye rolled a littleredly upon the fair, cool youth; ’twas'scarce wholesome, for one of so few years, to know so much, to be so sure of speech. He must be set down. Adventure “Ha, but only when a man has measured blades with Thibault of Antwerp, Thibault, the heritor of Carranza’s own science, all by mathematical logic, squares and tangents to the circumference’’—he kept his eye severe- ly upon Beckett, as the young man showed signs of opening his mouth again—“‘or eke with Meister Joachim of Strasburg on the Rhine, whose lesson was rhythmic and required for its mastery the lilt of fife and taber.—I mind me of a plaguy round-cut he would engineer on your extended arm, that he had christened estramasson de Man- chette; it would do for you, by neat rapier- slicing, what the Spanish dog’s halbert did for this hand, at the palisado of Pamp- lona——”’ ‘Saving your experience, good Captain,” interrupted Beckett demurely, “you mis- take. Estramasson is the Sieur Thibault’s own device, by rule geometrical. I have practised both with him and with Master Joachim.” The veteran’s gathering testiness ex- ploded. He rapped out a parcel of rare outlandish oaths and spluttered the name of Todescan. ‘Todescan, to his mind, the very angel—the very devil of the sword! Who had not faced Todescan of Geneva knew naught of finality in fencing. Tode- scan’s noted thrust Here, once again, was Master Beckett’s moment to insert (with pardonable pride) the story of his acquired gains in far Geneva. He parted his lips to speak, his brown eyes sparkling, his frank smile flashing. But, subtly, in a delicate, insinuating voice that dropped into the brief moment of silence allowed by Captain Strongi’th’arm’s pause for breath, Dick Wyatt forestalled him: “Todescan, aye—of Geneva. And his noted thrust: at the armpit, on a binding of the blade, thus—” He made a spiral movement with his extended wrist, and glanced for one instant slily at Beckett’s amazed face. ‘‘Todescan of Geneva—’twas T killed him. Yea’’—and this was addressed more specially to Captain Strongi’th’arm —‘ran him up to the hilts, with Master Vincent’s own punta riversa !” COMmMiCooOokS.G© S|