streaming deck and thus avoiding a whistling stroke of Rufe’s cutlas. The pirate fell forward with the impetus of his blow, and stumbled in a heap at the girl’s nimble feet. “Up, man!” she cried, leaping back to permit him to rise. “What, art afraid of a woman? Here, then, I prick thee! Now wilt fight?” She darted her dagger swiftly downward, and the partially healed cross on Rufe’s cheek blazed red again.

“Woman or devil, I’ll see thy heart for that!” swore the pirate, and rose with a bound and hurled himself at the girl. She stepped aside agilely and laughed mockingly at him, while as he again stumbled with the swing of his avoided blow she darted close, and her knife ripped his sword-arm from wrist to elbow.