The umpire took out his pocket-book and pencil and
stop-watch, and placed himself where he could look across the fighting.
The armed fighters stood up face to face at half the length of the
room, a novice supporting the right arm of each high in air.
'Paukanten parat? Are the combatants ready?' inquired the umpire, who
was the chief of the Westphalians.
'Parat! Ready!' was answered from both sides simultaneously.
'Silence!' cried the umpire. 'The duel begins. Auf die Mensur! Fertig!
Los!'
Hollenstein and his adversary walked forward, accompanied by their
seconds. Each struck a formal tierce cut at the other, and a halt was
cried. They scarcely retired and the umpire repeated the words 'To the
fight! Ready! Go!' and the duel began in earnest. Both were
accomplished swordsmen, and the combat promised to be a long one. They
exhibited to the admiring spectators every intricacy of _schlager_
fencing, in all its wonderful neatness and quickness of cut and parry.
From time to time a halt was called, and each man retired to his
original place, his right arm being caught and held in air by the
'bearing-fox,' as the novice is called whose business it is to fill the
office. The object of this proceeding is to prevent a rush of blood to
the arm, which might cause pain and numbness in the member and
interfere with the combatant's quickness.
'A couple of good fencers,' remarked Rex as he rose from his chair and
went to prepare himself for what was before him.
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