He soon, however, found that the game was not to be conducted on the
lines that he had laid down. Oswald, after waiting for a minute or two,
finding his opponent did not take the offensive, did so himself; and
for a time Marsden had all his work to do, to defend himself. Several
times, indeed, it was with the greatest difficulty that he guarded his
head. The activity of his assailant almost bewildered him, as he
continually shifted his position, and with cat-like springs leapt in
and dealt a blow, leaping back again before his opponent's arm had time
to fall.
Finding at last that, quick as he might be, Marsden's blade always met
his own, Oswald relaxed his efforts, as he was growing fatigued; and as
he did so Marsden took the offensive, pressing him backwards, foot by
foot. Every time, however, that he found himself approaching a barrier,
or other obstacle, that would prevent his further retreat, Oswald, with
a couple of springs, managed to shift his ground. When he saw that
Marsden was growing breathless from his exertions, he again took the
offensive, and at last landed a blow fairly on his opponent's helm.
"By my faith," the squire said, with a laugh that had nevertheless a
little mortification in it, "I would as soon fight with a wildcat; and
yet your breath scarce comes fast, while I have not as much left in me
as would fill an eggshell.
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