"Young man, your sword;" so Lambro once more said:

Juan replied, "Not while this arm is free."

The old man's cheek grew pale, but not with dread,

And drawing from his belt a pistol he

Replied, "Your blood be then on your own head."

Then looked close at the flint, as if to see

'T was fresh—for he had lately used the lock—

And next proceeded quietly to cock.