Quite Naturally, My Brother Regarded Jack As One Of His Greatest
Heroes, And Whenever He Heard Of His Being In
Our neighbourhood he
would mount his horse and go off in search of him, to spend long hours
in his
Company and persuade him to talk about that awful fight in a
dark room with so many against him. One result of his intimacy with
Jack was that he became dissatisfied with his own progress in the
manly art of self-defence. It was all very well to make himself
proficient with the foils and as a boxer, and to be a good shot, but
he was living among people who had the knife for sole weapon, and if
by chance he were attacked by a man with a knife, and had no pistol or
other weapon, he would find himself in an exceedingly awkward
position. There was then nothing to do but to practise with the knife,
and he wanted Jack, who had been so successful with that weapon, to
give him some lessons in its use.
Jack shook his head. If his boy friend wanted to learn the gaucho way
of fighting he could easily do so. The gaucho wrapped his poncho on
his left arm to use it as a shield, and flourished his facon, or knife
with a sword-like blade and a guard to the handle. This whirling about
of the knife was quite an art, and had a fine look when two
accomplished fighters stood up to each other and made their weapons
look like shining wheels or revolving mirrors in the sun.
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