He watched anxiously for his opportunity. Presently it came.
A singularly lithe young fellow from one of the Northern regiments met and slew, in the open field, one of our officers. Thereupon Jack turned to his captain and said: “If I have your leave, captain, I’d like to try conclusions with that young fellow myself. He seems to know how to handle sharp steel.”
The captain nodded assent, and Jack put spurs to his horse. The two men met in midfield. They crossed swords as a couple of gladiators might, while a thousand eyes watched anxiously for the result.
It was manifestly to be a contest of experts, a battle of the giants, for both men were above the average in height and weight, and both knew every trick of the sabre.
Their swords drew fire from each other’s edge at the first onset.
Then they paused strangely and looked at each other. Then Jack deliberately threw his sabre upon the ground and uncovered his head.
His adversary could have run him through on the instant, but the action of Jack seemed to give him pause. He stopped with his sword poised at the tierce thrust. He leant forward eagerly and gazed into the calm eyes of the Confederate. Then he, too, abandoning his purpose, threw his weapon to the ground.
We were all eagerness and curiosity; and neither our eagerness nor our curiosity was relieved when the two men grasped each other’s hand, swung their horses around, and each returned unarmed to his own line.
When Jack rode up he had just six words of explanation to make.
“That man,” he said, “is my twin brother.”