“I am very well sure. I know the house up-stairs and down.”
Bucklaw looked to his arms. He was about starting on his quest when they heard footsteps, and two figures appeared. It was Iberville and Gering. They paused a moment not far from where the rogues were hid.
“I think you will agree,” said Iberville, “that we must fight.”
“I have no other mind.”
“You will also be glad if we are not come upon, as last night; though, confess, the lady gave you a lease of life?”
“If she comes to-night, I hope it will be when I have done with you,” answered Gering.
Iberville laughed a little, and the laugh had fire in it—hatred, and the joy of battle. “Shall it be here or yonder in the pines, where we were in train last night?”
“Yonder.”
“So.” Then Iberville hummed ironically a song:
“Oh, bury me where I have fought and fallen,
Your scarf across my shoulder, lady mine.”