"I have no quarrel with you, sir," he returned slowly. "Yet if you would seek redress through the courts, you may seek me at Louisville, where I am well known. My name, sir, is Charles Duval, and I regret that my apology did not——"
His stately courtesy and slight trace of contempt served only to infuriate the old man the more. With one swift forward stride, he gripped the bridle of the horse.
"Git down out'n that saddle," he broke in. "I aim to git a feel o' yer hide right here an' now, consarn ye! I don't want no courts."
"Hands off, you fool!" whipped out Duval, deadly pale. He made as if to raise his riding-crop, put paused and twisted in the saddle at sound of a cheery voice from the bend of the road just behind him. It was a vibrant joyous voice, and the lilt of song rose clearly on the afternoon air.
Oh, I fit with Gen'ral Washington an' I'd like to fight some more,
An' I'm going to join with Gen'ral Clark when next we go to war!
I'll tote my Kaintuck rifle, and I'll raise the Kaintuck boys,
And we'll sculp the bloody Britishers——
The singer jogged around the bend of trees and came to an abrupt halt as he sighted the two. His horse was good, his deerhide dress bad, his rifle brass-mounted, and his head bare. Glinting brown hair, a brown, clean-shaven face of youth and strong lines, and clear brown eyes formed a symphony of woods-colouring.
"Well, well!" His eyes twinkled slightly as he surveyed the scene before him. "Is this a highway robbery, friends? Strength assailed by old age—what an allegory we find here! And why not make youth the mediator, may I ask?"
His appearance seemed to quiet the rage of the old man, who released the horse's bridle and stepped back calmly. The newcomer met the steady look of Duval, but the twinkle passed from the brown eyes.
"Well?" he snapped suddenly. "Are you dumb, sir? I believe you intended to strike this old man with your whip?"
"Sir, you are at liberty to formulate your own beliefs," returned Duval coldly. "Kindly get out of my path at once."