“On guard!” cried Sir George.
But now a difficulty arose. The sun had gone down, though we had not observed it, and it rapidly became dusk. So that when we would have walked off a little way, out of sight of Lucille, to place ourselves, it was too dark for sword play. Sir George remarked it.
“Why, it is night,” he said, “and there is need of light for what we have before us. However, to-morrow will be another day. There is little likelihood that our quarrel will cool in the darkness.”
“Not on my side, my lord,” I answered, bowing.
“Enough, then. We will wait till sunrise. I will go with Simon to another part of the beach. We will meet again in the morning, and may the best sword win.”
“Say rather, may the right win,” was my reply, but he only laughed.
“Well, then,” he went on, “good-night, madame, and you also, Sir Francis, though ’tis more like to be a bad one for all of us and for you, madame. I would we had some small shelter, or some food for you, but the poor Eagle’s wings are broken.”
We looked to where the boat had been, but it was gone.
“Stay,” I said, remembering my saddle bags. “There is no need of hunger, at least, if Simon will go and bring what is on Kit’s back. We had better eat while we have the chance.”
I told the sailor what to fetch, adding some instructions about tying the mare more securely.