“It was, sir. Both of us fired our pistols, but missed. Then we threw our weapons to one side and clashed. It was a hard and long fight, sir. He hit like a pile driver, and he was as active as a deer. But I was lucky enough to knock him out at last.”
“Then why does your face look like a huge piece of pickled beef?” asked the incorrigible Warner mischievously.
“You wait and I'll make yours look the same!” retorted Dick.
“Shut up,” said Colonel Winchester. “If I catch you two fighting I may have you both shot as an example.”
Dick and Warner grinned good-naturedly at each other. They knew that Colonel Winchester did not dream of carrying out such a threat, and they knew also that they had no intention of fighting.
“And after you knocked him out what happened?” asked the colonel.
Dick looked sheepish.
“He lay so still I was afraid he was dead,” he replied. “I ran down to a brook, filled my cap with water, and returned with it in the hope of reviving him. I got there just in time to see him vanishing in the bushes. Pursuit was hopeless.”
“He was clever,” said the Colonel. “Have you any idea who he was?”
“He told me. He was Victor Woodville, the son of Colonel John Woodville, C.S.A., the owner of this house.”