"You damned, sneaking coward!" he roared, forgetting everything in sudden outburst. "By Gad, Bell, this fellow is a disgrace to the uniform--you know what he did?"
"I know he fired before I got the word out," indignantly.
"The blamed curb--yes; and when those fellows rode up he tried to blurt out the whole situation. Good God, Le Gaire, aren't you even a soldier?" shaking the fellow savagely. "Haven't you ever learned what parole means? Damn you, are you totally devoid of all sense of personal honor?"
"I never gave my parole."
"You lie, you did; you are here on exactly the same terms as Bell and I--released on honor. Damned if I believe there's another man in Confederate uniform who would be guilty of so scurvy a trick. Were you hurt, Galesworth?"
"No, the ball struck my revolver case, and made me sick for a moment."
"No fault of Le Gaire's--the noise of the horses shattered his aim. Lord! how I despise such a cowardly whelp!"
He flung the man from him so violently he fell to his knees on the ground. The look of amazement on Le Gaire's face, his utter inability to comprehend the meaning of it all, or why he had thus aroused the enmity of his brother officers, gave me a sudden feeling of compassion. I stepped toward him. Perhaps he mistook my purpose, for he staggered partially erect.
"Damn you!" he yelled. "I'm fighting yet!" and flung the unloaded derringer with all the force of his arm at my face.