Barry, although but a private soldier when in the British service, was regarded as one of the best swordsmen in his regiment. In fact, he was that sort of person who took delight in excelling in every military exercise, so that his task-masters should have no grounds for wounding his feelings or his pride in any matter connected with the discipline of a soldier. So skillful was he in this connection, that the moment he caught sight of the manner in which his enemy grasped his weapon, he looked for but one issue touching the encounter, and that was, the probable destruction of both. He felt that he had an antagonist before him worthy the occasion, and braced himself for the work with all the energy of his being. Swift as lightning, both weapons flashed in the sunlight, and the next instant lay pressing uneasily against each other in mid-air; forming a shifting and glittering arch of death, beneath which either its crimson or emerald pillar was soon to fall in ensanguined ruins. Not a word was spoken on either side; each believing that his hour or that of the other had come! The conflict in the surrounding shrubbery had already almost ceased. Brief as the period was, the remaining few of the enemy were vanquished and soon had fled, pursued by a victorious two or three, being scarcely themselves more than that number, having suffered severely, although they fought with great bravery. It was the seven hundred years of hate and the red blood of Ireland, that decided the conquest for so far in favor of the green; and now, face to face, with lips compressed and glaring eye, stood the two representatives of the individual antagonisms, which had been pitted against each other for ages, and which never can breathe in peace the same vital air. As if understanding, thoroughly, the power, agility and skill of his antagonist, the opponent of Barry, who was an Englishman by birth, and had been in the British service, never sought for a moment to gain any advantage of the ground. In this relation, he seemed satisfied to fight his adversary on equal terms; being well aware that a single move might be fatal, inasmuch as it could not fail to distract his attention to some extent from his watchful enemy. The sward sloped down rapidly to the ravine; so that he who occupied the most elevated position would have his adversary at an advantage; but, although this conviction was impressed upon the minds of both, neither seemed anxious to avail himself of it; and thus they stood upon equal terms, in every way antagonists worthy of each other. In height, the Englishman had it somewhat in his favor; but, then, not above an inch or so; while Barry, in agility and compactness, seemed to be vastly his superior. And such they were, when the first thrust and parry told that the work had begun. This was immediately succeeded by a furious clashing, that evidenced a rising tempest of anger in the breast of either, or both, and which gave promise of being speedily followed by some fatal stroke that was sure to terminate the encounter. During this ominous flurry, Barry stood on the defensive, coolly eyeing his brave adversary, and watching for the unguarded moment when he could either kill or disarm him; but this was not so easily found, as the Englishman was every inch a soldier and a superb swordsman; and Barry knew it well.
Notwithstanding the violence of the attack, so adroitly was it met, and so firmly was it withstood, that our hero never gave way a hair’s breadth of ground, or suffered a single scratch; and now only, in reality, the murderous conflict commenced. The Englishman perceiving that our hero was not to be moved or thrown off his guard for an instant, became more fully satisfied that he had a dangerous antagonist to deal with, and so commenced to be himself more cautions and guarded. Seeing that mere personal strength availed him but little, he fell back on his admirable swordsmanship and fought with coolness the most undaunted. Barry now, in turn, became the assailant, and pressing his antagonist with great skill and courage, gave him a slight flesh wound, followed rapidly by another in the sword arm, from which the blood began to flow copiously. Perceiving that the conflict must be decided at once, as he should soon become faint from loss of blood, once more the red coat became the assailing party; but this time, as he was pressing our hero, but somewhat more feebly than before, his foot caught beneath the tough, fibrous roots of one of the pine shrubs by which they were surrounded, and the next instant he was thrown headlong towards Barry, while his sword flew out of his hand far beyond his reach.
The fight was over; and fortunate it was for the prostrate soldier that it was brought to so singular a determination; for, from the manner in which he was bleeding, if from nothing else, the day was sure to be decided in Barry’s favor. Regaining his feet, as soon as possible, he looked aghast for a moment, as if expecting his death blow; but found his antagonist not only presenting him his sword, but begging him not to continue the conflict, as from his wound he was in no situation to keep it up longer with any show of success.
“By my faith,” he replied in return, “I believe, under any circumstances, the fates were against me; so, understanding what is due to a brave man, keep my sword and find me some water, as I begin to feel a little shakey about the knees.”
Just at the foot of the slope, and but a few yards distant, there was a brook, to which our hero now led his prisoner, and where, after bathing his temples and bandaging his wound with a handkerchief, he left him for a moment to look after those who might need his aid more urgently, hard by. He found, after all, that but one of his party was killed, although two others, who managed to creep in amongst the shrubbery, were severely wounded. Not knowing how the contest was going, and seeing themselves completely hors de combat, they waited in silence the result, fearing to call out, lest the enemy might be upon them and despatch them. The red coats suffered most severely; six of their number having been killed outright. Strange to say, however, that there appeared to have been none of them simply wounded; for, although groans were heard to proceed from the point where they lay, they must have been uttered in their death agonies, so mortal was the damage dealt them.
When this much was ascertained, Barry was deliberating as to what had become of the remaining three of his party, when they returned to the scene of conflict, weary with a fruitless chase. These men instantly took up their comrades and bore them down to the brook, where they were refreshed with a cooling draught. Barry, finding that it would be dangerous for them to remain to bury the dead, as the noise of their rifles might have attracted the attention of some other body of the enemy that might possibly be somewhere in the vicinity of the ravine, determined to retrace his steps at once. His two wounded companions, like his prisoner, were able to walk slowly towards the camp; so, collecting the enemy’s dead into one place, and covering them with branches of evergreens, they took up the body of their fallen comrade and, placing it on a litter hastily formed of boughs gathered on the spot, slowly wended their way with it towards the point occupied by the main body of the army—Barry and his prisoner moving in the same direction, some distance in the rear.
CHAPTER XIII.
In the morning that Greaves visited the Fort in Canada, garrisoned by Barry’s regiment, it will be remembered that he had a brief interview with the Colonel. Momentary as it was, however, it was sufficient to prevent Barry from getting his discharge; for the Colonel was then and there apprised that our hero sought to leave the army for the purpose only of joining the anticipated Fenian invasion, giving it the advantage of his military skill, and aiding it with his knowledge of the fortifications that the invaders might attempt to posses themselves of. On being persuaded, through a glance at a certain document placed in his hands, that Greaves was to be trusted, he at once decided as to the course that he himself ought to pursue, and the reader has already seen the result. Strange as it may appear for the present, it was Greaves’ object to induce Barry to desert, and thereby shut himself out from ever revisiting the British dominions again. He felt that it would be better, too, that he should not be taken while in the act of deserting; as his punishment could be but light, owing to the circumstance, that he had endeavored, though in vain, to obtain his discharge honorably; so he determined to aid his escape from the Fort, and secure his outlawry beyond any possibility of mistake. Why he was prompted to an act so gratuitous and so apparently undeserved, remains for future explanation; but, at present, all we have to do with is the simple fact, that owing to his mysterious machinations, our young hero was driven to the step he had taken.