William Trigget laughed boisterously at that. "We must ease the young gentleman's temper, sir," he said to the baronet. "I have a pair of singlesticks."
"Get them," said the baronet. He slipped his hand under Kingswell's arm and led him into the cabin. Beatrix welcomed him cordially, with a shy compliment to his bravery thrown in. The youth immediately felt better in his pride.
"Say nothing of D'Antons, or the duel," Sir Ralph whispered in his ear. "He is safe in his own bed, being nursed conscientiously, if not over-tenderly, by Maggie Stone."
Kingswell seated himself beside Mistress Beatrix on the bench by the fire. He noticed that she had been weeping. Her eyes seemed all the brighter for it. He gave her a detailed account of the brief expedition from which he had just returned. He told of the cluster of lodges, the cooking-fires still burning, the utensils and food scattered about, and not a human being in sight.
"And what if you had seen the savages?" she asked. "Surely, four Englishmen and a lad could do nothing against such a host?"
"We would have fallen in the first flight of arrows," replied Kingswell.
"Then why did you risk it?"
The young man shook his head and laughed. "Some one must take risks," he said, "else all warfare would come to a standstill."
The girl was looking down at her hands, and reflectively twisting a jewelled ring around and around on one slim finger. "And I wish it would with all my heart," she sighed. "Warfare and bloodshed—they are the devil's inventions, and strike innocent and guilty alike."