"I looked upon the lovely girl with astonishment, her language was so unlike anything I had ever heard from a woman. In Scotland here, if a woman knew her lover was to fight, she would almost go distracted, and do all in her power to prevent him. I could scarcely believe my ears, I was as yet so little used to their ways. As I stood looking at her, a shade of anger passed over her face, and the tears came into her eyes; she turned away her head, and sobbed aloud. This roused me.
"'What ails my Betsy?" I said, taking her in my arms. She still sobbed, and pushed me from her.
"'I am the most unfortunate girl in the world, she cried. 'I love a man, and he is a coward.'
"'A coward, Betsy!' cried I. 'What do you mean? I am no coward. I fear not the face of clay.'
"Turning to me with one of her sweet smiles—
"'I am not deceived, then, in my Bill?' she said. 'He is not afraid of Long Ned?'
"'No, my love; nor of the whole gang, one after another—one down, another come on,' said I. 'Are we friends again?'
"'O Bill, we are more than friends,' she sobbed. 'I love you dearly, and am proud of you.'
"Arm-in-arm, we returned to the tents.
"Long Ned had just come home after an excursion; so, as soon as he saw us, his rage knew no bounds; and his dark eyes flashed fire, as he came forward and ordered me to quit my hold of the girl. There were few words passed between us; every one knew what was to take place, so no one interfered further than to see fair play. You recollect, Square, I always loved a bit of a row. The lessons I took on board from Sambo, the black cook, stood me now in great stead. I learned from him the African mode, to hold the stick with both hands by the ends, and cover the body with it, more especially the head, having thus the advantage of striking with either hand, and puzzling my opponent. Ned, who was an expert cudgel-player, chose that weapon, I, nothing loth, agreed. Two sticks of equal length were chosen. Betsy at my side, held my jacket, while Ned's mother held his. His anger was so great, he could scarce restrain himself until we were ready. I knew my task, and was cool—as if I waited the boatswain's call to go. So away we went. I at once felt my advantage; and, expert as he was, he could not reach me—my mode embarrassed him. I hit him on both sides, not severely, as I might with ease have done, but he had never touched me. We paused, for a minute or two, for breath.