“Come, come, Sarennes,” I said, for I recognised the tall Canadian, “have you not got over your ill-humour yet? You nearly insulted me to-day in the field.”
“I intended to. Do you wish me to repeat my words, or do you not know when you are insulted, unless you are struck?”
“Are you mad, or only drunk, Sarennes? Get back to camp, man, and sleep off your fit. We cannot afford to quarrel after such a day as this.”
“No! you cannot afford to fight at any time. Do you think I am a woman like her whom you deceived, to be tricked by your lying tongue?”
“Stop, sir!” I commanded. “I am on duty, but my duty must wait until I have read you a lesson, which, I regret, you will not live to profit by.”
We could hardly see each other, and it was utterly impossible to follow the sword-play save by feel; it was not a duel at all; it was death, sure and swift, for one or perhaps both of us in the dark.
Sure and swift it was. I lost touch of his blade, and as he lunged desperately, I avoided his stroke by dropping on my left hand, and straightening my sword-arm en seconde, ran him clean through the body as he came forward, his blade passing harmlessly over me. It was a desperate chance to take, but the stakes were high.
I knelt beside the fallen man and spake to him, but he could not answer, and in common humanity I rose and hurried off to find some help.
I had not gone fifty yards before I almost ran up against a man cautiously making his way over the field. To my astonishment, I saw he was an officer of Fraser's Highlanders, and commanding him to halt, I advanced, pistol in hand, and recognized Nairn.
“You are my prisoner, sir,” I declared, covering him as I spake, and then, the drollery of the situation coming over me, I dropped my arm and said, “It seems I am in for settling accounts to-night, Captain Nairn. You were good enough to remind me of some indebtedness on the field to-day, though what it was I am at a loss to determine. Perhaps it was my refusal of your handsome offer to me in Louisbourg that I should turn traitor. No? 'Pon my soul, you are strangely quiet in private for a gentleman who was so insistent in company!