jim's surmise of trouble on the brew set fire to my feet. at the door of the card room i met duff green coming out—duff of the oporto nose. i barely nodded; i could taste of insincerity and a suave false slyness on the man as one smells secret fire in a house.

as i pushed into the card room, while it was well filled of folk, my first glance revealed nothing to justify jim's fears. there was noah, truly; and sitting with him that kentucky yankee, the anxious amos kendall. isaac hill, gray and thin, and limping with his club-foot, was also about. these were the general's friends; there was naught to anticipate of a misunderstanding with noah from them.

and for all that, jim was right; calm as showed the surface, there ran an undertow of conversation which flowed for storm. jim, who lived long among fighting men on fighting ground, had attained perhaps some sharpened sense for the sign or sound of approaching strife, and could foretell it while yet a mile away, kendall was by noah's side, and hill had paused at his elbow; yet it was with neither of these he was engaged. against the corner of a mantelpiece, and two paces from noah, leaned a young man of dissolute look. his name, i learned, was catron, and he came from port tobacco, a small hamlet in the southern toe of maryland. evidently, catron was of an upper class in his country, as his dress, and fine hands, smallish and unmarred of toil, would give a signal. he had been drinking, but seemed more vicious than drunk.

catron was doing the talking, and with a manner of itself an insult seemed bent for altercation.

“don't cross the run of things,” warned noah, in a whisper, as i marked my advent by dropping a hand upon his shoulder; “i am glad you are come; but don't interfere. affairs go famously.”

willing to gain some insight of the trend of traffic, i paused behind noah's chair.

“that i should cross words,” catron was saying, “with a jackson jew does not tell in favor of my respectability. it is what one must look for, however, when the beggars of politics are promoted to the saddle.”

“your epithet of 'jackson jew,'” responded noah, quietly, “i take for myself, and am much flattered thereby. and you are also to remember there are weapons other than words which one may cross with me whenever one's valor arouses to that pitch. jew, yes! my ancestors were poets, lawgivers—they read the stars, and collected the wisdom and the learning of the world, when the slant-skulled fore-fathers of upstairs i might indicate went clothed of sheepskin and club, ate their meat raw, and saved their fire to pray to.”

all this flowed from noah in tones modulate and sweet. i began to wonder at my fair-haired friend; not unskilled in colloquy of this sort, it beat upon me that noah, himself, was wanting an encounter.

“if i were to own my way,” said catron, paying no heed to noah's intimation of a stone-age savagery as the state of his forebears. “if i might have my way, i'd exclude every shoe-lace jew from the country.”

“doubtless; if you were to have but your own way,” purred noah. “and yet, observe the injustice you propose. the jew is as much the american as you. my father fought for this country; i have fought for it; the jews found and gave one-third of that money which won the revolution. the jews wasted their treasure and their blood like water for independence, while folk one wots of were filling the roles of royalists and upholding the hands of the king.”

there now fell out a deal of talk to little purpose, i thought, and i was on the tip of telling noah so, when someone from over my shoulder flung a remark.

“you are he,” said this man—his name was witherspoon, and he a clay kentuckian—“you are he,” addressing noah, “who had this country stricken from the muster of christian nations. you caused the bey of tunis to make the decision.”

“i but caused the bey to expound our constitution,” said noah, looking carelessly back at witherspoon.

while i was turning these last remarks in my mind, and gnawing the enigma they offered, catron broke forth with a cataract of malediction upon the general, and noah and any and all who stood the former's supporters. it was a flood of abuse that told strongly for the ruffian's muddy powers.

“and now this precious jackson of yours,”—these were catron's closing words—“this murderer! this thief of other men's wives! would insult the decency of our capitol with a courtesan in his cabinet.”

“meaning whom?” asked noah, half rising.

noah's words had the fiber of triumph; he put his question as might he who had trapped that result which he went seeking from the start.

“who?” retorted the other; “who, save that peg o'neal who was as common as the streets she walked.”

“you lie; you rogue and dog of henry clay, you lie!”

noah fair spat out the words; it was as though they came freighted with the venom of the viper.

catron growled an oath and leaped towards noah. he was met flush in the face with a glass of whiskey which noah in most casual fashion had just poured. i had foreseen noah's purpose; i'd heard him say he drank no spirits.

for the moment catron was stopped, the bite and anguish of the alcohol in his eyes making him as a blind man. as noah threw the liquor, i seized him by the wrist; so far it had been gentleman's work; i did not want him to spoil his position by throwing the glass.

“don't grip so hard,” warned noah, making not the least of struggle; “don't grip so hard. i shall anon need this hand for what is in store; that grasp like a hand-vise will weaken it for a sword, or shake it for a pistol.”

never was i more played upon and pleased than by the coolness of noah, who showed as steady, not to say indifferent, as he who acts a part in a theater.

“i shall have your life for this!” screamed catron, who, in the hands of friends and still blind of the whiskey, was carried to another room.

when something like peace fell, i asked noah to explain. i would understand this violence; the more since it looked to be half-plan on noah's part. kendall and hill were with us and made four for our conversation.

“what is the riddle, then?” i said. “i got your note; what was it you desired?”

“nothing, save your presence,” he replied. “as you observe, i was provoking a fight—not a most amiable attitude, i confess. but you will hear my reasons. since i saw you, i have found how there exists a clique of bloods—they are of both the clay and calhoun parties—who go about grossly assailing mrs. eaton. there is concert in their villainy; and they relax themselves at intervals with threats of violence against any who shall take mrs. eaton's part. a duel—a prompt, sharp duel, with a wound or two—is the best, in truth! the only way to stifle them. there is nothing like steel or lead to teach such gentry mildness and a christian spirit.”

noah laughed over the adjective.

“and have you put yourself forward,” i demanded, “as that master who is to give these lessons of lead and steel?”

“what could be better?” returned noah. “i am cold and steady, and not apt for error. again, i am of no such overt and particular emphasis in the general's designs as to link his name too much with this ruffle. since it is to be, i think i am excellently the hand for the work; and i hold it fortunate i am here when i so dovetail with events.”

“and what is to come?” said i.

“indubitably, a challenge,” broke in kendall. “the maryland catrons are of touchwood stock. they duel for their pleasure.” then with an inflection of warning. “this catron will ask for swords!”

“swords should do exceeding well,” remarked noah. “it should go through sharply, this affair, for the best moral effect on others of his ill-tongued clan. with swords we might fight in a room, since they make no noise. let us meet at once. in an hour this catron's eyes will cease to burn, and he'll see the better for it.”

“but, mind you, catron is a master of the sword,” said kendall. “he had the best teachers in florence.”

“should he show you my blood,” returned noah, coldly, “i will avouch him the best fencer of america.”

there would be a duel, so much i could tell. and yet the situation put me to deepest thought. i was sorry for peg's name in it, too; that would mean no end of talk.

“there is no end of talk as it stands,” argued noah. “it were best to make mrs. eaton's fame the issue. i could have forced a quarrel on his insults for that i was a jew. but i hold it better as it is. mrs. eaton was the one question worth duelling with such a bully about; but for the duel to be of suppressive virtue, it is required to have the casus belli surely shown.”

noah was profoundly right in these arguments; the next day's sequel of silence on the cautious parts of our anti-eaton swashbucklers remarked as much.

“you speak of this catron as a bully,” commented hill. “i know nothing of your code, for it does not obtain in new hampshire. but is a gentleman bound to take notice of the vaporings of a bully—a mere blackguard?”

“one may be a bully,” returned the steady noah, “and none the less patrician for that. indeed, your prince oft takes his purple blood for license. who was alcibiades but a bully-boy of athens? who have been the bullies of london town, with their mohocks and hell fire clubs, but the nobility and royal princes? no, believe me, sir;” and noah's lip twitched sarcastically, “the bully's blood is sometimes blue.”

it was settled that i should second the interests of noah. at a first blink, this arrangement might have the look of the general's fat in the fire, since we professed anxiety to keep his name clear of the muddle. but there are two ends to a lane; our purpose was attained when the general's want of personal knowledge found demonstration. that plain, it was next good to have it understood how the jackson interest was at the noah shoulder. these reasons, and because i owned experience of such arbitraments—for i had lived where pistols, barking at ten paces, were rife enough—taught noah his preference for me over kendall and hill, who had seen fewer of these bickers, the latter none at all.

“they will be the challenging party,” i observed to noah; “that gives us the choice of arms.”

“should kendall be right,” said noah, “as to the florentine studies of our friend, he will prefer swords. suppose you concede swords on condition he fight at once.”

even while we conferred, there came pigeon-breast, my friend of the clanking saber and gold heels, to wait upon us. the sight of me as sponsor for noah caused pigeon-breast a dubious start; possibly he feared lest the general resent his presence as the avowed ally of the enemy. indeed poor pigeon-breast expressed his thought.

“it is to be hoped,” faltered pigeon-breast, in his high-pitched tenor, “you will represent me, sir, in certain quarters you know of, as acting solely for the honor of my friend. my personal position as to the subject matter of the quarrel must not be deduced from that.”

i maintained myself with gravity, as folk about a litigation of honor should; also, i set pigeon-breast easy on risks and perils for himself. in the matter of weapons pigeon-breast fair fell upon my neck.

“it is for you to name weapons,” quoth pigeon-breast. then, with hesitation: “if it meet your view, however, we for our side would welcome swords.”

“and that is a highly improper remark, permit me to say.” my attitude was purposely severe. it would throw pigeon-breast into confusion. “since the choice is with us, it is neither graceful nor safe for you to try to lead it.”

“surely,” protested pigeon-breast, “i meant no unfairness, no offence. but with swords, sir, this might come quietly off in town. should you say pistols, it will mean bladensburg; and the mud is girth deep.”

at the word “mud,” poor pigeon-breast gazed upon his varnished boots and bandbox regimentals with round eyes of apprehension. i took advantage of pigeon-breast's solicitude and feminine terror of bladensburg mire to say that if we might have our men up at once, it would tell strongly in favor of swords. of course, my haste was to have the thing finished before some waifword of it reached the general's ear.

“why, i believe an hour from now,” said pigeon-breast, hopefully, “might suit us extremely well. that would make it sharp noon. shall we say noon?”

“and the ball room at gadsby's?” i returned. having considered, i deemed it best to be out of the indian queen with this clash.

gadsby's was to the taste of pigeon-breast; it would serve admirably. also, pigeon-breast would bring a brace of rapiers.

thus was it adjusted between the militant pigeon-breast and myself. pigeon-breast withdrew, giving me a most sweeping bow; but carefully keeping his hand to himself, by which i saw that he was not unversed in the etiquette of the field.

returning to noah, i laid before him our arrangements; incidentally, i would get a morsel of food, since i had had none that morning, and my stomach was much inclined to take this neglect in dudgeon.

having a private parlor to ourselves, for kendall and hill would lunch with me, i sent for what we craved and urged dispatch. the repast was brought, and while we did it honor with knife and fork, noah sipped a thimbleful of sherry, saying he accepted it to quicken the eye and give vigor and pliancy to the wrist.

as we lunched, noah called for a messenger.

“find mr. rivera,” said noah; “bring him to me here.”

there was a question on my tongue; it covered the charge tossed over my shoulder by the man, witherspoon, that noah had fixed the country's status as a nation of heathen among the powers of the earth.

“the statement is true,” said noah; “the story is brief. it was during the last war, and while i represented the country in tunis. a yankee privateer, little but valiant, came into port towing a hulking english merchantman, whereof, cutlass in hand, he had made prize. the yankee would have the merchantman condemned in the courts of tunis, and sold. the british minister objected; he recalled the bey, before whom we both appeared, to his treaty made with england. one clause precluded the use of tunis as a port of condemnation for english ships made prize in wars between england and any other 'christian nation.' the phrase was 'christian nation.' there was no going about the treaty; it stood in ink and sheepskin. whereupon i read the learned bey—himself a darkened pagan—our constitution. i showed him we were not a 'christian nation,' but admitted every creed or sect or sept or faith of men, gentile or jew or musselman, and all on common terms. it was impossible we should be a 'christian nation;' the treaty with england did not in this instance tie his hands. the bey held with me; america was not a 'christian nation;' the prize was condemned and sold. the bey would receive one-fifth of the proceeds of that sale; which may or may not have aided his wisdom to the decision i've described. still, it was a decision; and since it never has been quarreled with or overturned, a heathen country we remain to this day in the eye of international law.”

as noah ended his scrap of history, a tall young man, square and heavy of shoulders, and with every movement of his body as smoothly sure and sinuous as the movements of a cat, appeared. he was that rivera for whom noah had sent.

“go to my rooms and bring me a pair of swords,” said noah.

“the smallswords?” asked rivera, with just a thought of interest.

“no; the spanish swords.”

“who is your armorer?” i asked of noah when rivera was gone.

this boy i had come across before. he had drawn himself upon my attention by the panther grace and strength told of in his motions. large, long of limb, and heavy, there was yet a brisk lightness with him to hold one like a spell.

“his name,” responded noah, “is rivera—michael rivera—and his blood flows a fantastic, almost a formidable mixture. his mother was a maid of my mother; an irish lass she was, and came out of tipperary. the father, on the far other hand, was a spanish jew; by trade a bull-fighter, the foremost toreador of seville, where, when my family was visiting in spain, the impressionable tipperary maiden lost her heart to him as he flourished bloodily about the arena. they were married by the padre, for rivera senior, while pure jew, was none the less pure catholic; under spanish law he could have had no place among the bull-fighters else, since in spain it is not permitted to be cruel unless one first be christian. my protege, who goes for the swords, is the fruit of that union; now, his parents being dead, and because he was born among my people, he abides with me. he has a drowsy, honest soul—though hot enough when moved—and he loves me. he would accept death for me like a dog.”

“and what is his part with you?” asked kendall. the tale of rivera interested us.

“no part,” responded noah, “more than to go where i go, and come where i come; to fetch and to carry and to do my word. he is well taught of books; but owns ideas not at all, for he has no width nor current of conjecture. yet you are not to believe him a fool. he is silent, but blithe to obey, and true as blade to hilt. i keep him for he would have otherwise no support. if i turned him on the world, he could not make a dollar—nor guard it if he should. in that fiscal particular, the jew in him has balked and broken down.” noah laughed lightly. “the faithful rivera,” he went on, “has, however, certain advantages. there is a compensation, an equilibrium, in nature. rivera, slow of brain, possesses the muscle-power of a hercules; moreover, in those twin arts of boxing and wrestling, it's to be doubted if his over-lord exists. some day, in some moment of brutality—being now and again overtaken of such—i shall have rivera to england to beat bendigo and ward. the prize-ring is his one opening for eminence. and i—as does the immortal byron, who has more pride of fisticuffs than verse—applaud the ring.”

while noah talked, i was yielding him my meed of tacit admiration. here was a man, a creature of quills and ink, too, within minutes of meeting, edge to edge, with one keen of his weapon, and a declared adept among sword fighters. and clearly, the business was no more upon his spirit than if the day bore no grim promise, but only smiles. it was more than courage, it was the absolute absence of fear; he leaned back with his sherry, and the little story of his young spanish irish-jew, as though hate were not at that same moment of time whetting a rapier with hope against his life. his foreclaim of being cold and steady was not a boast which wanted feet to stand upon.

rivera came back, bearing the swords wrapped from casual eye in the folds of a cloak. i drew one—a plain rapier or spanish sword—and of as superb temper as any to come from its birth-forge of toledo.

“they are brothers, those swords,” said noah; “there is none better. i had them from the hands of that bey who branded us as heathen, and so fretted the friend of henry clay. and since, in a pastime such as we go about, a fullest confidence in one's weapon is important, you will prefer these for me if the choice be given you.” this was spoken to me.

rivera knelt down, and taking off his patron's shoes, replaced them with light fencing slippers, whereof the soles crackled with a fresh coat of resin. then came loose overshoes, meant to protect the others on the road to gads-by's from intervening mud. having done this, and saying not a word whether of question or remark, the boy stood back as waiting the next command. i was ever reckoned a judge of anything on two legs or four, as became the best quartermaster the general ever had, and i've yet to glimpse so perfect—so splendidly, so accurately perfect—an example of the physical man as showed in this youth, with his brown hair, brown eyes, dark skin, and round thick neck like the carved column of some sculptor.

it was time to be off for gadsby's, no mighty journey, being just across the street. as we were about departing, noah called to rivera, who exhibited no more distrust of a finale than was present with the other, and observed: “i shall be hungry on my return. have a fowl and a flask of wine set out for me in my own rooms.”

rivera bowed as one who understands; and giving me the cloak to be still a refuge for the toledoes, watched us, as by a side door we got onto the walk and headed for gadsby's over the way.

there were the four of us, noah, kendall, hill, and myself, when we came into that great room of gadsby's which was reserved for routs and dancing. it was a large and lofty room with a gallery all about. we had the place to ourselves for the moment; pigeon-breast and his principal were yet to arrive upon the scene.

noah kicked off the overshoes, and stepped and scrubbed his feet against the flooring boards. the experiment ended to his taste.

“the resin holds,” he remarked. then glancing about the vast apartment, he came back to me with a smile: “it's like fighting in a 10-acre field,” said he.

pigeon-breast appeared by a far door. besides his bully principal, there were two others, for i had named the propriety of witnesses and suggested the number. i crossed over and greeted pigeon-breast, and then led him aside.

“is either of the gentlemen with you,” said i, “a surgeon?”

“why, no,” returned pigeon-breast, “the thing clean slipped my mind.”

“it might be well to send, then,” i said, “for i think he will be wanted.”

pigeon-breast spoke to the others, who, with catron between them, had continued near the door. pigeon-breast, after a word, returned to me.

“there is a surgeon below,” he reported; “he will be with us like winking, for he loves this kind of thing.”

“and now the swords,” i said. “we may as well transact preliminaries as far as we can go while waiting.”

pigeon-breast suggested we spin a coin, their weapons or ours. it fell for ours; a good omen, i thought, albeit a look at noah, where he gazed carelessly from a window, face immovable as granite, gave encouragement enough to declare war for a crown. i went over to tell him we had won the use of our toledoes.

“that sounds well,” he said. “i like good tools, especially when the work demanded leans upon the fine.”

“you will not slay the man?” i asked.

“for the one matter of his life,” returned noah, “he's as safe as though this dancing room were a church. beyond that, however, i shall take such measures with him that, for months, who sees him shall know what reward is waiting on cowards who vilify a pure girl.”

pigeon-breast signaled for a word. taking me to a remote corner, he argued that our duties required we discuss the possibility of apology.

“they must fight a little first,” i retorted. “there is no room between epithets such as 'rogue' and 'liar' to squeeze in an explanation. these folk must fight while both can hold out swords.”

this was not butcher's taste; but i began to see with noah, that the mouths against us must be silenced,—at least the men. we would begin with catron; we would duel our way through the social register, if need beckoned, to purchase that justice of silence for our peg.

poor peg! she was not to lie helpless in every cur's mouth, to be torn at as most pleased his cruelty or best fattened his interest. the more the situation ran before me, the more my breast took fire; i sustained a strict face, however, engaged as i was upon the parade ground of honor and in the service of a gentleman. still, i said enough, and said it in such fashion that pigeon-breast, now a little nervous when the actual steel was about to be drawn, saw nothing for it but to bring forward his fellow. this, i admit, he managed in a genteel way; nor did catron either whiten or lag backward, but stepped to his place as might he who is warm for vengeance. i did not like this catron's looks; surely the creature was a blackguard with no right to name himself among gentlefolk, only so far as one might lie within the accident of decent birth. but he seemed stout enough of kidney, though that may have grown with a belief in his infallible craft of the sword.

we gave our men their arms; and as, stripped to their shirts, they stood apart, awaiting signal to engage, noah put point to floor, and bearing hard upon the hilt, bent his blade double. abruptly lifting his hand, the honest steel sprang straight, and the sword was tossed high in the air. as it fell, with the clear, sureness of legerdemain, noah caught it by the hilt. it was no more than a flourish of the fencing school, perhaps; but it served to hearten me mightily and to put me confident of victory. neither was it wanting in effect, i may suppose, on the volatile pigeon-breast and his man, catron; i thought on their side it made somewhat for a certain seriousness of face.

speaking now of the battle, i must warn you of my inability to tell the tale in nice and hair-line strokes. it was a notable fight, valorously sustained and fairly made; but indubitably it did not remain in one like myself—wholly ignorant of that fencing which pushes or stabs, and admirable with a saber no farther than striking a downright blow with the edge—to catch close work, and taste the merit of it. i have no more of fencing than of sanscrit, and remember no work, of my own of that character beyond splitting an indian's head like a pumpkin in a skirmish on the tombigbee. i am strong of arm, and having the day before come across the long hair of seven white women, murdered at fort mimms, smoke-drying in the wigwams of a creek village we sacked, i doubtless smote upon that savage with uncommon violence.

when the pair engaged, there were preliminary moments employed in feeling one another's strength. the swords kept up an incessant thin rasping, with an occasional singing note as they parted company for thrust or parry. even my uneducated vision observed from the commencement how noah held the better of it. his address was superior; and i should say that, with a stiffer wrist, he was withal the more falcon-like in assault, and readier of recovery.

catron, by his brow of fury, meant death if he might only clothe his point for it. that was not to be. on the heels of a desperate stroke—it was fellow to a dozen that preceded it—which noah foiled with blade describing a circle no bigger than a curtain-ring, catron's flushed cheek faded to ghastly gray. for the moment i thought him touched; but no, it was but the sudden daunting conviction that he had met his master. this, breaking on him like the boom of a death-bell, and how his life stood now naked before one whom he had so provoked, ate the yolk from his courage like a weasel.

catron foresaw his downfall before we who looked on might tell. and if i am to understand a gray, drawn face, then the news taught him the bitterness of death itself.

in the opening exchanges, catron attacked. he was in and out with a hateful ferocity, thrusting and pressing, as one whose merest wish is murder. noah gave backward not at all, but stood like a wall, risking all on eye and wrist. i could not catch the sleight of it, but again and again, as catron thrust, i could see the lead-colored blade glimmer by noah's side with not an open inch to give away. as noah told me later, however, an inch in fencing is a wide margin.

catron felt his strength slip from him; it was like the sands running from an hour-glass. but the rogue's heart summoned stoutness. finding himself going, catron must crowd the strife to an end before it ended him. he leaped back to get his distance; then without pause, and giving a sort of bellowing, roaring cry that may have been a scheme for terror, he sprang forward, sending on his point as straight as the stroke of a serpent.

what befell was like the lightning's flash; and no man's gaze, however trained to the trick of it, might follow. noah did not parry, but stood aside from the other's point, which, passing, grazed his garments. noah's point, in retort, entered catron's sword arm just above the guard. i saw noah hold his own hand high, and with point a bit lowered. noah ripped up his foe's arm—split it like a mackerel!—from wrist to shoulder.

it was a gaping furrow of a wound; and the horrid shock of it, when noah's steel caught in the shoulder bones, brought the wretched catron to the floor. the blood ran away in a crimson rivulet from the prostrate one; and to tell the best and the worst of me, i've yet to look on blood, or anything besides, which brought me so much of comfort and of the sweetness of peace.

while the surgeon, needle and lint going, dealt with catron, i conveyed noah to the end of the room. we must await the report of yon fellow's condition; we could not leave the field without consent of pigeon-breast—quite pale and stricken now, was pigeon-breast, as he stood watching while the bandages were wound.

following a nod of the surgeon's, pigeon-breast came towards me. i met him on his way.

“the thing is ended,” said pigeon-breast; his voice came huskily, and in a fashion faint. “the thing is at an end. my friend can not hold sword.”

“that is enough,” said i.

“one word, sir,” said noah, coming forward, handkerchief all red where he had been cleaning his blade; “you are to take notice: i from this day shall seek out with challenge each man who speaks evil of mrs. eaton. that creature who lies there, and whom, maugre his wound, i still contemn for the rogue and fetch-dog of henry clay i painted him, may be for warning.”

“but has mrs. eaton no husband to fight for her?” sputtered pigeon-breast, not relishing noah's attitude.

“let that go by,” retorted noah, sternly. “your diplomacy shall not reach. again i tell you, he who shall assail mrs. eaton with word or look, or who fails to please that lady with his conduct, replies to me. i wounded this one; i shall slay the next.”

“what is this to be?” cried pigeon-breast, appealing to me in a flutter of spiteful fright. “is it that we have a bravo?”

“a bravo whom you are like to encounter, sir,” i said, “unless you teach your tongue some prudence—you and your tribe.”

“sir, i would refuse to meet a bravo.”

“sir, you would meet the bravo or meet me.” then came a rush of temper about my heart. i thought on poor peg; and a great anger began to flame in me. i glowered on the tinsel pigeon-breast; then i thrust towards him my huge bear-paw hands. pigeon-breast considered them, and the hairy wrists like pistons, with a kind of interest of dismay. “sir,” said i, “the first foul dog among you who shall so much as take the name of that innocent one upon his lips, i'll find him out, and with the ruth one grants to rattlesnakes, i'll kill him with these fingers.”

and so ended that blood letting which was meant to tie the tongue of slander and in a measure did.

“i shall leave it to you,” observed noah as we came away, “to place this affair before the president in a right light. his is the only judgment whose favor i would seek, and that, particularly, for that his name is certain to figure in the story of this bicker whenever it is told. i would not have him think i had rashly put him in peril of criticism.”

“there should be no alarm on that score,” i replied. “my word for it, the general will endorse with his full name every step we have taken.”

on our return to the indian queen we found rivera waiting, and a table spread in noah's apartment as he had commanded. rivera received the spanish swords, still wrapped in the concealing cloak. he drew forth of its scabbard the blade which had armed noah's hand; it still carried a stain or two of that catron's blood, and rivera's eye seemed to fire with a sleepy satisfaction while he looked on it. then he turned his gaze on his patron in a manner of inquiry.

“no, he will live,” said noah, as though in reply to a query put by his protege; “it was not to kill him that we went across the way.”

at this news, rivera took the spanish swords and withdrew; and all with the evident purpose of putting them in order against a next campaign.

“i think,” said i, as noah drew up to the table—for it would seem that his work had given his appetite an edge, not dulled it—“i think i shall hunt up our friend the general. there is slight chance of any being before me; and yet i would make sure to bring him the earliest word of what has chanced.”

both hill and kendall would be for leaving, also, and as we three arose to go noah filled a quartet of glasses with burgundy. offering one to each, he said: “let us drink to the defeat, ay! even to the death of ones who would bear false witness against the innocent. may their best fate be no better than the fate of him whom we met to-day.”