though all the western quarter of the sky was night-black and spangled yet with stars, the dawn was graying slowly in the east when tybee roused me.

"they have not come for you as yet," he said; "so i took time by the forelock and passed the word for breakfast. it heartens a man to eat a bite and drink a cup of wine just on the battle's edge. will you sit and let me serve you, captain ireton?"

"that i will not," said i; adding that i would blithely share the breakfast with him. whereat he laughed and clipt my hand, and swore i was a true soldier and a brave gentleman to boot.

so we sat and hobnobbed at the table; and tybee lighted all the remnant candle-ends, and broached the wine and pledged me in a bumper before we fell to upon the cold haunch of venison.

my summons came when we had shared the heel-tap of the bottle. it was my toast to this kind-hearted youngster, and we drained it standing what time the stair gave back the tread of marching men. tybee crashed his glass upon the floor and wrung my hand across the table.

"good by, my captain; they have come. god damn me, sir, i'll swear they might do worse than let you go, for all your spying. you've carried off this matter with the lady as a gentleman should, and whilst i live, she shall not lack a friend. if you have any word to leave for her—"

i shook my head. "no," said i; then, on second thought: "and yet there is a word. you saw how i must see the matter through to shield the lady?"

"surely; 'twas plain enough for any one to see."

"then i shall die the easier if you will undertake to make it plain to richard jennifer. he must be made to know that i supplanted him only in a formal way, and that to save the lady's honor."

the lieutenant promised heartily, and as he spoke, the oaken bar was lifted and my reprieve was at an end.

having the thing to despatch before they broke their fast, my soldier hangmen marched me off without ado. the house and all within it seemed yet asleep, but out of doors the legion vanguard was astir, and newly kindled camp-fires smoked and blazed among the trees. in shortest space we left these signs of life behind, and i began to think toward the end.

'tis curious how sweet this troubled life of ours becomes when that day wakes wherein it must be shuffled off! as a soldier must, i thought i had held life lightly enough; nay, this i know; i had often worn it upon my sleeve in battle. but now, when i was marching forth to this cold-blooded end without the battle-chance to make it welcome, all nature cried aloud to me.

the dawn was not unlike that other dawn a month past when i had ridden down the river road with jennifer; a morning fair and fine, its cup abrim and running over with the wine of life. i thought the cool, moist air had never seemed so sweet and fragrant; that nature's garb had never seemed so blithe. there was no hint nor sign of death in all the wooded prospect. the birds were singing joyously; the squirrels, scarce alarmed enough to scamper out of sight, sat each upon his bough to chatter at us as we passed. and once, when we were filing through a bosky dell with softest turf to muffle all our treadings, a fox ran out and stood with one uplifted foot, and was as still as any stock or stone until he had the scent of us.

a mile beyond the outfields of appleby hundred we passed the legion picket line, and i began to wonder why we went so far; wondered and made bold to ask the ensign in command, turning it into a grim jest and saying i misliked to come too weary to my end.

the ensign, a curst young popinjay, as little officer cubs are like to be, answered flippantly that the colonel had commuted my sentence; that i was to be shot like a soldier, and that far enough afield so the volleying would not wake the house.

so we fared on, and a hundred yards beyond this point of question and reply came out into an open grove of oaks: then i knew where they had brought me—and why. 'twas the glade where i had fought my losing battle with the baronet. on its farther confines two horses nibbled rein's-length at the grass, with falconnet's trooper serving-man to hold them; and, standing on the very spot where he had thrust me out, my enemy was waiting.

'twas all prearranged; for when the ensign had saluted he marched his men a little way apart and drew them up in line with muskets ported. but at a sign from falconnet, two of the men broke ranks and came to strap me helpless with their belts. i smiled at that, and would not miss the chance to jeer.

"you are a sorry coward, captain falconnet, as bullies ever are," i said. "would not your sword suffice against a man with empty hands?"

he passed the taunt in silence, and when the men had left me, said: "i have come to speed your parting, captain ireton. you are a thick-headed, witless fool, as you have always been; yet since you've blundered into serving me, i would not grudge the time to come and thank you."

"i serve you?" i cried. "god knows i'd serve you up in collops at the table of your master, the devil, could i but stand before you with a carving tool!"

he laughed softly. "always vengeful and vindictive, and always because you must ever mess and meddle with other men's concerns," he retorted. "and yet i say you've served me."

"tell me how, in god's name, that i may not die with that sin unrepented of."

"oh, in many small ways, but chiefly in this affair with the little lady of appleby."

"never!" i denied. "so far as decent speech could compass it, i have ever sought to tell her what a conscienceless villain you are."

he laughed again at that.

"you know women but indifferently, my captain, if you think to breach a love affair by a cannonade of hard words. but i am in no humor to dispute with you. you have lost, and i have won; and, were i not here to come between, you'd look your last upon the things of earth in shortest order, i do assure you."

"you?—you come between?" i scoffed. "you are all kinds of a knave, sir francis, but your worst enemy never accused you of being a fool!"

there was a look in his eyes that i could never fathom.

"you are bitter hard, john ireton—bitter and savage and unforgiving. you knew the wild blade of a half-score years ago, and now you'd make the grown man pay scot and lot for that same youngster's misdeeds. have you never a touch of human kindliness in you?"

to know how this affected me you must turn back to that place where i have tried to picture out this man for you. i said he had a gift to turn a woman's head or touch her heart. i should have said that he could use this gift at will on any one. for the moment i forgot his cool disposal of me in the talk with captain stuart; forgot how he had lied to make me out a spy and so had brought me to this pass.

so i could only say: "you killed my friend, frank falconnet, and—"

"tush!" said he. "that quarrel died nine years ago. your reviving of it now is but a mask."

"for what?" i asked.

"for your just resentment in sweet margery's behalf. believe it or not, as you like, but i could love you for that blow you gave me, john ireton. i had been losing cursedly at cards that day, and mine host's wine had a dash of usquebaugh in it, i dare swear. at any rate, i knew not what it was i said till tybee said it over for me."

"but the next morning you took a cur's advantage of me on this very spot and ran me through," i countered.

"name it what you will and let it go at that. there was murder in your eye, and you are the better swordsman. you put me upon it for my life, and when you gave me leave, i did not kill you, as i might."

"no; you reserved me for this."

he took a step nearer and seemed strangely agitated.

"you forced my hand, john ireton," he said, speaking low that the others might not hear. "you had her ear from day to day and used your privilege against me. as an enemy who merely sought my life for vengeance's sake i could spare you; but as a rival—"

i laughed, and sanity began to come again. "make an end of it," i said. "i'd rather hear the muskets speak than you."

for reply he took a folded paper from his pocket and spread and held it so that i might read. it was a letter from my lord cornwallis, directing captain falconnet to send his prisoner, captain john ireton, sometime lieutenant in the royal scots blues, under guard to his lordship's headquarters in south carolina.

"can you read it?" he asked.

i nodded.

"well, this supersedes the colonel's sentence. if i say the word to ensign farquharson you will be remanded."

"to be shot or hanged a little later, i suppose?"

"no. have you any notion why my lord charles is sending for you?"

"no," said i, in my turn; and, indeed, i had not.

"he knows your record as an officer, and would give you a chance to 'list in your old service."

"i would not take it—at your hands or his."

"you'd best take it. but in any event, you'll have your life and honorable safe-conduct beyond the lines."

"make an end," i said again. "i understand you will obey his lordship's order, or disregard it, as your own interest directs. what would you have me do?"

"a very little thing to weigh against a life. mr. gilbert stair is my very good friend."

i let that go uncontradicted.

"his title to the estate is secure enough, as you know, but you can make it better," he went on.

this saying of his told me what i had only guessed: that as yet he had not been admitted into gilbert stair's full confidence; also, that he had no hint of what had taken place in my chamber some hour or two past midnight. at that, a joy fierce like pain came to thrill me.

"go on," said i.

"your route to camden lies through charlotte. your guard will give you time and opportunity to execute a quitclaim in mr. stair's favor."

"is that all?" i asked.

"no; after that our ways must lie apart—or yours and margery's, at all events. give me your word of honor that you relinquish any claim you have, or think you have, upon her, and i pass this letter on to the ensign."

"and if i refuse?"

he came so near that i could see the lurking devil in his eyes.

"if you refuse? harken, john ireton; if you had a hundred lives to thrust between me and the thing i crave, i'd take them all." so much he said calmly; then a sudden gust of passion seized him, and for once, i think, he spoke the simple truth. "god! i'd sink my soul in calvin's hell to have her!"

i could not wholly mask the smile of triumph that his words evoked. this fox of maiden vineyards was entrapped at last. i saw the fire of such a passion as such a man may know burning in his eyes; and then i knew why he was come upon this errand.

"so?" said i. "then mistress margery sent you here to save me?" 'twas but a guess, but i made sure it hit the truth.

he swore a sneering oath. "so the priest carried tales, did he? well, make the most of it; she would not have her father's guest taken from his bed and hanged like a dog."

i smiled again. "'twas more than that: she would even go so far as to beg her husband's life a boon from that same husband's mortal enemy."

"bah!" he scoffed. "that lie of yours imposed upon the colonel, but i had better information."

"a lie, you say? true, 'twas a lie when it was uttered. but afterward, some hour or so past midnight, by the good help of father matthieu, and with your lieutenant tybee for one witness and the lawyer for another, we made a sober truth of it."

i hope, for your own peace of mind, my dears, that you may never see a fellow human turn devil in a breath as i did then. his man's face fell away from him like a vanishing mask, and in the place of it a hideous demon, malignant and murderous, glared upon me. twice his hand sought the sword-hilt, and once the blade was half unsheathed. then he thrust his devil-face in mine and hissed his parting word at me so like a snake it made me shudder with abhorrence.

"you've signed your own death warrant, you witless fool! you'd play the spoil-sport here as you did once before, would you? curse you! i wish you had a hundred lives that i might take them one by one!" then he wheeled sharp upon his heel and gave the order to the ensign. "belt him to the tree, farquharson, and make an end of him. i've kept you waiting over-long."

they strapped me to a tree with other belts, and when all was ready the ensign stepped aside to give the word. just here there came a little pause prolonged beyond the moment of completed preparation. i knew not why they waited, having other things to think of. i saw the firing line drawn up with muskets leveled. i marked the row of weather-beaten faces pillowed on the gun-stocks with eyes asquint to sight the pieces. i remember counting up the pointing muzzles; remember wondering which would be the first to belch its fire at me, and if, at that short range, a man might live to see the flash and hear the roar before the bullets killed the senses.

but while i screwed my courage to the sticking place and sought to hold it there, the pause became a keen-edged agony. a glance aside—a glance that cost a mightier effort than it takes to break a nightmare—showed me the ensign standing ear a-cock, as one who listens.

what he heard i know not, for all the earth seemed hushed to silence waiting on his word. but on the instant the early morning stillness of the forest crashed alive, and pandemonium was come. a savage yell to set the very leaves a-tremble; a crackling volley from the underwood that left a heap of writhing, dying men where but now the firing squad had stood; then a headlong charge of rough-clad horsemen—all this befell in less than any time the written words can measure.

i sensed it all but vaguely at the first, but when a passing horseman slashed me free i came alive, and life and all it meant to me was centered in a single fierce desire. falconnet had escaped the fusillade; was making swiftly for his horse, safe as yet from any touch of lead or steel. so i might reach and pull him down, i cared no groat what followed after.

it was not so to be. in the swift dash across the glade i went too near the shambles in the midst. the corporal of the firing squad, a bearded saxon giant, whose face, hideously distorted, will haunt me while i live, lay fairly in the way, his heels drumming in the death agony, and his great hands clutching at the empty air.

i leaped to clear him. in the act the clutching hands laid hold of me and i was tripped and thrown upon the heap of dead and dying men, and could not free myself in time to stop the baronet.

i saw him gain his horse and mount; saw the flash of his sword and the skilful parry that in a single parade warded death on either hand; saw him drive home the spurs and vanish among the trees, with his horse-holding trooper at his heels.

and then my rescuers, or else my newer captors, picked me up hastily; and i was hoisted behind the saddle of the nearest, and so was borne away in all the hue and cry of a most unsoldierly retreat.