I know the house up-stairs and down."
Bucklaw looked to his arms. He was about starting on his quest when they
heard footsteps, and two figures appeared. It was Iberville and Gering.
They paused a moment not far from where the rogues were hid.
"I think you will agree," said Iberville, "that we must fight."
"I have no other mind."
"You will also be glad if we are not come upon, as last night; though,
confess, the lady gave you a lease of life?"
"If she comes to-night, I hope it will be when I have done with you,"
answered Gering.
Iberville laughed a little, and the laugh had fire in it--hatred, and the
joy of battle. "Shall it be here or yonder in the pines, where we were
in train last night?"
"Yonder."
"So." Then Iberville hummed ironically a song:
"Oh, bury me where I have fought and fallen,
Your scarf across my shoulder, lady mine."
They passed on. "The game is in our hands," said Bucklaw. "I understand
this thing. That's a pair of gallant young sprigs, but the choice is
your Frenchman, Radisson."
"I'll pink his breast-bone full of holes if the other doesn't--
curse him."
A sweet laugh trickled from Bucklaw's lips like oil. "That's neither
here nor there. I'd like to have him down Acapulco way, dear lad. . .
And now, here's my plan all changed.
Pages:
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66