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For a day or two he was indisposed, and good, honest Sukey was afraid his friend was "going to be real sick." On the evening of the second day after their madcap frolic, Fernando told Sukey all about it and asked his advice. After the tall young westerner had heard him through, he said:
"Well, Fernando, I am sorry you were in the game at all; but you are in it, and now the best thing is to go to the college and make a clean breast of it to the president. It's your first, you know, and then a fellow just from the woods like us is liable to stumble into bad sc.r.a.pes. Make a clean breast of it and keep out of such games in the future."
This was really the best advice that could have been given, and Fernando, after consulting Terrence, decided to follow it. Consequently they all three presented themselves to the president of the faculty and, in the best way they could, laid the story before him. Terrence brought all the pathos and eloquence which he naturally possessed to the aid of his friend and got both of them off pretty well.
The old professor was one of the best-hearted men in the world, and when he came to contemplate the lonely condition of the boys so far from home, he forgave them freely, and Fernando went out of his presence resolved never to be guilty of another unseemly trick again.
"Now, if that divil's own s.h.i.+p the _Xenophon_ would only lave port, I'd fale better," remarked Terrence as they wended their way to their rooms. Fernando could not see any harm the _Xenophon_ could do them.
The president of the college had forgiven them, and surely they need not care for the s.h.i.+p.
The students entered ardently into their studies, and Fernando tried to forget everything about the mayor's ball save the beautiful face of Morgianna Lane. She was the only sweet picture in that wild dream, and he would not have forgotten her for the world. Time wore slowly on. A week had pa.s.sed, and all the papers in the country were nagging the captain about going to his vessel in a winding sheet. A wag wrote some verses which must have been galling to the pride of the haughty Briton.
At last it leaked out that two students had played the trick on Captain Conkerall. A newspaper reporter came to see Fernando, who gave him a truthful history of the affair.
"You've played the divil now," said Terrence, when he read the interview in the next issue of the _Baltimore Sun_.
"Why?"
"Never moind, Fernando, I'll not desert ye, and if my one comes to ye about satisfaction, or inything of the kind, and asks you to mintion your frind, sind thim to Terrence Malone, and he will make the arrangements, that's all."
Fernando had no more idea what he meant than if he had addressed him in Hindoo, and he gave the matter little or no further thought. He was in his room poring over his books the second day after the interview, when there came a rap at his door.
"Come in!" he cried in his broad, western fas.h.i.+on.
The door opened, and, to his surprise, a young English officer entered the apartment.
"Is this Mr. Fernando Stevens?" he asked politely.
"It is."
"I am the bearer of a message from Lieutenant Matson."
"Pray who is Lieutenant Matson?"
"Of his majesty's s.h.i.+p the _Xenophon_."
Fernando thought he must be mistaken, as he had not the least recollection of ever hearing of Lieutenant Matson; but the ensign a.s.sured him that he was the person with whom the lieutenant had to deal, and then asked if he could refer him to some friend with whom the business might be arranged. Then the youthful American remembered Terrence Malone's strange instructions and sent the ensign at once to the young Irishman.
Just how Terrence would settle the matter, he did not know; but he who had such remarkable ability for getting one into a sc.r.a.pe could surely devise some means to get him out, and Fernando was perfectly willing to trust him. So, deeming the matter wholly settled, he sat down to his books once more, and had actually forgotten the officer, when Terrence bolted into the room his face expressive of anxiety.
"It's all arranged, me boy. Ye did right in lavin' it to me. The young Britisher and I have made all arrangements."
"Arrangements? what arrangements?" asked Fernando with guileless innocence.
"Arrangements for the meeting, to be sure."
"What meeting?"
"Meeting with Lieutenant Matson."
Throwing down his book, Fernando started up impatiently said:
"I don't want to meet the infernal lieutenant. I thought you had settled it."
"So I did, and right dacintly, too. Now what weapons do ye want?"
"Weapons!" cried Fernando, the truth at last beginning to dawn upon him.
"Great Heavens! Terrence, do you mean a duel?"
"Certainly, me frind, nothin' ilse. There's no way to get out of it, honorably."
Fernando reeled as if he had been struck a blow. He had read of duels, but, in the solitude of his western home on the farm, he had never known of any. They were the b.l.o.o.d.y inventions of more polite civilization.
One had been fought between two trappers at a trading post, not over forty miles away, in which rifles at thirty paces were used, and both men were killed. The preacher had said it was murder. Fernando was brave; but he shrank from a duel, and it was not until his pride had been appealed to, that he determined to fight. Then Terrence a.s.sured him the lieutenant's friend was waiting; all that was wanting was the weapons.
"I must talk with Sukey."
Sukey was sent for, and when the tall, lanky fellow entered the apartment, Fernando told him all.
"Don't you be in the game, Fernando. Let me tell you, don't you be in it," Sukey answered.
But he was informed that he must, or be forever disgraced. Besides, his enemy was a hated Briton, whom their country was almost on the verge of war with, and it would not be a bad thing to kill him in advance.
"Well, if you must be in the game, Fernando, fight with hatchets. You know you used to throw a hatchet twenty steps and split a pumpkin every time. Fight with hatchets."
It was a novel mode of dueling; but Terrence took the proposition to the lieutenant's friend. The Briton said his friend was a gentlemen, willing to fight with any of the weapons which civilized gentlemen used, and if Mr. Stevens would not consent to the same, the lieutenant would publish him as a barbarian and a coward. Pistols were settled on as a compromise, and Terrence went away to settle the final arrangements. He returned with a smile on his face and, rubbing his hands, said:
"Cheer up, me boy, it's all settled."
"What? won't we fight?"
"Yes, it's settled that you will fight."
For a long time, Fernando was silent, and then he said:
"When will it take place, Terrence?"
"To-morrow morning at sunrise."
Fernando did not go to school that day. Sukey was enjoined to keep the matter a secret, and he went to his cla.s.sroom as if nothing unusual were about to happen. Fernando spent the day in writing letters to be sent home in case he should not survive the affair which, after all, he believed to be disgraceful. Dueling he thought little better than murder; but he was in for it and determined not to show the white feather. Don't blame Fernando, for he lived in a barbarous age, when the "code of honor" was thought to be honorable. His chief remorse was for his madcap, drunken freak, which had been the provocation for the event, and yet, when he came to think of the ludicrousness of his adventures, he smiled.
More than once on that gloomy day he thought of Morgianna, whom in reality he loved at first sight. Would he ever see her again, or was she only the evening star, which had risen on the last hours of his existence? When Sukey returned, he held a long interview with him and gave him a bundle of letters and papers to send home if--he could not finish the sentence.
"Ain't there no way to get out of it, Fernando?" asked Sukey, his droll face comical even in distress.
"Not honorably."
"Well, now that you're in the game, just shoot that infernal Englishman's head right off his shoulders, that's my advice. I've read lots about duels, and it all depends on who is quickest at the trigger.
Take good aim and don't let him get a second the advantage of you."