"
"Trust me, Terrence, I'll not disgrace you," Stevens answered.
"You are twelve minutes late, Mr. Malone," said the ensign, who acted as
the lieutenant's second; "but we shall all be able to get back to
breakfast--those that will care to eat."
Not to be outdone, Terrence said:
"All will be at supper; but your friend will be where he is eaten,
rather than eats."
"Don't be too sure; the lieutenant has killed his sixth man in affairs
like this."
The remark was of course intended for Fernando's ears. Sukey heard it
and said:
"Fernando, that's a lie; don't you believe it. Aim at his plaguy head,
and you can hit it. You used to snuff a candle that distance."
Fernando smiled while he kept his eye on the lieutenant. That smile and
that eternal stare disconcerted the English officer, and he turned a
little pale. There was something about the imperturbable youth which
made him dread the meeting. Fernando was strangely, unnaturally calm.
Ten minutes more, and he might be in eternity.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE BELLE OF THE BEACH.
No experienced duelist ever entered into the business with more
earnestness or zeal than Terrence Malone. He and the lieutenant's second
were some distance away settling points of position, he saw three or
four men in the uniform of British officers coming around the bluff,
among them the ship's surgeon with a case of instruments and medicines
in his hand.
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