"Well," cried Allen harshly, "does our Virginia friend desire to
withdraw?"

"On the contrary," answered Pennington quietly, "he has positively
refused to withdraw," and as he spoke, I saw that the others looked at me
with attentive eyes. "There is a little green just back of the barracks.
Let us proceed to it," and he led the way toward the door.

Allen and I followed him, and the whole rabble of officers crowded after.
In a moment we were at the place, and I walked to one side while the
seconds conferred together. The full moon had risen above the treetops
and flooded the clearing with still radiance. The tall, coarse grass
waved slowly to and fro in the faint breeze, and away off in the forest I
heard a wolf howling. The note, long and clear, rose and quivered in the
air, faint and far away. And as it died to silence, for the first time
the thought came to me that perchance my skill in fence might not avail.
Well, thank heaven, there was none to whom my death would cause much
sorrow, except--yes, Dorothy might care. At thought of her, the forest
faded from before me, and I saw her again as I had seen her last, looking
down upon me from the stair-head, and her kiss was warm upon my lips.

"We are ready, Lieutenant Stewart," called Pennington, and I shook my
forebodings from me as I strode back toward him.

"Lieutenant Allen instructs me to say," began Preston, who was acting as
his second, "that an apology on the part of Lieutenant Stewart will avert
consequences which may, perhaps, be unpleasant."

"Lieutenant Stewart has no apologies to offer," I said shortly. "We are
wasting time, gentlemen."