"And still a-coming?"

"Yes."

"Plague take 'em!" growled Sukey, "why do they follow us so
persistently?"

"May be they think to get us when we go ashore; but, bad luck to thim,
they'll find it tough if they come afther us."

"Fernando, I wish we had our rifles," growled Sukey. "Wouldn't we make
it unprofitable for the redcoats!"

Fernando was rather non-communicative, and sat in the bow of the boat
lost in painful meditation. He had shed blood. It was the first, and,
although in that age it was thought highly honorable, he felt an inward
consciousness that dueling was both cowardly and brutal. Fear of being
branded a coward had nerved him to face the pistol of his antagonist. It
is not true courage that makes the duelist. There is no more honor,
gentility, or courage in dueling than in robbing a safe. The greatest
coward living may be a burglar, so he may, from fear of public scorn,
fight a duel. Fernando had much to regret. He felt that his social
standing had been lowered; yet he was happy in the thought that the duel
had had no fatal results. Could he ever return to the school? Could he
ever return to his home and face his Christian mother? He was roused
from his painful reverie by a loud laugh on the part of Terrence. He
turned his eyes toward the jolly fellow and found him convulsed
with mirth.