"Whom mean you?" asked the patch-wearing Querto. "'May I not take mine
ease in mine inn?' as the fat fellow says in the play. May not a plain
soldier choose his own company?"

"A soldier is a gentleman, and should keep company with gentlemen,"
answered the flushed youth. "Mr. Le Gallais is no mate for cavaliers. I
say to his face that he is a cropeared rebel, a busybody, and a
pestilent knave."

"I appeal to you, Major Querto," said Le Gallais, roused from his
temporary pause, and turning to the major, whom indeed he had brought to
the place, and for whose refreshment he was providing.

"Appeal me no appeals," said the Major, with a truculent look. "No man
shall appeal to Dick Querto till he is purged of such epitaphs."

Confusion reigned. Le Gallais looked about him for a friendly face, and
presently saw sympathy on that of a fellow-countryman and brother
officer.

"Captain Bisson," he said, "you will speak to Mr. Elliot's friend."

Elliot flung out of the house, followed by Querto and two or three
Royalist officers, Le Gallais, and Bisson in the rear. They walked
towards the beach, and on their arriving at the foot of the Gallows
Hill--near where the picquet-house now stands--an Irish officer came
from Elliot's group and met Bisson, hat in hand.

"Are the gentlemen to fight now?" he asked.