luncheon that day our fellows sat at one end of the room, and Fiske
and Miss Fiske, Graham and his followers at the other. They entirely
ignored each other. After the row I had raised in the street, each
side was anxious to avoid further friction.

As I sat in the barracks over my solitary luncheon my thoughts were
entirely on the duel.

It had been forced on me, so I accepted it; but it struck me as a most
silly proceeding. Young Fiske had insulted my General and my comrades.
He had done so publicly and with intent. I had thrashed him as I said
I would, and as far as I could see the incident was closed. But Miller
and Von Ritter, who knew Honduras from Fonseca Bay to Truxillo,
assured me that, unless I met the man, who had insulted me before the
people, our prestige would be entirely destroyed. To the Honduranian
mind, the fact that I had thrashed him for so doing, would not serve
as a substitute for a duel, it only made a duel absolutely necessary.
As I had determined, if we did meet, that I would not shoot at him, I
knew I would receive no credit from such an encounter, and, so far as
I could see, I was being made ridiculous, and stood a very fair chance
of being killed.

I sincerely hoped that young Fiske would apologize. I assured myself
that my reluctance to meet him was due to the fact that I scorned to
fight a civilian. I always classed civilians, with women and children,
as non-combatants. But in my heart I knew that it was not this
prejudice which made me hesitate. The sister was the real reason. That
he was her brother was the only fact of importance. Had his name been
Robinson or Brown, I would have gone out and shot at the calves of his
legs most cheerfully, and taken considerable satisfaction in the