Fearful of what might result from the encounter Peggy hid her face in her hands as the two youths crossed swords. But at the first meeting of the blades, impelled by that strange fascination which such combats hold for the best of mortals, she uncovered her eyes and watched the duel breathlessly.

Clifford, white and wrathful, fuming over Drayton’s last quip, at once took the initiative, and advanced upon his adversary with a vehemence that evidenced his emotion plainly. Drayton, on the contrary, was cool and even merry, and parried his opponent’s thrusts with adroitness. Both lads evinced no small skill with the weapons, and had Peggy been other than a very much distressed damsel she might have enjoyed some pretty sword play.

The wrist of each youth was strong and supple. Each sword seemed like a flexible reed from the point to the middle of the blade, and inflexible steel from thence to the guard. They were well matched, and some moments passed before either of them secured the advantage.

It was quiet in the grove. No sound could be heard save the clash of steel and the deep breathing of the contestants. No bird note came from tree or bush. Not a leaf stirred. A hush had fallen upon the summer afternoon. To the maiden it seemed as though Nature, affrighted by the wild passions of men which must seek expression in private fray despite the fact that their countries were embroiled in war, had sunk into terrified silence.

Presently, even to Peggy’s inexperienced eye, it became apparent that Clifford was tiring. Drayton, who from the beginning of the encounter had fought purely on the defensive, was quick to perceive the other’s fatigue. Suddenly with a vigorous side-thrust he twisted the sword from his antagonist’s grasp, and sent it glittering in the air. Finding himself disarmed Clifford quickly stepped backward two or three steps. In so doing his foot slipped, and he fell. Instantly Drayton stood over his prostrate form.

“Forbear, John,” shrieked Peggy in horrified tones. “Thee must not. Is he not helpless?”

“Have no fear, Peggy,” answered the young man lightly. “He shall meet with no hurt, though in truth he merits it. Sir,” to Clifford who lay regarding him with a look of profound humiliation, “you hear, do you not? I spare you because of her. And also because I am much to blame that matters have come to this pass betwixt us. Rise, sir!”

“I want no mercy at your hands,” retorted the other, his flushed face, his whole manner testifying to his deep mortification. “You have won the advantage, sir. Use it. I wish no favor from you.”

“’Tis not the habit of Americans to slay a disarmed foe, sir. If you are not satisfied, rise; and have to again.”

“No, no!” cried Peggy, possessing herself of the fallen sword. “Is there not already fighting enough in the land without contending against each other? Ye have fought once. Let that suffice.”

“My sword, Peggy,” exclaimed Clifford, rising, and stepping toward her.

“Thee shall not have it, unless thee takes it by force,” returned the girl, placing the weapon behind her, and clasping it with both hands. “And that,” she added, “I do not believe thee would be so unmannerly as to use. Therefore, the matter is ended.”

Drayton sheathed his sword on the moment.

“I am satisfied to let it be so,” he said. “And now, Peggy, as to ourselves: what will be the best time for you to start home?”

“If that subject be renewed our broil is anything but settled,” interposed Clifford Owen sullenly. “I believe I informed you that, as the lady’s nearest relative, I am amply able to look after her.”

“As to our quarrel,” replied Drayton, regarding him fixedly, “perchance the whirligig of time will bring a more suitable occasion for reopening it. When that occurs I shall be at your command. Until then it seems to me to be the part of wisdom to drop the matter, and to consider Peggy’s welfare only. As you are aware, no doubt, the British are in this immediate vicinity. Any moment may see them at this very place. Let us cry a truce, sir, for the time being, and determine what shall be done to promote her safety.”

“How know you that the British are near here?” demanded Clifford suspiciously. “Your knowledge of their movements will bear looking into. It savors strongly of that of a spy, sir.”

For a second the glances of the young fellows met. Their eyes flashed fire, and Peggy’s heart began to throb painfully. Oh, would they fight again! How could she make peace between them? She must; and so thinking started forward eagerly.

“Listen to my plan,” she said. “Ye both——”

The sentence was never finished. Upon the air there sounded the shrill music of fifes, the riffle of drums, the hollow tramp of marching men, the rumbling of artillery, the cantering of horses; all sounds denoting the passing of a large force of armed men.

With a sharp cry of exultation Clifford Owen sprang toward John Drayton.

“’Tis the king’s troops,” he cried, clutching him tightly. “The king’s troops! Now, my fine fellow, you shall explain to his lordship how you came by your information. Ho!” he shouted. “What ho! a spy!”

“It is not thus that I would meet his lordship,” answered Drayton wrenching himself free of the other’s hold. “Until then, adieu, my friend.”

Without further word he leaped down the embankment, and disappeared among the underbrush in the ravine, just as two British infantrymen, attracted by Clifford’s cry, came running through the grove.

“Did you call, sir?” called one, saluting as he saw the uniform of the young man.

“I fell,” answered Clifford, stooping to pick up the sword that Peggy had let fall. “Perchance I cried out as I did so. The embankment would be a steep one to fall down. Does the army stop here? I sent word to the general there was no forage to be had, and to pass on to Hanover Court House. I found no place where he would fare so well as at Tilghman’s Ordinary.”

“’Tis for that place he is bound, sir,” replied the soldier, saluting again. “But a few of us delayed here to—to——” he paused, then added: “Shall we go through that enclosure there, captain?”

“My own little mare is there, Clifford,” spoke Peggy indignantly.

“Which we will bring ourselves, men,” he said dismissing them with a curt nod. “You will wish to ride her, of course, my cousin.”

“If I go with you,” she answered.

“There is no ‘if’ about it,” he said grimly. “You are going.”

“‘As my nearest male relative in this part of the country’ I suppose thee commands it,” she observed with biting sarcasm. “Clifford, does thee forget that I am an Owen as well as thou?”

“I do not,” he made answer.

“I think thee does,” she cried. “An Owen, my cousin, with the Owen temper. ’Tis being tried severely by thee. I know not how much longer I can control it.”

“I see not why you should be displeased with me,” he remarked, plainly surprised that such should be the case. “I am doing all I can for you. At least, I will try to do as much as that—that——”

“Yes?” she questioned coldly. “Does thee mean Captain Drayton? He is my friend. Mother and I esteem him highly. Pleasure me by remembering that in future.”

“If he is your friend ’tis no reason why he should address you so familiarly. I like it not.”

“I tire of thy manner, Clifford. I am not thy slave, nor yet under bonds of indenture to thee that thou shouldst assume such airs of possession as thee does. I tire of it, I say.”

“If I have offended you I am sorry,” he said sulkily. “I have a hot temper and a quick one. I have held resentment against that—captain ever since last February, when he flouted me with that shirt of my sister’s making. It did seem to me then, as it hath to-day, that he took too much upon himself. Now it appears that I am guilty of the same fault. At least, being your near relative should serve as some excuse for me.”

“I think thee has made that remark upon divers occasions, my cousin. Is not thy father with Lord Cornwallis?”

“Yes, of course. Why?”

“Then kindly remember that being cousin-german to my father, he stands in nearer relationship to me than thee does. Should I have need of guidance I will ask it of him. Does thee understand, my cousin?”

“Only too well,” he burst forth. “And all this for the sake of a Yankee captain. Oh, I noticed how solicitous you were lest he should be hurt.”

“And was solicitude not shown for thee also? Thou art unjust, Clifford.”

With crestfallen air the youth led Star from the rude stable, and without further conversation they started for the house.