“Come, ’squire, how’s this?  Don’t give way—­give him satisfaction, as he calls it, and send the lead into his gizzard.  It will be no harm done, in putting it to such a creature as that.  Don’t let him crow over old Carolina—­don’t, now, squire!  You can hit him as easy as a barndoor, for I saw your shot to-day; don’t be afraid, now—­stand up, and I’ll back you against the whole of them.”

“Ay, bring him forward, Forrester.  Let him be a man, if he can,” was the speech of one of the party.

“Come,’squire, let me say that you are ready.  I’ll mark off the ground, and you shall have fair play,” was the earnest speech of the woodman in terms of entreaty.

“You mistake me greatly, Forrester, if you suppose for a moment that I will contend on equal terms with such a wretch.  He is a common robber and an outlaw, whom I have denounced as such, and whom I can not therefore fight with.  Were he a gentleman, or had he any pretensions to the character, you should have no need to urge me on, I assure you.”

“I know that, ’squire, and therefore it provokes me to think that the skunk should get off.  Can’t you, now, lay aside the gentleman just long enough to wing him?  Now, do try!”

The youth smiled as he shook his head negatively.  Forrester, with great anxiety, proceeded:—­

“But, ’squire, they won’t know your reason for refusing, and they will set you down as afear’d.  They will call you a coward!”

“And what if they do, Forrester?  They are not exactly the people about whose opinions I give myself any concern.  I am not solicitous to gain credit for courage among them.  If any of them doubt it, let him try me.  Let one of them raise a hand or lift a finger upon me, and make the experiment.  They will then find me ready and willing enough to defend myself from any outrage, come from what quarter it may.”

“I’m afraid, ’squire, they can’t be made to understand the difference between a gentleman and a squatter.  Indeed, it isn’t reasonable that they should, seeing that such a difference puts them out of any chance of dressing a proud fellow who carries his head too high.  If you don’t fight, ’squire, I must, if it’s only for the honor of old Carolina.  So here goes.”

The woodman threw off his coat, and taking up his rifle, substituted a new for the old flint, and furnishing the pan with fresh priming, before our hero could well understand the proposed and novel arrangement so as to interpose in its arrest, he advanced to the spot where Rivers stood, apparently awaiting the youth’s decision, and, slapping him upon the shoulder, thus addressed him:—­

“I say, Guy Rivers, the ’squire thinks you too great a black guard for him to handle, and leaves all the matter to me.  Now, you see, as I’ve done that to-day which makes me just as great a blackguard as yourself, I stand up in his place.  So here’s for you.  You needn’t make any excuse, and say you have no quarrel with me, for, as I am to handle you in his place, you will consider me to say everything that he has said—­every word of it; and, in addition to that, if more be necessary, you must know I think you a mere skunk, and I’ve been wanting to have a fair lick at you for a monstrous long season.”