It had been arranged that both parties should aim and fire between the commencement and end of pronouncing the words, “one, two, three,” by the surgeon; and that individual, having placed his box of instrument with professional coolness upon the ground, took his position to give the signal agreed upon, when he said, in a preparatory tone: 

“Gentlemen, are you ready?”

To which both answered by an inclination of the head, and then immediately followed: 

“One, two, three!”

Almost before the first word was fairly articulated, the sharp quick report of Captain Bramble’s pistol was heard, and the next moment he was observed gazing intently upon his adversary, to see whether he had wounded him, and observing that he had not, he dashed his weapon to the ground, uttering a fierce oath at his luck.

In the meantime Captain Ratlin had not moved an inch, not even a muscle; his hand containing the pistol had hung quietly at his side, and his face still remained undisturbed.  He had kept his word, and would not fire upon the friend of the woman whom he truly respected, and earnestly, devotedly, though hopelessly loved.

Captain Bramble paced back and forth like a caged lion, until at last, coming opposite and near to his adversary, he coarsely remarked: 

“It is much easier for a trembling hand to retain a perpendicular position than to assume a horizontal one!”

Captain Ratlin understood the taunt, and stepping to where the English officer had thrown his discharged weapon, he threw it high in the air, and at the exact moment when the power of gravitation turned the piece towards the earth, he quickly raised his arm and fired, sending the bullet in his own pistol completely through the wooden stock of the other.  Then turning coolly to Captain Bramble, he said: 

“A trembling hand, sir, is hardly so sure of its aim as that.”

“This fellow is the evil one himself,” whispered the surgeon to his principal.  “Come, let us on board, if he should insist upon at second shot, we should be obliged to give him the chance, since he did not fire at you, and he would drop you spite of fate.”

“Curse his luck; I am sure I had him full in the breast—­such a miss, and I, who am so sure at a dozen paces;” and the English officer continued to chafe and growl until he had got into his boat, and was out of hearing from the shore.

Captain Ratlin and Don Leonardo quietly pulled back towards the barracoons, and as they neared the shore they saw the form of a female, which both at once recognized to be that of Miss Huntington, who stood there pale as death, and who gazed intently at the young commander as he drew nearer and nearer, and as he jumped upon the shore, said, hastily: 

“You have been on a fearful errand.  Have either of you been hurt?”

“Nay, lady, it was but a bit of morning sport,” said Captain Ratlin, pleasantly.