“What!”

“Dey sut’ny is.  Dey gwine ter fight one anoder ’bout you wid ’volvers—­fight ter de deth dey said.  I yeared dem troo de dine-room winders.”

“Oh, Zany! this is horrible!”

“Hit mout be wuss.  Yo’ cousin hot fer hit.  He say orful tings ter marse cap’n who didin’t gib back a inch en sez, sez he, ’I challing you.  Shoose yo’ weapons en place ob meetin” Dem he berry words.  Den yo’ cousin shose ’volvers en de far side ob de grobe up dar en said ‘we fight ter de deth.’  Deth useter seem orful, Miss Lou, but sech a heap ob mens die dat ef Mad Whately des set on dyin’, w’y not let ’im hab he way?  Dat orter suit ‘im bes’.  I reck’n he mek we uns en Marse Scoville en Chunk berry lil trouble arter he dead.”

“Zany, Zany, that’s a dreadful way to look at it.  You should know better.  This meeting must be prevented.  Where is my cousin?”

“He des sound a sleep ez a log,” and she made it clear that there would be no use in trying to remonstrate with him.

“Where’s Captain Maynard?”

“Dunno.  Sleepin’ in he tent too, s’pose.  Hit too late now, Miss Lou, ter do anyting fo’ mawnin’.”

The girl thought deeply a few moments and then muttered, “Shame on them both!”

“Dar now, Miss Lou, you doan reckermember dey payin’ you a big compelment.”

“I shall tell them to their faces how I regard this outrage rather.  Still, for their sakes, as well as my own, I will keep the affair quiet if I can.  Zany, you must stay with me to-night and at the earliest dawn we must watch them and be on the ground as soon as they are.”

“Berry well, Miss Lou.  I lak not’n bettah.”

“Go to sleep, then.  I won’t sleep to-night.”

CHAPTER XXXI

THE DUELLISTS VANQUISHED

Zany’s tidings brought the spur of a great necessity to Miss Lou’s jaded spirit, and as her waking thoughts dwelt on the proposed encounter, a slow, deep anger was kindled in her mind.  “What right have they to do such a thing?” she asked herself over and over again.  Even more than at, the barbarism of the act she revolted at its injustice.  “I never wronged either of them,” she repeated, “and here they are recklessly bent on what would imbitter my life.  The idea of being fought about!  Two animals couldn’t do worse.”

And so the long night was passed in bitter, painful thoughts.  With the dawning the bird’s innocent songs jarred on her overwrought senses.  She looked out of the window by which she had kept her vigil, inhaled the dewy freshness of the air and then bathed her tired, hot eyes.

“To think that men would disturb the peace of such a morning by their miserable, causeless hate!  Where is Madison’s love for his mother?  Why don’t they remember the distress and horror that would follow their mad act?  Zany, wake up.  It is time we were on the watch.”