rd met every attack, that every thrust was parried, he
relaxed the fierceness of his attack and began to fence with more
skill and caution.

Thus it was we fenced for several minutes, the clash of the steel
ringing out in the cold, crisp air across the snow, and it came to my
opponent that he had at last met a swordsman who was his equal in
skill. From this on every moment he developed some new feint, some new
attack, and, though I met them every one, it took my utmost skill to
do so.

But at last there came the end. He had assumed the offensive again and
was pressing hard upon me, when he placed his foot upon a loose stone
in the snow, which rolled. The sword flew from out his hand and he
was down upon his knee.

My sword was at his throat, and then my hand was stayed, for there
came before me the vision of the Tory maid, standing with face averted
in the square brick house in the city. That she might care, that she
might be in terror then as to the fate that might befall him, flashed
through my brain. I brought my sword to a salute, and returned it to
its scabbard.

"Sir," said I, as Farquharson rose, "it is a pleasure to have fought
with so gallant a gentleman."

"And I, sir," he returned, "am happy to have met so skilful a
swordsman." And then, like gallant men who have fought and know each
other's worth, we shook hands on the spot where a moment before our
blades were thirsting for each other's blood.

"It gives me pleasure," he continued, "to withdraw my remarks at
Colonel Gordon's, as they arose from a misapprehension."

"I will consider them as if they had never been said," I replied, "and
I beg of you, on your return, to present my compliments to Mistress
Gordon, and tell her that I send you to her as my wedding gift."

"Why, is she to be married?" he asked in a startled way.

"I believe so," I answered, "but she will tell you all about it."

And so we returned to the pike, where we all saluted again, and
retraced our steps to the lines.

The spring was late that year. April had come before there came a soft
warm breeze from the Southland, waking nature into life, and covering
the hard frozen face of mother earth with wreaths and clouds of mist
and moisture. From every hillside, from every frost-bound plain, the
smoke of spring arose, and through the air there breathed the spirit
of the reincarnated life of the world.

How we of the Southland hailed it with joy, and drank in with our
lungs this