e same intrusive being was again in his
way. The party played for considerable stakes that day, namely, a
dinner and wine at the Black Bull tavern; and George, as the hero and
head of his party, was much interested in its honour; consequently the
sight of this moody and hellish-looking student affected him in no very
pleasant manner. "Pray Sir, be so good as keep without the range of the
ball," said he.

"Is there any law or enactment that can compel me to do so?" said the
other, biting his lip with scorn.

"If there is not, they are here that shall compel you," returned
George. "So, friend, I rede you to be on your guard."

As he said this, a flush of anger glowed in his handsome face and
flashed from his sparkling blue eye; but it was a stranger to both, and
momently took its departure. The black-coated youth set up his cap
before, brought his heavy brows over his deep dark eyes, put his hands
in the pockets of his black plush breeches, and stepped a little
farther into the semicircle, immediately on his brother's right hand,
than he had ever ventured to do before. There he set himself firm on
his legs, and, with a face as demure as death, seemed determined to
keep his ground. He pretended to be following the ball with his eyes;
but every moment they were glancing aside at George. One of the
competitors chanced to say rashly, in the moment of exultation, "That's
a d--d fine blow, George!" On which the intruder took up the word, as
characteristic of the competitors, and repeated it every stroke that
was given, making such a ludicrous use of it that several of the
onlookers were compelled to laugh immoderately; but the players were
terribly nettled at it, as he really contrived, by dint of sliding in
some canonical terms, to render the competitors and their game
ridiculous.

But matters at length came to a crisis that put them beyond sport.
George, in flying backward to gain the point at which the ball was
going to light, came inadvertently so rudely in contact with this
obstreperous interloper that lie not only overthrew him, but also got a
grievous fall over his legs; and, as he arose, the other made a spurn
at him with his foot, which, if it had hit to its aim, would
undoubtedly have finished the course of the young laird of Dalcastle
and Balgrennan. George, being irritated beyond measure, as may well be
conceived, especially at the deadly stroke aimed at him, struck the
assailant with his racket, rather slightl