ng the trees he found Joan waiting at the
compound gate, and he could not fail to see that she was visibly
gladdened at the sight of him.

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you," was her greeting. "What's
become of Tudor? That last flutter of the automatic wasn't nice to
listen to. Was it you or Tudor?"

"So you know all about it," he answered coolly. "Well, it was Tudor, but
he was doing it left-handed. He's down with a hole in his shoulder." He
looked at her keenly. "Disappointing, isn't it?" he drawled.

"How do you mean?"

"Why, that I didn't kill him."

"But I didn't want him killed just because he kissed me," she cried.

"Oh, he did kiss you!" Sheldon retorted, in evident surprise. "I thought
you said he hurt your arm."

"One could call it a kiss, though it was only on the end of the nose."
She laughed at the recollection. "But I paid him back for that myself. I
boxed his face for him. And he did hurt my arm. It's black and blue.
Look at it."

She pulled up the loose sleeve of her blouse, and he saw the bruised
imprints of two fingers.

Just then a gang of blacks came out from among the trees carrying the
wounded man on a rough stretcher.

"Romantic, isn't it?" Sheldon sneered, following Joan's startled gaze.
"And now I'll have to play surgeon and doctor him up. Funny, this
twentieth-century duelling. First you drill a hole in a man, and next
you set about plugging the hole up."

They had stepped aside to let the stretcher pass, and Tudor, who had
heard the remark, lifted himself up on the elbow of his sound arm and
said with a defiant grin,--

"If you'd got one of mine you'd have had to plug with a dinner-plate."

"Oh, you wretch!" Joan cried. "You've been cutting your bullets."

"It was according to agreement," Tudor answered. "Everything went. We
could have used dynamite if we wanted to."

"He's right," Sheldon assured her, as they swung in behind. "Any weapon
was permissible. I lay in the grass where he couldn't see me, and
bushwhacked him in truly noble fashion. That's what comes of having
women on the plantation. And now it's antiseptics and drainage tubes, I
suppose. It's a nasty mess, and I'll have to read up on it before I
tackle the job."

"I don't see that it's my fault," she began. "I couldn't help it because
he kissed me. I never dreamed he would attempt it."

"We didn't fight for that reason. But there isn't time to explain. If
you'll get dressings