ich always lighted it before any deed of courage
or gentleness, and the two shook hands warmly. "'Twas granted before you
asked it. I am not such a fire-eater as Tom, back there. I have regretted
that foolish quarrel many times, and had determined that it should not
lead to another meeting between you, which would have been mere folly.
Come here, sir," he called to me. "I wish to tell you how pleased I am
that this quarrel has been adjusted."

"No more pleased than I, I assure you, colonel," I laughed.
"Lieutenant Allen gave me a sample of his swordsmanship I shall not
soon forget. I should have been as helpless before him as a lamb in the
jaws of a tiger."

"Now you are mocking me!" cried Allen, and as I related to Colonel
Washington the story of his little bout with Langlade, we rode on
laughing, the best of friends.

"But, believe me, Lieutenant Stewart," he said, when I had finished, "it
was not self-complacency which urged me to take up the foils that day. I
merely wished to show you that you had need to keep in practice, and so
prevent you from becoming over-sure."

"'T was well done," said Washington heartily. "I appreciate your conduct,
Lieutenant Allen."

"And I certainly took the lesson to heart," I laughed. "Just before you
came, I had conceived a most exalted opinion of my own abilities. I shall
not make the mistake a second time."

Presently Allen fell back to rejoin the rear-guard, with which he had
been stationed, and we rode on beside the general's litter. He was
delirious most of the time, and was fighting the battle of the
Monongahela over and over again, giving orders and threshing from side to
side of his couch in his agony. In one of his intervals of consciousness,
he called my companion to him.

"Colonel Washington," he said in a low tone, "I feel that I have done you
great injustice. Had I followed your advice, this catastrophe might not
have happened. But my eyes were not opened until too late. Had I lived,
I should not have forgot you. I am sure you cannot withhold your pardon
from a dying man."

Washington's lips were trembling as he bent over the litter.

"If there is anything to pardon, general," he said softly, "be sure I
pardon you with all my heart. You have the love of all your officers,
sir, who revere you as a brave and gallant man."

"Ay, but a proud and stubborn one," and he smiled sadly. "Would God I had
had the grace to see it while it was yet time. Colonel Washington,"