t, after his terrible experience at Tournai, and he sat for a
moment half listlessly in his saddle. A cry near him drew his
attention, and, turning his head, he beheld Major Wilson in the act of
falling from his charger. He had received a bullet in the leg. Before
George could get to this side, Wilson was on the ground, his horse
galloping away.

At the same instant a fierce shout was heard, and George saw dashing
to the spot one of the redoubtable Irish Brigade. Like lightning the
young captain leapt from his horse, lifted Wilson from the ground, and
by main strength threw him across the animal, crying, "Off with you!"
giving the horse a thump with his fist on the quarters to start him
into a gallop. Then, looking round, he found the Irishman bearing down
upon him at desperate speed, and but a yard or two away.

In a trice Fairburn darted behind the trunk of a fine tree at his
elbow. It was an oak, from which ran out some magnificent limbs
parallel with and at a distance of six or eight feet from the ground.
Nothing heeding, the Irishman kept on, his sword ready for a mighty
stroke. Then instantly he was swept violently from his horse, and
backwards over the tail, his chest having come into contact with one
of the great boughs. All this had passed like a flash.

George made a grab at the bridle, but, missing it, fell sprawling to
the ground. Springing up, he found his fallen antagonist risen and
upon him. "English dog!" roared the Irishman, and the next moment the
two men were at it, both excited, both reckless.

How long they fought they never knew. Apparently the spot was deserted
save for themselves and sundry wounded who lay around. It was a
desperate encounter. The Irishman had the advantage in height and
strength, Fairburn in youth and activity. In the matter of
swordsmanship there was little to choose between the two; in respect
of courage nothing. It was to be a duel to the death.

The moments flew by, each man had received injuries, and the blood was
flowing freely. Still the swords flashed in the air. Then suddenly the
Irishman's weapon snapped at the hilt, and the gallant fellow dropped
at the same moment to the ground. Instantly George set his foot on the
prostrate man's chest, and cried, "Now your life is at my mercy! What
say you?"

"If I must die, I must," the Irishman answered doggedly, "but," he
added quickly, a sudden thought striking him, "take this first, and
see it put into the hands of the