ery difficulty that was in my way; for I am not only a stranger to
you, but to every one around. I arrived at Chihuahua but yesterday, and
do not know a soul in the place."

"Enough; you shall not be disappointed in your duel for the want of a
second. As a preliminary, may I ask if you are skilled in the use of
the sword?"

"Sufficiently to stake my life upon it."

"I put the question, because that is the weapon your adversary will be
certain to choose. You being the challenger, of course he has the
choice; and he will insist upon it, for a reason that may perhaps amuse
you. It is that we Mexican gentlemen believe you Americans somewhat
_gauche_ in the handling of the rapier, though we know you to be adepts
in the use of the pistol. I take Captain Gil Uraga to be as thorough a
poltroon as ever wore epaulettes, but he will have to meet you on my
account; and he would perhaps have done so anyhow--trusting to the
probability of your being a bad swordsman."

"In that he may find himself disappointed."

"I am glad to hear it; and now it only needs to receive your
instructions. I am ready to act."

The instructions were given, and within two hours' time Captain Gil
Uraga, of the Zacatecas Lancers, was in receipt of a challenge from the
Kentuckian--Colonel Miranda being its bearer.

With such a voucher the lancer officer could not do otherwise than
accept, which he did with cooler confidence for the very reason Miranda
had made known. A _Tejano_, was his reflection--what should he know of
the sword?

And swords were the weapons chosen.

Had the captain of Zacatecas Lancers been told that his intended
adversary had spent a portion of his life among the Creoles of New
Orleans, he would have been less reliant on the chances likely to turn
up in his favour.

We need not describe the duel, which, if different from other encounters
of the kind, was by being on both sides bitter, and of deadly intent.
Suffice it to say, that the young Kentuckian displayed a skill in
swordsmanship sufficient to disarrange several of Gil Uraga's front
teeth, and make an ugly gash in his cheek. He had barely left to him
sufficient command of his mouth to cry "Basta!" and so the affair ended.

"Senor Hamersley," said the man who had so effectively befriended him,
after they had returned from the encounter, and were drinking a bottle
of Paso wine in the posada, "may I ask where you intend going when you
leave Chihuahua?"

"To Santa