Miss Fairfax of Virginia: A Romance of Love and Adventure Under the Palmettos

by St. George Rathborne

  CHAPTER VII.

  THE SWORD DUEL IN THE EAST INDIAN BUNGALOW.

  Surrounded by a thousand mementoes of India as he was, in this quaintbungalow on the Rathmines road, Roderic Owen might well have beenpardoned had he allowed imagination to have full sway, and looked forsome offended satellite of great Buddha to appear with the advent ofthat bull-like roar.

  But it chanced that he knew the sound of old, since the general andhimself had many times enjoyed each other's society in San Juan whenCupid ruled the camp.

  He was not particularly anxious to meet the Porto Rican officer justyet, but being a man who never showed the white feather when face toface with trouble, he wheeled to confront the hurricane just entering.

  General Porfidio was a big man, and having a bushy head of white hairhis appearance was unusually ferocious, nor did his fierce militarymustache and his shaggy eyebrows serve to temper the naturallybellicose looks which a provident Nature had bestowed upon him.

  The roar with which he usually spoke accorded well with his wholedisposition.

  And yet Roderic had seen this terrible man of war become as meek as alittle lamb under the thumb of a pretty girl's hand--Georgia knew howto pull his heart strings and bring him to his knees.

  He evidently entered the room in a tremendous whirl of excitement.

  "_Por Dios!_ so, I have discovered the villain. Roblado swore he sawhim enter here, and ran to inform me three blocks away. I have gallopedevery foot of the distance, and with each yard I swore a fearful oathto have his life, that of the spy who seeks to ruin me in my own house.You hear, sir--I have come to rid the world of a viper. And yet, Iwould not have it said that Porfidio de Brabant, with the blood ofcavaliers in his veins, descended so low as to strike an unarmed man.Turn about, Yankee, and you will see many swords upon the wall behindyou. The light still remains good enough to allow us a few minutesgrace. It is all I want--I have not learned my lesson for nothing.What! do you then refuse to defend yourself--then by Our Lady I shallbe obliged to spur you on with the flat of my good blade, until I canbeat some little courage into your shrinking soul."

  He made an aggressive movement, as if about to instantly carry his planinto action.

  This was more than Roderic could stand.

  He was a fighter by nature, and no man ever had to shake a red flag infront of his eyes in order to arouse his ambition.

  Even in the present instance, though he had no desire to meet thegeneral in an affair of honor, the awful threat made by the Porto Ricanwas too much for his Irish blood.

  Consequently he turned to the wall, remembering that his eye hadbeen involuntarily attracted toward a particularly inviting lookingslender Hindoo sword made of the finest steel in the world, temperedin Damascus, where the art has been guarded as a secret, lo, thesehundreds of years, since the turbulent time of Saracens and Crusadersin fact.

  Quickly Roderic snatched this blade from the wall.

  It felt like a reliable weapon, and he no sooner clasped his eagerfingers about the hilt than he knew he could depend upon it to thedeath.

  Having thus armed himself he whirled about, for the dire threat of theold soldier still stung his ears, and he was mortally afraid the othermight in his anger carry it out.

  To a proud man like Owen, such an indignity would be worse than thedanger of meeting an attack--and especially in _her_ presence.

  Thus, when able to flash the jewel hilted East Indian blade around soas to cover any possible attack from the old martinet, Roderic gavevent to an exclamation of satisfaction.

  At home with a sword, he felt able to render a good account of hisstewardship, since he had long taken a peculiar pride in learning theways in which various nations handle the weapon--a grizzled old Turkhad given him points in Constantinople--from an Algerian desert roverhe had learned how they fought with the steel when robbers attacked thecaravans--an expert Hindoo juggler who could place an apple on a man'scranium and with a fierce downward stroke sever it completely withoutharming a hair of the other's head had taken pleasure in teaching hima few tricks, while American cavalrymen had made him an adept withthe sabre, and a French fencing master exhausted his _repertoire_ inendeavoring to beat down his defense.

  Taken in all, young Owen had no reason to fear any harm when thus givena blade with which to defend himself.

  Nor did he mean to demolish the old veteran, with whom he had manytimes smoked the pipe of peace and good fellowship, exchanging storiesof world wide experiences.

  All he desired was a chance to defend himself against furious attacks.

  Evidently Don Porfidio had not as yet recognized the man in the parlorof his bungalow.

  For this, the growing shadows of coming dusk, together with the furythat made his eyes dance in their sockets might be held accountable,rather than any infirmities of coming age.

  When the old fire-eater comprehended what the other's action reallymeant he gave utterance to a snort of satisfaction.

  Nothing could please him better than a chance to air his masterlyability with the trenchant blade he had so proudly carried at hisside--opportunities for so doing had of late been too few and farbetween to fully satisfy the vainglorious ambition of the soldier.

  He had actually seen much stirring work in the military service ofSpain, and was seasoned by a long and hazardous career.

  "_Carramba!_" he cried, "have we then at last one fellow who shirks notthe fray? Here's to your lung and an easier way of taking breath."

  But somewhat to his surprise the unknown parried his quivering strokewith the utmost ease, and still stood there on guard.

  Then the old soldier waxed wroth.

  He had been stunned at first, when his blade was so contemptuouslyturned aside, for this action was not according to the usual way DameFortune served such a son of Mars.

  Of course he gave utterance to a Spanish execration, such as falls soreadily from the lips of these excitable people.

  Then he hastily examined his sword, which was found to be in quite asgood condition as before, proving that the fault did not lie in thatquarter at least.

  Having awakened to the knowledge that he had a job cut out before himthat would require his utmost endeavors, Don Porfidio braced his bulkyframe for a prodigious effort.

  As the two antagonists stood there facing one another, like a pair ofRoman gladiators about to do battle royal the girl suddenly dartedbetween.

  "You must not, shall not fight!" she exclaimed.

  The general let out a roar.

  "Stand back, on your life, rash girl. This is a business in which Iwill brook no interference."

  "But uncle, dear uncle, you do not know----"

  "I know all I desire, and I shall make it my solemn duty to teach thisrascal a lesson he will never forget. Therefore I command you, Georgia,to leave the room!"

  "No, no, it would be a crime," she continued, endeavoring to cling tohis sword arm.

  But the testy old don's fighting blood was up, and in such a conditionhe would stand no interference even from one whom he loved so dearly.

  So with his left arm he swept the frail figure of the San Juan belleaside, and at the same time thrust out with his sword.

  The weapon met that of Roderic eagerly advanced to receive the thrust,and immediately there followed a clashing and rasping as steelcontinued to smite its like.

  Georgia, finding her efforts to keep the two men apart futile, fellback in dismay from the flash of the writhing swords.

  The spectacle appeared to fascinate her for a brief time, so that withclasped hands she stood and gazed, her breath coming in gasps, and witheach breath a fervent prayer that the Holy Virgin would intervene toprevent these two men, each of whom was so dear to her, from sheddingone another's blood.

  Then of a sudden she uttered a bubbling cry--it was not because one orthe other had gained the least advantage, for they were still at it,hammer and tongs, the giant man of war trying all his tricks and cleverthrusts with disheartening results--a bright thought had
flashed intothe girl's bewildered brain.

  Since Don Porfidio refused to hearken when she attempted to explainmatters, perhaps the same hoped-for cessation of active hostilitiesmight be attained through another means.

  "A light--let me find a lamp--please Heaven it may not be too late, andthese hot heads slaughter each other while I am gone," was what shecried.

  No one noticed her disappearance through the door where hung the Bagdadcurtains, for both of the gentlemen had their attention fully occupiedin another quarter.

  When a ferocious old military hero with all his long pent-up love forbloody scenes bursting forth is diligently thrusting right and leftwith a keen pointed sword, his eagerness increasing with each and everydefeat of his plans, there is little chance to observe what may bepassing even in the confines of the same apartment.

  That was Roderic's condition.

  True, he considered himself in no actual danger, unless from anaccidental thrust, but all the same the valorous old don was sendingthem in at white heat, and as the gloaming made it difficult to seewith exactness, there was need of great caution.

  The sparks flew whenever the hostile blades struck violently together,and taken altogether it was about as pretty and interesting a pictureas one would wish to see.

  When he found his favorite blows turned aside with so masterly a hand,the general's rage began to partially give way to admiration, for hewas an ardent lover of fine sword play no matter where found, in Arab,Moor or Cossack.

  He still continued to bellow, for it was a part of his nature to doso, but mingled with his furious phrases were cries that betokenedamazement, delight, suspicion.

  Perhaps he recognized something familiar about the method employed byhis antagonist in defending himself.

  Swordsmen have their peculiar tactics or individualities, that cropout strongly, and doubtless in the good old days when Senor Owen wasa welcome visitor at the hacienda of Don Porfidio the two may havecrossed blades occasionally, if only to illustrate some point in astory.

  In due time the Porto Rican must have puzzled out the solution of themystery.

  He was not given time just now.

  Roderic, finding that the other was making a most wicked series oflunges at his heart, and fearful lest some accident might occur thatwould place him at the mercy of Don Porfidio, concluded to wind up thematter in a manner that was more to his liking.

  So he let loose a few cards which he had, figuratively speaking, beenholding up his sleeve--in other words he let out an extra supply ofability and forced the fighting.

  It was all up with the general.

  He knew full well he was in the hands of a master, and that whilethe duel was fated to be cut as short as he wished, the outcome mighthardly be to his liking.

  The old don had been over confident, and he now fell into somethinglike a panic.

  True, he battled on with just as much vim as before, but desperationnerved his arm rather than the old time enthusiasm.

  When Roderic discovered his chance he whipped the other's supple bladeout of his nerveless hand with consummate ease.

  Don Porfidio uttered a cry of rage and stupefaction.

  "_Carramba!_ you have done it--now take your revenge, Senor Spy!" heejaculated, despairingly.

  He folded his arms across his quivering chest and faced what hesupposed would be immediate death without flinching.

  Roderic drew back his sword, but the old warrior made no appeal formercy.

  A Spaniard may appear cruel according to Anglo-Saxon ways of looking atthings, but no race of men has shown more splendid courage in battle orupon the terrible unknown seas of the fifteenth century.

  Roderic turning hung his East Indian blade once more upon the wall,doubtless to the sore amazement of the soldier.

  It was at this juncture Georgia came hastily into the room bearing anantique lamp which her trembling fingers had succeeded in lighting.

  Upon her face was an anxious, almost terrified expression, as thoughshe half expected to find one or both of the men lying there in theirblood.

  To see them standing there unarmed was a joyous revelation.

  As for the old soldier, the truth flashed upon him with a shock, whenhis eyes beheld a face he long had known.

  "Holy Father, is it _you_ Senor Owen? Dolt, idiot that I was not torecognize the familiar swing of your cunning sword arm. I am pleased tomeet you again--as, I am furiously angry because all these months youhave neglected this sweet flower, and caused her much suffering."

  Thus he rambled on, halting between his natural affection for the youngAmerican, yet holding back on account of race enmity, since Spanish andAmerican arms now clashed.

  Roderic knew he had a difficult piece of work cut out for him.

  It had been child's play to disarm the old gentleman, but to avoid anopen rupture must tax his ingenuity.

  Perhaps, with the help of the girl it might be made possible.

  At any rate he was bound to try for the sake of peace in the family.

  "General, that I have lost the sweet friendship, and society of yourniece and ward during all these months is my misfortune. She has, likean angel of light, forgiven me. It was all a terrible mistake, causedby jealousy on my part.

  "You as a man who has seen the world in all its phases can understandmy position. I am humiliated in her presence. We expect to forget allthat is bitter in the past, and start afresh, for no other has heldthe cords to my heart save Georgia--though I believed her lost to meforever, I have been always faithful to our love.

  "General, our countries are at war, but that does not make us enemies.I would esteem it an honor to shake your hand again and hear you sayyou do not bear me malice where she has forgiven."

  The veteran was touched.

  He was human, and it flattered him to think that this young American,who had just disarmed him with such ease, should still yearn for hisfriendly interest.

  Don Porfidio was genial despite his exceeding gruff ways.

  "_Cospita, hombre_, you speak fairly. If the chit of a girl hasforgiven what right have I to hold out, though truth to tell I havemade many a vow to the Virgin to flay your back when next we met, onaccount of your wretched flight. Since you ask it so sincerely, andthere was always a warm corner of my tough old heart for you SenorRoderic, I see no reason why we should not shake hands and resume ourformer friendship."

  This pleased Owen, who was just in the act of putting out his hand whena rough voice outside was heard calling:

  "Senor de Brabant, have you slain the pig of a Yankee spy--is it safeto enter?"

  At which Don Porfidio uttered a choking exclamation and letting hishand drop to his side stared at the face of the young American asthough the truth had flashed through his brain like an electric bolt.