We soon heard the tread, and the low but easy voices, of Captain Falconer and Lieutenant Campbell; who joined us with salutations, graceful on Falconer’s part, and naturally awkward on that of Campbell.  How I admired the unconcerned, leisurely manner in which Falconer, having gone a little aloof from Tom and me, removed his overcoat, laced coat, and waistcoat, giving a playful shiver, purposely exaggerated, as he stood in his ruffled shirt and well-fitting boots and breeches.  I was awkward in helping Tom off with his outer clothes.  The moonlight, making everything in the hollow well-nigh as visible as by day, showed Tom’s face to be white, his eyes wide-open and darkly radiant; while in Falconer’s case it revealed a countenance as pleasant and gracious as ever, eyes neither set nor restless.

Campbell and I perfunctorily compared the swords, gave them a bend or two, and handed them to the principals.  We then stood back.  Doctor McLaughlin looked on with a mild interest.  There was a low cry, a ring of steel, and the two men were at it.

I recall the moonshine upon their faces, the swift dartings of their faintly luminous blades, their strangely altering shadows on the snow as they moved, the steady attention of us who looked on, the moan of the wind among the trees upon the neighbouring heights, the sound of the men’s tramping on the crusted snow, the clear clink of their weapons, sometimes the noise of their breathing.  They eyed each other steadfastly, seeming to grudge the momentary winks enforced by nature.  Falconer’s purpose, I began to see, was but to defend himself and disarm his opponent.  But Tom gave him much to do, making lightning thrusts with a suddenness and persistence that began at length to try the elder man.  So they kept it up till I should have thought they were tired out.

Suddenly Tom made a powerful lunge that seemed to find the captain unready.  But the latter, with a sharp involuntary cry, got his blade up in time to divert the point, by pure accident, with the guard of his hilt.  His own point was thus turned straight toward his antagonist; and Tom, throwing his weight after his weapon, impaled himself upon the captain’s.  For an infinitesimal point of time, till the sword was drawn out, the lad seemed to stand upon his toes, leaning forward, looking toward the sky with a strange surprise upon his face, eyes and mouth alike open.  And then he collapsed as if his legs and body were but empty rags; and fell in a huddle upon the snow:  with a convulsive movement he stretched himself back to the shape of a man; and lay perfectly still.

The captain bent over him with astonishment.  The surgeon ran to him, and turned him flat upon his back.  I was by this time kneeling opposite the surgeon, who tore open Tom’s shirts and examined his body.

“Bedad, gentlemen,” said the Irishman sadly, in a moment, “he’s beyont the need of my profession.  ’Tis well ye had that sthory ready, in case of accident.”