yourself partly to have done in this case—­and there the matter generally ends.  Rivers, you think, assaulted you, and had the worst of it.  You got off with but little harm yourself, and a reasonable man ought to be satisfied.  Nothing more need be said of it.  This is the wisest course, let me advise you.  Be quiet about the matter, go on your way, and leave us to ourselves.  Better suffer a little wrong, and seem to know nothing of it, than risk a quarrel with those who, having once put themselves out of the shelter of the laws, take every opportunity of putting them at defiance.  And what if you were to push the matter, where will the sheriff or the military find us?  In a week and the judge will arrive, and the court will be in session.  For that week we shall be out of the way.  Nobody shall know—­nobody can find us.  This day’s work will most probably give us all a great itch for travel.”

Munro had, in truth, made out a very plain case; and his representations, in the main, were all correct.  The youth felt their force, and his reason readily assented to the plain-sense course which they pointed out.  Contenting himself, therefore, with reiterating the charge, he concluded with saying that, for the present, he would let the affair rest.  “Until the ruffian”—­thus he phrased it—­“had answered the penalties of the laws for his subsequent and more heinous offence against them, he should be silent.”

“But I have not done with you, young sir,” was the immediate speech of Rivers—­his self-confidence and much of his composure returned, as, with a fierce and malignant look, and a quick stride, he approached the youth.  “You have thought proper to make a foul charge against me, which I have denied.  It has been shown that your assertion is unfounded, yet you persist in it, and offer no atonement.  I now demand redress—­the redress of a gentleman.  You know the custom of the country, and regard your own character, I should think, too highly to refuse me satisfaction.  You have pistols, and here are rifles and dirks.  Take your choice.”

The youth looked upon him with ineffable scorn as he replied—­

“You mistake me, sirrah, if you think I can notice your call with anything but contempt.”

“What! will you not fight—­not fight? not back your words?”

“Not with you!” was the calm reply.

“You refuse me satisfaction, after insulting me!”

“I always took him for a poor chicken, from the first time I set eyes on him,” said one of the spectators.

“Yes, I didn’t think much of him, when he refused to join us,” was the remark of another.

“This comes of so much crowing; Brag is a good dog, but Holdfast is better,” went on a third, and each man had his remark upon Colleton’s seeming timidity.  Scorn and indignation were in all faces around him; and Forrester, at length awakened from his stupor by the tide of fierce comment setting in upon his friend from all quarters, now thought it time to interfere.