The Colonel, evidently deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, promptly subsided, although Bryce could see that he was mumbling threats to himself, though not in an audible voice.

The demon Cardigan halted beside Shirley and stood gazing down at her.  He was smiling at her whimsically.  She met his glance for a few seconds; then her lids were lowered and she bit her lip with vexation.

“Shirley,” he said.

“You are presumptuous,” she quavered.

“You set me an example in presumption,” he retorted good humouredly.  “Did you not call me by my first name a minute ago?” He glanced toward Colonel Pennington and observed the latter with his neck craned across his protecting stump.  He was all ears.  Bryce pointed sternly across the clearing, and the Colonel promptly abandoned his refuge and retreated hastily in the direction indicated.

The heir to Cardigan’s Redwoods bent over the girl.  “You spoke to me —­after your promise not to, Shirley,” he said gently.  “You will always speak to me.”

She commenced to cry softly.  “I loathe you,” she sobbed.

“For you I have the utmost respect and admiration,” he replied.

“No, you haven’t.  If you had, you wouldn’t hurt my uncle—­the only human being in all this world who is dear to me.”

“Gosh!” he murmured plaintively.  “I’m jealous of that man.  However, I’m sorry I hurt him.  He is no longer young, while I—­well, I forgot the chivalry my daddy taught me.  I give you my word I came here to fight fairly—­”

“He merely tried to stop you from fighting.”

“No, he didn’t, Shirley.  He interfered and fouled me.  Still, despite that, if I had known you were a spectator I think I should have controlled myself and refrained from pulling off my vengeance in your presence.  I shall never cease to regret that I subjected you to such a distressing spectacle.  I do hope, however, that you will believe me when I tell you I am not a bully, although when there is a fight worth while, I never dodge it.  And this time I fought for the honour of the House of Cardigan.”

“If you want me to believe that, you will beg my uncle’s pardon.”

“I can’t do that.  He is my enemy and I shall hate him forever; I shall fight him and his way of doing business until he reforms or I am exhausted.”

She looked up at him, showing a face in which resentment, outrage, and wistfulness were mirrored.

“You realize, of course, what your insistence on that plan means, Mr. Cardigan?”

“Call me Bryce,” he pleaded.  “You’re going to call me that some day anyhow, so why not start now?”

“You are altogether insufferable, sir.  Please go away and never presume to address me again.  You are quite impossible.”