"  He  insulted  Laguerre,"  I  shouted  back,  and
scrambled  into  the  saddle.  But  I  was  far  from
satisfied.     I,  Vice-President,    Minister    of  War,

211


Captain  Macklin

Provost- Marshal  of  the  city,  had  been  fighting
with  my  fists  in  the  open  street  before  half  the
population.  I  knew  what  Laguerre  would  say,
and  I  wondered  hotly  if  the  girl  had  seen  me,  and
I  swore  at  myself  for  having  justified  her  con-
tempt for  us.  Then  I  swore  at  myself  again  for
giving  a  moment's  consideration  to  what  she
thought.  I  was  recalled  to  the  present  by  the  ap-
parition of  my  adversary  riding  his  pony  toward
me,  partly  supported  and  partly  restrained  by  two
of  his  friends.  He  was  trembling  with  anger  and
pain  and  mortification.
"  You  shall  fight  me  for  this,"  he  cried.
I  was  about  to  retort  that  he  looked  as  though
I  had  been  fighting  him,  but  it  is  not  easy  to
laugh  at  a  man  when  he  is  covered  with  dust  and
blood,  and  this  one  was  so  sorry  a  spectacle  that
I  felt  ashamed  for  him,  and  said  nothing.
"  I  am  not  a  street  fighter,''  he  raged.  "  I
wasn't  taught  to  fight  in  a  lot.  But  I'll  fight  you
like  a  gentleman,  just  as  though  you  were  a
gentleman.  You  needn't  think  you've  heard  the
last  of  me.  My  friends  will  act  for  me,  and,  un-
less you're  a  coward,  you  will  name  your  seconds.'*

Before  I  could  answer.  Von  Ritter  had  removed
his  hat  and  was  bowing  violently  from  his  saddle.
