“You must wait,” he protested. “Mr. Fiske wishes to shake hands with you. It is not finished yet.” “Yes, it is finished,” I replied, savagely. “I have humored you two long enough. A pest on both your houses. I’m going back to breakfast.” Poor Von Ritter drew away, deeply hurt and scandalized, but my offence was nothing to the shock he received when young Lowell ran to the carriage and caught up my hand. He looked at me with a smile that would have softened a Spanish duenna. “See here!” he cried. “Whether you like it or not, you’ve got to shake hands with me. I want to tell you that was one of the finest things I ever saw.” He squeezed my fingers until the bones crunched together. “I’ve heard a lot about you, and now I believe all I’ve heard. To stand up there,” he ran on, breathlessly, “knowing you didn’t mean to fire, and knowing he was a dead shot, and make a canvas target of yourself--that was bully. You were an ass to do it, but it was great. You going back to breakfast?” he demanded, suddenly, with the same winning, eager smile. “So am I. I speak to go with you.” Before I could reply he had vaulted into the carriage, and was shouting at the driver. “Cochero, to the Barracks. Full speed ahead. Vamoose. Give way. Allez vite!” “But my seconds,” I protested. “They can walk,” he said. Already the horses were at a gallop, and as we swung around the wall of the graveyard and were hidden from the sight of the others, Lowell sprang into the seat beside me. With the quick fingers of the sailor, he cast off my sword-belt and tore open my blouse. “I wanted to get you away,” he muttered, “before he found out he had hit you.” “I’m not hit,” I protested. “Just as you like,” he said. “Still, it looks rather damp to the left here.” But, as I knew, the bullet had only grazed me, and the laugh of relief Lowell gave when he raised his head, and said, “Why, it’s only a scratch,” meant as much to me as though he had rendered me some great service. For it seemed to prove a genuine, friendly concern, and no one, except Laguerre, had shown that for me since I had left home. I had taken a fancy to Lowell from the moment he had saluted me like a brother officer in the Plaza, and I had wished he would like me. I liked him better than any other young man I had ever met. I had never had a man for a friend, but before we had finished breakfast I believe we were better friends than many boys who had lived next door to each other from the day they were babies. As a rule, I do not hit it off with men, so I felt that his liking me was a great piece of good fortune, and a great honor. He was only three years older than myself, but he knew much more about everything than I did, and his views of things were as fine and honorable as they were amusing.