Says Jack, “October 15.--I can never cease to be thankful that, when we had them driven like seared sheep into the far side of the redoubt, I ran back to see what had become of Hugh. It was but a minute I had missed him, and when I saw him slip I had only just time to catch that devil Arthur Wynne’s blade. He was used in old days to play with me like a child, but either I am become more skilful or he was out of practice, for I knew pretty soon that he was delivered over to me, and had small chance to get away unhurt. If my friend had killed him,--and that was what he meant, I fear,--would Darthea ever have married Hugh? I know not, but it has been ordered otherwise. There was indeed a way opened, as Friends say. A nice Quaker I am become!” I was not of his opinion that night. Just before reveille I fell into a broken slumber. I awakened in a sweat, having dreamed that I had put a sword through my cousin, and was troubled that Jack was to tell Darthea. Thus it came to my mind--dulled before this with anger and unsatisfied hate--that I had made a fortunate escape. The morning brought wisdom. I was beginning to think that all was not well between Darthea and Arthur Wynne, and that to kill him would do anything but add to my chances with a woman so sensitive, nor would it much improve matters that his death had come out of the unhappy chances of war. When in happier mood I began to dress at dawn, I found my left arm very stiff and sore. I must have been much distracted overnight not to have felt it, and not to have seen that I was seriously bruised; my breeches were starched stiff with blood from a bayonet-prick. Jack’s quarters were on the extreme right, and as soon as the lines broke after morning drill I rode over to find him. He told me that Dr. Bush was come to camp the day before with other surgeons, and that Arthur was in a tent and cared for by our good doctor, who informed Jack that his sword had traversed the right lung, but had not gone through, as it seemed to me it must have done. The doctor thought he might possibly get over it. Out of his affection for my aunt he would see that Arthur had such care as she would desire for one of her kin, but was it not a most unfortunate accident? “I assured him,” said Jack, “that it was most lamentable, but might have been worse--as I intended it should be,” added Jack, with a grin. He then asked me had I heard of that good Free Quaker, Colonel Forest, who had taken Major Campbell, saying, “I advise thee to surrender, or thou wilt repent it, d--- thee!” to the delight of Hamilton, who must tell his Excellency that night, having supped with him on his return. I made haste to write to my aunt, and was able to send our letters North with the general’s despatches to Congress. I said nothing of my own encounter with Arthur, but made mention of Jack’s affair as one of the chances of war.