"Galesworth," he said quietly, his glance searching my face, "I do not wish you to have any misunderstanding about my exact position in this affair. The war is not personal with me. We differ politically, and I am as loyal to the South as any one, and you wear the Blue with just as much honor as I wear the Gray. But when it comes to men I stand with the one I believe to be nearest right. Le Gaire forced this quarrel on you deliberately; he was threatening to do it before you came in. In fact, his manner ever since our capture has disgusted me, and when he finally dared to drag Billie's name into the controversy, I naturally rebelled. If there is anything I despise in this world, sir, it is a bullying duellist, and, by Gad! that's what the fellow looks like to me." "I comprehend perfectly, Major Hardy," I said, as he paused. "You are merely doing as you would be done by." "Well, yes, that's a partial explanation. I prefer to see fair play. Yet I am going to confess that isn't all of it. I rather like you, young man--not your damned uniform, understand--and the way you've acted toward my girl. You've been honorable and square, and, by Gad, sir, you're a gentleman. That's why I am going to see you through this affair. If all I hear is true, Le Gaire came back to me with a lie, and that is something I have never taken yet from any man." He stood straight as an arrow, his shoulders squared, his slender form buttoned tightly in the gray uniform coat. The sun was upon his face, clear-cut, proud, aristocratic, and his eyes were the same gray-blue as his daughter's. Then he held out his hand and I clasped it gladly. "I cannot express the gratitude I feel, Major Hardy," I faltered. "One hardly expects such kindness from an enemy." "Not an enemy, my boy--merely a foeman. I am a West Pointer, and some of the dearest friends I have are upon the other side. But come, let us not be the last on the field."