Just as he was about to ratify the treaty with a lover's kiss there was a tremendous bellow, as if some mad bull had broken loose from confinement, and into the half darkened apartment came the tall figure of General Porfidio, her guardian. CHAPTER VII. THE SWORD DUEL IN THE EAST INDIAN BUNGALOW. Surrounded by a thousand mementoes of India as he was, in this quaint bungalow on the Rathmines road, Roderic Owen might well have been pardoned had he allowed imagination to have full sway, and looked for some offended satellite of great Buddha to appear with the advent of that bull-like roar. But it chanced that he knew the sound of old, since the general and himself had many times enjoyed each other's society in San Juan when Cupid ruled the camp. He was not particularly anxious to meet the Porto Rican officer just yet, but being a man who never showed the white feather when face to face with trouble, he wheeled to confront the hurricane just entering. General Porfidio was a big man, and having a bushy head of white hair his appearance was unusually ferocious, nor did his fierce military mustache and his shaggy eyebrows serve to temper the naturally bellicose looks which a provident Nature had bestowed upon him. The roar with which he usually spoke accorded well with his whole disposition. And yet Roderic had seen this terrible man of war become as meek as a little lamb under the thumb of a pretty girl's hand--Georgia knew how to pull his heart strings and bring him to his knees. He evidently entered the room in a tremendous whirl of excitement. "_Por Dios!_ so, I have discovered the villain. Roblado swore he saw him enter here, and ran to inform me three blocks away. I have galloped every foot of the distance, and with each yard I swore a fearful oath to have his life, that of the spy who seeks to ruin me in my own house. You hear, sir--I have come to rid the world of a viper. And yet, I would not have it said that Porfidio de Brabant, with the blood of cavaliers in his veins, descended so low as to strike an unarmed man. Turn about, Yankee, and you will see many swords upon the wall behind you. The light still remains good enough to allow us a few minutes grace. It is all I want--I have not learned my lesson for nothing. What! do you then refuse to defend yourself--then by Our Lady I shall be obliged to spur you on with the flat of my good blade, until I can beat some little courage into your shrinking soul." He made an aggressive movement, as if about to instantly carry his plan into action. This was more than Roderic could stand. He was a fighter by nature, and no man ever had to shake a red flag in front of his eyes in order to arouse his ambition. Even in the present instance, though he had no desire to meet the general in an affair of honor, the awful threat made by the Porto Rican was too much for his Irish blood.