She was about to turn away when Maynard rushed before her exclaiming, "Miss Baron, I beg your pardon, I ask your forgiveness. I never saw this act in the light you place it." "There, cousin," added Whately with a sort of shamefaced laugh, "I'm hanged if you aren't in the right and I in the wrong again. As you say, the bullet that killed me might do worse by mother, and I should have thought of that. As for you, we didn't think you'd look at it this way. There's plenty of girls who'd think it a big feather in their caps to have men fight about 'em." "I can't believe it." "It's true, nevertheless," said Maynard earnestly. "What can I do to right myself in your eyes?" "If you wish to be men whose friendship I can value, shake hands and use your weapons for your country. If you truly care for my good opinion, forget yourselves long enough to find out what DOES please me and not rush headlong into action I detest. Consider the rights, feelings and happiness of others." "Well, Whately, what do you say?" asked Maynard with a grim laugh. "I am ready to obey Miss Baron as I would my superior officer," and he held out his hand. Whately took it with an answering laugh, saying, "There's nothing else left us to do. After her words, we could no more fight each other than shoot her." "Thank you. I--I--Zany," she faltered, turning deathly white. She would have fallen had not her cousin sprung to her aid, supporting her to a seat on a moss-grown log lying near. For a few moments the long strain and reaction proved too much for her, and she sat, pale and panting, her head resting against Zany, who had rushed from her covert. The young men were overwhelmed with compunction and alarm, but she retained and silenced them by a gesture. "I'll be--better--in a moment," she gasped. It proved but a partial giving way of her nervous force. In a few moments she added, "Please go back to the house by different ways. No one need know anything about this. No, don't call any one. I'll get better faster if left with Zany. I beg you do as I ask and then my mind will be at rest." "There, Miss Baron," said the remorseful Maynard, "I pledge you my word I'll never fight a duel. I can prove my courage sufficiently against the enemy." She smiled, held out her hand, which he carried to his lips and reluctantly departed. "See here, Cousin Lou," said Whately impulsively, "I'm going to give you an honest, cousinly kiss. I'm not so feather-headed as not to know you've got us both out of a devil of a scrape." He suited the action to his words, and strode off in time to intercept Perkins, who had the scent of a vulture for a battle. "We have arranged the affair for the present," said the young officer curtly, "and won't need any graves to-day. Keep mum about this." "I'll keep my mouth close enough till I kin begin ter bite on my own account," muttered the overseer as he sullenly followed. CHAPTER XXXII SAD TIDINGS