"Sir," cried Gil, proudly, "I am the son of one of the band of brave men who went out with that injured knight, and who look with the most utter contempt upon the north-country faithless puppet who sent him to the block. Pah; he and his followers stink in the nostrils of all good men and true. Let me see," cried Gil, seizing his opportunity, "by your broad speech, sir, you are one of the paltry, ragged Scots who came south with Solomon to seek a home." "You lie, you scurrilous knave," said Sir Mark, stung to the quick by this last; "I am the son of a gentleman, who knows how to avenge an insult." As he spoke he sprang forward and struck Gil in the chest with the back of his hand. The blow was sharply given, and with all the young man's force; but Gil did not budge an inch. This was what he sought, and, drawing back from the gate, he made way for the knight to pass. Sir Mark, evidently fearing treachery, drew his sword, but Gil had no thought of foul play. "I make way for you, Sir Mark," he said, grimly. "Walk on first, sir, while you can." Sir Mark started at the grim significance of his companion's words; and then, full of doubt in the other's honesty, he strode along a path pointed out by his rival, fighting hard to keep from looking back to see if he were in danger of a treacherous blow. "Turn to the left, Sir Mark," said Gil, suddenly; "I presume you do not wish our meeting to be interrupted, and it may be if we stay within the wood." "Where would you go, then?" cried Sir Mark, sharply, for he felt his courage fail somewhat in the presence of a man who grew cooler each moment. "The lower furnace-house seems the likeliest spot to me," said Gil, quickly. "It will be deserted at this hour; there will be a good light from the roasting ore, and the clash of our swords will be unheard. Moreover, there will be a shorter distance to carry the body of the man who falls." Sir Mark shuddered, but he made no sign; and, following the direction pointed out by Gil, the two young men came out of the wood below the wheel, crossed the stream by a plank bridge, and then, passing through two or three thick plantations, surrounding as many powder-sheds, they entered a wide stone building, whose floor was of furnace-cinder and charcoal; and, as they stood face to face, the place was far more light than the wood. Without another word, Gil divested himself of cap and doublet, drawing his sword, and throwing down belt and sheath, in all of which he was imitated by Sir Mark, who, now that he was face to face with the peril, seemed to lose a good deal of his nervousness, though the coolness of his enemy staggered him. "Your sword, sir," said Gil, holding out his hand; but Sir Mark shrank back, and stood upon his defence. "I merely wished to measure them," said Gil, contemptuously, as he threw his own upon the charcoal floor. "Measure them yourself."