"Both of you are betting on things too far off," said Langdon, who could keep out of the conversation no longer. "I'll bet you two dollars that not one of those four men in the boat catches a fish inside of ten minutes." "In Confederate bills or in money?" was called back. Roars of laughter, from both sides of the Rappahannock, crossed one another above the middle of the stream. "What's this?" exclaimed a sharp voice behind the four. "Conversation with the enemy! It's against all the rules of war!" They looked around and saw Bertrand, his face flushed and his eyes sparkling. Harry leaned back lazily, but St. Clair spoke up quickly. "We've been having conversations off and on with the enemy for two years," he said. "We've had some mighty hot talks with bullets and cannon balls, and some not so hot with words. Just now we were having one of the class labelled 'not so hot.'" "What's the matter with you Johnnies?" was called across. "You've broken off the talk just when it was getting interesting. Are you going to back out on that bet? We thought you had better manners. We know you have." "You're right, we have," said St. Clair, shouting across the stream, "but we were interrupted by a man who hasn't." "Oh, is that so?" was called back. "If you've troubles of your own, we won't interfere. We'll just look on." Bertrand was pallid with rage. "I'm a captain in the Invincibles, Mr. St. Clair," he said, "and you're only a lieutenant. You'll return to your regiment at once and prepare a written apology to me for the words that you've just used to those Yankees." "Oh, no, I won't do either," drawled St. Clair purposely. "It is true that a captain outranks a lieutenant, but you're a company commander and I'm a staff officer. I take no orders from you." "Nevertheless you have insulted me, and there is another and perhaps better way to settle it." He significantly touched the hilt of his sword. "Oh, if you mean a duel, it suits me well enough," said St. Clair, who was an expert with the sword. "Early to-morrow morning in the woods back of this point?" "Suits me." "Your seconds?" Then Harry jumped to his feet in a mighty wrath and indignation. "There won't be any duel! And there won't be any seconds!" he exclaimed. "Why not?" asked Bertrand, his face livid. "Because I won't allow it." "How can you help it?"