CHAPTER VIII
AS the door closed upon Forister, Colonel Royale beat his hand passionately against the wall. "O'Ruddy," he cried, "if you could severely maim that cold-blooded bully, I would be willing to adopt you as my legitimate grandfather. I would indeed."
"Never fear me," said I. "I shall pink him well."
"Aye," said my friend, looking at me mournfully, "I ever feared your Irish light-heartedness. 'T will not do to be confident. He is an evil man, but a great swordsman. Now I never liked Ponsonby, and Stewart was the most lovable of men; but in the great duel Ponsonby killed"
"No," I interrupted, "damn the duel between Ponsonby and Stewart. I 'm sick of it. This is to be the duel between The O'Ruddy and Forister, and it won't be like the other."
"Eh, well," said the Colonel good-naturedly; "make your mind easy. But I hope to God you lay him flat."
"After I have finished with him," said I in measured tones, "he will be willing to sell himself as a sailor to go to the Indies; only, poor devil, he won't be able to walk, which is always a drawback after a hard fight, since it leaves one man incapable on the ground and thus discloses strong evidence of a struggle."
