.
The Brandons could have done this easily enough, especially Charles,
who was an offhand philosopher, rather fond of a good-humored fight,
had it not been that in the course of play one evening the secret of
Judson's winning had been disclosed by a discovery that he cheated.
The Brandons waited until they were sure, and then trouble began,
which resulted in a duel on the second morning following.

This Judson was a Scotch gentleman of whom very little was known,
except that he was counted the most deadly and most cruel duelist of
the time. He was called the "Walking Death," and it is said took pride
in the appellation. He boasted that he had fought eighty-seven duels,
in which he had killed seventy-five men, and it was considered certain
death to meet him. I got the story of the duel afterwards from Brandon
as I give it here.

John was the elder brother, and when the challenge came was entitled
to fight first,--a birthright out of which Charles tried in vain to
talk him. The brothers told their father, Sir William Brandon, and at
the appointed time father and sons repaired to the place of meeting,
where they found Judson and his two seconds ready for the fight.

Sir William was still a vigorous man, with few equals in sword play,
and the sons, especially the younger, were better men and more skilful
than their father had ever been, yet they felt that this duel meant
certain death, so great was Judson's fame for skill and cruelty.
Notwithstanding they were so handicapped with this feeling of
impending evil, they met their duty without a tremor; for the motto of
their house was, "_Malo Mori Quam Fedrai_."

It was a misty morning in March. Brandon has told me since, that when
his elder brother took his stand, it was at once manifest that he was
Judson's superior, both in strength and skill, but after a few strokes
the brother's blade bent double and broke off short at the hilt when
it should have gone home. Thereupon, Judson, with a malignant smile of
triumph, deliberately selected his opponent's heart and pierced it
with his sword, giving the blade a twist as he drew it out in order to
cut and mutilate the more.

In an instant Sir William's doublet was off, and he was in his dead
son's tracks, ready to avenge him or to die. Again the thrust which
should have killed broke the sword, and the father died as the son had
died.

After this, came young Charles, expecting, but, so great was his
strong heart, not one whit