etcher, striving hard to keep his calm, clung to the
reins. "Let it go, you damned, thieving Scot!" screamed Dare in a fury,
and struck Fletcher with his whip.

It was unfortunate for them both that he should have had that switch in
his hand at such a time, but more unfortunate still was it that Fletcher
should have had a pistol in his belt. The Scot dropped the bridle at
last; dropped it to pluck forth the weapon.

"Hi! I did not..." began Dare, who had stood appalled by what he had
done in the second or two that had passed since he had delivered the
blow. The rest of his sentence was drowned in the report of Fletcher's
pistol, and Dare dropped dead on the rough cobbles of the yard.

Ferguson has left it on record--and, presumably, he had Fletcher's
word for it--that it was no part of the Scot's intent to do Mr. Dare
a mischief. He had but drawn the pistol to intimidate him into better
manners, but in his haste he accidentally pulled the trigger.

However that may be, there was Dare as dead as the stones on which he
lay, and Fletcher with a smoking pistol in his hand.

After that all was confusion. Fletcher was seized by those who had
witnessed the deed; there was none thought it an accident; indeed,
they were all ready enough to say that Fletcher had received excessive
provocation. He was haled to the presence of the Duke with whom
were Grey and Wilding at the time; and old Dare's son--an ensign in
Goodenough's company--came clamouring for vengeance backed by such
goodly numbers that the distraught Duke was forced to show at least the
outward seeming of it.

Wilding, who knew the value of this Scottish soldier of fortune who had
seen so much service, strenuously urged his enlargement. It was not a
time to let the fortunes of a cause suffer through such an act as this,
deplorable though it might be. The evidence showed that Fletcher had
been provoked; he had been struck, a thing that might well justify the
anger in the heat of which he had done this thing. Grey was stolid and
silent, saying nothing either for or against the man who had divided
with him under the Duke the honours of the supreme command.

Monmouth, white and horror-stricken, sat and listened first to
Wilding, then to Dare, and lastly to Fletcher himself. But it was young
Dare--Dare and his followers, who prevailed. They were too numerous and
turbulent, and they must at all costs be conciliated, or there was no
telling to what extremes they might n