Chapter 28

CHAPTER XXVIII--CAPITULATION

When Sheldon emerged from among the trees he found Joan waiting at
the compound gate, and he could not fail to see that she was
visibly gladdened at the sight of him.

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you," was her greeting.
"What's become of Tudor? That last flutter of the automatic wasn't
nice to listen to. Was it you or Tudor?"

"So you know all about it," he answered coolly. "Well, it was
Tudor, but he was doing it left-handed. He's down with a hole in
his shoulder." He looked at her keenly. "Disappointing, isn't
it?" he drawled.

"How do you mean?"

"Why, that I didn't kill him."

"But I didn't want him killed just because he kissed me," she
cried.

"Oh, he did kiss you!" Sheldon retorted, in evident surprise. "I
thought you said he hurt your arm."

"One could call it a kiss, though it was only on the end of the
nose." She laughed at the recollection. "But I paid him back for
that myself. I boxed his face for him. And he did hurt my arm.
It's black and blue. Look at it."

She pulled up the loose sleeve of her blouse, and he saw the
bruised imprints of two fingers.

Just then a gang of blacks came out from among the trees carrying
the wounded man on a rough stretcher.

"Romantic, isn't it?" Sheldon sneered, following Joan's startled
gaze. "And now I'll have to play surgeon and doctor him up.
Funny, this twentieth-century duelling. First you drill a hole in
a man, and next you set about plugging the hole up."

They had stepped aside to let the stretcher pass, and Tudor, who
had heard the remark, lifted himself up on the elbow of his sound
arm and said with a defiant grin, -

"If you'd got one of mine you'd have had to plug with a dinner-
plate."

"Oh, you wretch!" Joan cried. "You've been cutting your bullets."

"It was according to agreement," Tudor answered. "Everything went.
We could have used dynamite if we wanted to."

"He's right," Sheldon assured her, as they swung in behind. "Any
weapon was permissible. I lay in the grass where he couldn't see
me, and bushwhacked him in truly noble fashion. That's what comes
of having women on the plantation. And now it's antiseptics and
drainage tubes, I suppose. It's a nasty mess, and I'll have to
read up on it before I tackle the job."

"I don't see that it's my fault," she began. "I couldn't help it
because he kissed me. I never dreamed he would attempt it."

"We didn't fight for that reason. But there isn't time to explain.
If you'll get dressings and bandages ready I'll look up 'gun-shot
wounds' and see what's to be done."

"Is he bleeding seriously?" she asked.

"No; the bullet seems to have