"
Tudor still attempted to struggle and to throw him off.
"Keep quiet, I tell you," Sheldon commanded. "I'm satisfied with the
outcome, and you've got to be. So you might as well give in and call
this affair closed."
Tudor reluctantly relaxed.
"Rather funny, isn't it, these modern duels?" Sheldon grinned down at
him as he removed his weight. "Not a bit dignified. If you'd struggled
a moment longer I'd have rubbed your face in the earth. I've a good mind
to do it anyway, just to teach you that duelling has gone out of fashion.
Now let us see to your injuries."
"You only got me that last," Tudor grunted sullenly, "lying in ambush
like--"
"Like a wild Indian. Precisely. You've caught the idea, old man."
Sheldon ceased his mocking and stood up. "You lie there quietly until I
send back some of the boys to carry you in. You're not seriously hurt,
and it's lucky for you I didn't follow your example. If you had been
struck with one of your own bullets, a carriage and pair would have been
none too large to drive through the hole it would have made. As it is,
you're drilled clean--a nice little perforation. All you need is
antiseptic washing and dressing, and you'll be around in a month. Now
take it easy, and I'll send a stretcher for you.
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