Rudolph darted back, swept his arm blindly, and cried out; for with the full impetus of the mishap, a shock had run from wrist to elbow.

He dropped his sword, and in stupefaction watched the red blood coursing down his forearm, and his third finger twitching convulsively, beyond control.
"Dear fellow!" cried his opponent, scrambling upright.

"So sorry! I say, that's a bad one." With a stick and a handkerchief, he twisted on a tourniquet, muttering condolence: "Pain much?
Lost my balance, you know.
That better ?--What a clumsy accident!" Then, dodging out from the plantain screen, and beckoning,--"All you chaps! Come over here!" Nesbit came running, but at sight of the bloody victim, pulled up short.
"What ho!" he whispered, first with a stare, then a grin of mysterious joy.

Sturgeon gave a sympathetic whistle, and stolidly unwound bandages.
At first the two Napoleons remained aloof, but at last, yielding to indignant shouts, haughtily approached.

The little group stood at fault.
Heywood wiped his sword-blade very carefully on a plantain leaf; then stood erect, to address them with a kind of cool severity.
"I regret this more than anybody," he declared, pausing, and picking his words.