CHAPTER NINETEEN.
A COUNCIL OF WAR.
"How can I help it ?" said Mark one morning, as he was sauntering down by the river.

"I did not mean to meet him, and here he is again.

Hallo! he has got a fresh sword." The lad instinctively clapped his hand to his side, to feel if he had his own buckled on, though of late, consequent upon the troubled state of the country round, he had never thought of stirring without it.
"Mark Eden!" said Ralph to himself, as he caught sight of his enemy.
"Then I suppose now it is going to be our fight.

Very well: it is none of my seeking, and I don't think we shall have Captain Purlrose to stop it." They came to a stand about a yard apart, and delivered themselves each of a short nod, but for some moments neither spoke.
"Well," said Mark at last, "are you ready ?" "Yes," replied Ralph; "here or somewhere among the trees." "Of course.

We don't want to be seen." They walked off side by side till they reached a patch of grass, fairly level and free from stones, where they flung their caps on the ground, and drew their swords; a dove high up in view of the cliff breaking out, as if ironically, with a soft, gentle coo.