None of your jokes, Don Decimo, for by the Lord I'll let drive at you if you were my own mother's son.

Put up your sword, for the trigger falls easy, and my finger is a twitching.' 'Curse you for a spoil-sport!' growled Saxon, sulkily sheathing his weapon.

'Nay, Clarke,' he added, after a few moments of reflection, 'this is but child's play, that two camarados with a purpose in view should fall out over such a trifle.

I, who am old enough to be your father, should have known better than to have drawn upon you, for a boy's tongue wags on impulse and without due thought.

Do but say that you have said more than you meant.' 'My way of saying it may have been over plain and rough,' I answered, for I saw that he did but want a little salve where my short words had galled him.