"You may, if you wish, find plenty of excuses," returned Roger. "If you wish to accept my challenge, do so. If not, say so, and I will take my own course." "Oh, I'll accept," returned Dic, cheerily. "As the challenged party, if we were gentlemen, I believe I might choose the weapons." "Yes," responded Williams. "What do you suppose would be the result were I to choose rifles at two hundred yards?" asked Dic, with an ugly smile on his face. "I should be delighted," responded the other. "I expected you to choose hoes or pitchforks." "I think it fair to tell you," said Dic, "that I can hit a silver dollar four times out of five shots at two hundred yards, and you will probably do well to hit a barn door once out of ten at that distance. I will let you see me shoot before I definitely choose weapons. Afterwards, if you prefer some other, I will abide your choice." "I am satisfied with your choice," responded Williams, who prided himself upon his rifle-shooting, in which accomplishment Dic had underrated his antagonist. "We must adopt some plan to prevent people from connecting another person with this affair," suggested Dic. "If you will come down to Bays's farm for a day's hunting, I will meet you there, and the result may be attributed by the survivor to a hunting accident." "The plan suits me," said Williams. "I'll meet you there to-morrow at noon. I'll tell Tom I have an engagement to go squirrel-hunting with you." Dic rode home, and of course carried the news of his forthcoming duel to Billy Little. "There are worse institutions in this world than the duel," remarked Billy, much to his listener's surprise. "It helps to thin out the fools." "But, Billy Little, I must fight him," responded Dic. "He insists, and will not accept my refusal. He says I am afraid to fight him." "If he should say you were a blackamoor, I suppose you would be black," retorted Billy. "Is that the way of it?" "But I am glad he does not give me an opportunity to refuse," said Dic. "I supposed as much," answered Billy. "You will doubtless be delighted if he happens to put a bullet through you, and will surely be happy for life if you kill him." "It is his doing, Billy Little," said Dic, with an ugly gleam in his eyes, "and I would not balk him. Billy Little, I would fight that man if I knew I should hang for it the next day. I'll tell you--he grossly insulted Rita Monday evening. He held her by force and kissed her lips till she was hardly conscious." "Good God!" cried Billy, springing to his feet and trembling with excitement. "Fight him, Dic! Kill him, Dic! Kill the brute! If you don't, by the good God, I will." "You need not urge me, Billy Little. I'm quite willing enough. Still I hope I shall not kill him." "You hope you will not kill him?" demanded Billy. "If you do not, I will. Where do you meet?"