"Whatever that means," sneered the sheriff. "But tell this young fool that's trying to act like he couldn't see me or hear me--tell him that I don't carry no grudge ag'in' him, that I'm sorry he's Black Jack's son, but that it's something he can live down, maybe. And I'll go so far as to say I'm sorry that I done all that talking right to his face. But farther than that I won't go. And if all this is leading up to a gunplay, by God, gents, the minute a gun comes into my hand I shoot to kill, mark you that, and don't you never forget it!" Mr. Gainor had remained with his hand raised during this outbreak. Now he turned to Terry. "You have heard?" he said. "I think the sheriff is going quite a way toward you, Mr. Colby." "Hollis!" gasped Terry. "Hollis is the name, sir!" "I beg your pardon," said Gainor. "Mr. Hollis it is! Gentlemen, I assure you that I feel for you both. It seems, however, to be one of those unfortunate affairs when the mind must stop its debate and physical action must take up its proper place. I lament the necessity, but I admit it, even though the law does not admit it. But there are unwritten laws, sirs, unwritten laws which I for one consider among the holies of holies." Palpably the old man was enjoying every minute of his own talk. It was not his first affair of this nature. He came out of an early and more courtly generation where men drank together in the evening by firelight and carved one another in the morning with glimmering bowie knives. "You are both," he protested, "dear to me. I esteem you both as men and as good citizens. And I have done my best to open the way for peaceful negotiations toward an understanding. It seems that I have failed. Very well, sirs. Then it must be battle. You are both armed? With revolvers?" "Nacher'ly," said the sheriff, and spat accurately at a blaze on the tree trunk beside him. He had grown very quiet. "I am armed," said Terry calmly, "with a revolver." "Very good." The hand of Gainor glided into his bosom and came forth bearing a white handkerchief. His right hand slid into his coat and came forth likewise-- bearing a long revolver. "Gentlemen," he said, "the first man to disobey my directions I shall shoot down unquestioningly, like a dog. I give you my solemn word for it!" And his eye informed them that he would enjoy the job. He continued smoothly: "This contest shall accord with the only terms by which a duel with guns can be properly fought. You will stand back to back with your guns not displayed, but in your clothes. At my word you will start walking in the opposite directions until my command 'Turn!' and at this command you will wheel, draw your guns, and fire until one man falls--or both!" He sent his revolver through a peculiar, twirling motion and shook back his long white hair. "Ready, gentlemen, and God defend the right!" CHAPTER 14