There was not a murmur in the entire room. The eye of Elizabeth Cornish was fire. Whether with anger or pride, Vance could not tell. But he began to worry. "We went over to the group of silver spruce near the house. I gave them the directions. They came and stood together, back to back, with their revolvers not drawn. They began to walk away in opposite directions at my command. "When I called 'Turn,' they wheeled. My gun was ready to shoot down the first man guilty of foul play--but there was no attempt to turn too soon, before the signal. They whirled, snatching out their guns--and the revolver of the sheriff hung in his clothes!" A groan from the little crowd. "Although, upon my word," said Gainor, "I do not think that the sheriff could have possibly brought out his gun as swiftly as Terence Hollis did. His whirl was like the spin of a top, or the snap of a whiplash, and as he snapped about, the revolver was in his hand, not raised to draw a bead, but at his hip. The sheriff set his teeth--but Terry did not fire!" A bewildered murmur from the crowd. "No, my friends," cried Gainor, his voice quivering, "he did not fire. He dropped the muzzle of his gun--and waited. By heaven, my heart went out to him. It was magnificent." The thin, strong hand of Elizabeth closed on the arm of Vance. "That was a Colby who did that!" she whispered. "The sheriff gritted his teeth," went on Gainor, "and tore out his gun. All this pause had been such a space as is needed for an eyelash to flicker twice. Out shot the sheriff's Colt. And then, and not until then, did the muzzle of Terry's revolver jerk up. Even after that delay he beat the sheriff to the trigger. The two shots came almost together, but the sheriff was already falling when he pulled his trigger, and his aim was wild. "He dropped on one side, the revolver flying out of his hand. I started forward, and then I stopped. By heaven, the sheriff had stretched out his arm and picked up his gun again. He was not through fighting. "A bulldog spirit, you say? Yes! And what could I do? It was the sheriff's right to keep on fighting as long as he wished. And it was the right of Terence to shoot the man full of holes the minute his hand touched the revolver again. "I could only stand still. I saw the sheriff raise his revolver. It was an effort of agony. But he was still trying to kill. And I nerved myself and waited for the explosion of the gun of Terence. I say I nerved myself for that shock, but the gun did not explode. I looked at him in wonder. My friends, he was putting up his gun and quietly looking the sheriff in the eye! "At that I shouted to him, I don't know what. I shouted to the sheriff not to fire. Too late. The muzzle of the gun was already tilting up, the barrel was straightening. And then the gun fell from Minter's hand and he dropped on his side. His strength had failed him at the last moment.