"Now listen closely," said Hardy, his voice sounding strangely far off, yet each word distinct. "I am to give the first word, and Bell the second. When I say 'forward' you will take ten paces--go slowly--and halt. Then Bell will count 'one, two, three'; turn at the first word, and fire at the third. If either man discharges his weapon before 'three' is spoken, he answers to us. Do you both understand?" We answered together. "Very well, gentlemen, are you ready?" "I am." "Go on." There was a moment's pause, so still I could hear my own breathing, and the slight noise Le Gaire made as he gripped his derringer stock more tightly. "Forward!" I stepped out almost mechanically, endeavoring not to walk too fast, and regulating each stride as though I were measuring the field. At the end of the tenth I stopped, one foot slightly advanced for the turn, every nerve pulsing from strain. It seemed a long while before Bell's deep voice broke the silence. "One!" I whirled, as on a pivot, my pistol arm flung out. "Two!" Le Gaire stood sideways, the muzzle of his derringer covering me, his left hand supporting his elbow. I could see the scowling line between his eyes, the hateful curl of his lip, and my own weapon came up, held steady as a rock; over the blue steel barrel I covered the man's forehead just below his cap visor, the expression on his face telling me he meant to shoot to kill. I never recall feeling cooler, or more determined in my life. How still, how deathly still it was! "Th--" There was a thud of horses' hoofs behind the stable, Bell's half-spoken word, and the sharp bark of Le Gaire's levelled derringer. I felt the impact of the ball, and spun half around, the pressure of my finger discharging my own weapon in the air, yet kept my feet. I was shocked, dazed, but conscious I remained unhurt. Then, with a crash, three horsemen leaped the low fence, riding recklessly toward us. I seemed to see the gray-clad figures through a strange mist, which gradually cleared as they came to a sharp halt. The one in advance was a gaunt, unshaven sergeant, lifting a hand in perfunctory salute, and glancing curiously at my uniform. "Mornin', gentlemen," he said briefly. "Is this the Hardy house--Johnston's headquarters?" The major answered, and I noticed now he had Le Gaire gripped by the arm. "This is the Hardy house, and I am Major Hardy, but Johnston is not here. Who are you?" "Couriers from Chambers' column, sir. He is advancing up this pike. Where will we find Johnston?" "Take the first road to your right, and inquire. When will Chambers be up?" "Within four or five hours. What's going on here? A little affair?" Hardy nodded. The sergeant sat still an instant, his eyes on me as though puzzled; then evidently concluded it was none of his business. "Come on, boys!" he said, and with a dip of the spurs was off, the two others clattering behind. Hardy swung Le Gaire sharply around, his eyes blazing.