Raoul sensed that Auguste's words were aimed not at him, but at the men behind him. He felt angry, trapped. _Shoot, dammit! Shut him up._ _No, it's too late. All these men heard what he said._ "You're afraid to fight me man to man. I challenged you the day you drove me away from Victoire, and you backed down. I challenge you again, Raoul." An answer sprang into Raoul's mind. "I accept. Let the weapons be your neck and a rope." But even as he spoke he had a sinking, uneasy feeling. He did not hear any of his men laughing. Armand said, "What the hell, Raoul. You've killed hundreds of Indians, some of them a lot bigger than this one. Give him his duel." For a moment Raoul felt like turning his pistol on Armand. The overseer was paying him back, he realized, for the contempt he'd endured. "I'm ready to meet you now or any time, mongrel. Let it be tonight. But where there will be no witnesses to charge the winner with murder." Auguste said, "I would be a fool to trust you and your men." "You have to," said Raoul. "I'm not giving you any choice. The men will see to it that it's a fair fight. That's what they want." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Come with us, or I'll shoot you down on this doorstep." Frank Hopkins, pistol pointing at Raoul, crowded into the doorway beside Auguste. The black O of the muzzle pointed at him chilled Raoul. He'd heard that Frank had fired on the Indians attacking the trading post. Seemed that day had changed him. Now he was a man like any other, taking up the gun like any other. Frank said, "Auguste is not going with you. There will be no duel. Get away from this house now." Seeing Frank's foolish defiance in the face of over twenty armed men, Raoul almost laughed. But that pistol in Frank's hand could end his life. He couldn't shoot Auguste while Frank held it on him. Raoul swung the barrel of his own pistol to cover Frank's chest. "Get back inside, Frank," he said, putting a steel edge into it. Instead, with a sudden movement that almost made Raoul squeeze the trigger, Frank came forward, stepping in front of Auguste. Raoul saw another movement in the doorway, and then he was staring into his father's glittering eyes. Elysee's rifle, long barrel trembling only slightly, was leveled at him. Raoul decided the best attack was to laugh at them. "Look at the mongrel's protectors. A weakling who would never carry a pistol and a lame old man in his nightshirt." He heard a few snickers among the men behind him and felt encouraged. But, he thought with fury, he was still trapped. His pistol was aimed at Frank, but Frank's pistol and his father's rifle were both pointed at him. If he shot Frank, would Elysee shoot him? With the palm of his hand he pushed back the hammer of his cap-and-ball pistol, the muzzle still aimed square at Frank's chest. "Papa, Frank, both of you get out of the way, or Frank is a dead man."