I again pronounced the word in the most emphatic tone. I saw that it affected him in some singular way; whether through a fear of consequences; or that there still lingered in his heart some spark of humanity; or, perhaps--but least possible of all he was beginning to be ashamed of his foul play. By which of of these three motives, or by what other inspired, I could not guess; but he seemed to cower under the imputation. "Murderer!" echoed he, after a moment of apparent reflection. "No, no; it's bad enuf to hev the blame o' that, 'ithout bein' guilty o't. I ain't agwine to _murder_ ye; but I ain't agwine neyther to let ye go. I mout a did so a minnit agone, but ye've lost yur chance. Ye've called _me_ a _coward_; an' by the Etarnal! no man 'll say that word o' Hick Holt, an' live to boast o't. No, mister! ye've got to die; an' ye may get yurself ready for't, 's soon's ye like. Coward indeed!" "I repeat it--your act is cowardly." "What act?" "Your unprovoked attack upon me--especially since it gives you the first shot. What if I were to shoot you down now? With the pistol you see in my holster here, I could send six bullets through your body, before you could bring your rifle to your shoulder. What would you call that? Sheer cowardice, would it not be; and murder too?" CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. A DUEL WITHOUT SECONDS. While I was speaking, I saw a change pass over the countenance of my gigantic antagonist--as if some new resolve was forming in his mind, that affected the programme he had already traced out. Was it possible I had touched him on a point of honour? It was this purpose I desired to effect; and, though hopeless it might appear, I continued the only kind of appeal that, with such a spirit, seemed to promise any chance of success. "You _dare_ not play fair in this game?" I said, banteringly. "You _are_ a coward; and would murder me. You want the first shot: you know you do?" "It's a lie!" cried the colossus, raising himself to his full height, and assuming an air of chivalric grandeur I could not have deemed him capable of--"it's a lie! I don't wish to murder ye; an' I don't want the the first shot neyther." "How?" "I hain't so little confidence in my shootin' as to care for you an' yur jim-crack gun! Nor is Hick Holt in such consate wi' his life eyther, that he's afeerd to risk it. Tho' ye air a stuck-up critter, I won't gi' ye the opportunity to 'kuse me o' foul play. Thur's grit in ye, I reck'n; and seein' that's made me change my mind." "What!" I exclaimed, taken by surprise at the speech, and fancying it promised an end to our altercation--"you have changed your mind? you mean to act justly then?" "I mean, it shall be a _fair stan'-up fight_ atween us." "Oh! a duel?" "Duel, or whatever else ye may call it, mister." "I agree to that. But how about seconds?" "D'ye think two men can't fight fair 'ithout seconds? Ye see yander stump standin' nigh the bars?" "Yes--I see it."