“Why, he jest set thar in his chair before the fire, an’ as he handed it up to me he sorter looked knowin’ an’ said, said he: ‘Pole, I’m owin’ Mayhew & Floyd a little balance on my account, an’ they seem uneasy. I wish you’d take this here note to young Floyd. He’s always stood to me sorter, an’ I believe he’ll git old Mayhew to wait on me a little while.’” “Did he say that, Pole?” Floyd had opened the note, but was looking straight into Baker’s eyes. “Yes, he said them words, Nelson, although he knowed I was on hand that day when he paid off his bill in full. I couldn’t chip in thar before his wife, an’ the Lord knows I couldn’t tell him I had an idea what was in the note, so I rid on as fast as I could. I had a turn o’ meal under me an’ I tuck it off an’ hid it in the thicket t’other side o’ Duncan’s big spring. I wasn’t goin’ to carry a secret war message a-straddle o’ two bushels o’ meal warm from the rocks. An’ I’d bet my hat that scrap o’ paper means battle.” Floyd read the note. There was scarcely a change in the expression of his face or a flicker of his eyelashes as he folded it with steady fingers and held it in his hand. “Yes, he says he has got the whole story, Pole,” Floyd said. “He gives me fair warning as a man of honor to arm myself. He will be here at twelve o’clock to the minute.” “Great God!” Pole ejaculated. “You hain’t one chance in a million to escape with yore life. You seed how he shot t’other day. He was excited then—he was as calm as a rock mountain when I seed him a while ago, an’ his ride to town will steady ’im more. He sorter drawed down his mouth at one corner an’ cocked up his eye, same as to say: ‘You understand; thar hain’t no use in upsettin’ women folks over a necessary matter o’ this sort.’ Looky here, Nelson, old friend, some’n has got to be done, an’ it’s got to be done in a hurry.” “It will have to be done at twelve o’clock, anyway,” Floyd said calmly, a grim smile almost rising to his face. “That’s the hour he’s set.” “Do you mean to tell me you are a-goin’ to set thar like a knot on a log an’ ’low that keen-eyed mountain sharpshooter to step up in that door an’ peg away at you?” “No, I don’t mean that, exactly, Pole,” Floyd smiled coldly. “A man ought not to insult even his antagonist that way. You see, that would be making the offended party liable for wilful, cold-blooded murder before the law. No, I’ve got my gun here in the drawer, and we’ll make a pretense at fighting a duel, even if he downs me in the first round.” “You are a darn fool, that’s what you are!” Pole was angry without knowing why. “Do you mean to tell me you are a-goin’ to put yore life up like that to gratify a scamp like Jeff Wade?”