“George,” said he, addressing Perkins, “there’s a little matter between you and Crawford in which I am concerned, that’s got to be settled.” “Well, I can’t imagine what it can be,” Crawford laughingly replied. “I’m not aware of having said or done anything concerning you, that should excite your anger or call for a settlement.” “Oh, you needn’t laugh,” responded Plummer with an oath. “It’s got to be settled.” Turning to Perkins he continued, “You and Crawford have been telling around through the camp, that I was trying to court the squaw Catherine.” Then applying to Perkins a disgraceful epithet, he said, “You are a coward. I can whip you and Hank Crawford both, and if you are anything of a man, you will just step out of doors and fight me.” “I am, as you say,” said Perkins, “a coward, and no fighting man when I’ve got nothing to fight for. I would not go out of doors to fight with anybody.” “Crawford won’t admit that,” said Plummer, “and if you refuse the challenge, I ask the same satisfaction of him. Let him go out with me if he dares.” “Plummer,” replied Crawford, “I neither know what cause there is for fighting you, nor why I should fear to go out of doors on your challenge. I do not believe that one man was made to scare another.” “Come on, then,” said Plummer, passing into the street, closely followed by Crawford. When they had walked a few steps, “Now pull your pistol,” said Plummer. Crawford was standing close beside Plummer. “I’ll pull no pistol,” he replied. “I never pulled a pistol on a man yet, and you’ll not be the first.” “Pull your pistol,” persisted Plummer. “You may draw it and cock it, and I’ll not go for mine until you have done so, and uttered the word to fire.” “I’m no pistol shot,” said Crawford, “and you know it,—and you wouldn’t make me a proposition of this kind if you hadn’t the advantage.” “Pull your pistol,” retorted Plummer, with an oath, “and fight me like a man, or I’ll give you but two hours to live, and then I’ll shoot you down like a dog.” “If that’s your game, Plummer,” said Crawford laying his hand on his shoulder, and looking him steadily in the eye, “the quicker you do it, the worse for you. I’ll present you a fair target.” Turning upon his heel Crawford walked deliberately away, well knowing that fear of consequences would prevent Plummer from firing at him, without some plausible excuse. This conversation occurred at a late hour in the afternoon. Harry Phleger came into town early in the evening. Crawford sent a message to him, requesting him to come at once to Peabody’s saloon. As he entered, Crawford told him that Plummer had given him two hours to live, and the time had nearly expired. “I expect,” said Crawford, “he will keep his word.” “If he attempts it,” replied Phleger, “we will try and give him as good as he sends. It’s clever at any rate to inform one of his intentions. He will expect you to be prepared.”