t. "He will be satisfied
with wounding you, and there is less danger of a mortal wound."
"Pistols," said Tarzan, with finality.

D'Arnot tried to argue him out of it, but without avail, so pistols it
was.

D'Arnot returned from his conference with Monsieur Flaubert shortly
after four.

"It is all arranged," he said. "Everything is satisfactory. Tomorrow
morning at daylight--there is a secluded spot on the road not far from
Etamps. For some personal reason Monsieur Flaubert preferred it. I
did not demur."

"Good!" was Tarzan's only comment. He did not refer to the matter
again even indirectly. That night he wrote several letters before he
retired. After sealing and addressing them he placed them all in an
envelope addressed to D'Arnot. As he undressed D'Arnot heard him
humming a music-hall ditty.

The Frenchman swore under his breath. He was very unhappy, for he was
positive that when the sun rose the next morning it would look down
upon a dead Tarzan. It grated upon him to see Tarzan so unconcerned.

"This is a most uncivilized hour for people to kill each other,"
remarked the ape-man when he had been routed out of a comfortable bed
in the blackness of the early morning hours. He had slept well, and so
it seemed that his head scarcely touched the pillow ere his man
deferentially aroused him. His remark was addressed to D'Arnot, who
stood fully dressed in the doorway of Tarzan's bedroom.

D'Arnot had scarcely slept at all during the night. He was nervous,
and therefore inclined to be irritable.

"I presume you slept like a baby all night," he said.

Tarzan laughed. "From your tone, Paul, I infer that you rather harbor
the fact against me. I could not help it, really."

"No, Jean; it is not that," replied D'Arnot, himself smiling. "But you
take the entire matter with such infernal indifference--it is
exasperating. One would think that you were going out to shoot at a
target, rather than to face one of the best shots in France."

Tarzan shrugged his shoulders. "I am going out to expiate a great
wrong, Paul. A very necessary feature of the expiation is the
marksmanship of my opponent. Wherefore, then, should I be
dissatisfied? Have you not yourself told me that Count de Coude is a
splendid marksman?"

"You mean that you hope to be killed?" exclaimed D'Arnot, in horror.

"I cannot say that I hope to be; but you must admit that there is
little reason to believe that I shall not be killed