ith a click, some one declared,--and,
as no twilight interposed between daylight and darkness in the country
which Big Stone Hole ornamented, Herr Gustav lit his two paraffin-lamps.
Neither boasted more than a one-inch wick, and, as their glasses were
extremely smoky, the illumination was not brilliant; but it sufficed to
show the flushed, angry faces of a couple of men standing in the centre
of the room, with all the others clustered round, watching eagerly. One
was the Scholar. The other was a burly giant, whose missing left little
finger caused him to be nicknamed the Cripple. About what they had
originally fallen out was not clear to any one, to themselves least of
all. As the case stood when the second lamp was lit, Scholar had called
Cripple a something-or-other liar, and Cripple, who was not inventive,
had retorted by stigmatising Scholar as another. Further recriminations
followed, and their pistols were drawn; but as the audience had a strong
objection to indiscriminate shooting, by which it was not likely to
benefit, the belligerents were seized. No one was unsportsmanlike enough
to wish to stop the fight, and Jockey Bill, giving voice to the general
wish of the meeting, proposed that the gents be fixed up agin' a couple
o' posts outside, where they might let daylight into each other without
lead-poisoning casual spectators.

The motion was acted on, and after rectifying a slight omission on
the Cripple's part--he had forgotten to put caps on the nipples of his
revolver--the pair of them were seated upon upturned barrels some ten
yards apart, each with a lamp at his feet, and told to begin when they
saw fit to do so. The swarthy, bearded diggers grouped themselves on
either side, and the cat, emerging from his retreat, scrambled on to
the shoulder of one of them, fully as curious as the rest to "see the
shootin'." It was a weird sight,--dust, scorched grass, empty tins, rude
hovels, piles of debris, African moonlight,--yet, except, perhaps, in
the eyes of the newest comers, there was nothing strange in it. The
others were too wrapped up in what was going to take place to see
anything quaint in their every-day surroundings. There was no theatre in
the camp. The little impromptu drama riveted all attention.

But before the duel commenced, a galloping horse, which had approached
over the grassy veldt unnoticed during the excitement, drew up with a
crash between the two combatants, and its rider, raising his hand