the survivor to a hunting accident."

"The plan suits me," said Williams. "I'll meet you there to-morrow at
noon. I'll tell Tom I have an engagement to go squirrel-hunting with
you."

Dic rode home, and of course carried the news of his forthcoming duel to
Billy Little.

"There are worse institutions in this world than the duel," remarked
Billy, much to his listener's surprise. "It helps to thin out the
fools."

"But, Billy Little, I must fight him," responded Dic. "He insists, and
will not accept my refusal. He says I am afraid to fight him."

"If he should say you were a blackamoor, I suppose you would be black,"
retorted Billy. "Is that the way of it?"

"But I am glad he does not give me an opportunity to refuse," said Dic.

"I supposed as much," answered Billy. "You will doubtless be delighted
if he happens to put a bullet through you, and will surely be happy for
life if you kill him."

"It is his doing, Billy Little," said Dic, with an ugly gleam in his
eyes, "and I would not balk him. Billy Little, I would fight that man if
I knew I should hang for it the next day. I'll tell you--he grossly
insulted Rita Monday evening. He held her by force and kissed her lips
till she was hardly conscious."

"Good God!" cried Billy, springing to his feet and trembling with
excitement. "Fight him, Dic! Kill him, Dic! Kill the brute! If you
don't, by the good God, I will."

"You need not urge me, Billy Little. I'm quite willing enough. Still I
hope I shall not kill him."

"You hope you will not kill him?" demanded Billy. "If you do not, I
will. Where do you meet?"

"He will be at Bays's house to-morrow noon, and we will go up to my
cleared eighty, half a mile north. There we will step off a course of
two hundred yards and fire. Whatever happens we will say was the result
of a hunting accident."

Billy determined to be in hiding near the field of battle, and was
secreted in the forest adjoining the cleared eighty an hour before noon
next day. Late in the morning Dic took his rifle and walked down to the
Bays's house. I shall not try to describe his sensations.

Williams was waiting, and Dic found him carefully examining his gun. The
gun contained a bullet which, Dic thought, with small satisfaction,
might within a short time end his worldly troubles, and the troubles
seemed more endurable than ever before. Sleep had cooled his brain since
his conversation with Billy, and he could not work himself into a
murderou