e, and looking away
from his child, fixed his eyes upon Lieutenant Russell.

"It is with _you_ that I have to settle."

"I am ready."

The young officer was standing beside his pony, with one arm resting
on the saddle, across which his rifle was supported, while the other
hand lay idly on his hip, and his body was borne upon one foot. His
pose was one of negligence, as if he and his animal had taken position
before the camera, and the world contained no such thing as hatred and
enmity. He looked calmly into the angered countenance, while he waited
for the next words of the man who was impatient to send a bullet
through his heart.

Wade Ruggles and Felix Brush would have been glad of the privilege of
doing this, but they felt that for the time they were out of it. The
right of calling Lieutenant Russell to account lay with the father of
Nellie. They had nothing to do or say until that tragedy was ended,
and they stood apart, silent, grim and watchful of everything.

The coolness of the young man disconcerted the captain for the
moment. Feeling it unnecessary to hold his weapon, he lowered the
point, but, never once removing his eyes from the face of the other,
said:

"I will give you the same chance as myself for your life; though you
do not deserve to live, it shall never be said I took any advantage
over you. Each of us has a revolver and knows how to use it; you may
pace off the distance for yourself, but make it short."

"Captain, I decline to fight you," replied Lieutenant Russell, without
a change of pose and in his usual voice.

"Why?" demanded the other.

"You have saved my life on the battle field; we have been comrades; we
have drank from the same canteen; shoot me if you wish; I will keep
the position I now hold and you may stand where you are; you have your
Winchester in your hands; you have but to raise it and it will be all
over in a twinkling, but nothing that you can say or do will induce me
to harm one of your gray hairs."

This reply was unexpected to all, but it served if possible to
intensify the wrath of Captain Dawson. He shook with tempestuous rage,
and it was several seconds before he could command his voice. Ruggles,
Brush and Adams did not stir or whisper a word to one another. The
white-faced Nellie remained seated on the boulder, but she lowered her
hands and stared at the two, as if she could not comprehend it all.
Once she made a motion to rise, but sank back and stared with a