ted his place on the log or bank where he had sat down; they hardly
seemed to draw their breath. All their eyes were fixed upon Talbot. He
walked up and down in front of the door, his arms folded, his revolver
still in its case on his hip. The men watched him curiously. His face
was very white and exceedingly determined.

The afternoon was placid and lovely. The temperature was not within many
degrees of zero, but the gold of the sunshine was bright, and the air
dazzlingly clear. It was absolutely still, not a leaf rustled, not a
breath stirred. Nature was in her calmest, gentlest mood; nowhere could
there have been a more tranquil arena to witness the passions of men.
There was perfect silence, except for the crack of the ice sometimes as
it split beneath the firm, resolute steps of the man pacing up and down.
His face was set as a stone mask, as immovable and as calm, but the
passion of anger increased within him as he waited; a mad impatience for
his adversary to return grew at each step that he walked to and fro,
with the insult of the morning echoing in his ears.

At last he stopped in his walk and fixed his gaze on the road which led
to the miners' cabins. All the men's eyes followed his, and they saw
the figure of their fellow-worker coming slowly down towards them. A
huge, hulking form, contrasting strongly with the slim one of the man
waiting for him. Some of the miners glanced up at Talbot, wondering
silently if he "funked it," but there was something in that attitude and
that iron countenance that reassured them and stirred a dull admiration
in their hearts. Talbot ceased to walk up and down. He planted himself
directly in front of the wide open door and waited there. Passion and
excitement had dilated his pupils until the usually calm light grey eyes
looked black; his nostrils quivered slightly as he watched his enemy
coming up. As Marley drew nearer, the miners noted with satisfaction his
enormous six-shooter swinging in his belt; the sunlight caught the steel
at every other step forward he made. Their hearts beat fast with keen
anticipation. There would soon be some fine shooting, and one dead man
perhaps, or two, for Marley meant business; and as for the other, he
looked like the devil himself as he stood there. And he was a fine shot,
there was no mistake about that. Denbigh stared hard at him with round
fixed eyes. He was thinking of the nights when he had watched Talbot
teaching Dick to shoot straight-