x
hesitated a moment, with a glance up and down the lonely highway.

"Monsieur," said De Courval, "I am not here to wait on your decision. I
purpose to give you the chance I should give a gentleman; but take
care--at the least sign of treachery I shall kill you."

Carteaux looked down at the stern face of the Huguenot and knew that he
had no choice.

"I accept," he said, and dismounted. De Courval struck the horses
lightly, and having seen them turn out of the road, faced Carteaux, a
pistol in each hand.

"I have just now renewed the primings," he said. As he spoke, he held
out the weapons. For an instant the Jacobin hesitated, and then said
quickly:

"I take the right-hand pistol."

"When you are at the stump, look at the priming," said De Courval,
intently on guard. "Now, Monsieur, walk to the stump beside the road. It
is about twelve paces. You see it?"

"Yes, I see it."

"Very good. At the stump, cock your pistol, turn, and give the word,
'Fire!' Reserve your shot or fire at the word--an advantage, as you
perceive."

The Jacobin turned and moved away, followed by the eye of a man
distrustfully on the watch.

Rene stood still, not yet cocking his weapon. Carteaux walked away. When
he had gone not over half the distance Rene heard the click of a cocked
pistol and at the instant Carteaux, turning, fired.

Rene threw himself to right and felt a sharp twinge of pain where the
ball grazed the skin of his left shoulder. "Dog of a Jacobin!" he cried,
and as Carteaux extended his pistol hand in instinctive protest, De
Courval fired. The man's pistol fell, and with a cry of pain he reeled,
and, as the smoke blew away, was seen to pitch forward on his face.

At the moment of the shot, and while Rene stood still, quickly
reloading, he heard behind him a wild gallop, and, turning, saw Schmidt
breathless at his side, and in an instant out of the saddle. "_Lieber
Himmel!_" cried the German, "have you killed him?"

"I do not know; but if he is not dead. I shall kill him; not even you
can stop me."

"_Ach!_ but I will, if I have to hold you." As he spoke he set himself
between Rene and the prostrate man. "I will not let you commit murder.
Give me that pistol."

For a moment Rene stared at his friend. Then a quick remembrance of all
this man had been to him, all he had done for him, rose in his mind.

"Have your way, sir!" he cried, throwing down his weapon; "but I will
never forgive you, never!"

"_Ach!_ that