but firm. Both
eyed each other unflinchingly.

"Gentlemen, are you ready?" asked Neville's second.

{"Yes."
{
{"Yes."

"Then," said Major Rickards, "you will fire when I let fall this
handkerchief, and not before. Mark me, Gentlemen: to prevent mistakes, I
shall say, 'One,--two,--three!' and then drop the handkerchief. Now,
then, once more, are you quite ready?"

{"Yes."
{
{"Yes."

"One,----two,----three!"

He dropped the handkerchief, and both gentlemen fired simultaneously.
Mr. Neville's hat spun into the air; Griffith stood untouched.

The bullet had passed through Neville's hat, and had actually cut a lane
through his magnificent hair.

The seconds now consulted, and it was intimated to Griffith that a word
of apology would be accepted by his antagonist. Griffith declined to
utter a syllable of apology.

Two more pistols were given the men.

"Aim lower," said Rickards.

"I mean to," said Griffith.

The seconds withdrew, and the men eyed each other,--Griffith dogged and
pale, as before, Neville not nearly so self-assured: Griffith's bullet,
in grazing him, had produced the effect of a sharp, cold current of air
no wider than a knife. It was like Death's icy fore-finger laid on his
head, to mark him for the next shot,--as men mark a tree, then come
again and fell it.

* * * * *

"One,----two,----three!"

And Griffith's pistol missed fire; but Neville's went off, and
Griffith's arm sank powerless, and his pistol rolled out of his hand. He
felt a sharp twinge, and then something trickle down his arm.

The surgeon and both seconds ran to him.

"Nay, it is nothing," said he; "I shoot far better with my left hand
than my right. Give me another pistol, and let me have fair play. He has
hit me; and now I'll hit him."

Both seconds agreed this was impossible.

"It is the chance of war," said Major Rickards; "you cannot be allowed
to take a cool shot at Mr. Neville. If you fire again, so must he."

"The affair may very well end here," said Mr. Hammersley. "I understand
there was some provocation on our side; and on behalf of the party
insulted I am content to let the matter end, Mr. Gaunt being wounded."

"I demand my second shot to his third," said Griffith, sternly; "he will
not decline, unless he is a poltroon, as well as--what I called him."

The nature of this reply was communicated to Neville, and the seconds,
with considerable reluc