"It isn't, I admit," returned the boy, "but this sneak brought it about, and now the odds are so much against him, he has recourse to a deadly weapon. There is just that difference between us, Harper Elliston."
The New Yorker started as the youth pronounced his name. He imagined that he was not known to the boy.
"You see, I know you," proceeded the boy, noticing the man start. "I have had the villain Elliston pretty well described to me, and know that your act just now justifies me in calling you by that name. Shoot, coward, if you dare."
There was a cool defiance in the blue eyes of the boy, that won the admiration of Elliston in spite of his anger.
"No, the game is too small," retorted Elliston, lowering his weapon. "I cannot afford to tarnish an honorable reputation by shedding the blood of a child. I shall, nevertheless, remember you, young man, and on the proper occasion give you the thrashing you so richly deserve."
A look from Nell Darrel cut short the words that trembled on the lips of the youth.
"I bid you good afternoon, Miss Darrel," and Elliston bowed and walked to the door. "I will see you again and explain matters."
The door opened and closed, and the smooth villain was gone.
"Thank Heaven!" murmured Nell. "It might have been worse," said the boy. "I did not miss my guess when I called him Elliston?"
"No."