"I expect it."
"Then draw your weapon, and defend yourself! I shall not murder you in cold blood. Draw, draw!"
"No! Shoot, if you will! I'll never lift a hand against you."
"Coward?"
The Hermit was quivering with fury, while the face of the other man was still ghastly white.
Other men came from the tent, rubbing their eyes, all of them very much surprised. One of them attempted to intervene.
"Here!" he cried, addressing the Hermit; "what do you mean by coming into this camp and raising such a row? Are you insane? You are not going to do any shooting here!"
Old Rocks strode forward, Frank Merriwell at his heels.
"I'll allow as how the Hermit has fair play," said the guide, grimly. "He ain't alone in this yar deal."
"Who are you?" demanded the man, haughtily. "Are we to be assailed by a band of desperadoes?"