"Can I depend upon you men not to let this go any further?" he asked.
"You can, sir," they answered in chorus.
"All right, then," said Frank. "Get ready, sir."
One sailor volunteered to act as second for Stanley and Jack stepped to Frank's side. Then the two seconds met and decided the details of the duel. The principals were to be allowed one shot each. This was to be all, whether either man was hit or not.
Before accepting the revolver from the hand of his second, Stanley quickly drew his own revolver, and taking aim at a little knob on a tree some fifty feet distant, fired quickly. The bullet splintered the bark on the tree and the pieces flew high in the air.
"Half an inch away!" called a sailor who stood near the tree.
Stanley turned to Frank with a sneering smile on his face.
"Say your prayers," he taunted. "They will be your last."
Frank smiled grimly.
"I heard a story once," he replied quietly, "about a man who could hit a dime every shot at a hundred yards. But when he fired with a loaded pistol pointed at him he didn't come off with such a good record."