"Now, what I propose is this: We will count up to ten, in unison, keeping perfect time, hands straight down at the sides, and at the word ten we will fire."
"I can't find any fault with that."
"It is as fair as we can make it. Are your weapons in order?"
"Yes; and yours?"
"The same. Place yourself in position."
The outlaw had laid his Winchester on the ground, and with a revolver in each hand, he stood erect, hands at his sides.
Deadwood Dick was already in that position, for the agreement had so far progressed that it seemed useless for him to hold the Red Rover under cover when the end was so near.
"Now," said Dick, "count with me, and by the time we reach six or seven it will sound as one voice. Remember, neither is to lift an arm until ten is heard; then you may shoot just as quick as you can. Are you all ready to begin? I don't want to hurry you."
"I am all ready; let her go."
"All right, begin: One, two, three, four," they started, and by the time four was spoken they were in time and unison, and it sounded as Dick had said, as one voice. "Five, six, seven—"