"I am ready, always, sir. I challenged you first; you have the choice!" retorted Ned, as cool as ever, while his enemy was all trembling with excitement.
"Pistols, at fifty yards; to be fired until one or the other is dead!" was the prompt decision.
"Good! Young lady, you will necessarily have to act as second for both of us. If I drop, leave my body where I fall, and it will be picked up by friends. If he falls, I will ride on to Deadwood, and send you out help to carry him in."
Without delay the distance was guessed at, and each of the young men rode to position. Miss Terry, the beautiful second, took her place at one side of the gulch, midway between the antagonists, and when all was to readiness she counted:
"One!"
The right hands of the two youths were raised on a level, and the gleaming barrel of a pistol shone from each.
"Two!"
There was a sharp click! click! as the hammers of the weapons were pulled back at full cock. Each click meant danger or death.
Harris was very white; so was Fearless Frank, but not so much so as the young woman who was to give the signal.
"Three! Fire!" cried Alice, quickly; then, there was a flash, the report of two pistols, and Ned Harris fell to the ground without a groan.