He was a brave, smart little fellow, Smith, and the idea of aiming at Coleman’s thin legs tickled him very much, and made him laugh as he cleaned the pistols.
“His thin legs, eh?” he said. “Well, friend Tom, you’ll be a smart shot if you hit ’em. Why, it will be like firing at a couple of raspberry canes.”
A little after seven both young men started for the links and Broad Hill.
They got right up over the top of the hill, and having gained the summit, looked beneath them. Yes, Coleman and his second were already there, although the time was not yet up.
What a heavenly morning it was too! The sun was not yet up, but red and crimson and golden clouds flecked all the eastern sky, and were reflected from the rolling waves till all the ocean seemed ablaze. Only on the yellow sands were the long lines of snow-white foam, where the seas broke lazily upon the beach.
“What a pity,” said Tom with a sigh, “to have to face so deadly an encounter on a morning like this!”
“I daresay,” said Smith, “if you were to apolo——”
He never got any further, Tom stopped him with a look.
Five minutes after this, Tom and his opponent had shaken hands, and stood facing each other at twelve paces waiting for the words, “One, two, three, fire!” when suddenly from behind a sandhill at no great distance started two burly policemen. They appeared to spring from the very earth.
“Halt!” That was the stentorian word of command they gave.