"Two thousand!"
Before these two obstinate adversaries the other bidders had prudently withdrawn; the competition was turning into a quarrel, and threatened to become sanguinary.
A deadly silence brooded over the shed; the over-excited passions of these two men had spoiled all the pleasures of the spectators, and silenced all their jokes.
The Governor followed with interest the different incidents of this struggle, ready to interfere at any moment.
The adventurers had gradually fallen back, and left a large free space between the two men.
Belle Tête recoiled a few paces in his turn, suddenly examined the priming of his fusil, and then, pointing the latter at his adversary, shouted—
"Three thousand!"
The other raised his fusil at the same moment to his shoulder.
"Three thousand five hundred crowns!" he shouted, as he pulled the trigger—the fusil was discharged.
But the Governor, with a movement rapid as thought, threw up the barrel with the end of his cane, and the ball lodged in the roof.