"Would you try to run a man through before he can draw?" the latter asked.
Solomon's old sword flashed out of its scabbard.
"Let him come on," he shouted. "I'm more to hum with a hanger than I be with good vittles."
Of all the words on record from the lips of this man, these are the most immodest, but it should be remembered that when he spoke them his blood was hot.
Jack gave way and the two came together with a clash of steel. A crowd had gathered about them and was increasing rapidly. They had been fighting for half a moment around the fire when Solomon broke the blade of his adversary. The latter drew his pistol! Before he could raise it Solomon had fired his own weapon. Burley's pistol dropped on the ground. Instantly its owner reeled and fell beside it. The battle which had lasted no more than a minute had come to its end. There had been three kinds of fighting in that lively duel.
Solomon's voice trembled when he cried out:
"Ary man who says a word ag'in' the Great Father is goin' to git mussed up."
He pushed his way through the crowd which had gathered around the wounded man.
"Let me bind his arm," he said.
But a surgeon had stood in the crowd. He was then doing what he could for the shattered member of the hot-headed Colonel Burley. Jack was helping him. Some men arrived with a litter and the unfortunate officer was quickly on his way to the hospital.