While Hetty was gone not a word was spoken, but the artist was absent only a brief time. Presently she reentered and laid the red leather case on the table before Bob West. The hardware man at once opened it, displaying a pair of old-fashioned dueling pistols, with long barrels and pearl handles. There was a small can of powder, some bullets and wadding in the case, and as West took up one of the pistols and proceeded to load it he said in an unconcerned voice:
"I once got these from an officer in Vienna, and they have been used in more than a score of duels, I was told. One of the pistols—I can't tell which it is—has killed a dozen men, so you are going to fight with famous weapons."
Both Arthur and Bill Sizer, as well as the groups at the window, watched the loading of the pistols with fascinated gaze.
"Bob's a queer ol' feller," whispered Peggy McNutt to the blacksmith, who stood beside him. "This dool is just one o' his odd fancies. Much he keers ef they kills each other er not!"
"Mr. West," cried Patsy, suddenly rousing from her apathy, "I'll not allow this shameful thing! A duel is no better than murder, and I'm sure there is a law against it."
"True," returned West, ramming the bullet into the second pistol; "it is quite irregular and—er—illegal, I believe. Perhaps I shall go to jail with whichever of the duelists survives; but you see it is a point of honor with us all. Molly Sizer has seemingly been grossly maligned in your paper, and the editor is responsible. Are you a good shot, Bill?"
"I—I guess so," stammered Sizer.
"That's good. Weldon, I hear, is an expert with the pistol."
Arthur did not contradict this statement, although he was positive he could not hit a barn at twenty yards.
"Now, then, are we ready?" staid West, rising. "Come with me, gentlemen."