"The whole thing was a farce," Benito told his wife. "The case was dismissed. Our prosecuting counsel asked the judge to put them under bonds to keep the peace. But he refused."
"Then the fight will go on?" asked Alice. Her face was white.
"Doubtless," said Benito gloomily. "They say that Terry's been practicing with a pair of French pistols during the past two months and hopes to use them at the meeting. Old 'Natchez,' the gunsmith, tells me one's a tricky weapon ... discharges now and then before the trigger's pressed."
"Why--that would be murder," Alice spoke aghast. "You must find David's seconds and warn them."
"I've tried all afternoon to locate them ... they're hidden ... afraid of arrest."
Despite the secrecy with which the second meeting was arranged, some three score spectators were already assembled at the duelling ground when Broderick and Terry arrived. It was not far from where they had met on the previous morning, but no officer appeared to interrupt their combat. Both men looked nervous and worn, especially Broderick, who had spent the night in a flea-infested hut on the ocean shore at the suggestion of his seconds who feared further interference. Terry had fared better, being quartered at the farm house of a friend who provided breakfast and a flask of rum.
The seconds tossed for position and those of Broderick won. The choice of pistols, too, was left to chance, which favored Terry. Joe McKibben thought he saw a smile light the faces of Benham and Hayes, a smile of secret understanding. The French pistols were produced and Hayes, with seeming care, selected one of them. McKibben took the other. He saw Benham whisper something to Terry as the latter grasped his weapon, saw the judge's eyes light with a sudden satisfaction.
"You will fire between the words 'one' and 'two'," Colton announced crisply. "Are you ready, gentlemen?"