"It suits me," Burke spoke up quickly, in a soft, insinuating voice. "Count five, the last number being the signal to fire—the last number, you understand."
"The arrangement is satisfactory to me," Mr. Davis answered; "but be quick, if you please, for time presses."
Matters being thus arranged, Uncle Job placed Mr. Davis, and doing so gave him one of the two horse-pistols he had brought with him, and such as were in common use in those days. Then pacing twenty steps away, he placed Colonel Burke as he had done Mr. Davis, giving him the duplicate of the other's weapon. The principals being thus fixed, he rejoined Mr. Lincoln, who stood looking on with troubled countenance. Facing about, Uncle Job turned toward Burke, as if expecting to see him throw down his weapon and cry for mercy. Instead, he stood firm, and with a look of such deadly hate in his sallow face that I shuddered at the sight. Seeing this, Uncle Job turned to Mr. Lincoln as if uncertain what to do next, but Mr. Davis, observing the pause, spoke up with some impatience, saying:
"Come, Mr. Throckmorton, why lose time? Let us get through with the business."
At this, everything being fixed, and there being no excuse for further delay, Uncle Job called out, but no longer with any heart in his voice:
"Are you ready, gentlemen? Remember, when I count five, turn and fire, or advance before firing if You choose. Remember, five is the signal. Are you ready? One, two, three, four—" As the last number was called, Burke whirled about, and with quick aim fired. At this Mr. Lincoln's and Uncle Job's faces blanched, and they turned to Mr. Davis as if expecting to see him fall, Uncle Job calling out mechanically the final number, "Five." Upon hearing this, and not before, Mr. Davis turned about unharmed, but feeling his shoulder with his free hand as if he had been hit. Looking in the direction of Burke and observing his smoking pistol still upheld, Mr. Davis' face lowered and he hesitated for a moment; then, without remark of any kind, he straightened himself up, and keeping his weapon extended, advanced slowly toward where his opponent stood. As he went forward, Burke's face, from being red, turned purple, and then a livid white, his eyes and cheeks falling in as if he had been dead a month. When Mr. Davis had gone some distance, Burke, unable to control himself longer, screamed out in deadly fright:
"For God's sake have mercy, Mr. Davis! Don't kill me! No, no, you can't, Mr. Davis; it would be murder."
RESTITUTION.
Paying no heed, Mr. Davis kept on until he was within a few feet of Burke. There stopping, the fire of his eyes seemed to consume his enemy, for Burke, losing all control of himself fell on his knees, crying out in the most craven manner: