“Stop!” he almost shrieked. “I’ll fight you! I’m a Carter, and I challenge you to fight a duel!”
The man laughed loudly again.
“A duel with you? You kid!”
“Yes, with me!” Leigh trembled with passion. “You’ve got to fight—I’ll send my seconds. You’re a coward, sir, and a liar!”
Corwin caught him suddenly by the shoulder.
“See here, you Carter boy!” said he. “You’ve called me a liar twice to-day. I’m not a liar—I’ll show you! Fight duels for that woman? Bah! I don’t fight kids—I box their ears!”
He sneered and slapped Leigh’s face. The boy, with a cry of passion and shame, wrenched himself free, snatched the pistol from his pocket, and fired pointblank.
The noise of the report rang in his own ears with a deafening crash, and there was a little whiff of smoke. Leigh reeled back, his horrified eyes fixed on the floor.
Corwin had crumpled up like a sack of meal and lay there in a heap, stone dead.