“I shall fight with the weapon I hold in my hand,” doggedly declared Calhoun.
“Agreed! the very weapon for me!” was the rejoinder of his adversary.
“I see you both carry Colt’s six-shooter Number 2,” said the major, scanning the pistols held in hand. “So far all right! you’re armed exactly alike.”
“Have they any other weapons?” inquired young Hancock, suspecting that under the cover of his coat the ex-captain had a knife.
“I have none,” answered the mustanger, with a frankness that left no doubt as to his speaking the truth.
All eyes were turned upon Calhoun, who appeared to hesitate about making a reply. He saw he must declare himself.
“Of course,” he said, “I have my toothpick as well. You don’t want me to give up that? A man ought to be allowed to use whatever weapon he has got.”
“But, Captain Calhoun,” pursued Hancock, “your adversary has no knife. If you are not afraid to meet him on equal terms you should surrender yours.”
“Certainly he should!” cried several of the bystanders. “He must! he must!”
“Come, Mr Calhoun!” said the major, in a soothing tone. “Six shots ought to satisfy any reasonable man; without having recourse to the steel. Before you finish firing, one or the other of you—”