At "three" Ráby's pistols cracked.
Pistols loaded with three bullets have very often this peculiarity of not hitting the man they are fired at.
After the two first terrible detonations everyone looked round extremely amazed that he and the rest were still alive.
"Re-load your pistols," cried one of the seconds, and they did so. But when they were ready, an idea struck the other second.
"Gentlemen, you have fired three times, and such being the case, honour is entirely satisfied. It is my duty to suggest a reconciliation."
The two antagonists looked at each other.
Was it worth while to fight to the death over this matter? So without more ado, they shook each other by the hand, and were friends.
Now it would be Gyöngyöm Miska's turn, and he would have to reckon with two adversaries instead of one.
So they waited on; yet he came not. What could be the reasons of his delay? Had a wheel come off? Could he not find the ruins?
But these were a landmark, and even if he had gone astray, he must have heard the shots.