Bluegrass.
Good; a very fine line shot! But don’t waste your ammunition here. Wait until you get your enemy into close quarters, and meanwhile steady your nerves and tongue. Remember, no faltering of the tongue.
Whetstone.
How goes the night outdoors?
Bluegrass.
All’s well! Now shall I behold the first genuine literary duel ever fought on this magnificent star of ours, while the sun trails his sanguinary banners along the eastern sky.
[Rooster crows.
Whetstone.
Why does he crow so often?