‘I am ready’—were his words.
The pistols were placed in their hands. They fired—my friend into the air—Ralle with a steady aim; yet his ball whistled harmlessly by, and lodged in the opposite rocks.
‘What’s to be done?’ said Ralle’s second.
‘If Mr. Glenning will acknowledge himself a coward,’ said Ralle in a low, taunting tone, ‘and ask my forgiveness, he may go about his business.’
‘Never, wretch!—reload the pistols.’
The pistols were again placed in their hands, and they fired; as before, Glenning into the air—Ralle’s ball passing harmlessly by.
The man again interfered.
Ralle made the same remark.
‘Silence!’ thundered Glenning, ‘thou bloody villain, nor dare insult the ears of manhood, by your damning proposition. I should prove myself a liar did I do it; you, you gave the offence, and ’tis from you should come the acknowledgment. But this is wasting time. That I am no coward, sir, I have fully shown by twice withstanding your fire. Now ’tis my turn—give us the pistols. Wretch,’—cried he, looking on Ralle with eyes flashing intolerably bright, and voice so hoarse that it could scarcely be heard—‘wretch! you have lived too long. I would not stain my hands, but I shall bless the world, by ridding it of you. Look your last on the sun—for, by the Eternal God! you certainly die.’
The pistols were handed them—the word given; this time, my friend aimed and fired. Ralle staggered back, and fell upon his knees; yet, he soon recovered himself, and rising to his feet, he certainly presented the most horrible countenance I ever saw. The ball had struck him on the jaw near the ear, and crushed it to atoms; and the blood spirted over him from head to foot. He uttered one dreadful shriek of agony; then—before I could interfere, rushed up, presented his pistol at the breast of Glenning, and shot him through the heart.