"If I should fall," Fred said, once more shaking me by the hand, "you will find in the letter which is directed to you, full instructions how to dispose of my effects. God bless you, Jack; I never loved you half as well as I do now."
I brushed away a tear, and with a voice choked by emotion asked if there was any thing which he wished to say before the word was given.
"I did think," he replied, examining his adversary's bearing, "that I would fire over his head; but I see that he is bent on mischief, and is determined to kill me, if possible. Under the circumstances I think that I shall do no great wrong if I touch him slightly."
"Do as you please," I replied, stepping back, and joining the doctor, who held a white handkerchief in one hand and his snuffbox in the other.
"Let me speak to Mr. Fred before you give the signal?" asked Smith.
"Not a word, my man," returned the doctor, regaling his nose with a pinch of snuff, and scanning the bearing of the men with evident delight.
"It's beautiful they look," murmured the doctor, in a low tone, and then elevating his voice, he continued, "the signal will be 'one, two, three,' and then, the dropping of this handkerchief. Mind, gentlemen, and reserve your fire until you see the handkerchief lave my hand. Now, thin, are ye ready?"
Wattles and Fred braced themselves as though expecting a shock, drew their caps a little more over their eyes, and signified that they were.
"One!" cried the doctor, in a loud voice.
The duellists brought their rifles to their shoulders, fully cocked.