"You're to stand off twenty paces," Charley said, speaking to Fred; "I had some thoughts of making the distance less, but I was afraid to trust you so near, considering that you are a new beginne ..."
Fred glanced at me and smiled. The Californian little, thought that he was acting as second to a man whose reputation as a hunter of bushrangers was the theme of every miner's discourse, and that the newspapers of Australia had spread our fame all over the island.
"You need not fear that I shall disgrace your patronage," Fred said. "I have seen an enemy's front before to-day."
"Gad, I begin to think that you have," Charley cried, noticing that his man displayed no sign of tremulousness.
"Stand one side, gentlemen," cried the Californian. "Our men are going to fire."
"Let me get in front of them—that's the safest place," roared out some joker.
"It's pluck the Yankee is," cried our Hibernian friend. "See, he don't look a bit like running away."
"Five to one that Burley hits at the first fire," cried a sporting man.
"Done," yelled the Irishman. "How much does ye wish to come down?"