"Shore, shore," said that worthy, feverishly. "Lemme pick up my shotgun, an' in five minutes I'll be back in the middle o' Main Street a-waitin' for yuh."
"Five minutes is too long," observed Loudon. "Make it three. An' yuh needn't touch that shotgun. Yuh can get it later—if yo're able."
"Yo're shore in a hurry!" sneered Luke.
"I always am with a coward an' a liar an' a low-down, baby-robbin' road-agent."
At these words rage almost overwhelmed Luke Maxson. Only the long barrel of that steady six-shooter aimed at his abdomen prevented him from hurling himself barehanded upon his tormentor.
"One moment, gentlemen!" exclaimed the Judge. "In the interest of fair play permit me to settle one or two necessary preliminaries. The street runs approximately north and south so the sun will not favour either of you. Mr. Maxson will take his stand in the middle of the street opposite the dance hall. Mr. Franklin will also post himself in the middle of the street but opposite the hotel. The hotel and dance hall are about a hundred yards apart. I shall be on the sidewalk midway between the two places. At a shot from my revolver you gentlemen will commence firing. And may God have mercy on your souls. Gentlemen, the three minutes start immediately."
"Git," ordered Loudon.
Luke Maxson fled. The Judge vanished from the window. Loudon hurried upstairs for his rifle. In the street could be heard the voice of Judge Allison booming instructions to the passersby to remove themselves and their ponies from the range of fire.
"Geet heem, by Gar!" enjoined Laguerre, clicking a cartridge into the chamber of his own rifle. "Geet heem! You got to geet heem! I'm behin' you, me! I trus' dat judge feller, but I trus' myself more. Eef anybody jump sideway at you, I geet heem."
"I'll get him," muttered Loudon. "Don't worry none, Telescope. He'll get it like his brother."