“True,” returned West, ramming the bullet into the second pistol; “it is quite irregular and—­er—­illegal, I believe.  Perhaps I shall go to jail with whichever of the duelists survives; but you see it is a point of honor with us all.  Molly Sizer has seemingly been grossly maligned in your paper, and the editor is responsible.  Are you a good shot, Bill?”

“I—­I guess so,” stammered Sizer.

“That’s good.  Weldon, I hear, is an expert with the pistol.”

Arthur did not contradict this statement, although he was positive he could not hit a barn at twenty yards.

“Now, then, are we ready?” staid West, rising.  “Come with me, gentlemen.”

“What ye goin’ to do, Bob?” asked Sizer, anxiously.

“I’ll explain,” replied the hardware man, leading the way to the street.  Everyone followed him and the crowd at the windows joined the group outside.  “Of course you mustn’t shoot in the main street, for you might hit some one, or break windows; but back of this row of buildings is a lane that is perfectly clear.  You will stand back to back in the center of the block and then, at my word, you will each march to the end of the block and pass around the buildings to the lane.  As soon as you come in sight of one another you are privileged to fire, and I suppose Bill Sizer will try to kill you, Mr. Weldon, on the spot, and therefore you will try to kill him first.”

“But—­look a-here, Bob!” cried Sizer; “it ain’t right fer him to take a shot at me.  You said fer me to kill him, but ye didn’t say nuth’n about his shootin’ at me.”

“That’s all right, Bill,” returned West.  “You’re in the right, and the right ought to win.  But you must give the man a chance for his life, you know.”

“That weren’t in the bargain.”

“It is now, by the laws of dueling.”

“He—­he might shoot me,” urged Bill.

“It isn’t likely.  Although he’s a dead shot, you have right on your side, and you must be sure to fire as soon as you get within good range.  It won’t be considered murder; it will only be a duel, and the law will deal lightly with you.”

“That’s right, Bill,” asserted one of Sizer’s friends.  “Bob West’s a justice o’ the peace himself, an’ he orter know.”

“I do know,” declared West gravely.

He placed Arthur Weldon and Bill Sizer back to back in the middle of the street and handed each a pistol.

“Now, then,” said he, “you both understand the rules, which I have explained, and the spectators will bear witness that, whatever happens, this affair has been conducted in a regular manner, with no favor shown to either.  You are both brave men, and this duel will vindicate your honor.  If you are fortunate enough to survive, you will be heroes, and all your differences will be wiped off the slate.  But as one or both may fall, we, the citizens of Millville, hereby bid you a solemn and sad farewell.”