he ‘uz a-workin’ at him, en Pudd’nhead Wilson he ’uz a-he’pin’, en ole Jedge Driscoll en Pem Howard ‘uz a-standin’ out yonder a little piece waitin’ for ’em to get ready agin.  En treckly dey squared off en give de word, en bang-bang went de pistols, en de twin he say, ‘Ouch!’—­hit him on de han’ dis time—­en I hear dat same bullet go spat! ag’in de logs under de winder; en de nex’ time dey shoot, de twin say, ‘Ouch!’ ag’in, en I done it too, ‘ca’se de bullet glance’ on his cheekbone en skip up here en glance’ on de side o’ de winder en whiz right acrost my face en tuck de hide off’n my nose—­why, if I’d ‘a’ be’n jist a inch or a inch en a half furder ’t would ‘a’ tuck de whole nose en disfiggered me.  Here’s de bullet; I hunted her up.”

“Did you stand there all the time?”

“Dat’s a question to ask, ain’t it!  What else would I do?  Does I git a chance to see a duel every day?”

“Why, you were right in range!  Weren’t you afraid?”

The woman gave a sniff of scorn.

“’Fraid!  De Smith-Pocahontases ain’t ‘fraid o’ nothin’, let alone bullets.”

“They’ve got pluck enough, I suppose; what they lack is judgment. I wouldn’t have stood there.”

“Nobody’s accusin’ you!”

“Did anybody else get hurt?”

“Yes, we all got hit ‘cep’ de blon’ twin en de doctor en de seconds.  De Jedge didn’t git hurt, but I hear Pudd’nhead say de bullet snip some o’ his ha’r off.”

“’George!” said Tom to himself, “to come so near being out of my trouble, and miss it by an inch.  Oh dear, dear, he will live to find me out and sell me to some nigger trader yet—­yes, and he would do it in a minute.”  Then he said aloud, in a grave tone: 

“Mother, we are in an awful fix.”

Roxana caught her breath with a spasm, and said: 

“Chile!  What you hit a body so sudden for, like dat?  What’s be’n en gone en happen’?”

“Well, there’s one thing I didn’t tell you.  When I wouldn’t fight, he tore up the will again, and—­”

Roxana’s face turned a dead white, and she said: 

“Now you’s done!—­done forever!  Dat’s de end.  Bofe un us is gwine to starve to—­”

“Wait and hear me through, can’t you!  I reckon that when he resolved to fight, himself, he thought he might get killed and not have a chance to forgive me any more in this life, so he made the will again, and I’ve seen it, and it’s all right.  But—­”

“Oh, thank goodness, den we’s safe ag’in!—­safe! en so what did you want to come here en talk sich dreadful—­”

“Hold ON, I tell you, and let me finish.  The swag I gathered won’t half square me up, and the first thing we know, my creditors—­well, you know what’ll happen.”

Roxana dropped her chin, and told her son to leave her alone—­she must think this matter out.  Presently she said impressively: