Alice Terry uttered a terrified cry.

“Oh! no! no! you must not fight—­you must not.  It is bad—­oh! so awful wicked!”

“Excuse me, lady, but you will have no voice in this matter;” and the miner’s tone grew a trifle more severe.  “Knew you the bitter wrong done me by this young devil with the smooth face and oily tongue—­if you knew what a righteous cause I have to defend, you would say ’let the battle proceed.’  I am not one to thirst for the blood of my fellow-men, but I am one that is ever ready to raise my hand and strike in the defense of women!”

Alice Terry secretly admired the stalwart young miner for this gallant speech.

Fearless Frank, his face paler than before, an expression of remorse combined with anguish about his countenance, and moisture standing in either eye, assumed his quasi-erect attitude as he answered: 

“Edward Harris, if you will listen, I will say all I have to say in a very few words.  You hate me because of a wrong I did you and yours, and you want my life for the forfeit.  I shall not hinder you longer to your purpose.  For two long years you have trailed and tracked me with the determination of a bloodhound, and I have evaded you, not that I was at all afraid of you, but because I did not wish to make you a murderer.  I have come across your path at last; here let us settle, as you have said.  See!  I fold my arms across my breast.  Take out your pistol, aim steadily, and fire twice at my breast.  I have heard enough concerning your skill as a marksman to feel confident that you can kill me in two shots!”

Ned Harris flushed, angrily.  He was surprised at the cool indifference and recklessness of the youth; he was angered that McKenzie should think him mean enough to take such a preposterous advantage.

“You are a fool!” he sneered, biting his lip with vexation.  “Do you calculate I am a murderer?”

“I have no proof that you are or that you are not!” replied Fearless Frank, controlling his temper by a master effort.  “You remember I have not kept a watch upon your actions.”

“Be that as it may, I would be an accursed dog to take advantage of your insulting proposal.  You must fight me the same as I shall fight you!”

“No, Ned Harris, I will do nothing of the kind.  It is I who have wronged you and yours; you must take the offensive; I will play a silent hand.”

“You refuse to fight me?”

“I do refuse to fight you, but do not refuse to give you satisfaction for what wrong you have suffered.  Take my life, if you choose; it is yours.  Take it, or forever after this consider our debt of hatred canceled, and let us be—­”

“Friends?  Never, Justin McKenzie, never!  You forget the stain dyed by your hand that will never washout!”

“No! no!  God knows I do not forget!” and the youth’s voice was hoarse with anguish.  “Could it be undone, I would gladly undo the deed.  But, tell me, Harris about her.  Does she still live?”