"No, I don't know," he replied. "You have not promised to marry him?"

"No, no," she returned excitedly.

"Then why did you refuse me?"

"I'm not worthy to be your wife. I feel that I have been contaminated,"

she answered.

"No, no, girl," he cried joyfully. "It was not your fault. The falling snow is not purer than you, and truth itself is not truer than your heart. I go to New York soon, and when I return all your troubles will cease."

"They have ceased already, Dic," she murmured, placing her head upon his breast, while tears fell unheeded over her cheeks. "I thought an hour ago I should never again be happy, but I am happy already. Dic, you are a wonderful man to produce such a change in so short a time."

"I am wonderful only in what you give me," he answered.

"How beautifully you speak," she whispered; but the remainder of that interview is not at all necessary to this story.

Dic left Rita late in the afternoon and met Williams on the street down town. They could not easily pa.s.s each other without exchanging words, so they stopped and spoke stiffly about the weather, past, present, and future. Dic tried to conceal all traces of resentment, and partially succeeded. Williams, still smarting from his troubles and mistakes with Rita, and hating Dic accordingly, concealed his feelings with poor success. The hatred of these men for each other was plain in every word and act, and in a few moments, Williams, unable longer to bear the strain, said:--

"This sham between us is disgusting. Let us settle our differences as gentlemen adjust such affairs."

"Do you mean that we shall fight it out?" asked Dic.

"Yes," returned Williams. "You are not afraid to fight, are you?"

"No, and yes," answered Dic. "I have had but few fights--I fear I could not go into a fight in cold blood and--and for many reasons I do not wish to fight you."

"I supposed you would decline. I knew you to be a coward," sneered Williams, growing brave upon seeing Dic's disinclination.

"No," responded Dic, calmly looking into Williams's face, "I have nothing to fear from you. You could not stand against me even for one minute."

"But you misunderstand me," said Williams. "I do not wish to fight with my fists. That is the method of ruffians and country bullies. I am not surprised at your mistake."

Dic laughed softly and replied: "I do not know why your words don't anger me. Perhaps because I pity you. I can afford to be magnanimous and submit to your ravings; therefore, I am neither angry nor afraid."

"I propose to settle our difficulty as gentlemen adjust such affairs,"

said Williams. "Of course, you know nothing about the methods of gentlemen. I challenge you to meet me in a duel. Now do you understand--understand?"

Williams was nervous, and there was a murderous gleam in his eyes. Dic's heart throbbed faster for a moment, but soon took again its regular beat. He rapidly thought over the situation and said:--

"I don't want to kill you and don't want you to kill me." He paused for a moment with a smile on his lips and continued: "Suppose we let the girl decide this between us. But perhaps I am again showing my ignorance of gentlemanly methods. Do gentlemen force their attentions upon unwilling ladies?"

"Oh, if you refuse," retorted Williams, ignoring his question, "I can slap your face now in the public streets."

"Don't do it, Williams," responded Dic, looking to the ground and trying to remain calm.

"Why?" Williams asked.

"Because--I will fight you if you insist, without the occasion of a street brawl. Another name might be brought into that."

"Am I to understand that you accept my challenge?" asked Williams.

"Yes, if you insist," replied Dic, calmly, as if he were accepting an invitation to dinner. "I have always supposed that this sort of an affair should be arranged between gentlemen by their friends; but of course I don't know how gentlemen act under these circ.u.mstances. Perhaps you don't consider me a gentleman, and you certainly must have some doubts in your mind concerning yourself; therefore, it may be proper for us to arrange this little matter with each other."

"I suppose you would prefer seconds," returned Williams. "They might prevent a meeting."

After a few moments of silence Dic said, "If we fight, I fear another person's name will be dragged into our quarrel."

"You may, if you wish, find plenty of excuses," returned Roger. "If you wish to accept my challenge, do so. If not, say so, and I will take my own course."

"Oh, I'll accept," returned Dic, cheerily. "As the challenged party, if we were gentlemen, I believe I might choose the weapons."

"Yes," responded Williams.

"What do you suppose would be the result were I to choose rifles at two hundred yards?" asked Dic, with an ugly smile on his face.

"I should be delighted," responded the other. "I expected you to choose hoes or pitchforks."

"I think it fair to tell you," said Dic, "that I can hit a silver dollar four times out of five shots at two hundred yards, and you will probably do well to hit a barn door once out of ten at that distance. I will let you see me shoot before I definitely choose weapons. Afterwards, if you prefer some other, I will abide your choice."

"I am satisfied with your choice," responded Williams, who prided himself upon his rifle-shooting, in which accomplishment Dic had underrated his antagonist.

"We must adopt some plan to prevent people from connecting another person with this affair," suggested Dic. "If you will come down to Bays's farm for a day's hunting, I will meet you there, and the result may be attributed by the survivor to a hunting accident."

"The plan suits me," said Williams. "I'll meet you there to-morrow at noon. I'll tell Tom I have an engagement to go squirrel-hunting with you."

Dic rode home, and of course carried the news of his forthcoming duel to Billy Little.

"There are worse inst.i.tutions in this world than the duel," remarked Billy, much to his listener's surprise. "It helps to thin out the fools."

"But, Billy Little, I must fight him," responded Dic. "He insists, and will not accept my refusal. He says I am afraid to fight him."

"If he should say you were a blackamoor, I suppose you would be black,"

retorted Billy. "Is that the way of it?"

"But I am glad he does not give me an opportunity to refuse," said Dic.

"I supposed as much," answered Billy. "You will doubtless be delighted if he happens to put a bullet through you, and will surely be happy for life if you kill him."

"It is his doing, Billy Little," said Dic, with an ugly gleam in his eyes, "and I would not balk him. Billy Little, I would fight that man if I knew I should hang for it the next day. I'll tell you--he grossly insulted Rita Monday evening. He held her by force and kissed her lips till she was hardly conscious."

"Good G.o.d!" cried Billy, springing to his feet and trembling with excitement. "Fight him, Dic! Kill him, Dic! Kill the brute! If you don't, by the good G.o.d, I will."

"You need not urge me, Billy Little. I'm quite willing enough. Still I hope I shall not kill him."

"You hope you will not kill him?" demanded Billy. "If you do not, I will. Where do you meet?"

"He will be at Bays's house to-morrow noon, and we will go up to my cleared eighty, half a mile north. There we will step off a course of two hundred yards and fire. Whatever happens we will say was the result of a hunting accident."