position which in some degree lessened his danger, by lessening the
surface exposed to the bullet. My French colleague put the pistol into
his hand, and gave him the last word of advice. "Let your arm hang
loosely down, with the barrel of the pistol pointing straight to the
ground. When you hear the signal, only lift your arm as far as the
elbow; keep the elbow pressed against your side--and fire." We could do
no more for him. As we drew aside--I own it--my tongue was like a cinder
in my mouth, and a horrid inner cold crept through me to the marrow of
my bones.

The signal was given, and the two shots were fired at the same time.

My first look was at Romayne. He took off his hat, and handed it to me
with a smile. His adversary's bullet had cut a piece out of the brim of
his hat, on the right side. He had literally escaped by a hair-breadth.

While I was congratulating him, the fog gathered again more thickly than
ever. Looking anxiously toward the ground occupied by our adversaries,
we could only see vague, shadowy forms hurriedly crossing and recrossing
each other in the mist. Something had happened! My French colleague took
my arm and pressed it significantly. "Leave _me_ to inquire," he said.
Romayne tried to follow; I held him back--we neither of us exchanged a
word.

The fog thickened and thickened, until nothing was to be seen. Once we
heard the surgeon's voice, calling impatiently for a light to help him.
No light appeared that _we_ could see. Dreary as the fog itself, the
silence gathered round us again. On a sudden it was broken, horribly
broken, by another voice, strange to both of us, shrieking hysterically
through the impenetrable mist. "Where is he?" the voice cried, in the