houses, crossed the Branch bridge, and proceeded a quarter of a mile
on the road to Washington. There, where a rivulet crossed the road
amongst some bushes, they descended by a path into a copse, and on to
a green meadow-space cleared away by former rain freshets. Farm boys,
town boys, and intruders of all sorts were lurking near. The field of
honor resembled a gypsy camp.

Lieutenant Dibdo's companion came up to Tiltock and said that his
friend did not wish to fight, and would make any manly apology, even
though unconscious of offence, if the challenge was withdrawn. The
crowd was ardent for the fight, and Tiltock, who was punctilious about
honor, particularly where he could cut a safe figure, repelled the
compromise, as "unwarranted by the code." He knew as much about the
code as about honor, and more about both than about getting a living.

"Then," said the lieutenant, "I am authorized to say that my principal
will take Mr. Utie's first fire. Let him improve the generous chance
as he will. The second time we will make business of it."

The interlopers fell back. The word was given: "Ready--Aim--Fire!"
Robert Utie, sustained by braggadocio, that quality which makes
murderers die on the scaffold heroically, fired full at the body of
Lieutenant Dibdo. That officer fired into the air and remained unmoved
and unharmed.

"Is another shot demanded?"

"Yes," said Tiltock, "our honor is not yet satisfied."

He waved the crowd back in an imperious way--they having rushed in