"As to that old beachcomber, sir, shooting aren't in my way, but 'volvers or no 'volvers, you give the word when you're ready and I'll chuck him overboard to get some water to mix with his rum; and I believe that'd be doing a good action." "Yes," said the doctor. "Look here. That man can't go on drinking strong spirit as he does without soon being quite prostrate."

He say orful tings ter marse cap'n who didin't gib back a inch en sez, sez he, 'I challing you. Shoose yo' weapons en place ob meetin" Dem he berry words. Den yo' cousin shose 'volvers en de far side ob de grobe up dar en said 'we fight ter de deth. Deth useter seem orful, Miss Lou, but sech a heap ob mens die dat ef Mad Whately des set on dyin', w'y not let 'im hab he way?

"Oh, Miss Lou," she whispered breathlessly, "I des got de orfulest, quarest news, en I darsn't kep hit eny longer. Marse cap'n en Mad Whately gwine ter fight 'bout you fo' sun-up." "What!" "Dey sut'ny is. Dey gwine ter fight one anoder 'bout you wid 'volvers fight ter de deth dey said. I yeared dem troo de dine-room winders." "Oh, Zany! this is horrible!" "Hit mout be wuss. Yo' cousin hot fer hit.