"You must fight. You must fight," chorused the Italians.
"Or be forced to disgorge," Reifenstein added with a sneer.
The blood mounted slowly into Colonel Spottiswoode's face, then faded out again, leaving him quite pale. If these men had understood weather signs, they would have siezed upon a most auspicious moment to leave Beverly Spottiswoode alone.
"Very well," he said coolly, "if there's no way to get out of it, we shall fight. Zack! Oh, Zack!" Zack came tumbling down, glad to leave his job on deck. "Zack, go get those two pistols that Dr. Paulding gave me when I left home."
During Zack's absence no one spoke a word; there was scarcely a change in their positions. Spottiswoode sat drumming on the table with his fingers. Shields leaned against the sideboard; the German and the Italians stuck close together until Zack returned. "Here dey is, Cunnel." Zack put down a heavy box, from which Colonel Spottiswoode laid out a pair of blue barreled six-shooters, with buck-horn handles. They were not lady-like; but they were honest, would never kick-up, and shot truly as a rifle.
"Gentlemen, I have the choice of weapons—here we are. Fifty paces, fire, advance, and fire at will. That is quite simple." He shoved one
