"Ah, men count, and men count," ironically murmured Clair. "If M'sieu Bridger has the great politeness to favor us."
Bridger strode to a position midway between the two men, halting just out of line of their fire, and humorously remarked:
"I didn't come for the job. But if you all say I must, why, I must."
Suddenly wheeling to face the men lined up along the bushes he hooked his fingers in his belt and there was no humor now in his voice as he warned:
"I'll kill any man or men who break in on this game." Then to the duelists: "I shall slowly count three. After the word three you can fire."
"And I hold my knife by the tip. My eyes are watching M'sieu Tilton," added Papa Clair.
"Yer s'picions!" growled Tilton, edging away from his principal. "Give the word an' let's have it over with."
"Make ready. Are you both ready?" called out Bridger sharply.
"Ready here," snarled Phinny.
"Ready," quietly called out Lander.
"One—two—three," slowly and distinctly counted Bridger.
