"I'll smash every bone in your body, you insignificant little snipe,"
roared Elliston. Instead, however, of making the attempt, the man drew
a small derringer from his pocket, and lifting the hammer, leveled it
at the head of his youthful assaulter.
"Gentlemen, please, please desist," pleaded Nell in a shaky voice.
"This is no place for a quarrel."
"It isn't, I admit," returned the boy, "but this sneak brought it
about, and now the odds are so much against him, he has recourse to a
deadly weapon. There is just that difference between us, Harper
Elliston."
The New Yorker started as the youth pronounced his name. He imagined
that he was not known to the boy.
"You see, I know you," proceeded the boy, noticing the man start. "I
have had the villain Elliston pretty well described to me, and know
that your act just now justifies me in calling you by that name.
Shoot, coward, if you dare."
There was a cool defiance in the blue eyes of the boy, that won the
admiration of Elliston in spite of his anger.
"No, the game is too small," retorted Elliston, lowering his weapon.
"I cannot afford to tarnish an honorable reputation by shedding the
blood of a child. I shall, nevertheless, remember you, young man, and
on the proper occasion give you the thrashing you so richly deserve.
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