It wouldn't be a bad idea for us to stand at opposite sides of the open and at a given signal approach, firing as we want to." "Couldn't be better," exclaimed Philip briskly, turning to pull his revolver from its holster.
DeBar watched him with tensely anxious eyes as he broke the breech, looked at the shining circle of cartridges, and closed it again.
Without a word he went to the door, opened it, and with his pistol arm trailing at his side, strode off to the right.

For a moment Philip stood looking after him, a queer lump in his throat.

He would have liked to shake hands, and yet at the same time he was glad that DeBar had gone in this way.

He turned to the left--and saw at a glance that the outlaw had given him the best light.

DeBar was facing him when he reached his ground.
"Are you ready ?" he shouted.
"Ready!" cried Philip.
DeBar ran forward, shoulders hunched low, his pistol arm half extended, and Philip advanced to meet him.