Are you ready ?--stand a bit sideways.

Your chest is a pretty broad target--that's right; I'm going to count.
_One--two--three--_" The word was hardly spoken before one of the pistols rang out.

It was Zeb's; and Heaven knows whither his bullet flew.

The smoke cleared away in a blue, filmy streak, and revealed his enemy standing where he stood before, with his pistol up, and a quiet smile on his face.
Still holding the pistol up, the stranger now advanced deliberately until he came to a halt about two paces from Zeb, who, with white face and set jaw, waited for the end.

The eyes of the two men met, and neither flinched.
"Strip," commanded the stranger.