Hardly had Toney Belton's footsteps ceased to sound in the corridor before Wiggins snatched up his hat and hurried into the presence of his principal in extreme agitation.

"Mr. Botts," he exclaimed, "I have just had an interview with Mr. Belton, the friend of Captain Bragg."

"Captain Bragg then accepts the challenge?" said Botts.

"Of course he does," said Wiggins, "and we have agreed upon the terms."

"What time does Bragg propose for the meeting?"

"Between daybreak and sunrise to-morrow."

"A very excellent arrangement," said Botts. "The early hour will insure us against the chance of interruption. And the place?"

Wiggins named the place designated by Belton, and the selection met with the approval of his principal, who inquired,—

"Did the captain choose fire-arms, or small swords? I am equally expert in the use of either."

"Fire-arms or small swords!" exclaimed Wiggins,—"no, sir, he did not."

"What weapon did he then select? I am at a loss to imagine."

Wiggins hesitated and was silent. His features became strangely and alarmingly distorted.

"Did you not agree upon the weapons? What did Mr. Belton propose?"

"Broad-axes!" said Wiggins.

"What did you say, Mr. Wiggins? I did not distinctly hear you."

"Broad-axes! Mr. Botts, I say broad-axes!"

"What?" exclaimed Mr. Botts, rising from his seat.

"Broad-axes!" said Wiggins, also rising and moving nearer to Botts. "Broad-axes, I say broad-axes!"

Botts's ugly countenance now assumed a very peculiar expression. One of those ideas which suddenly rush into a man's mind and master it in a moment presented itself, and immediately became dominant. He supposed that Wiggins had become demented, and that he was in the presence of a maniac. Botts had as much of the common quality of physical courage as most of the male gender, but, like many a brave man, he had an intense horror of crazy people. He retreated. Wiggins advanced towards him, anxious to explain, and lifting his hand in the act of gesticulation.

"Stand back!" shouted Botts, grasping a chair, and elevating it over his head,—"stand back, or I will knock you down!"

"Botts! Botts!" exclaimed Wiggins, lifting up both hands in violent agitation, being utterly astounded at this hostile demonstration on the part of his principal,—"Botts! Botts! I—I—said—broad-axes!"

"Help! help! murder! murder!" shouted Botts; and he aimed a blow at Wiggins, who dodged it, and, tumbling over a table, fell sprawling on the carpet, while the chair flew from Botts's hands and went with a crash against the door. In an instant there was a rush of people from the adjoining apartments and the room was filled with spectators.

"Good heavens!" exclaimed M. T. Pate, addressing himself to Botts, who had armed himself with another chair, and stood brandishing it in a corner of the room with an air of desperate determination,—"good heavens! Mr. Botts, what does this mean?"

"Gentlemen, such scenes cannot be allowed in my house," said the landlord. "Mr. Botts, this is the second time you have raised an uproar in this establishment."

"Botts, you shall answer for this outrage!" exclaimed Wiggins, rising on his feet and looking Botts in the face with a most truculent aspect.

"Are you not crazy?" said Botts.

"Crazy!" vociferated Wiggins, advancing towards Botts, who dodged behind Pate. "You are crazy, sir! You are as mad as a March hare, sir! You are a dangerous man! I will have you in a lunatic asylum before you are a day older, sir! Gentlemen, I call upon you to assist me in securing this madman."

"By Jupiter! I think you are both lunatics," said the landlord.

"Mr. Wiggins, there most he some mistake," said Pate. "Botts is not crazy."

"No madder man ever broke out of bedlam!" said Wiggins. "He will kill somebody if he is not put in a strait-jacket."

"What was all this about?" asked Pate.

"About?" said Wiggins. "Why, sir, I was merely repeating something which Mr. Belton had said to me, when up jumped Botts and aimed a blow at my head with chair; and had I out dodged as quickly as I did, he would have knocked my brains out. Is such a man fit to run at large through this house? Do you call him sane, Mr. Pate? Sane!—if he's sane, you might as well pull down all the lunatic asylums in the land and let their inmates out to——"

"Stop! Wiggins, stop! I begin to see," said Botts. "You are not crazy, after all! Did you say you were merely repeating what Belton had said to you?"

"Nothing more," said Wiggins. "And was that any reason why I should be——"

"My dear, dear fellow!" said Botts. "It was a mistake! I see! Give me your hand. I ask ten thousand pardons!"

Botts advanced towards Wiggins, who retreated a step, and then stood his ground and took the proffered hand.

"Thank God," said Pate, "there will be no duel!"

"Crazy men are not allowed to fight duels," said the landlord.

"Gentlemen," said Botts, "I call you to witness that it was all my fault. I beg Mr. Wiggins's pardon."

"It is granted," said Wiggins.

"And now, gentlemen," said Botts, "be so good as to leave us to ourselves. You see it is all made up, and we are the best friends in the world."

At this request all left the room. M. T. Pate, however, lingered at the door for a moment, and said, in an admonitory tone,—

"For Heaven's sake, Botts, do not quarrel with Wiggins again!"

"No fear of that, Mr. Pate." And with this assurance Pate closed the door.

Botts being alone with his second, there was a repetition of apologies and mutual explanations; after which each became assured of the sanity of the other, and was more at his ease.

"But," asked Botts, "did Belton really say anything about broad-axes?"

Wiggins hesitated. He seemed to be afraid to again give utterance to a word which had just put him in such imminent peril. At length he said, in a low tone,—

"He did, indeed."

"What connection had this with the duel?"

"As the representative of Captain Bragg, he proposed that you should fight with broad-axes."

Botts sprang from the chair and overturned the table; and Wiggins, apprehensive of another assault, jumped up and put himself in an attitude of defense.

M. T. Pate, who was lingering in the corridor in trembling expectation of another quarrel, rushed to the door, but it was bolted.

"Mr. Botts! Mr. Botts!" cried Pate.

"Go to the devil!" shouted Botts.

"Good heavens! what is to be done?" said Pate. "He has Wiggins locked in the room, and will beat out his brains with a chair!"

"I'll break down the door and put strait-jackets on both of them!" said the landlord, who had hurried back at the alarm given by Pate.

Botts now opened the door and assured the people in the corridor that they were not fighting, but were as amicable as men could be. Having received a similar assurance from Wiggins, Pate and the landlord had no excuse for further interruption, and reluctantly retired; the landlord shaking his head rather dubiously as he did so, and muttering something about strait-jackets and lunatic asylums.

Botts closed and bolted the door, and then earnestly asked,—

"You certainly did not agree that I should fight Captain Bragg with a broad-axe?"

"No, indeed!" said Wiggins. "With much difficulty I obtained from Mr. Belton a compromise."

"What sort of a compromise?" asked Botts.

"You are to fight with just such weapons as Belton produces on the ground."

"And not to know what they are to be until I get on the field?"

"Such is the agreement," said the second.

"Wiggins, what sort of terms are these?" exclaimed Botts.

"They were the best I could obtain. My opinion is, that this Captain Bragg, although he associates with gentlemen, is little better than a desperado. He has lived among savages the greater part of his life, and, as I am told, has been boasting of having fought a duel with a boomerang, or a harpoon, or something of the sort. He is a reckless and desperate man, and cares not for consequences. Had I not agreed to the compromise proposed by his second, I am confident that he would have posted you as a coward."

"These are hard terms," said Botts; "but I suppose they must be accepted."

"They have been accepted," said Wiggins. "And now I must leave you, Mr. Botts, for I have an engagement with a fair lady. At an hour before daybreak I will be at your room; and we will, of course, proceed in company to the ground."

In the solitude of his chamber, Botts began to give way to gloomy reflections. It was evident that his antagonist was a most desperate and determined man. He had lived among savages and cannibals, and the proposal to fight with broad-axes was ample proof of the barbarity of his disposition. And Wiggins had consented that Botts should come on the ground in entire ignorance of the weapons to be used. Could it be doubted that his adversary would select some barbarous implement of butchery, familiar to himself but unknown to civilized duelists? When the challenger took his position, a harpoon or a boomerang might be thrust into his hand; or Bragg might enter the field armed with a tomahawk and scalping-knife, and raising the war-whoop. Botts was a brave man, but he shuddered and shivered as if an icicle had been thrust down his back. He saw that death was inevitable, and he resolved to die with decency. Having procured writing materials, he carefully prepared his last will and testament, and proceeded to execute it with the proper formalities. He then wrote a number of letters to absent friends, bidding them a final and affectionate farewell. Those documents he carefully sealed with black wax, and left lying on his table.

Much time was consumed in these preparations, and before the business was concluded the sun had sunk behind the horizon and the stars had appeared in the heavens. Botts took his seat at a window; but he could not remain quiescent. The agitation of his mind impelled him to physical locomotion. He seized his hat and rushed into the street. He hurried along until he had reached the outskirts of the town, where he would not be molested by crowds of gay and happy mortals, talking and laughing in the full enjoyment of an existence of which he was so soon to be deprived. The doomed man now stood alone in a deserted common. He gazed upward at the heavens. From the innumerable multitude of shining orbs over his head, he selected a star in which his spirit was to dwell after its departure from these sublunary scenes. Botts did not return to his room. He thought not of his comfortable bed at the hotel. During the long hours of the silent night he continued to walk to and fro on the outskirts of the town, a melancholy man, meditating on his latter end and gazing upward at the celestial dwelling-place which he had selected for his residence after his immolation on the field of honor.