Mottram dropped another handkerchief about ten paces along, where it could easily be spied from the tavern door. Then he said and did nothing for a while, just walked along with Duckett. Moshawnee wasn’t a town so big that the main and only street took long to walk out of into the country. There the street turned into a wagon road between tall pretty trees, and a bird sang in the top of one of those trees.
“This way,” said Duckett after while, turning off into a path through the thickest of the timber.
“Why do you stop, Squire?”
“Just to wipe my nose, Squire,” Hud replied, using another handkerchief. “And I think I’ll put a match to this segar the landlord gave me so kindly.”
He lighted it, and when he threw away the match he made out to hang the handkerchief to the twigs in sight of the road.
They walked maybe a half mile in all—out of pistol sound of Moshawnee, Hud reckoned—and there was another path, running along a creek. Hud was patting a fourth handkerchief between his hands as they turned on that new way, and he dropped the pretty embroidered little square of cloth on the muddy ground at that moment.
Now he’d used up four of George Tebow’s five loaned handkerchiefs, and there was just the one left to him when they came out into a clearing beside water that ran like a pretty music, and there were three men waiting for him.
Across the clearing, Squire Huckleroy watched. Though the evening was warm, he wore a long gray-caped coat buttoned up to his big square chin, and on his head stood a tall silk hat. He was near about as tall as Hud, and stood straight for all his white hair. His close-shaved lips were lean and tight, and his eyes were the hardest and the straightest-looking in all the sovereign State.
Over away from Squire Huckleroy was little Dr. Shumake, with his black bag beside him. And toward Duckett and Hud walked Captain Croslin, so graceful in his varnished boots he was near about dancing. Under his arm were two pistol cases, one covered with glossy-rubbed leather, the other wooden with black lacquer and gold hinges.
“Gentlemen,” said Croslin, chock full of manners, and shook hands with Duckett and Hud. “You are prompt, we were but early. Squire Mottram, your second and I have asked Dr. Shumake to attend in his professional capacity. You do not object?”
“Proud to have him,” said Hud, and raised his hat to the little doctor, “but I don’t reckon he’ll be much in request for his services.”
“Hmmm,” said Croslin, the way as if he didn’t understand. Then he held out the cases, one in each hand.
“I have provided one pair of pistols,” he said, “and Squire Duckett the other. Since you, Squire Mottram, are not acquainted with either pair, please choose one.”
“I haven’t any preference,” said Hud. “The case in your right hand.”
“Very good,” Croslin nodded. “The pistols in the other case will be loaded for Squire Huckleroy and myself.”
“Oh, the both of you?” said Hud. “That strikes me like an almighty lot of pistols getting loaded here today.”
“Sir,” put in Duckett, “surely you understand the code of honor more fully than you suggest. The seconds, too, are armed, to deal with any infraction or irregularity on the part of the principals.”
“I vow and swear,” said Hud admiringly, “I call that foresighted of the code of honor.”
He puffed segar smoke and looked from Croslin to Duckett, then off to little Dr. Shumake at one side, then to Squire Huckleroy burning eyes at him across the clearing. Hud grinned at Squire Huckleroy all round the segar. But Squire Huckleroy snorted like a mean horse, snorted so loud Hud could hear him all that way across.
“Captain Croslin,” said Duckett, “suppose you toss a coin and I call it for choice of positions.”
“Agreed, Squire,” said Croslin, and took a coin from the pocket of his neat tight breeches. He tossed it up.
“Heads,” called Duckett, and both he and Croslin bent to look. “Tails,” said Duckett.
“Then I have the privilege of stationing our two friends,” said Croslin. “You, Squire Duckett, have the word.” He pointed to the west of the clearing. “Yonder my principal shall stand, and yours opposite him at ten paces to eastward. You and I, Squire Duckett, take our places at the same distances apart, along a line midway between. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” said Squire Duckett.
Croslin went to Squire Huckleroy and led him by the arm to his post. Then he stepped off ten paces, and where he set the heel of his vanished boot was where Duckett set Hud. Then Croslin stepped off ten paces on a line midway, and marked the two positions for the seconds with his heel.
After that, he and Duckett opened the pistol cases and fussed over them with powder measures and bullets and ramrods. Squire Huckleroy kept raking Hud with his eyes the way he might be picking out a good spot to shoot at, and Hud grinned at him again, once, then watched the loading. The sun from the west came over the trees behind Squire Huckleroy, and Hud tilted his hat forward to shade his eyes.
Back to him came Duckett, with a pistol in each hand. Hud could see they were almighty fine-looking pistols, with eight-squared steel barrels and silver mounting on the stocks and trigger-guards. Duckett held a pistol out to Hud.
“Hold it midway of the barrel in your left hand,” he said, and Hud did so. “Now turn your right side toward Squire Huckleroy. When Captain Croslin and I take our positions, take the stock in your right hand, raise it before your face so that the muzzle points up, and draw back the hammer. Then wait for my word about firing. Is that clear?”
“Right complicated,” said Hud, “but right clear.”
“The good luck.”
“The same to you.”
Duckett walked to Hud’s right and took his own position. Croslin stood opposite Duckett. Both the seconds held their pistols hanging at their sides. Hud lifted his own pistol and roostered back the hammer. It made a nice, well-oiled snicking sound. With his left hand Hud took the segar from his mouth and blew the smoke away.
“Pray give me your attention, gentlemen,” said Duckett. “My first words will be, ‘Gentlemen, are you ready?’ When I say that, please answer me, both of you. I will then say, ‘Fire, one, two, three, halt.’ You must not lower your piece to aiming position until I have pronounced the word ‘Fire’, and you must not touch trigger after I have pronounced the word ‘Halt’.”
He looked at Hud, then at Squire Huckleroy. “Gentlemen, are you ready?”
“Ready, sir,” growled out Squire Huckleroy, pistol poised. It was the first word he’d spoken since Hud had come.
“But I’m not,” said Hud, loud and clear and cheerful.
They all looked. He could feel their wide-open, wonder-filled eyes.
“Sir, what are you saying?” Croslin snapped out.
“I’m saying I’m not ready to start shooting yet,” Hud replied. “Not till I tell you all who it was really killed Milas Clavering and thieved Squire Huckleroy’s money and blamed George Tebow.”
“Squire Mottram!” That was Duckett, pointing his pistol smack at Hud. “In observance of the code governing formal duels—”
Hud laughed at him, happy as a dog in a meat house. “Oh, don’t waste that powder,” he said, “because it’s all there in your pistol. You gave me the loaded one instead of keeping it.”
“Wh—what?” squealed out Dr. Shumake.
“Squire Duckett loaded only one pistol with ball, and the other just with powder and a wad,” said Hud to the Doctor. “Then he forgot and kept the one with just the powder, the one I was supposed to fire off while Squire Huckleroy yonder was shooting me dead. Squire Duckett, you and Captain Croslin had so much to do in a short time you got hasty and careless.”