Deadwood Dick's Big Deal; or, The Gold Brick of Oregon — page 28: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

50 : DEADWOOD DICK. <—s “Correct! In what way will you have it?” “Pistols ‘will do, sir, at fifteen x “For me they might, but not for you!” St. Ceci! an- ewered, quietly. “I do not care to take advantage of a man, no matter how great an enemy, by meeting him with firearms unless “he is my equal in their use—and I _ acknowledge no equal in this line!’ “Tndeed! Will you let bragging go until another tiine? Please understand that I am no baby at pistol practice.” “Maybe net; but I decline to meet you except I give you lerge odds!” “Meet me you've got to! So name your odds, sir!” St, Cecil was silent a moment, 2s if in thought, a sweep- ing glance taking in the sea of faces around ‘him—grim, rough faces that possessed more expressions cf brutal | passion, than of mercy. “Well,” he said, “if you insist on endangering your life, my man, Til tell you how I will fight. We ill strike positions fifteen paces apart, and the weapons slrall be pistols. I will use only my left hand, my right being tied behind’ my back. Yon shall use both hands or either one, 2s you like—sha]l have the first fire, and after that, take two shots to my one. You must kill me, or I will kill you, very likely! Do you understand, sir?” “I am ‘not dull, neither am I deaf,” Chester answered. “Please understand another thing—but, never mind! The boys will fix you if I am hurt!” “Oh! the boys will?” St. Cecil retorted) “If I should chance to have the misfortune to kill you—” “We'll give you twenty-four hours to skip!’ one of the ill-savored miners interrupted. “Very well, Mr. Chester; take your place. This delay - | taine.” Ss The proper distance was measured of, and the two men took their positions. One of the bystanders bound St. Cecil’s right hand be- hind his back, and gave him a pistol. Chester’s arnis were free; cach hand contained a fe- volver. “Great ham bone thet dislocated the brown-kitties uv old Joner!” snorted Old Avalanche. “This 2ire a ‘raile old sarcus, fer sure! Git ready, gents! When I'sitve out ‘Keno? let her flicker, an’ go ’cordin’ ter 'greement. Ralph comicbooks.com