"I am ready," Fortune answered, the old weary bitterness strong in his
face again. "Go ahead, but hurry."
Uri Bram rose to his feet.
"I have had faith in God all the days of my life. I believe He loves
justice. I believe He is looking down upon us now, choosing between us.
I believe He waits to work His will through my own right arm. And such
is my belief, that we will take equal chance and let Him speak His own
judgment."
Fortune's heart leaped at the words. He did not know much concerning
Uri's God, but he believed in Chance, and Chance had been coming his way
ever since the night he ran down the beach and across the snow. "But
there is only one gun," he objected.
"We will fire turn about," Uri replied, at the same time throwing out the
cylinder of the other man's Colt and examining it.
"And the cards to decide! One hand of seven up!"
Fortune's blood was warming to the game, and he drew the deck from his
pocket as Uri nodded. Surely Chance would not desert him now! He
thought of the returning sun as he cut for deal, and he thrilled when he
found the deal was his. He shuffled and dealt, and Uri cut him the Jack
of Spades. They laid down their hands. Uri's was bare of trumps, while
he held ace, deuce. The outside seemed very near to him as they stepped
off the fifty paces.
"If God withholds His hand and you drop me, the dogs and outfit are
yours. You'll find a bill of sale, already made out, in my pocket," Uri
explained, facing the path of the bullet, straight and broad-breasted.
Fortune shook a vision of the sun shining on the ocean from his eyes and
took aim. He was very careful. Twice he lowered as the spring breeze
shook the pines. But the third time he dropped on one knee, gripped the
revolver steadily in both hands, and fired. Uri whirled half about,
threw up his arms, swayed wildly for a moment, and sank into the snow.
But Fortune knew he had fired too far to one side, else the man would not
have whirled.
When Uri, mastering the flesh and struggling to his feet, beckoned for
the weapon, Fortune was minded to fire again. But he thrust the idea
from him. Chance had been very good to him already, he felt, and if he
tricked now he would have to pay for it afterward. No, he would play
fair. Besides Uri was hard hit and could not possibly hold the heavy
Colt long enough to draw a bead.
"And where is your God now?" he taunted, as he gave the wounded man the
revolver.