...the chill fog still hanging among the trees, the sunlight cold silver, as the parties reach the dueling ground. The weapons are inspected and found ready, and the Seconds agreeing that no reconciliation is possible they take their places.

The weapons are presented to the Principals, who take them without comment and with seeming indifference. Back to back, the Principals are asked again if there is any chance of reconciliation.

The reply from one is a sigh, from the other a short, bark-like laugh.

The Chief Second, who had been earlier decided by lot, explains that they will take ten paces, turn, and present. They may fire anytime after he drops a white silken handkerchief; firing will continue until one of them either apologizes or dies. There will be no lesser result.

He turns away from the Principals and rejoins the Surgeon on the sidelines.

He begins the count:

"One...."