He took all in at a glance, probably recognising us.

At all events he had no doubt of our business there; for he hurried on, and I could see his hand at his jacket pocket.
Still I gained on him.
"Beer against absinthe," I remember thinking.
There was an unbroken snow-field ahead of us, the sheer side of a mountain with the footpath cut across it--a strip of blue shadow.
After ten minutes of rapid climbing, Miste turned at length, and waited for me.

He had a cool head; for he carefully buttoned his coat and stood sideways, presenting as small a target as possible.
He raised his revolver and covered me.
"He won't fire yet," thought I, forty yards below him, and I advanced quickly.
He stood covering me for a few seconds, and then lowered his arm and waited for me.

In such an atmosphere we could have spoken in ordinary tones, but we had nothing to say.

Monsieur Miste and I understood each other without need of words.
"Fire, you fool!" cried Giraud behind me--nearer than I had suspected.
I was within twenty yards of Miste now; the man had a narrow, white face, and was clean shaven.