There were sick faces in that room; men turned their heads, for nothing
is so ghastly as the sight of a man who is taking water.
"Hush," said Donnegan. "I'm going to kill you, Jack. But I want to kill
you fairly and squarely. There's no pleasure, you see, in beating a
youngster like you to the draw. I want to give you a fighting chance.
Besides"--he removed one hand from behind his head and waved it
carelessly to where the men of The Corner crouched in the shadow--"you
people have seen me drill one chap already, and I'd like to shoot you in
a new way. Is that agreeable?"
Two terrible, known figures detached themselves from the gloom near the
door.
"Hark to this gent sing," said one, and his name was the Pedlar. "Hark
to him sing, Jack, and we'll see that you get fair play."
"Good," said his friend, Joe Rix. "Let him take his try, Jack."
As a matter of fact, had Donnegan reached for a gun, he would have been
shot before even Landis could bring out a weapon, for the steady eye of
Joe Rix, hidden behind the Pedlar, had been looking down a revolver
barrel at the forehead of Donnegan, waiting for that first move. But
something about the coolness of Donnegan fascinated them.
"Don't shoot, Joe," the Pedlar had said. "That bird is the chief over
again. Don't plug him!"
And that was why Donnegan lived.
23
If he had taken the eye of the hardened Rix and the still harder Pedlar,
he had stunned the men of The Corner. And breathlessly they waited for
his proposal to Jack Landis.
He spoke with his hands behind his head again, after he had slowly taken
out a handkerchief and wiped his chin.
"I'm a methodical fellow, Landis," he said. "I hate to do an untidy
piece of work. I have been disgusted with myself since my little falling
out with Lewis. I intended to shoot him cleanly through the hand, but
instead of that I tore up his whole forearm. Sloppy work, Landis. I
don't like it. Now, in meeting you, I want to do a clean, neat, precise
job. One that I'll be proud of."
A moaning voice was heard faintly in the distance. It was the Pedlar,
who had wrapped himself in his gaunt arms and was crooning softly, with
unspeakable joy: "Hark to him sing! Hark to him sing! A ringer for the
chief!"
"Why should we be in such a hurry?" continued Donnegan. "You see that
clock in the corner? Tut, tut! Turn your head and look. Do you think
I'll drop you while you look around?"
Landis flung one glance over his shoulder at the big clock, whose
pendulum worked solemnly back and forth.
"In five minutes," said Donnegan, "it will be eleven o'clock. And when
it's eleven o'clock the clock will chime. Now, Landis, you and I shall
sit down here like gentlemen and drink our liquor and think our last
thoughts. Heavens, man, is there anything more disagreeable than being
hurried out of life? But when the clock chimes, we draw our guns and
shoot each other through the heart--the brain--wherever we have chosen.
But, Landis, if one of us should inadvertently--or through
nervousness--beat the clock's chime by the split part of a second, the
good people of The Corner will fill that one of us promptly full of
lead."
He turned to the crowd.
"Gentlemen, is it a good plan?"
As well as a Roman crowd if it wanted to see a gladiator die, the frayed
nerves of The Corner responded to the stimulus of this delightful
entertainment. There was a joyous chorus of approval.
"When the clock strikes, then," said Landis, and flung himself down in a
chair, setting his teeth over his rage.
Donnegan smiled benevolently upon him; then he turned again and beckoned
to George. The big man strode closer and leaned.
"George," he said. "I'm not going to kill this fellow."
"No, sir; certainly, sir," whispered the other. "George can kill him for
you, sir."
Donnegan smiled wanly.
"I'm not going to kill him, George, on account of the girl on the hill.
You know? And the reason is that she's fond of the lubber. I'll try to
break his nerve, George, and drill him through the arm, say. No, I can't
take chances like that. But if I have him shaking in time, I'll shoot
him through the right shoulder, George.
"But if I miss and he gets me instead, mind you, never raise a hand
against him. If you so much as touch his skin, I'll rise out of my grave
and haunt you. You hear? Good-by, George."
But big George withdrew without a word, and the reason for his
speechlessness was the glistening of his eyes.
"If I live," said Donnegan, "I'll show that George that I appreciate
him."
He went on aloud to Landis: "So glum, my boy? Tush! We have still four
minutes left. Are you going to spend your last four minutes hating me?"