THE END OF THE DUEL
The sun was slightly above the horizon, still showing round and red
through the slight mist of early morning, as the major and I passed down
the deserted front steps, and circled the house on our way to the place
of meeting. Under his arm was the leather case containing the
derringers, and we crossed the intervening turf without exchanging a
word. I was myself in no mood for conversation, and Hardy appeared
equally inclined to silence. I glanced across at him, noting how
straight he stood in his well-worn uniform, how gray his hair was, and
the stern manliness of his face. From head to foot he was the gentleman
and the soldier. By some chance our eyes met, and, with a quick glance
back at the house, he stopped suddenly.
"Galesworth," he said quietly, his glance searching my face, "I do not
wish you to have any misunderstanding about my exact position in this
affair. The war is not personal with me. We differ politically, and I am
as loyal to the South as any one, and you wear the Blue with just as
much honor as I wear the Gray. But when it comes to men I stand with
the one I believe to be nearest right. Le Gaire forced this quarrel on
you deliberately; he was threatening to do it before you came in. In
fact, his manner ever since our capture has disgusted me, and when he
finally dared to drag Billie's name into the controversy, I naturally
rebelled. If there is anything I despise in this world, sir, it is a
bullying duellist, and, by Gad! that's what the fellow looks like
to me."
"I comprehend perfectly, Major Hardy," I said, as he paused. "You are
merely doing as you would be done by."
"Well, yes, that's a partial explanation. I prefer to see fair play. Yet
I am going to confess that isn't all of it. I rather like you, young
man--not your damned uniform, understand--and the way you've acted
toward my girl. You've been honorable and square, and, by Gad, sir,
you're a gentleman. That's why I am going to see you through this
affair. If all I hear is true, Le Gaire came back to me with a lie, and
that is something I have never taken yet from any man."
He stood straight as an arrow, his shoulders squared, his slender form
buttoned tightly in the gray uniform coat. The sun was upon his face,
clear-cut, proud, aristocratic, and his eyes were the same gray-blue as
his daughter's. Then he held out his hand and I clasped it gladly.
"I cannot express the gratitude I feel, Major Hardy," I faltered. "One
hardly expects such kindness from an enemy."
"Not an enemy, my boy--merely a foeman. I am a West Pointer, and some of
the dearest friends I have are upon the other side. But come, let us not
be the last on the field."
He tried to talk with me pleasantly as we crossed the garden, and
approached the stable, and I must have answered, yet my mind was
elsewhere. This was all new to me, and my mood was a sober one. My
father was an old-time Puritan to whom personal combat was abomination,
and even now I could feel his condemnation of my course. I regretted
myself the hot headedness which had led me on, but without the faintest
inclination to withdraw. Yet that earlier hatred of Le Gaire had left
me, and his blow no longer stung. No desire for revenge lingered, only a
wish to have the whole matter concluded quickly, and a hope that we both
might leave the field without serious injury. It was in this frame of
mind that I turned the corner of the stable, and saw the chosen duelling
ground. It was a smooth strip of turf running north and south, with the
stable to the left, and a grove of trees opposite. The building cast a
shadow over most of the space, and altogether it was an ideal spot, well
beyond view from the windows of the house. Hardy opened the leather
case, placing it upon the grass, and I saw the two derringers lying
against the plush lining, deadly looking weapons, with long steel-blue
barrels, and strangely carven stocks. Someway they fascinated me, and I
watched while he took them up and fondled them.
"Rather pretty playthings, Galesworth," he said admiringly. "Don't see
such often nowadays, but in my father's time they were a part of every
gentleman's belongings. He would as soon have travelled without his
coat. I've seen him practise; apparently he never took aim," he held the
weapon at arm's length. "Wonderfully accurate, and the long barrel is
better than any sight; just lower it this way; there's almost
no recoil."
The sound of a distant voice caused him to drop the pistol back into its
place, and rise to his feet. Then Le Gaire and Bell turned the corner of
the stable, stopping as they perceived us standing there. The major
removed his hat, his voice coolly polite.
"I believe everything is prepared, gentlemen. Captain Bell, if you will
examine the weapons, we will then confer as to the word and the method
of firing."
"I prefer choosing my own pistol," broke in Le Gaire bluntly, "and
loading it as well."
Hardy's face flushed, his eyes hardening.
"As you please, sir," he retorted, "but I might construe those words as
a reflection on my integrity."
"When a Confederate officer takes the side of a Yank," was the instant
angry response, "he can hardly claim much consideration."
"Captain Le Gaire," and Hardy's voice rang, "you have enough on your
hands at present without venturing to insult me, I should suppose. But
don't go too far, sir."
"Gentlemen," broke in Bell excitedly, "this must not go on. Le Gaire, if
you say another word, I shall withdraw entirely."
The Louisianian smiled grimly, but walked over to the weapon case, and
picked up the two derringers, testing their weight, and the length of
barrel. Hardy stared at him, his lips compressed.
"Well," he burst forth at last, "are you satisfied, sir?"
"I'll choose this," insolently, and dropping the other back into its
place. "Where is the powder and ball?"
The major pointed without daring to speak.
"All right; don't mind me. I always load my own weapon, and just now I
am anxious to shoot straight," and he looked across at me sneeringly.
If it was his purpose by all this theatrical display to affect my
nerves, he failed utterly, as instead, the very expression of his face
brought me back to a fighting spirit. Hardy saw this, and smiled grimly.
"Step this way a moment, Bell," he said quietly, "while we arrange
details. I reckon those two game-cocks will wait until we are ready."
The two officers moved away a dozen paces and stopped in the shadow of
the trees, conversing earnestly. I endeavored to keep my eyes off from
Le Gaire, and remain cool. It seemed to me I saw every movement of a
leaf, every dropping of a twig, yet could scarcely realize the position
I was in. I was about to face that man yonder--now carefully loading his
weapon--to deliberately fire upon him, and receive in return his fire. I
felt as though it were a dream, a nightmare, and yet I was conscious of
no fear, of no desire to avoid the ordeal. I can recall the scene now,
clearly etched on my memory--the outlines of the trees silhouetted
against the sky, the dark shadow of the stables, the green, level turf,
the two figures--the one short and stout, the other tall and
slender--talking earnestly; the deep blue of the sky overhead, the steel
gleam of the derringer in the open case, and Le Gaire loading
carefully, his eyes now and then glancing across at me. Then the two men
wheeled with military precision, and walked back toward us. I saw Hardy
take up the second pistol, and load it in silence, while Bell whispered
to Le Gaire, the latter with his weapon tightly clasped. A moment later
the major thrust the carved stock into my hand, and I looked at it
curiously.
"Gentlemen," he said clearly, stepping to one side, "we will make this
as simple as possible. You will take positions here, back to back."
The sound of his voice, the sharp ring of authority in it, awoke me to
the reality as though I had received an electric shock. I felt the
fierce beat of my heart, and then every muscle and nerve became steel.
Without a tremor, my mind clear and alert, I advanced to the point
designated, and stood erect, facing the south; an instant, and Le
Gaire's shoulders were touching mine.
"Now listen closely," said Hardy, his voice sounding strangely far off,
yet each word distinct. "I am to give the first word, and Bell the
second. When I say 'forward' you will take ten paces--go slowly--and
halt. Then Bell will count 'one, two, three'; turn at the first word,
and fire at the third. If either man discharges his weapon before
'three' is spoken, he answers to us. Do you both understand?"
We answered together.
"Very well, gentlemen, are you ready?"
"I am."
"Go on."
There was a moment's pause, so still I could hear my own breathing, and
the slight noise Le Gaire made as he gripped his derringer stock
more tightly.
"Forward!"
I stepped out almost mechanically, endeavoring not to walk too fast, and
regulating each stride as though I were measuring the field. At the end
of the tenth I stopped, one foot slightly advanced for the turn, every
nerve pulsing from strain. It seemed a long while before Bell's deep
voice broke the silence.
"One!"
I whirled, as on a pivot, my pistol arm flung out.
"Two!"
Le Gaire stood sideways, the muzzle of his derringer covering me, his
left hand supporting his elbow. I could see the scowling line between
his eyes, the hateful curl of his lip, and my own weapon came up, held
steady as a rock; over the blue steel barrel I covered the man's
forehead just below his cap visor, the expression on his face telling me
he meant to shoot to kill. I never recall feeling cooler, or more
determined in my life. How still, how deathly still it was!
"Th--"
There was a thud of horses' hoofs behind the stable, Bell's half-spoken
word, and the sharp bark of Le Gaire's levelled derringer. I felt the
impact of the ball, and spun half around, the pressure of my finger
discharging my own weapon in the air, yet kept my feet. I was shocked,
dazed, but conscious I remained unhurt. Then, with a crash, three
horsemen leaped the low fence, riding recklessly toward us. I seemed to
see the gray-clad figures through a strange mist, which gradually
cleared as they came to a sharp halt. The one in advance was a gaunt,
unshaven sergeant, lifting a hand in perfunctory salute, and glancing
curiously at my uniform.
"Mornin', gentlemen," he said briefly. "Is this the Hardy
house--Johnston's headquarters?"
The major answered, and I noticed now he had Le Gaire gripped by the
arm.
"This is the Hardy house, and I am Major Hardy, but Johnston is not
here. Who are you?"
"Couriers from Chambers' column, sir. He is advancing up this pike.
Where will we find Johnston?"
"Take the first road to your right, and inquire. When will Chambers be
up?"
"Within four or five hours. What's going on here? A little affair?"
Hardy nodded. The sergeant sat still an instant, his eyes on me as
though puzzled; then evidently concluded it was none of his business.
"Come on, boys!" he said, and with a dip of the spurs was off, the two
others clattering behind. Hardy swung Le Gaire sharply around, his
eyes blazing.
"You damned, sneaking coward!" he roared, forgetting everything in
sudden outburst. "By Gad, Bell, this fellow is a disgrace to the
uniform--you know what he did?"
"I know he fired before I got the word out," indignantly.
"The blamed curb--yes; and when those fellows rode up he tried to blurt
out the whole situation. Good God, Le Gaire, aren't you even a soldier?"
shaking the fellow savagely. "Haven't you ever learned what parole
means? Damn you, are you totally devoid of all sense of personal honor?"
"I never gave my parole."
"You lie, you did; you are here on exactly the same terms as Bell and
I--released on honor. Damned if I believe there's another man in
Confederate uniform who would be guilty of so scurvy a trick. Were you
hurt, Galesworth?"
"No, the ball struck my revolver case, and made me sick for a moment."
"No fault of Le Gaire's--the noise of the horses shattered his aim.
Lord! how I despise such a cowardly whelp!"
He flung the man from him so violently he fell to his knees on the
ground. The look of amazement on Le Gaire's face, his utter inability to
comprehend the meaning of it all, or why he had thus aroused the enmity
of his brother officers, gave me a sudden feeling of compassion. I
stepped toward him. Perhaps he mistook my purpose, for he staggered
partially erect.
"Damn you!" he yelled. "I'm fighting yet!" and flung the unloaded
derringer with all the force of his arm at my face.