Once outside, the major took no further part in the affair. As the
commanding officer of the post, it would have been out of place for him
to have given encouragement to a fight--even by his interfering to see
that it should be a fair one. This, however, was attended to by the
younger officers; who at once set about arranging the conditions of the
duel.
There was not much time consumed. The terms had been expressed already;
and it only remained to appoint some one of the party to superintend the
ringing of the bell, which was to be the signal for the combat to
commence.
This was an easy matter, since it made no difference who might be
entrusted with the duty. A child might have sounded the summons for the
terrible conflict that was to follow.
A stranger, chancing at that moment to ride into the rude square of
which the hotel "Rough and Ready" formed nearly a side, would have been
sorely puzzled to comprehend what was coming to pass. The night was
rather dark, though there was still light enough to make known the
presence of a conglomeration of human beings, assembled in the proximity
of the hotel. Most were in military garb: since, in addition to the
officers who had lately figured inside the saloon, others, along with
such soldiers as were permitted to pass the sentries, had hastened down
from the Fort on receiving intelligence that something unusual was going
on within the "square." Women, too, but scantily robed--soldiers'
wives, washerwomen, and "senoritas" of more questionable calling--had
found their way into the street, and were endeavouring to extract from
those who had forestalled them an explanation of the _fracas_.
The conversation was carried on in low tones. It was known that the
commandant of the post was present, as well as others in authority; and
this checked any propensity there might have been for noisy
demonstration.
The crowd, thus promiscuously collected, was not in close proximity with
the hotel; but standing well out in the open ground, about a dozen yards
from the building. Towards it, however, the eyes of all were directed,
with that steady stare which tells of the attention being fixed on some
engrossing spectacle. They were watching the movements of two men,
whose positions were apart--one at each end of the heavy blockhouse,
known to be the bar-room of the hotel; and where, as already stated,
there was a door.
Though separated by the interposition of two thick log walls, and
mutually invisible, these men were manoeuvring as if actuated by a
common impulse. They stood contiguous to the entrance doors, at
opposite ends of the bar-room, through both of which glared the light of
the camphine lamps--falling in broad divergent bands upon the rough
gravel outside. Neither was in front of the contiguous entrance; but a
little to one side, just clear of the light. Neither was in an upright
attitude, but crouching--not as if from fear, but like a runner about to
make a start, and straining upon the spring.
Both were looking inwards--into the saloon, where no sound could be
heard save the ticking of a clock. Their attitudes told of their
readiness to enter it, and that they were only restrained by waiting for
some preconcerted signal.
That their purpose was a serious one could be deduced from several
circumstances. Both were in their shirt sleeves, hatless, and stripped
of every rag that might form an impediment to action; while on their
faces was the stamp of stern determination--alike legible in the
attitudes they had assumed.
But there was no fine reflection needed to discover their design. The
stranger, chancing to come into the square, could have seen at a glance
that it was deadly. The pistols in their hands, cocked and tightly
clutched; the nervous energy of their attitudes; the silence of the
crowd of spectators; and the concentrated interest with which the two
men were regarded, proclaimed more emphatically than words, that there
was danger in what they were doing--in short, that they were engaged in
some sort of a strife, with death for its probable consummation!
So it was at that moment when the crisis had come. The duellists stood,
each with eye intent upon the door, by which he was to make entrance--
perhaps into eternity! They only waited for a signal to cross the
threshold; and engage in a combat that must terminate the existence of
one or the other--perhaps both.
Were they listening for that fatal formulary:--One--two--fire?
No. Another signal had been agreed upon; and it was given.