THE DUEL OF THE MINERS.
O'Reilly's suggestion chimed in with the rough humor of the crowd.
They were not bad-hearted men, but, though rough in their manners,
not much worse on the average than an equal number of men in the
Eastern States. They only thought of the fun to be obtained from the
proceeding, and supposed they would be doing the Chinaman no real
harm.
"Has anybody got a pair of scissors?" asked O'Reilly, taking the
Chinaman by the queue.
"I've got one in my tent," answered one of the miners.
"Go and get it, then."
Ki Sing again uttered a cry of dismay, but it did not seem likely
that his valued appendage could be saved. Public sentiment was with
his persecutor.
He had one friend, however, among the rough men who surrounded him,
the same who had already taken his part.
Richard Dewey's eyes glittered sternly as he saw O'Reilly's
intention, and he quietly advanced till he was within an arm's
length of Ki Sing.
"What do you mean to do, O'Reilly?" he demanded sternly.
"None of your business!" retorted O'Reilly insolently.
"It is going to be my business. What do you mean to do?"
"Gut off this haythen's pigtail, and I'd just like to know who's
going to prevent me."
At this moment the miner who had gone for a pair of scissors
returned.
"Give me them scissors!" said O'Reilly sharply.
Richard Dewey reached out his hand and intercepted them. He took
them in place of O'Reilly.
"Give me them scissors, Dewey, or it'll be the worse for you!"
exclaimed the tyrant furiously.
Dewey regarded him with a look of unmistakable contempt.
There was a murmur among the miners, who were eager for the
amusement which the Chinaman's terror and ineffectual struggles
would afford them.
"Give him the scissors, Dewey!" said half a dozen.
"Boys," said Dewey, making no motion to obey them, "do you know what
you are about to do? Why should you interfere with this poor,
unoffending Chinaman? Has he wronged any one of you?"
"No, but that ain't the point," said a Kentuckian. "We only want to
play a joke on him. It won't do him no harm to cut his hair."
"Of course not," chimed in several of the miners.
"Do you hear that, Dick Dewey?" demanded O'Reilly impatiently. "Do
you hear what the boys say? Give me them scissors."
"Boys, you don't understand the effects of what you would do," said
Dewey, taking no notice of O'Reilly, much to that worthy's
indignation. "If Ki Sing has his queue cut off, he can never go back
to China."
"Is that the law, squire?" asked a loose-jointed Yankee.
"Yes, it is. You may rely on my word. Ki Sing, if you cut off your
queue, can you go back to China?"
"No go back-stay in Melica allee time."
"You see he confirms my statement."
"That's a queer law, anyway," said the Kentuckian.
"I admit that, but such as it is, we can't alter it. Now, Ki Sing
has probably a father and mother, perhaps a wife and children, in
China. He wants to go back to them some time. Shall we prevent this,
and doom him to perpetual exile, just to secure a little sport?
Come, boys, you've all of you got dear ones at home, that you hope
some day to see again. I appeal to you whether this is manly or
kind."
This was a sort of argument that had a strong effect. It was true
that each one of these men had relatives for whom they were working,
the thought of whom enabled them to bear hard work and privations
thousands of miles away from home, and Richard Dewey's appeal
touched their hearts.
"That's so! Dewey is right. Let him go, O'Reilly!" said the crowd.
The one man who was not touched by the appeal was O'Reilly himself.
Not that he was altogether a bad man, but his spirit of opposition
was kindled, and he could not bear to yield to Dewey, whose contempt
he understood and resented.
His reply was, "I'm goin' to cut off the haythen's pigtail, whether
or no. Give me them scissors, I tell you," and he gave a vicious
twitch to the Chinaman's queue, which made Ki Sing utter a sharp cry
of pain.
Richard Dewey's forbearance was at an end. His eyes blazed with
fury, and, clenching his fist, he dashed it full in the face of the
offending O'Reilly, who not only released his hold on Ki Sing, but
measured his length on the ground.
O'Reilly was no coward, and he possessed the national love of a
shindy. He sprang to his feet in a rage, and shouted:
"I'll murder ye for that, Dick Dewey! See if I don't!"
"A fight! a fight!" shouted the miners, willing to be amused in that
way, since they had voluntarily given up the fun expected from
cutting off the Chipaman's queue.
Richard Dewey looked rather disgusted.
"I don't want to fight, boys," he said. "It isn't to my taste."
"You've got to, you coward!" said O'Reilly, beginning to bluster.
"I don't think you'll find me a coward," said Dewey quietly, as he
stood with his arms folded, looking at O'Reilly.
"You'll have to give O'Reilly satisfaction," said one of the miners.
"You've knocked him down, and he's got a right to it."
"Will it be any satisfaction to him to get knocked over again?" asked
Dewey, shrugging his shoulders.
"You can't do it! I'll bate you till you can't stand!" exclaimed the
angry Irishman. "I'll tache you to insult a gintleman."
"Form a ring, boys!" exclaimed the Kentuck-ian. "We'll see there's
fair play."
"One thing first," said Dewey, holding up his hand. "If I come off
best in this encounter, you'll all agree to let this Chinaman go
free? Is that agreed?"
"Yes, yes, it is agreed!"
Ki Sing stood trembling with fear while these preliminaries were
being settled. He would have escaped from the crowd, but his first
movement was checked.
"No, Cy King, we can't let you go jest yet," said Taylor. "We're
goin' to see this thing through first."
O'Reilly was not in the least daunted by the contest in which he was
to engage. Indeed, he felt a good deal of satisfaction at the
prospect of being engaged in a scrimmage. Of course, he expected to
come off a victor. He was a considerably larger man than Richard
Dewey, with arms like flails and flats like sledge-hammers, and he
had no sort of doubt that he could settle his smaller antagonist in
less than five minutes.
But there was one thing of which he was not aware. Though slender,
Dewey had trained and hardened his muscles by exercise in a
gymnasium, and, moreover, he had taken a course of lessons in the
manly art of self-defense. He had done this, not because he expected
to be called upon to defend himself at any time, but because he
thought it conducive to keeping up his health and strength. He
awaited O'Reilly's onset with watchful calmness.
O'Reilly advanced with a whoop, flinging about his powerful arms
somewhat like a windmill, and prepared to upset his antagonist at
the first onset.
What was his surprise to find his own blows neatly parried, and to
meet a tremendous blow from his opponent which set his nose to
bleeding.
Astonished, but not panic-stricken, he pluckily advanced to a second
round, and tried to grasp Dewey round the waist. But instead of
doing this, he received another knock-down blow, which stretched him
on the ground.
He was up again, and renewed the attack, but with even less chance
of victory than before, for the blood was streaming down his face,
and he could not see distinctly where to hit. Dewey contented
himself with keeping on guard and parrying the blows of his
demoralized adversary.
"It's no use, O'Reilly!" exclaimed two or three. "Dewey's the better
man."
"Let me get at him! I'll show him what I can do," said O'Reilly
doggedly.
"As long as you like, O'Reilly," said Richard Dewey coolly; "but you
may as well give it up."
"Troth and I won't. I'm stronger than you are any day."
"Perhaps you are; but I understand fighting, and you don't."
"An O'Reilly not know how to fight!" exclaimed the Irishman hotly.
"I could fight when I was six years old."
"Perhaps so; but you can't box."
One or two more attacks, and O'Reilly was dragged away by two of his
friends, and Dewey remained master of the field.
The miners came up and shook hands with him cordially. They regarded
him with new respect, now that it was found he had overpowered the
powerful O'Reilly.
Among those who congratulated him was his Mongolian friend, Ki Sing.
"Melican man good fightee-knock over Ilishman. Hullah!"
"Come with me, Ki Sing," said Dewey. '"I will take care of you till
to-morrow, and then you had better go."