The contemplated single-stick encounter between Colonel ARCHER-SHEE and
Mr. PEMBERTON-BILLING recalls to mind a ludicrous affair which actually
happened some years ago in a foreign city which I will here call
Killemalivo.
Mr. Alec McTavish, a Briton many years resident in that fair capital and
editor of the only English newspaper, had taken up stout verbal cudgels
on behalf of the Americans, who had been viciously attacked in the
columns of a local "daily." The United States of the North, in its
capacity of "special" to the entire American continent, comes in for
plenty of abuse when a new revolution is about to be perpetrated.
The strife had waxed fast and furious and eventually had taken on a
personal tone, the editor of _La Muera_ accusing the editor of the
English paper of being "that lowest of all living things--a Texan." It
will be remembered that in times gone by the State of Texas decided to
desert its Latin parents and roost under the shadow of the eagle's wing,
thereby earning for itself prosperity and an evil reputation--in certain
quarters.
McTavish's editorial reply was a gem of satire and displayed an intimate
knowledge of the antecedents of the rival editor.
At that time duelling was still prevalent, and it was not many days
before the editorial sanctum of _The Tribune_ was honoured by the visit
of two officers in full-dress uniform.
The eventual outcome of their visit was that Mr. McTavish found himself
pledged to fight a duel with a man who was, among other things, a
first-class pistol shot and exceptionally expert with the "florette,"
all of which McTavish was not.
The affair looked particularly unpleasant--to McTavish, who was short,
fat, and by no means young. But the dignity of the foreign population as
represented by the editor of _The Killemalivo Tribune_ must of necessity
be upheld.
Faced by this quite unusual difficulty, McTavish bethought him of his
old and tried friend, General O'Flynnone, an Irish-American of many
years' residence in the Latin Americas. No one seemed to know his real
name, and the title of General had come to him from his last place.
The General was delighted at the turn of events, agreed to be McTavish's
second, and promised to get him through the affair with a whole skin and
no loss of honour.
As the challenged party McTavish had choice of weapons, which was the
crux of the situation, as the General pointed out.
Among the Killemalivo aristocracy the favourite weapons were the
duelling pistol and the "florette," or rapier. The "pelado," or lower
orders, preferred the "lingua de vaca," which means literally "cow's
tongue," a nasty-looking knife of no mean proportions.
As O'Flynnone explained, the duel would have to be fought with "killing
weapons"; nothing else would satisfy the bloodthirsty editor. Meanwhile
he would think on the matter, and he advised McTavish to do likewise.
The following were the most unpleasant days of his life, as McTavish
confessed afterwards. He was not a "conscientious objector," but he had
no pressing wish to exterminate his opponent, as that would have
necessitated a sudden and forcible exile from the land of his adoption;
still less did he fancy an early demise in the interests of his paper.
Meanwhile the General visited the rival editor's seconds and arranged
for a meeting in his own rooms to discuss final conditions.
O'Flynnone's rooms contained, among other things, a collection of
curious and ancient weapons. The walls were decorated with all sorts and
conditions of strange and barbarous instruments of slaughter; Zulu
assegais, Afghan knives and Burmese swords hung in savage array.
The meeting took place on the following Sunday afternoon. The officers
greeted the General agreeably enough, but saluted McTavish with the
stiffness that the occasion called for.
"Well, Señores," commenced the General, after depositing his visitors in
the most comfortable chairs, "to business. Mr. McTavish, as you will
admit, has the choice of weapons."
The officers nodded assent.
"This gentleman," continued O'Flynnone, "comes of that most noble and
warlike race--the Scotch. Fiercest of fighters, although they do not
sometimes look it, the warriors of Scotland alone among all nations
withstood the ravages of the conquering English. I feel sorry, very
sorry for the 'caballero' whom you have the honour to represent."
The pause which followed was most impressive. The General's air was
suggestive of dire things, as with dramatic suddenness he produced from
beneath the sideboard two enormous double-edged battle-axes, which
careful polishing had made to shine as new.
"These," said he, "are the weapons which Mr. McTavish has
chosen--weapons of men, such as they use in his own country," he
continued, brandishing one of them savagely. "And the fight will be on
barebacked horses, for such is the custom of the Scotch."
The duel did not occur.
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