My reflection was cut short. In another moment he re-appeared in the
doorway; not with any papers in his hand--but, instead, a long rifle,
that with its butt resting on the door-stoop, stood almost as high as
himself?
"Now, Mister Turn-me-out?" said he, speaking in a satirical triumphant
tone, and raising the piece in front of him, "thur's my title--my
pre-emption right's the right o' the rifle. _It's_ clur enuf: ye'll
acknowledge that, won't ye?"
"No," I replied in a firm voice.
"Ye won't? The hell, ye won't? Look hyur, stranger! I'm in airnest.
Look in my eye, an' see if I ain't! I gi' ye warnin' then, that ef
ye're not out o' this clarin' in six jumps o' a squ'll, you'll niver go
out o' it a livin' man. You see that ere stump? Its shadder's jest a
creepin' up to the house: the minnit that shadder touches the wall, I'll
shoot you down, as sure's my name's Hick Holt. Mind, I've gin ye
warnin'!"
"And I give you warning, Mr Holt, that I am prepared to defend myself;
and if you miss--"
"Miss!" ejaculated he with a contemptuous toss of the head--"miss, ye
fool! thur's no fear o' that."
"If you miss," continued I, without heeding the interruption, "I shall
show you no mercy. If you are going to take the cowardly advantage of
having the the first shot, I have my advantage too. In self-defence, I
shall be justified in killing you; and if you fire at me, I shall
certainly do so. Be warned! I never spare a coward."
"Coward!" exclaimed the colossus, with an imprecation that was horrible
to hear. "An' how ef I don't miss?" continued he, apparently calming
his rage, and speaking with a significant sneer--intended to awe me, by
insinuating the certainty of his aim. "How ef I don't miss, Mister
Popgun?"
"You may, for all that. Don't be too sure of hitting--I've been shot at
before now."
"You'll niver be shot at _arter_ now, 'ceptin' ye leave this clarin'.
One crack from my gun'll be enuf for ye, I reck'n."
"I'll take my chance. If it should go against me, _you_ won't gain by
it. Remember, my good man, it's not a duel we're fighting! You have
chosen to attack me; and if I should fall in the affair, I've faith
enough in the law to believe it will avenge me."
I fancied that my speech produced some effect upon the fellow; and,
seeing that he remained silent, I followed up it by words of similar
import: "If it be my fate to fall, I leave behind me friends who will
inquire into my death. Trust me, they will do so! If I kill _you_, it
will be but justifiable homicide, and will be so adjudged; while your
killing me will be regarded in a different light: it will be pronounced
_murder_!" I gave full emphasis to the last word.
On hearing it my antagonist showed signs of emotion. I fancied I saw
him tremble, and turn slightly pale! With an unsteady voice he replied:
"Murder? No, no; I've gin ye warnin' to go. Ye've time enuf yet to
save yerself. Git out o' the clarin', an' thur'll be no harm done ye!"
"I shall not go out of the clearing, until you've acknowledged my
claim."
"Then you'll niver go out o' it alive--I swar by God! niver!"
"You are determined, then, to be my _murderer_?"
I again pronounced the word in the most emphatic tone. I saw that it
affected him in some singular way; whether through a fear of
consequences; or that there still lingered in his heart some spark of
humanity; or, perhaps--but least possible of all he was beginning to be
ashamed of his foul play. By which of of these three motives, or by
what other inspired, I could not guess; but he seemed to cower under the
imputation.
"Murderer!" echoed he, after a moment of apparent reflection. "No, no;
it's bad enuf to hev the blame o' that, 'ithout bein' guilty o't. I
ain't agwine to _murder_ ye; but I ain't agwine neyther to let ye go. I
mout a did so a minnit agone, but ye've lost yur chance. Ye've called
_me_ a _coward_; an' by the Etarnal! no man 'll say that word o' Hick
Holt, an' live to boast o't. No, mister! ye've got to die; an' ye may
get yurself ready for't, 's soon's ye like. Coward indeed!"
"I repeat it--your act is cowardly."
"What act?"
"Your unprovoked attack upon me--especially since it gives you the first
shot. What if I were to shoot you down now? With the pistol you see in
my holster here, I could send six bullets through your body, before you
could bring your rifle to your shoulder. What would you call that?
Sheer cowardice, would it not be; and murder too?"