While I was speaking, I saw a change pass over the countenance of my
gigantic antagonist--as if some new resolve was forming in his mind,
that affected the programme he had already traced out. Was it possible
I had touched him on a point of honour? It was this purpose I desired
to effect; and, though hopeless it might appear, I continued the only
kind of appeal that, with such a spirit, seemed to promise any chance of
success.
"You _dare_ not play fair in this game?" I said, banteringly. "You
_are_ a coward; and would murder me. You want the first shot: you know
you do?"
"It's a lie!" cried the colossus, raising himself to his full height,
and assuming an air of chivalric grandeur I could not have deemed him
capable of--"it's a lie! I don't wish to murder ye; an' I don't want
the the first shot neyther."
"How?"
"I hain't so little confidence in my shootin' as to care for you an' yur
jim-crack gun! Nor is Hick Holt in such consate wi' his life eyther,
that he's afeerd to risk it. Tho' ye air a stuck-up critter, I won't
gi' ye the opportunity to 'kuse me o' foul play. Thur's grit in ye, I
reck'n; and seein' that's made me change my mind."
"What!" I exclaimed, taken by surprise at the speech, and fancying it
promised an end to our altercation--"you have changed your mind? you
mean to act justly then?"
"I mean, it shall be a _fair stan'-up fight_ atween us."
"Oh! a duel?"
"Duel, or whatever else ye may call it, mister."
"I agree to that. But how about seconds?"
"D'ye think two men can't fight fair 'ithout seconds? Ye see yander
stump standin' nigh the bars?"
"Yes--I see it."
"Wal, mister, thur you'll take yur stand--ahine or afront o' it,
whichsomever ye like best. Hyur's this other un, clost by the crib--
thur'll be my place. Thur's twenty yurds atween 'em, I reck'n. Is that
yur distance?"
"It will do as well as any other," I replied mechanically--still under
the influence of surprise, not unmingled with a sentiment of admiration.
"Dismount, then! Take your pouch an' flask along wi' ye--ye see I've
got myen? One shot at ye's all _I'll_ want, I reck'n. But ef thur shed
be a miss, look out for quick loadin'! an' mind, mister! thur's one o'
us'll niver leave this clarin' alive."
"About the first shot? Who is to give the signal?"
"I've thort o' that a'ready. It'll be all right, promise ye."
"In what way can you arrange it?"
"This way. Thur's a hunk o' deer-meat in the house: I mean to fetch
that out, and chuck it over thur, into the middle o' the clarin'. Ye
see them buzzarts up thur on the dead-woods?" I nodded in the
affirmative. "Wal--it won't be long afore one or other o' them flops
down to the meat; an' _the first o' 'em that touches ground, that'll be
the signal_. That's fair enuf, I reck'n?"
"Perfectly fair," I replied, still speaking mechanically--for the very
justness of the proposal rendered my astonishment continuous.
I was something more than astonished at the altered demeanour of the
man. He was fast disarming me. His unexpected behaviour had subdued my
ire; and, all consideration of consequences apart, I now felt a complete
disinclination for the combat! Was it too late to stay our idle strife?
Such was my reflection the moment after; and, with an effort conquering
my pride, I gave words to the thought.
"Yur too late, mister! 'twon't do now," was the reply to my pacific
speech.
"And why not?" I continued to urge; though to my chagrin, I began to
perceive that it _was_ an idle effort.
"Yuv riz my dander; an', by God! yuv got to fight for it!"
"But surely--"
"Stop yur palaver! By the tarnal airthquake, I'll 'gin to think _you_
air a coward! I thort ye'd show, the white feather afore 'twur all
over!"
"Enough!" cried I, stung by the taunt; "I am ready for you one way or
the other. Go on."
The squatter once more entered his cabin, and soon came out again,
bringing forth the piece of venison. "Now!" cried he, "to yur stand!
an' remember! neyther fires _till a bird lights on the grown_! Arter
that, ye may go it like blazes!"
"Stay!" said I; "there is something yet to be done. You are acting
honourably in this affair--which I acknowledge is more than I was led to
expect. You deserve one chance for your life; and if I should fall it
will be in danger. You would be regarded as a murderer: that must not
be."
"What is't you mean?" hurriedly interrogated my antagonist, evidently
not comprehending my words. Without answering to the interrogatory, I
drew out my pocket-book; and, turning to a blank leaf of the memorandum,
wrote upon it: "_I have fallen in fair fight_." I appended the date;
signed my name; and, tearing out the leaf, handed it to my adversary.
He looked at it for a moment, as if puzzled to make out what was meant.
He soon saw the intention, however, as I could tell by his grim smile.
"You're right thur!" said he, in a drawling tone, and after a pause. "I
hedn't thunk o' that. I guess this dockyment 'll be nothin' the wuss o'
my name too? What's sauce for the goose, air likewise sauce for the
gander. Yur pencil, ef ye please? I ain't much o' a scholart; but I
reck'n I kin write my name. Hyur goes!" Spreading out the paper on the
top of a stump, he slowly scribbled his name below mine; and then,
holding the leaf before my eyes, pointed to the signature--but without
saying a word. This done, he replaced the document on the stump; and
drawing his knife, stuck the blade through the paper, and left the
weapon quivering in the wood! All these manoeuvres were gone through
with as cool composure, as if they were only the prelude to some
ordinary purpose!
"I reck'n, strenger," said he, in the same imperturbable tone, "that'll
keep the wind from blowin' it away, till we've settled who it's to
belong to. Now, to yur place! I'm agwine to throw the deer-meat!"
I had already dismounted, and stood near him rifle in hand.
Unresistingly, I obeyed the request; and walked off to the stump that
had been designated, without saying another word, or even looking
around. I had no apprehension of being shot in the back: for the late
behaviour of the man had completely disarmed me of all suspicion of
treachery. I had _not_ the slightest fear of his proving a traitor; and
no more did I hold him to be a coward. That impression was gone long
ago.
I confess, that never with more reluctance did I enter upon the field of
fight; and at that moment, had my antagonist required it, I should not
only have retracted the allegation of of cowardice, but, perhaps, have
surrendered up my claim to the clearing--though I knew that this could
be done, only at the expense of my name and honour. Were I to have done
so, I could never have shown my face again--neither in the settlement of
Swampville, nor elsewhere. Even among my polished friends of more
fashionable circles, I should have been taunted--branded as a coward and
poltroon! The rude character of my adversary would have been no excuse
especially after the manner in which he was acting. "Backed out" would
have been the universal verdict! Moreover, notwithstanding the
apparently calm demeanour the squatter had now assumed--courteous I
might almost call it--I knew he was implacable in his determination.
There was no alternative--_I must fight_!
I arrived at the stump; and turning on my heel, stood facing him. He
was already in his place--with the joint of venison in one hand, and his
long rifle in the other. The moment was nigh, when one of us should
make an abrupt exit from the world!
Such a destiny, for one or other of us, I saw depicted in the impassible
face of my adversary--as plainly as if written upon the sky. I could
read there, that there was no chance of escaping the combat; and I
resigned myself to meet it.
"Now, mister!" cried my antagonist in a clear firm voice, "I'm agwine to
chuck the meat. Remember! neyther's to fire, till a bird lights on the
ground! Arter that, ye may go it like hell!"
I saw him swing the joint once or twice round his head; I saw it jerked
aloft, and then whirling through the air; I saw it falling--falling,
till the sodden sound told that it had reached the ground. It was a
fearful moment!