Part 30 (1/2)
”Neither of you can object?” continued the major, interrogatively.
”I sha'n't object to anything that's fair,” a.s.sented the Irishman--”devil a bit!”
”I shall fight with the weapon I hold in my hand,” doggedly declared Calhoun.
”Agreed! the very weapon for me!” was the rejoinder of his adversary.
”I see you both carry Colt's six-shooter Number 2,” said the major, scanning the pistols held in hand. ”So far all right! you're armed exactly alike.”
”Have they any other weapons?” inquired young Hanc.o.c.k, suspecting that under the cover of his coat the ex-captain had a knife.
”I have none,” answered the mustanger, with a frankness that left no doubt as to his speaking the truth.
All eyes were turned upon Calhoun, who appeared to hesitate about making a reply. He saw he must declare himself.
”Of course,” he said, ”I have my toothpick as well. You don't want me to give up that? A man ought to be allowed to use whatever weapon he has got.”
”But, Captain Calhoun,” pursued Hanc.o.c.k, ”your adversary has no knife.
If you are not afraid to meet him on equal terms you should surrender yours.”
”Certainly he should!” cried several of the bystanders. ”He must! he must!”
”Come, Mr Calhoun!” said the major, in a soothing tone. ”Six shots ought to satisfy any reasonable man; without having recourse to the steel. Before you finish firing, one or the other of you--”
”d.a.m.n the knife!” interrupted Calhoun, unb.u.t.toning his coat. Then drawing forth the proscribed weapon, and flinging it to the farthest corner of the saloon, he added, in a tone of bravado, intended to encowardice his adversary. ”I sha'n't want it for such a spangled jay-bird as that. I'll fetch him out of his boots at the first shot.”
”Time enough to talk when you've done something to justify it. Cry boo to a goose; but don't fancy your big words are going to frighten me, Mr Calhoun! Quick, gentlemen! I'm impatient to put an end to his boasting and blasphemy!”
”Hound!” frantically hissed out the chivalric Southerner. ”Low dog of an Irish dam! I'll send you howling to your kennel! I'll--”
”Shame, Captain Calhoun!” interrupted the major, seconded by other voices. ”This talk is idle, as it is unpolite in the presence of respectable company. Have patience a minute longer; and you may then say what you like. Now, gentlemen!” he continued, addressing himself to the surrounding, ”there is only one more preliminary to be arranged.
They must engage not to begin firing till we have got out of their way?”
A difficulty here presented itself. How was the engagement to be given?
A simple promise would scarce be sufficient in a crisis like that? The combatants--one of them at least--would not be over scrupulous as to the time of pulling trigger.
”There must be a signal,” pursued the major. ”Neither should fire till that be given. Can any one suggest what it is to be?”
”I think. I can,” said the quiet Captain Sloman, advancing as he spoke.
”Let the gentlemen go outside, along with us. There is--as you perceive--a door at each end of the room. I see no difference between them. Let them enter again--one at each door, with the understanding that neither is to fire before setting foot across the threshold.”
”Capital! the very thing!” replied several voices. ”And what for a signal?” demanded the major. ”A shot?”
”No. Ring the tavern bell!”
”Nothing could be better--nothing fairer,” conclusively declared the major, making for one of the doors, that led outward into the square.
”Mein Gott, major!” screamed the German Boniface, rus.h.i.+ng out from behind his bar; where, up to this time, he had been standing transfixed with fear. ”Mein Gott--surely the shentlemens pe not going to shoot their pisthols inside the shaloon: Ach! they'll preak all my pottles, and my shplendid looking-glashes, an my crystal clock, that hash cost me von--two hundred dollars. They'll shpill my pesht liquors--ach! Major, it'll ruin me--mein Gott--it will!”