Part 14 (2/2)
”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 G.o.d! 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!”
<script>