Part 15 (1/2)
”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 doc.u.ment 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 fas.h.i.+onable 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 a.s.sumed--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 impa.s.sible 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 h.e.l.l!”
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!
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
WAITING THE WORD.
In truth was it a fearful moment--one to shake the steadiest nerves, or thrill the stoutest heart. To me, it was an ordeal far more terrible than that of an ordinary duel; for there was, lacking the motive--at least on my side--which usually stimulates to an affair of honour.
Sense of wrong I felt, but too slightly for revenge--not enough to steel the heart to the spilling of blood. Anger I _had_ felt but the moment before; and then I could have fought, even to the death! But my blood, that had boiled up for an instant, now ran coldly through my veins. The unexpected behaviour of my adversary had calmed my wrath--acting upon it like oil upon troubled water.
Thus to fight without seconds; to die without friend to speak the last word of worldly adieu; or to take the life of another, without human being to attest the fairness of the act--no earthly eye beholding us--no living creature save the black vultures--appropriate instruments to give the death-signal--ominous witnesses of the dark deed: such were the appalling reflections that came before my mind, as I stood facing my determined antagonist. It would scarcely be true to say, that I felt not fear; and yet it was less cowardice, than a sort of vague vexation at risking my life in so causeless a conflict. There was something absolutely ludicrous in standing up to be shot at, merely to square with the whim of this eccentric squatter; and to shoot at him seemed equally ridiculous. Either alternative, upon reflection, appeared the very essence of absurdity: and, having ample time to reflect, while awaiting the signal, I could not help thinking how farcical was the whole affair.
No doubt, I might have laughed at it, had I been a mere looker on-- herald or spectator; but, unfortunately, being a princ.i.p.al in this deadly duello--a real wrestler in the backwoods arena--the provocative to mirth was given in vain; and only served to heighten the solemnity of the situation. The circ.u.mstances might have elicited laughter; but the contingency, turn whatever way it might, was too serious to admit of levity on my part. Either horn of the dilemma presented a sharp point.
To suffer one's-self to be killed, in this _sans facon_, was little else than suicide--while to kill, smacked strongly of murder! And one or the other was the probable issue--nay, more than probable: for, as I bent my eyes on the resolute countenance of my _vis-a-vis_, I felt certain that there was no chance of escaping from the terrible alternative. He stood perfectly immobile--his long rifle raised to the ”ready,” with its muzzle pointing towards me--and in his eye I could not read the slightest sign that he wavered in his determination! That grey-green orb was the only member that moved: his body, limbs, and features were still and rigid, as the stump behind which he stood. The eye alone showed signs of life. I could see its glance directed towards three points--in such rapid succession, that it might be said to look ”three ways at once”--to the decoy upon the ground, to the shadowy forms upon the tree, and towards myself--its chief object of surveillance!
”Merciful Heavens! is there no means to avert this doom of dread? Is it an absolute necessity, that I must either kill this colossus, or be myself slain? Is there no alternative? Is there still no chance of an arrangement?”
Hopeless as it appeared, I resolved to make a last effort for peace.
Once more I should try the force of an appeal. If he refused to a.s.sent to it, my position would be no worse. Better, indeed: since I stood in need of some stimulus to arouse me to an att.i.tude, even of defence.