He ought to do it: he began the quarrel! suggested several of the bystanders.
Never! scornfully responded the ex-captain. Cash Calhoun isnt accustomed to that sort of thing. Apologise indeed! And to a masquerading monkey like that!
Enough! cried the young Irishman, for the first time showing serious anger; I gave him a chance for his life. He refuses to accept it: and now, by the Mother of God, we dont both leave this room alive! Major! I insist that you and your friends withdraw. I can stand his insolence no longer!
Stay! cried the major. There should be some system about this. If they are to fight, let it be fair for both sides. Neither of you can object?
I shant object to anything thats fair, said the Irishman.
It was decided that Cassius Calhoun and Maurice Gerald would go outside along with everybody and then enter again one at each door.
The duellists stood, each with eye intent upon the door, by which he was to make entrance perhaps into eternity! They only waited for a signal to cross the threshold. It was to be given by ringing the tavern bell.
A loud voice was heard calling out the simple monosyllable
Ring!
At the first dong of the bell both duellists had re-entered the room. A hundred eyes were upon them; and the spectators understood the conditions of the duel that neither was to fire before crossing the threshold.
Once inside, the conflict commenced, the first shots filling the room with smoke. Both kept their feet, though both were wounded their blood spurting out over the sanded floor.
The spectators outside saw only a cloud of smoke oozing out of both doors, and dimming the light of the lamps. There were heard shots after the bell had become silent, other sounds: the sharp shivering of broken glass, the crash of falling furniture, rudely overturned in earnest struggle the trampling of feet upon the boarded floor at intervals the clear ringing crack of the revolvers; but neither of the voices of the men. The crowd in the street heard the confused noises, and noted the intervals of silence, without being exactly able to interpret them. The reports of the pistols[28] were all they had to proclaim the progress of the duel. Eleven had been counted; and in breathless silence they were listening for the twelfth.
Instead of it their ears were gratified by the sound of a voice, recognised as that of the mustanger.
My pistol is at your head! I have one shot left an apology, or you die!
At the same instant was heard a different voice from the one which had already spoken. It was Calhouns in low whining accents, almost a whisper. Enough, damn it! Drop your shooting-iron I apologise.
1) What were the officers talking about in the bar-room?
2) How did the conflict begin?
3) Did anybody try to prevent a duel?
4) Where did the duel take place?
5) How did it end?
Chapter Seven
After the duel Maurice was compelled to stay within doors. The injuries he had received, though not so severe as those of his antagonist, nevertheless made it necessary for him to keep to his chamber a small, and scantily furnished bedroom in the hotel.
How the ex-captain carried his discomfiture no one could tell. He was no longer to be seen swaggering in the saloon of the Rough and Ready; though the cause of his absence was well understood. He was confined to his couch by wounds, that, if not skilfully treated, might lead to death.
How the ex-captain carried his discomfiture no one could tell. He was no longer to be seen swaggering in the saloon of the Rough and Ready; though the cause of his absence was well understood. He was confined to his couch by wounds, that, if not skilfully treated, might lead to death.
He could no longer claim this credit in Texas; and the thought harrowed his heart to its very core. To figure as a defeated man before all the women of the settlement above all in the eyes of her he adored, defeated by one whom he suspected of being his rival in her affections was too much to be endured with equanimity.
He had no idea of enduring it. If he could not escape from the disgrace, he was determined to revenge himself upon its author; and as soon as he had recovered from the apprehensions entertained about the safety of his life, he commenced reflecting upon this very subject.
In the solitude of his chamber he set about maturing his plans. Maurice, the mustanger, must die! He did not purpose doing the deed himself. His late defeat had rendered him fearful of chancing a second encounter with the same adversary. He wanted an accomplice an arm to strike for him. Where was he to find it?
Unluckily he knew the very man. There was a Mexican at the time living in the village like Maurice himself a mustanger; but one of those with whom the young Irishman had shown a disinclination to associate. It was Miguel Diaz known by the nickname El Coyote.
Calhoun remembered having met him in the bar-room of the hotel. He remembered that he had been one of those who had carried him home on the stretcher; and from some expressions he had made use of, when speaking of his antagonist, Calhoun had drawn the deduction, that the Mexican was no friend to Maurice the mustanger.
The Mexican made no secret of his heartfelt hostility to the young mustanger. He did not declare the exact cause of it; but Calhoun could guess, by certain innuendos introduced during the conversation, that it was the same as that by which he was himself actuated the same to which may be traced almost every quarrel that has occurred among men, from Troy to Texas a woman!
The Mexican did not give the name; and Calhoun, as he listened to his explanations, only hoped in his heart that the woman who had slighted him might have won the heart of his rival.
Louise was standing upon the edge of the azotea[29] that fronted towards the east. Her glance was wandering, as if her thoughts went not with it, but were dwelling upon some theme, neither present nor near.
In contrast with the cheerful brightness of the sky, there was a shadow upon her brow.
He may be dangerously wounded perhaps even to death? I may not send to inquire. I dare not even ask after him. He may be in some poor place perhaps neglected? Would that I could convey to him a message without any one knowing it! I wonder what has become of Zeb Stump?
The young lady scanned the road leading towards Fort Inge. Zeb Stump should come that way. He was not in sight; nor was any one else. She looked at the plain in the opposite quarter and saw a horse stepping out from among the trees. He was ridden by one, who, at first sight, appeared to be a man, dressed in a sort of Arab costume; but who, on closer scrutiny, was unquestionably of the other sex a lady.
The loosely falling folds of the ladys scarf didnt hinder the observer from coming to the conclusion, that her figure was quite as attractive as her face.
The man following upon the mule by his costume as well as the respectful distance observed was evidently an attendant.
Who can that woman be? was the muttered interrogatory of Louise Poindexter, as with quick action she raised the lorgnette to her eyes. A Mexican, of course; the man on the mule her servant. Some grand senora, I suppose? A basket carried by the attendant. I wonder what it contains; and what errand she can have to the Port it may be the village. It is the third time Ive seen her passing within this week? She must be from some of the plantations below!
There came a change over the countenance of the Creole, quick as a drifting cloud darkens the disc of the sun.
The cause could only be looked for in the movements of the scarfed equestrian on the other side of the river. An antelope had sprung up, out of some low shrubbery growing by the roadside. The woman with her scarf suddenly flung from her face, was seen describing, with her right arm, a series of circular sweeps in the air!
What is the woman going to do? was the muttered interrogatory of the spectator upon the house-top. Ha! As I live, it is a lazo!
The senora was not long in giving proof of skill in the use of the lazo by flinging its noose around the antelopes neck, and throwing the creature in its tracks!
It was at that moment when the lazo was seen circling in the air that the shadow had reappeared upon the countenance or the Creole. It was not surprise that caused it, but a thought far more unpleasant.
I wonder oh, I wonder if it is she! My own age, he said not quite so tall. The description suits so far as one may judge at this distance. Has her home on the Rio Grande. Comes occasionally to the Leona, to visit some relatives. Why did I not ask him the name? I wonder oh, I wonder if it is she!
It was a relief to Louise Poindexter, when a horseman appeared coming out of the chapparal;[30] a still greater relief, when he was recognised, through the lorgnette, as Zeb Stump the hunter.
The man I was wanting to see! she exclaimed in joyous accents. He can bear me a message; and perhaps tell who she is. He must have met her on the road.
Dear Mr Stump! called a voice, to which the old hunter delighted to listen. Im so glad to see you. Dismount, and come up here!
Zeb was soon upon the housetop; where he was once more welcomed by the young mistress of the mansion.
She asked him about Maurice, and Zeb told her that the mustanger didnt have any dangerous wounds and would be all right in a couple of days. When Louise learned that after the duel Maurice was staying at the hotel she said she wished to send something to him.
Stay here, Mr Stump, till I come up to you again.
The young lady lightly descended the stone stairway. Presently she reappeared bringing with her a good-sized hamper; which was evidently filled with eatables.
Now dear old Zeb, you will take this to Mr Gerald? Its only some little things that Florinda has put up, such as sick people at times have a craving for. They are not likely to be kept in the hotel. Dont tell him where they come from neither him, nor any one else.
You may depend on Zeb Stump for that, Miss Louise. Though, for the matter of cakes and kickshaws, and all that sort of thing, the mustanger hasnt had much reason to complain. He has been supplied with enough of them.
Supplied already! By whom?