The Argosy, April 1912 — page 24: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

10 THE ARGOSY. turn to man’s work. I have humored you by throwing dice for a fearful stake. Humor me, now, I pray, by meeting me hand to hand, sword to sword, foot to foot, in such combat as becomes brave men.” Smith raised his bushy brows in mild wonder. “Since when,” he asked coldly, “have ‘brave men’ begged off from the terms of duello, as they have already agreed to? Are you a coward?” — I leaned back in my chair and stared moodily across at him. “T hate you,” I said quietly, “and I want to meet you sword to sword, and quench that hatred in your blood; not to shake dice with you like a boon companion.” “You prefer your own game,” he sneered, “and you fear mine. Are you really a coward?” “Vou have twice asked me that vile question,’”’ I made answer, “and I have en- dured the insult for the hatred I bear you, and for the hope of forcing you to fight me. Once for all, you refuse to offer me the satisfaction I crave?” By way of reply he shoved the dice-box toward me across the board. I caught it up savagely. “The blow across your ugly face,” I snarled, “shall be one you will carry to the grave.” “Your position in the Virginia colony,” he retorted with a cold smile, “shall per- chance be scarce more enviable than that same grave. Throw, I beg. Unless you really fear to.” Down I cast the dice. One of them fell on the table almost directly beneath the box, and lay there. It was a six. The other ivory cube bounded and rolled along the expanse of the table until I thought it would never come to a stop. To my overexcited nerves it seemed to be roll- ing foolishly along for an eternity. On the very edge of the table, balancing almost half-way over, it halted in its flight. And I saw it was a six! Twice in succession had I thrown twelve. It was a cast that could not be beaten, and could scarce hope to be matched. I had won! And the wave of relief that swept over my body showed me for the first time how keyed up I had been. The cube, I say, hung balanced on the verge of the table-edge. And ere I could reach forth to pick it up, some one in the crowd that pressed so close about us, chanced to strike a knee or elbow against the table. The jar, tiny as it was, sufficed to knock the cube off onto the floor. Now, by every rule of gaming, in that day, if one or more of the dice should fall from the board before being picked up, after a cast, the throw was declared void. All present knew this, even as did I. Indeed, the cube’s hazardous position on the table-edge had led to my swift effort to seize it ere it could fall. But I had been a fraction of an instant too late. ‘“A false cast,” commented Smith indif- ferently, as he stooped to pick up the cube and to restore it to the table. “The luck is against you. You would have scored twelve —two sixes. By the rules you lose your turn, and the next cast is mine.” As he spoke he had let both dice drop into the box, and was tranquilly swaying the latter to and fro. Now he rolled forth the cubes onto the table, with a scarce perceptible motion of his wrist. They lay almost as they fell, so slight was their momentum. I breathed freely once more as I glanced at them. A three and a one—four/ A simple throw to beat. In fact, the chances were more than four to one in favor of my besting or equaling him. It was with ease not wholly affected that I gathered up the fateful little dice and boxed them for my final cast. Down they tumbled onto the board. And my heart turned sick within me. Three! A two end a one! With every chance in my favor I had achieved the improbable. I sat back, letting the empty dice-box fall to the table. Then, in a moment, I was on my feet, master of myself once more, ready to submit to my fate. “You have won, sir,” I said steadily, bowing to Smith as I spoke. “TI will go to the Americas with you. But there was naught in my pledge that should force me to be civil or obedient to you, or to forgive you the scurvy trick you have played on me. I wish you joy of the firebrand you have won for your colony.” CHAPTER V. CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH—AND ANOTHER. CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH leaned back with a great, noisy sigh, as of a man who throws CoOmiclool. CO