The Argosy, Vol. XXIV, No. 3 — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

THAT MAY APPLE, A55 with great vehemence for a minute or two, and then went away to the end of the porch, where he stood still, with his arms folded and his back toward us, looking over the meadow. Mr. Arney turned to me and said, ‘‘ My boy says he knows nothing of your wallet, did not even know you had one; that you entirely misunder- stood his meaning when he touched your breast; that the world isn’t big enough for him and the man who calls him a thief; and that you will have to shoot it out with him. And I reckon he’s right.”’ With that, as calmly as he ever did anything in his life, he made a sign or two to his daughter Debby, on the porch. Without hesitation she brought out to him and placed in his hands, silently, a powder flask, bullet pouch, and cap box. ‘Then she and her sister returned to the porch, where they stood a little way from Mary. . The rifles were muzzle loaders, as allour guns were in those days, and the old fellow, after snapping a cap on each to be sure it was empty, took a couple of greased muslin patches from the patch box in the stock of one, and proceeded to load both, with the oes possible care and evenness of prepara- tion. Judge McDowell looked perplexed and troubled. He drew me aside and whispered, ‘‘I fear we have made.a terrible mistake, involving very serious consequences. But there is nothing to do now but go ahead on the chivalric line he has elected. It is rather old fashioned now, however. I don’t sup- pose he knows, or cares, that it ceased to be legal as long ago as 1819. But it’s simple, has respectable precedents, and perhaps does substantial justice as often as any court. Fire first if you can, but be sure of your aim. That chap has‘a killing eye.’’ Pretty comfort, that! .I knew the judge was only talking because he was too nervous to keep quiet. Should I shoot first and try to be sure of my aim? JI would just as soon he shot meas that I shot him, for Mary would be no more lost to me in one case than in the other. And, firmly believing him innocent, as I now did, I had no moral right to kill him, merely to save my own life. I resolved that I would not attempt to do so. Yet I could not refuse to face him. If I did I would be thought a coward and Mary just as much lost to me as if I were dead or had killed him. In that commun‘ty a sheep thief was more respected than a coward. So the situation held nothing eise for me, logically, than that I should stand up and be shot, and I made up my mind to meet my inevitable fate like a man. I looked around for Mary, with a half formed idea of saying good by to her, but she had gone away to the farther end of the porch, where she stood alone, her face turned from us and her arms wound around one of the pillars to keep herself up. That she was either weeping or praying, or perhaps both, I did not doubt, and hesitated about approaching her. Mr. Arney, at this juncture, came to me, with the two rifles lying to- ‘gether on his left arm, and said, ‘‘T’ve loaded them even, fair and square; one’s as good as the other ; take your choice.’’ Mechanically I took the one nearest me and he went on : ‘You're a stranger on our ground, and maybe Jake may have some advan- COMmIIlcbooks.co