Back Aa

Wild Huntress

Close

<h3>Chapter Twenty Four.</h3> <h4>Waiting the Word.</h4> 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 principal 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 circumstances 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 façon, 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-à-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 assent to it, my position would be no worse. Better, indeed: since I stood in need of some stimulus to arouse me to an attitude, even of defence. This thought swaying me, I called out: “Holt! you are a brave man. I know it. Why should this go on? It is not too late—” “You air a coward!” cried he, interrupting me, “an’ I know it—a sneakin’ coward, in spite o’ yur soger clothes! Shet up yur durned head, or ye’ll scare away the birds! an’, by the tarnal! ef you do, I’ll fire at ye, the fust that takes wing!” “Let that be the signal, then!” cried I, roused to an impatient indignation by this new insult: “the first that takes wing!” “Agreed!” was the quick rejoinder, delivered in a tone that bespoke determination to abide by it. My irresolution troubled me no longer. Thus driven to bay, I felt that further forbearance would not only be idle, but dangerous. It was playing with my life, to leave it in the hands of this unrelenting enemy. Better make him suffer for his sanguinary folly, than be myself its victim. Stirred by these thoughts, I grasped my rifle—now for the first time with a determination to make use of it. By the same prompting, my eye became active—watching with resolute regard the movements of the birds, and measuring the ground that separated me from my adversary. Notwithstanding the sting which his words had inflicted, I was yet hampered by some considerations of mercy. I had no desire to kill the man, if I could avoid it. To “cripple” him would be sufficient. I had no fear of his having the shot before me. Long practice had given me such adroitness in the use of my weapon, that I could handle it with the quickness and skill of a juggler. Neither did I fear to miss my aim. I had perfect reliance on the sureness of my sight; and, with such a mark as the huge body of the squatter, it was impossible I could miss. In this respect, the advantage was mine; and, at so short a distance, I could have insured a fatal shot—had such been my intention. But it was not. The very contrary was my wish—to draw blood without inflicting a mortal wound. This would perhaps satisfy the honour of my antagonist, and bring our strife to an end. Whether any such consideration was in his mind, I could not tell. It was not visible in his eye—nor in his features that, throughout the whole scene, preserved their stern statue-like rigidity. There was no help for it—no alternative but to shoot at him, and shoot him down—if possible, only to wing him; but, of course, a sense of my own danger rendered this last of less than secondary importance. A single exchange of shots would, no doubt decide the affair; and the advantage would fall to him who was “quickest on the trigger.” To obtain this advantage, then, I watched with eager eye the behaviour of the birds. In like manner was my antagonist, occupied. <hr /></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2