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Anglo-American Alliance: A Serio-Comic Romance and Forecast of the Future

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<h2 class="label">CHAPTER V</h2> <h2 class="main">The Fistic Duel</h2></div> <div class="divBody"> The evening following the moonlight fête, a little after sunset when the western sky, stained with a luminous golden hue, had spread on verdant hills and valleys its radiance of languorous serenity, two motor cyclists were speeding along on a secluded path that led into the main highway, from the Diana Seminary to the West Point Military Academy. The one in advance was wheeling in a leisurely way, while the one behind exerted greater speed, as if in pursuit of the other. He was gaining rapidly so that in a very few minutes the foremost was overtaken, as they both reached a wooden bridge, spanning a small body of water. Both came suddenly to a stop and dismounted. They were Professor Cielo Allenson and Carlos Don Seville. Don Seville, stung by [64]the rebuke which the Professor had administered to him the night previous at the Seminary, had decided to take the cowardly course of waylaying the instructor, in this lonely path, in order to avenge himself for the righteous verbal punishment the latter had given him. Carlos Don Seville was a degenerate scion of a once noble Spanish family, who had settled in the United States and, like many such offspring, was engaged in sowing his wild oats. Financially dependent on a small income, he was always at his wit’s end in order to secure money with which to continue his reckless profligacy. Being inherently foolish and improvident, he always had the illusion that some day “something would turn up,” and encouraged by this belief he had recourse to gambling and speculation. As soon as he received his dwindled allowance, he made himself a willing prey of card sharps and get-rich-quick brigands. Lately, however, he had conceived the idea of marrying an heiress, and for that purpose he was hovering about Diana Seminary, annoying the young ladies by his unsolicited attentions, or by brazen audacity intruding unceremoniously [65]upon their receptions. His snobbish mendacity reached its climax when at the night of the moonlight soirée he accosted Aurora and Margaret at the intermission of the dance, while they were sauntering arm-in-arm along the parterre to a trysting nook. Notwithstanding Margaret’s bold declaration of the previous day, that she wanted to give the “Jewsky” a piece of her mind, the feminine temerity and reserve had taken possession of her. The minute they saw him advance they took to their heels, and scampered back with appealing gestures toward Professor Allenson who, divining at once the situation, came gallantly to their rescue, giving Don Seville a scathing reprimand and commanding him to depart, “unless he desired,” announced the Professor, “to be skinned alive by the war dogs of the Military Academy.” Don Seville, frightened and abashed, beat an inglorious retreat and disappeared. Professor Cielo Allenson, better known at the Military Academy as the “Old Guard,” was a venerable man past seventy. He had a highly intellectual countenance and his silvery white hair and patriarchal beard gave him [66]a noble dignity which commanded respect. His strenuous virility and inexhaustible energy was ever a lesson and a rebuke to the many indolent youths who came in contact with him. He was a philosopher of the first rank and an intense lover of nature. Imbued with the deeper knowledge of the subtle workings of natural phenomena, “he could not draw a line,” he would say, “between the manifestations of human, animal and vegetable kingdoms.” “Halt you d——d old cur! I demand no apology, but satisfaction,” snarled Don Seville abruptly, his face livid with anger. For a second the Professor was taken aback. But in that very second, through his intuitive and resourceful mind flashed the fact that he was “cornered.” He was not a man easily frightened, for as a Major of Volunteers during the Panama and Columbian trouble, and while in his teens, he had led on his handful of men up the hills against the ramparts of the enemy. But a problem which required instantaneous solution was now presented to him by Carlos Don Seville. It was a problem which neither diplomacy, moral persuasion nor flight of oratory [67]could solve. He realized in that very second that the only way out of this difficulty was to take the coward at his word. It was to be a fistic encounter to the finish. “Apology, I have none to offer you sir, and am ready to give you such satisfaction as you desire,” replied the old man with a dignified firmness. A remarkable change had taken place in the person of Cielo Allenson. That venerable and spirituelle individual had been transformed in a twinkling of an eye, into a grim and determined looking animal, and like an expert gladiator of the fistic arena, he took the attitude of self-defense. The “ring” constituted the platform of the wooden bridge, the side rails of which served as the partial ropes. There were no seconds to goad their favorites into action, no referee to decide the doubtful or unlawful blows, no gong to mark the rounds, nor time-keeper to count the defeated out of action. In the languorous glow of the twilight their shadows, reflected in black silhouettes in the placid waters below, were the only silent witnesses of this remarkable encounter. [68] The contest was constant and in the vernacular of pugilism, superbly game, fast and furious! After the acceptance of the challenge there was no parley between them, but by a sudden rush, Don Seville with his right hand landed a hammering blow on the Professor’s skull, which the latter parried with his left with dexterous agility and thus saved a crisis, for if left unchecked the blow would have reached his “solar plexus.” In rapid succession the fight continued, Don Seville taking the aggressive and the Professor acting more in self-defense. However, as often as opportunity presented, the latter put in a few well aimed jabs, here and there, on the vital points of Don Seville’s anatomy. At the same time it was apparent that Don Seville was getting the best of the contest. The venerable Professor unused to long continued strain of the kind, began to experience difficulty in breathing, and this did not escape Don Seville’s observation. Shortly, however, a remarkable change was visible; the Professor seemed to grow stronger with each onslaught he made. He had gained his so-called “second wind” thereby recouping his adroitness and elasticity. [69] With the consummate skill of a scientific boxer, several times he feigned signs of weakness, by giving false openings, of which his infuriated antagonist attempted to avail himself, thinking the Professor to be on the verge of collapse, only to receive in return several well directed right and left swings on the jaw. These staggered Don Seville to his knees, but he was allowed to rise to his feet by the generous tolerance of the Professor, and the consciousness of this humility caused him to wage the attack with reckless fury. With vulgar oaths he began to resort to foul tactics, trying to hit the defender beyond the limits of decent pugilism. Don Seville’s endurance had now come to its end. His youth, dissipated by debauchery, was undermined of its stability, and in spite of the wide disparity of ages the old man had Don Seville absolutely in his power. It was time, he thought, to terminate these proceedings, so distasteful and undignified to him, but the only way he saw was, to lay aside the tactics of self defense, and adopt those of a punitive retaliation. With keen alertness he watched for an opportunity [70]and when Don Seville, almost crazed with anger, rushed on him for a clinch, entirely oblivious of the intention of the Professor, the latter gave a sudden shift to his position by swinging his body away from his antagonist Don Seville blindly followed him in his determination of a desperate onslaught. It was then that the venerable Allenson shot out a driving “right upper cut” to the jaw. This was the finale! Don Seville staggered to the rails and toppling over fell with a splash into the limpid waters below. <div class="figure xd22e1010width"><ANTIMG src="images/p070.jpg" alt="The Final Blow" width-obs="340" height-obs="455"> The Final Blow </div> The Professor promptly jumped down the embankment and pulled out his still unconscious adversary. If abandoned in that condition the young man might have drowned in the shallow waters. The Professor began to do all in his power to restore him to consciousness; just at that time a farmhand on horseback appeared on the scene, and by his aid the Academy ambulance was summoned and Don Seville was taken to the military hospital. [71] </div> </div> <div id="ch6" class="div1 chapter">[Contents] <div class="divHead"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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