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Frank Merriwell's Chums, a novel by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 43. Doughty Duelist |
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_ CHAPTER XLIII. DOUGHTY DUELIST Ephraim was in earnest. "Hold on," said Frank, quickly, "what are you going to do?" "Fight, by gum!" "But you can't fight here." "Why not?" "You would be arrested and placed in the guard tent." "Wal, ef a feller can't fight, whut ye makin' all this taowse abaout?" "You can fight, but not within the limits of the camp. The duel must take place outside." "Who is this consarned critter that says I've insulted him?" "Mr. Dunnerwust." "Wal, ef he wants to fight me, he'll find he never dun er wust thing." Frank staggered and clutched at his heart. "Don't!" he gasped. "I'm not particularly weak, but I'm not strong enough to stand many of those." Ephraim grinned all over his long face. "Oh, them things come natteral like with me," he said. "I kin reel 'em off by ther yard when I git started. Folks up aour away say I'm ther funniest critter that ever growed in them parts." "Well, you have agreed to meet Mr. Dunnerwust?" "Yep." "The meeting must take place without delay, so there may be daylight enough for its consummation." "Is that anything good to eat?" "What?" "Consummation." "Not exactly." "Didn't know but 'twas. Sally Golander up aour way she went to Boston, an' when she kern home she told abaout havin' consummation soup, ur something of that sort. Say, you'd oughter seen that air gal arter she got back from Boston! She put on more style than a prize pig at a caounty fair, by gum! Why, you couldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole! She walked as ef she'd fell daown an' stepped on the small of her back, and she ripped open ther sleeves on ev'ry one of her dresses, an' bought caliker an' stiffenin' an' stuff ter put inter 'em to make 'em swell aout like a blowed-up bladder. I tell you she did cut an amazin' fast pace in aour taown." "You are wandering from the issue," said Frank. "I presume you will be ready to proceed to the scene of the duel in a few moments?" "Ready any time." "All right. Choose your second." "Whut do you mean by that?" "You have to have somebody to look out for you and see that you have fair play." "By chaowder! Ephraim Gallup kin look aout for hisself, an' don't you fergit it!" "But it is absolutely necessary that you have a second." "I'll act for Mr. Gallup," said Sammy Smiles. "He may depend on me to stand behind him as long as he stands in front of me." "You'll do well ez anyboddy." "All right, Mr. Smiles," said Frank, with a wink at Sammy. "Come aside, and we will make all arrangements." It did not take long to make arrangements; but, as every one who knew about it was anxious to see the fun, it was not a little difficult for them all to get out of camp without attracting too much attention. There was a strip of woods close by, however, and the boys succeeded in vanishing into this cover one by one, after which they soon hastened to the spot where the encounter between Dunnerwust and Gallup was to take place. The seconds took good care to have the two principals on hand, and Barney Mulloy was there with the old horse-pistols, which he kept carefully concealed. Frank took Hans aside and said: "This affair has assumed a much more serious aspect than seemed possible at first." "Vos dot Yankee abologized alretty yet?" asked Hans, anxiously. "Far from it." The Dutch boy gave a groan of dismay, but stiffened up to say: "Dot seddles his coose! I knocks uf him der sduffins oudt." "But he refused to fight that way, and, as he is the challenged party, I was forced to allow him to select the weapons. He chose pistols." "Bistols?" gasped Hans, turning pale. "Yes." "Dot vos murter in der virst degree! I don't meed dot veller mit bistols!" "But you will have to meet him now. If you refuse, you will be drummed out of school--you will be tarred and feathered." "Bud I don'd like dot peesness uf sdanding oop to be shod ad mit a pullet oudt uf a bistol. Somepody mighd ged hurt, ain'd id?" "Oh, there's no danger that you'll get hurt any more than to have a bullet through your head." "Vot vos dot?" gurgled Hans. "A pullet drough mein headt. Shimminy Gristmas! Uf dot don'd vas pad enough, vot you vant? Oxcuse me!" "Now, don't show the white feather," urged Frank. "That Yankee has done this to scare you. I don't believe he really thinks you will dare meet him with pistols, and so he is going to make a laughing stock of you." "Vos dot his game? Vell, I pets you your life he makes der piggest misdake vot he nefer seen." "That's the stuff! If you brace right up and pretend you are eager to fight with pistols, the chances are ten to one he'll back down before the word is given to fire." "Vell, uf dot veller don'd dink I vos apout grazy for dot tuel, you can kick me mit der neck in." Frank saw that he had fixed it all right with Hans, and he wondered what success Sammy Smiles was having with his second. Sammy was not finding it very easy to convince Ephraim it was his duty to fight a genuine duel with pistols, and he was talking swiftly, for it was past sunset, and would become dark in a very short time. "I be hanged ef this air ain't ther biggest scrape I was ever in!" gasped the lank country boy, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. "I wish I'd stayed away frum this thunderin' skewl, an' bin contented ter keep right on hoein' 'taturs an' cuttin' grass daown on dad's old farm. Say, ain't ther no way this air matter kin be settled up 'thout shewtin'?" "It's too late for that now. You have accepted Dutchy's challenge, and you'll have to fight this duel." "I never was so thunderin' scat in all my life, by gum! My knees don't feel strong enough to hold me up. Haow duz a feller feel when he's goin' ter faint away?" "Oh, you're not going to faint. That's what the Dutchman's counting on. He wants to scare you out of it. He's even made his boasts that you Yankees haven't any courage, and that you'll run." "Oh, he has, has he?" grated Ephraim. "Bust his skin!" "He doesn't believe you'll dare fight him," continued. Sammy, concealing a grin with his hand. "That's what he's counting on. If you put on a bold front, you'll scare him out of his shoes. I'll bet he'll run away before the word is given to fire." "Think so?" asked the Vermonter, eagerly. "Do ye really?" "Of course. Look how much more of him there is than there is of you. Why, you'd be sure to hit him the first shot, while he has not one chance in a hundred of hitting you. He has been chuckling over the way your long legs will look when you run away." "That settles it, by the jumping blizzards! Give me holt of that air hoss-pistil! I'll show him whuther a Yankee'll run ur not, by chaowder!" "That's the stuff!" complimented the delighted Sammy, reaching up to pat the tall plebe on the back. "Stick to that, and you will scare him into convulsions. You must look as fierce and desperate as you can, so he'll think you are thirsting for his gore." The preliminaries were soon over, and the valiant duelists were placed facing each other at a distance of fifteen paces. The old pistols, loaded with heavy charges of powder, but minus bullets, were thrust into their hands. _ |
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