"It won't be necessary, madam," said I--a catch in my throat; for while I
was all iciness and clamminess, my hands cold and my tongue dry, I felt
that I was going to kill him at last. Something told me; the sheer horror
of it struck through; the inevitable loomed grisly and near indeed.
A panoramic lifetime crowds the brain of a drowning man; that same crowded
my brain during the few moments which swung in to us Daniel, scowling,
masterful, his raw bulk and his long shambling stride never before so
insolent.
From New York and home and peace I traveled clear here to desert, outlawry
and blood--and thence on through a second life as a marked man; but while
I knew very well where I should shoot him (right through the heart), I
turned over and over the one doubtful pass: where would he shoot me? Shoot
me he would--chest, shoulder, arm, head; I could not escape, did not hope
to escape. Yet no matter where his ball ploughed (and I poignantly felt it
enter and sear me) my final bullet would end the match. Also, I argued my
rights in the business; argued them before my father and mother, before
the camp, before the world.
These thoughts which precede a certain duel to the death are not inspiring
thoughts; since then I have learned that other men, even practiced
gun-men, have had the same trepidation to the instant of pulling weapon.
Daniel charged in for us. I did not touch revolver butt; he did not. My
Lady lifted chin, to receive him. My eyes, fastened upon him, noted her,
and noted, beyond us, the spying visages of the camp folk, all turned our
way, transfixed and agog.
He barked first at her.
"Go whar yu belong, yu Jezebel! Then I'll tend to this----" The rabid
epithet leveled at me I shall not repeat.
She straightened whitely.
"Be careful what you say, Daniel. No man on this earth can speak to me
like that."
All his face flushed livid with a sneer, merging together yellow freckles
and tanned skin.
"Can't, can't he? I kin an' I do. Why yu--yu--yu reckon yu kin shame me
'fore that hull train? Yu sneak out this-away, meetin' this spindle-shank,
no-'count States greenie who hain't sense enough to swing a bull whip an'
ain't man enough to draw a gun? I've told yu an' I'm done tellin' yu. Now
yu git. I've stood yore fast an' loose plenty. I mean business. Git! Whar
yu'll be safe. I'll not hold off much longer."
"You threaten _me_?"
Her blue eyes were blazing above a spot of color in either cheek--with a
growl he took a step, so that she shrank from his clutching hand, its
scarred, burly fingers outcurved. And the time, perhaps the very moment
had arrived. I must, I must.
"No more of that, you brute," I uttered, while my pounding heart flooded
me with a cold, tingling stream. "If you have anything to say, say it to
me."
He whirled.
"Yu! Why, yu leetle piece o' nothin'--yu shut up!" By sudden reach he
gripped her arm; to her sharp, short scream he thrust her about.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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