Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.) -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Outlaws -- Fiction; Western stories
It was a great and a bitter moment to him. The sense of physical
smallness he had banished a thousand times by the recollection of his
speed of hand and his surety with weapons. He had looked at men
muscularly great and despised them in the knowledge that a gun or a
knife would make him their master. But in Lord Nick he recognized his
own nerveless speed of hand, his own hair-trigger balance, his own
deadly seriousness and contempt of life. The experience in battle was
there, too. And he began to feel that the size of the other crushed him
to the floor and made him hopeless. It was unnatural, it was wrong, that
this giant in the body should be a giant in adroitness also.
Already Donnegan had died one death before he rose from his chair and
stood to the full of his height ready to die again and summoning his
nervous force to meet the enemy. He had seen that the big man had
followed his own example and had measured him at a glance.
Indeed the history of some lives of action held less than the
concentrated silence of these two men during that second's space.
And now Donnegan felt the cold eye of the other eating into his own,
striving to beat him down, break his nerve. For an instant panic got
hold on Donnegan. He, himself, had broken the nerve of other men by the
weight of his unaided eye. Had he not reduced poor Jack Landis to a
trembling wreck by five minutes of silence? And had he not seen other
brave men become trembling cowards unable to face the light, and all
because of that terrible power which lies in the eye of some? He fought
away the panic, though perspiration was pouring out upon his forehead
and beneath his armpits.
"The colonel is very kind," said Donnegan.
And that moment he sent up a prayer of thankfulness that his voice was
smooth as silk, and that he was able to smile into the face of Lord
Nick. The brow of the other clouded and then smoothed itself deftly.
Perhaps he, too, recognized the clang of steel upon steel and knew the
metal of his enemy.
"And therefore," said Lord Nick, "since most of The Corner expects
business from us, it seems much as if one of us must kill the other
before we part."
"As a matter of fact," said Donnegan, "I have been keeping that in
mind." He added, with that deadly smile of his that never reached his
eyes: "I never disappoint the public when it's possible to satisfy
them."
"No," and Lord Nick nodded, "you seem to have most of the habits of an
actor--including an inclination to make up for your part."
Donnegan bit his lip until it bled, and then smiled.
"I have been playing to fools," he said. "Now I shall enjoy a
discriminating critic."
"Yes," remarked Lord Nick, "actors generally desire an intelligent
audience for the death scene."
"I applaud your penetration and I shall speak well of you when this
disagreeable duty is finished."
"Come," and Lord Nick smiled genially, "you are a game little cock!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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