lAShooting! J Match I 5$ At Which One of the Parties :< Was Sure to Win. !> | | Ey AINSWORTH RHODES. :| « Copyright. 1310, by American Press ;| jj| Association. The first time I saw Daisy she was comlug over her father's bread acres on a horse whose lope was very like a .rocking chair. She was riding strad dle with divided skirts. No other wo man on the ranches thereabout would ride in any other costume. Barker wus riding beside her, and the two made a very handsome pair. The brim of his sombrero was flattened against his forehead by the wind, a lariat hung at his saddle bow, and his splendid figure was revealed by his costume—viz, flannel shirt and trousers, with boots to his knee. Daisy had gone out from the east with her father, who became a sheep raiser, and she had become fascinated with raueh life. Unfortunately she had conceived a romantic idea of the jjenus cowboy, and, Barker being phys ically a perfect type, she had persuad ed herself, or. rather, he had persuaded her, that he was just the man for her. .1 say "unfortunately" because lie was not an educated man and in every way beneath her. There were other fea tures about him to render him unde sirable which will appear presently. The couple passed me, all of us sa luting, though they were unknown to me, and I rode onto the ranch house, where 1 had business with John Nolan with reference to a large purchase of wool. While dickering with him on liis veranda up the roadway came the couple I had met and alighted at the foot of the steps. Throwing their bridle reins over a post, they walked up onto the veranda. Then I learned that Daisy was Nolan's daughter. As the pair passed into the house I noticed a cloud flit over the face of the girl's father. I knew by Barker's bearing toward her that he was in love with her, and 1 judged that his atten tions were not relished by Nolan. But he said nothing to me then, and we went on with our dickering. When I arose togo he said: "There's no place about here In which you will be comfortable except my house. Send for you traps." I accepted the invitation, especially as I was pleased at being under the same roof with Miss Daisy. I knew she had a lover, but my attraction for her did not then go so far as to intend to come between them. 1 merely liked the Idea of being near her during my stay. But I stayed a good while, and It was not very long before she and I each made a discovery. I discovered that 1 wanted her, and she discovered that #.he didn't want Barker. Meanwhile I found out something else —that he had become frightfully jealous of me, and if I took her away from him he would probably kill me. At first he and I spoke to each other when we met ei ther on the ranch or elsewhere. Then he only noticed me at the Nolan house. I thought It best after awhile to re move to Ihe (so called) hotel, a mile from Nolan's. If anything happened between Barker and myself. 1 preferred that It should not happen under No lan's roof. So one day 1 removed my luggage to my new quarters. One morning 1 was sitting on the porch of the hotel smoking a brier wood pipe. Barker came out of the barroom, where be had been drinking, and took a seat about thirty feet from me. I didn't know he was there till, turning my head, I saw him out of the corner of my eye sighting his revolver at me. Naturally 1 started. "Hold on there," said Barker. "Your pipe makes a lino target. We don't al low people to smoke such expensive pipes out here!" The words were scarcely out of his mouth when I felt a faint tick on the bowl of the pipe, heard the crack of a gun and knew that a bullet had passed through the pipe. "Walt up!" he growle<l as I was about to rise. "Your pipe won't draw with a hole In It, but it's still a mighty good target." I snatched a look at him. lie was evidently under the Influence of liquor. 1 felt sure that if I didn't let him shoot at my pipe ho would shoot at me and nerved myself to stand another shot. Indeed, this was all 1 could do, for 1 was unarmed. But a cold chill ran down my back and a cold sweat stood out all over me. Nevertheless I put up a pretty good front. 1 sat with comparative composure, occasionally lotting a faint cloud of tobacco smoke escape from between my lips, but not daring to move a hairbreadth for fear of interfering with the man's aim. Several persons from inside the hotel, having heard a shot, came out to dis cover who had been killed. They ar rived Just in time to see the second shot and the ton of the bowl of my pipe cut off. They at once took in the situation, and, seeing me coolly puff ing, not knowing my internal condi tion, they cried out, "Good pluck, stran ger!" "Steady nerve!" "He ain't no tenderfoot!" and such like compli ments. Presently a third shot shattered what was left of the bowl of my pipe, and ouly the stein remained in my mouth. Whether my nerve mode Barker half ashamed of himself or that he was beaded off by the admiration of the others I don't know, but he desisted from further shooting. I fancy, how ever, he was satisfied with what he had doubtless Intended for a warning that if I took Daisy Nolan away from him I would have to fnce sure death. The witnesses urged mo togo in and have something, but I declined, saying that I was anxious for a smoke and would go upstairs for another pipe. The truth is I wanted a chance togo where I could, unobserved, give way *o my feelings for a few moments, they having been controlled only by a most desperate effort. When l wns alone 1 staggered to the bed, fell on It and for a few minutes trembled like a leaf. But when 1 be- gan to recover 1 started to get mad at the same time. Men will light more desperately for a woman than for any other cause, and it occurred to me that, Daisy being the bone of conten tion, if she preferred me either Barker or 1 must die. I spent some time con sidering what to do, then went to the ranch, intending to offer myself to Daisy. If she refused me 1 would leave the field at once to all suitors. If she accepted me 1 would have It out with Barker. I found Miss Daisy very much ex cited. She had heard of Barker's shooting escapade und had turned bit terly ngalnst him. I told her that 1 wanted her and If she wanted me I was willing to settle the matter be tween Barker and myself. Her reply wns all I could have asked for, but she positively forbade my coming into collision with my rival. 1 told her frankly that I believed he would kill me If I married her and that the mat ter had better be settled before the wedding. Being a woman, she wished to get round the matter by subterfuge and for the time being would consent to nothing definite. Daisy was very fond of an old ranch er called Jake Huchlns. To her he wns "Uncle Jake." A day or two after Barker's shooting as I was riding over the country on horseback Huchins came up behind me and ambled along side of me. "I henrn about the shootin' o' your j pipe outen yer mouth," he said. "Lit tie Daisy was telling me about it." j "Oh, it was Miss Nolan who told I you, was it?" i "Yes. And. what's more, she asked ' me to suggest some way o' settlin' the | matter without blood spiilin'." "That's impossible," said I. "So 1 thort at fust, but arter awhile I thort of a plan. Barker's mighty i proud o' his shootiu', and he's pretty i much made up his mind that he's lost ! Daisy. 1 reckon he'd agree to settle the matter by a trial o' skill between him and you. He'd consider it his only chance." "I'm no shot. Such a contest would give Miss Daisy 'o him. and she doesn't want him." "Not so fast. You don't need to be much o' a shot. Could you hit a hen's egg at twenty feet?" "I might in two or three shots." "Well, I give Daisy my plan, and she's decided to try it. Here's a note for you, and here's u note for Barker. Whichever hits a hen's egg with a forty-two the most outen live shots she'll marry." He handed me a note to that effect from Daisy and showed me another he was commissioned to deliver to Barker. "Do you consent?" he added, draw ing_relu. "Yes," 1 said; "I consent to anything Daisy desires." Without waiting for more he turned about and rode back In the direction from whence he came. The next day Uncle Jake informed me that Barker had gladly agreed to the terms. On the appointed day I made my appearance at the barn, wondering w hat was to be the upshot of this sin gular contest. I found an egg sus pended over a basket by a fine thread. 1 won the toss and with it the right to fire five consecutive shots at the egg. I missed the first and the fourth, but put a hole in the egg on the second, third and the fifth. For my life I could not see why I had not lost. It would be nothing for Barker to hit the egg every time. A new egg was attached to the thread for him to shoot at, and, whip ping out his revolver, he tired with ap pari lit carelessness. He was surprised to ; e the egg oscillate violently, but the shell was not broken. The next time lie tired he took careful aim, but with no better success. He was thun der iruck. Siuce 1 had hit the egg three times he could now ouly tie me. "You must hit it in the center." said Uncle Jake. "If you don't you'll glance." Barker aimed long and carefully at the center and sent the egg bobbing, but still the shell was unbroken. Flinging his revolver on the barn floor, ho strode away. 1 knew that Barker had beeu tricked, but could not conceive how. It ap peared to me that nothing could be more fair than the trial. I asked Uncle Jake how he had managed to let me, a poor shot, beat the best shot In the territory. He would not tell me. Barker was never seen there again. Daisy had Induced him to sign a promise that If I beat him he would leave the field clear for me. 1 married Daisy and took her east with me. She said she had had enough of the wild west and had no further use for cowboys, not considering them the romantic creatures she had thought them when she first went to the coun try. She learned the secret of the shooting match from Uncle Jake the day we were married and told It to me on our wedding Journey. The meat had been taken from the egg Barker shot at, and the featherweight shell had been moved aside each time by the wind of the ball. To hit It was Impossible. Uncle Jal.e had learned the trick from a prestidigitator who had passed through the locality with a circus. His Ailment. The captain had been tortured with a million questions about everything between heaven and earth, bearing it all heroically and patiently—the names of the towns they passed, the number af passengers on board, the size of his family, how much his salary, dangers, storms, etc. One of the Ladles—How long have you been In charge here, captain? Captain—Not very long, mudam; only two years. Lady—lndeed? And why did the former captain leave? Captain—He died, madam. Lady—How sad! And what did he die of? Captain—He was asked to death by the ladles.—Judge. Heaven and earth fight in vain against a dunce.—Schiller. Spoiling a Poet. "He has been spoiled as n poet." "How so?" "A judge recently gave him thirty days in default of a ten dollar fine." "How does that spoil him as a poet?" "Oh, It gave hi in an exaggerated idea of the value of his time." ' ' SHERIFFS SALE I OF VALUABLE REAL ESTATE ! By virtue of a certain writ of Le ; vari Facias, issued out. of the Court of i Common Fleas of Montour County, to !me directed, will expose to Public I Sale or Outcry, on Saturday, March sth, 1910, at 10:00 o'clock in tlio forenoon at the Court House, the following described Real Estate: All that certain messuage and tract of land situate partly in the Town ships of Cooper, Mahoning, Valley and West Hemlock in the County of Montour and State of Pennsylvania, less the tracts hereinafter described and sold therefrom, Beginning at a stone corner of land now or formerly of Jacob Rudy, thence by the said land now or formerly of the said Jac ob Rudy North eighty-five degrees East, twenty-three anil live-tenths perches to a stono, thence North sev enty-five degrees East ten and five tenths perches to a white oak grub, thence by laud now or formerly of Henry Buss, North seven degrees West one hundred and twenty-two perches to a post, thence.by lands now or for merly of Cornelius Still and Samuel R. Wood West two "hundred and thir ty-nine perches to a post, thence by land now or formerly of Andrew Overpeck, South twenty-one degrees East one hundred and forty-nine per ches to a stone, thence by land now or formerly of John Gashner, South five degrees West twenty-eight perches to a post, thence by laud now or former ly of Cornelius Still, South twenty-one degrees East fifty-eight and eight tenths perches to a post, thence by laud now or formerly of Peter Baldy North seventy-live degrees East one hundred atui thirty-nine and four tenths perches to a pole, thence by land now or formerly of Jacob Rudy North forty-six degrees East litty fhree and five-tenths perches to the place of beginning. Containing Two Hundred and Sixteen Acres and One hundred and Forty-Eight Perches and allowance, excepting and reserving the following described pieces and parcels of laud. No. 1. Beginning at a white oak corner of land of John Fern and Jere miali Donovan, thence North seven teen degrees West forty-three perches to a stone in line of land of James V. Gillaspy, thence along line of lands of said James V. Gillaspy South eighty-nine degrees East twenty-eight and five-tenths perches to a stone in line of lands formerly of Grove Broth ers, thence along said last mentioned land South sixteen and one-half de grees East thirty-six and sixty-five one-hundredths perches to a stone in line of land of John F. Fern, thence along said last mentioned laml South seventy-eight and one-fourth degrees West twenty-six and nine-tenths perch es to a white oak the place of begin ning. Containing Six Acres and One Hundred and Nine Perches, more or less. No. 2. Beginning at a stone in the public road at corner of land of said Catherine E. Fern and Baldy and Friek, thence North seventy-eight and one-half degrees East sixteen and one tenth perches to a stone in a public roail cornel of lands of said Baldy and Friek and Grove Brothers, thenoe North thirteen and one-half degrees East twenty-one perches to a post and stone in said public road corner of lauds of said Grove Brothers, thence South seventy-eight degrees West twenty-six and nine-tenths perches to lands of said Catherine E. Fern and the said Grove Brothers, thence South hv the same seventeen and one-fourth degrees East eighteen and eight-tenths perches to the place of beginning. Containing Two Acres an 1 Eighty- Four Perches strict measure. No. 8. Beginning at a stone in line of lauds of James V. Gillaspy North seventy-two and one-half degrees East nine and one-tenth perches to a stone in line of lands of Grove Brothers, North twenty-two ami three-fourths degrees West twenty-three and five one-hundredths perches to a stone in line of lands of said Grove Brothers, North eighty-seven and three-fourths degrees West seven and four-tenslm perches to a stone, thence South sev enteen and one-fourth degrees Fust twenty-five and four-tenths perches to the place of beginning. Containing one Acre and Thirty-four Perches. Upon which are erected a 2-STORY FRAME DWELLING HOUSE a two-story Frame Tenant House, a Bank Barn and other necessary out buildings. Three springs of never failing water. Valuable Timber Land. Seized, taken in execution ami to be sold as the property of Jacob Oewald. Pennsylvania Paper Mills, terre tenant. WM. B. STARTZEL, Sheriff W. V. Oglesby, Attorney. A Tragedy In Writing. Illegible handwriting, which has glv. en rise to bo many comedies, led to a tragedy In the case of Bacher, a musical euthuslast of the last century who devoted several years to the com position of a history of Viennese mu sic. Ills task finished, he submitted the manuscript to the Austrian Im perial academy, which be had been led to believe would defray the cost of Its publication. After three months his manuscript wns returned. Despite their best e(Toris the members had been unable to decipher It. Bacher then endeavored to have his work copied, but every professional copyist who undertook the task had to confess himself baffled. He thereupon at tempted dictating the work, only to 1 find that even he could not decipher It, and, heartbroken at the discovery that Ills years of toll had proved fruit less, he attempted suicide and finished his days in u lunatic asylum. Her Cab. Mary AnD of Lancaster Gate, base ment, was having a week off and had arrived back at her little native vil lage In all her metropolitan paint and feathers. It was a very little native village, and Mary Ann, after her many months' •ervlce In town, didn't think so very much of It. Even James, the station porter and her old sweetheart, seemed hopelessly Insignificant, and Instead of staggering him with the kiss that he expected she looked him up and down, comparing him with a certain gentle man whose acquaintance she had re cently made and who wore plush breeches and silk stockings. "Porter," she said grandly, "do you know If there Is a cab here to convey me and my luggage home?" "Well, I don't know about a cab," responded the staggered yokel, "but i there's yer mother outside wl' a bar- 1 rer!"—l.ondon Scraps. I BUESTIONJFDtSCENT Settled to the Satisfaction of All Concerned. Dy CLARISSA MACKIE. [Copyright, laio, by American Press Asso ciation.] "There's no use talking, Addison, Pve got it all fixed in uiy mind plain as can be that you're descended from 'Over the Mountaiu Dodge.' who used to live In the white farm on the east slope." Mr. Luke Goddard knocked the ashes from his pipe aud carefully refilled the bowl. When he had returned It to his lips aud applied a match, bo lifted his keen gray eyes to the obstinate face of the young man on the other side of the hearth. "What say, Addison?" he iusisted. Addison Dodge arose to ills great height and looked down on the little gray bearded father of Emily God dard. "I ought to know who my great grandfather was," be said with cold diguity. " 'Over the Mountain Dedge' wasn't any ancestor of mine. I'm de scended from Philemon Dodgo of Exe ter and nobody else, sir." Emily Goddard's father shook a crooked forefinger at Emily's lover, and his shrill voice quavered with rage. "Don't you dare contradict me to my face, Addison Dodge! I'd like to know who 'twas that taught school on the mouutain here l'or thirty years—eh?" "You did," returned Addison crisply. "Who is it that's allowed to know the genealogy of every man, woman atul child in Peters county, eh?" "You." "Who is it that's referred to when the committee wants to find out who tit in the wars, eh?" "You." Luke Goddard's voice rose trium phant. "And who are you that sets up and tells me that you ain't descended from 'Over the Mountain Dodge' when I say you are. eh?" "Pin Philemon Dodge's great-grand son." retorted Addison firmly, "aud no body else." There was a long silence nfter that while the two men measured the depth SPEEDING DOWNWARD WITH STARTLING SWIFTNESS. of each other's obstinacy with nar rowed eyes. Pretty Emily came and peeped at them through the kitcheu door, and at sight of their nugry faces her own went quite pale. Finally her father spoke. "My daughter Emily shan't marry any oue except lie descends from 'Over tlie Mountain Dodge.' No ueed to make that any plainer, eh?" Addison Dodge grew white to the Hps, and for the first time his eyes met the pleading ones of Ills sweetheart. His teeth snapped angrily, nnd he turned his miserable glance away from Emily's face. "1 don't know what you're getting at, sir," he said hoarsely. "Do you mean to say that if I don't admit I'm a de scendant of 'Over the Mountain Dodge' that you'll forbid Emily's marrying me?" "That's what I mean." sunpped Luke Goddard. Addison turned toward the door. "Very well, sir. I'm not going to lie about the matter to gain anything, not even Emily. She wouldn't want me to, would you, dear?" His voice dropped into tenderness as she came forward aud slipped her hand Into his. "No," said Emily with trembling lips. "Father knows I shall never marry without his consent, and If he feels that he Is justified In making me un happy over the question of some man who Is dead and burled this hundred years, why. 1 have uothing to say." She broke into sobs nnd hid her face in her hand 3. "Except 'goodby.'" added Addison Dodge, kissing her golden head. The outer door opened nnd closed and left Luke Goddard and his daugh ter alone in the mountain cabin. Outside the door Addison Dodge thrust his arms snvagely Into the sleeves of his heavy Jacket, belted it snugly about his waist and pulled his cap down over his ears. Then he strapped on the snowshoes that he had left beside the door aud, throwing his gun over his shoulder, Cleveland's Thirty Cent Egg Club. Frank S. Krause, a lawyer, of Cleveland, 0.. recently began circu lating pledges for membership In a "thirty cent egg club." 110 declares that 30 cents Is the natural price for eggs and Insists that the price can be kept at that figure If Clevelanders re fuse to pay more. He asserts that eggs are rushed Into cold storage whenever the supply threatens to cut prices. Chance For Our Manufacturers. There are LOOO motorcars registered In Bombay, and not one of them Is cf American make. ttrode away up the steep mountain Gr'-at pines heavy with snow leaned above the narrow trail. As lie crashed through the thin crust with fiercely placed steps a light wind seat the snow crystals in icy sting ing gusts against his face. As he plodded upward tlie crust was thicker, and when he reached the top of Bald Knob walking was difficult. He paused and looked around at the mountains of snow glistening with Icy caps in the bright sunshine. Overhead was a sky of deep blue. Below nestled the village, with his school in the center, and under the shoulder of Bald Knob was I,uke God dard's comfortable home. Addi9on could see the smoke pour ing from the wide chimney. It crept liko a blue mist up over the shoulder and curled away Into nothingness In the light air. The bouse was long and low, and It was built so snugly under the moun tain that the kitchen opened directly into a great natural cave in the rocks, and that cave was Luke Goddard's woodshed. Addison's strong arms had hewed vigorously that long autumn to till the woodshed. Every night after school lie had come up the mountain and, with Emily sitting near by to gladden his eyes, he luid cheerily reduced the pile of cord wood to kindling. In the spring be and Emily were to be married and come to live with Luke, and their plans for the future had been so long in making and so Interwoven with love and little self sacrifices that now. standing alone 011 tlie mouutain top, with a loveless future before him, Addison Dodge was very miserable. His was a nature that would never yield to an unjust claim. Neither would lie lie to save his soul. Luke Goddard, in bis own way, was obdurate. lie loved Addison Dodgo as his own son. and yet ills domineer ing spirit would not concede one inch in the controversy which bad separat ed thetn that morning and in which the old schoolmaster believed himself to be in the right. Genealogy was his bobby. That any one should dispute him upon bis be loved subject was unbearable. Pretty Emily would have fared hard ly between these two unrelenting men she so dearly loved, but kind Provi deuce intervened and made clear the descent of Addison beyond all doubt and quite to the satisfaction of his fu ture father-in-law. Addison roamed over the mountain top all the afternoon, rejoicing In the keen wind that arose and chilled him to the bone. Ills snowshoes glided over the frozen crust and bore him along against the bitter wind with startling swiftness. lie always remembered that day on the mountain as one of pain and self torture. His love for Emily sent him toward the trail a dozen titnes, and his pride sent him back again as many more. At sunset, when the whole west was a glorious blaze of crimson and purple and gold and the expanse of frozen snow was blinding in the glare, Addi son skirted the shoulder of Bald Knob, seeking for a short cut to the village below. lie had made up his mind. He would not take back what he had said to Luke Goddard. When he reached a point above the cottage of his sweetheart he paused and looked down the glittering slope to where the blue smoke curled up ward from the chimney. While be gazed Emily and her father came out of the cottage aud looked toward the west, as was their custom at suuset. He could see the pink shawl about Emily's head, and in the clear air he heard Luke Goddard's sharp cough. In another second they would see him silhouetted against the sunset sky, and he turned abruptly away. As 1 said before. Providence inter vened. The mass of snow upon which he stood suddenly slipped forward, and before the young man could throw himself from the little avalanche lie was speeding downward, downward with startling swiftness. He heard Luke's shout of dismay and Emily's frightened scream as he swept down toward them—toward a goal which could be no other than the roof of their home. It was growing larger, larger now. and the stinging blue smoke of the chimney smote bis eyes, and then—the avalanche of snow struck the stout roof and packed itself Into a high plateau about the tall chimney. Addison clambered out of the great bank of SP.C.Y to find Luke Goddard. poised on a tall ladder, staring at him over the eaves of the roof. "Boy, I ihonght yon were killed." said the old man hoarsely as he helped Addison to descend to the ground. Emily's art.;:; were around her lover. "Father and I m:iie out to look for you. Father made a mistake"— She looked at I.uke with loving, sympathet ic eyes. Luke smiled grimly. "I looked up that Dodge matter after you west out. Addison, and —and as near as I can make it out 'Over the .Mountain Dodge' was a crabbed old bachelor that lived and died a heruiit. So I'll have to give in that you came from Exeter after nil." He held out his hand, and Addison grasped It warmly. "We're both wrong and both right." asserted the young man as he stood be tween bis sweetheart aud her father. "I was wrong not to give in about au insignificant rnntter, yet I am descend ed from Philemon Dodge of Exeter, and at the same time I might be called "Over the Mountain Dodge," because I Just came down that way." "You've established an Independent line of descent," chuckled Luke from the doorstep, "and now you two can watch the moonrise while I get that birthday supper ready." Took It Back. "I give you my word, the next per son who Interrupts the proceedings," said the Judge sternly, "will be ex peUed from the courtroom and ordered home." "Hooray'." cried the prisoner. Then the judge pondered.—Judge. More than we use is more than we need and only a burden to the bearer. —Beneca. Some people are born foolish, some acquire foolishness and others thrust their foolishness upon us.—Philadel phia Ledger. HIS RETIREMENT, How a Famous Dualist Gavs Up the practice. By F. A. MITCH EL. [Copyright, 1010, by American Press Asso ciation.! Count Andreas Mennerzek, a Hunga rian who had fought many duels, aft er having safely come out of his fif teenth encounter determined to retire from the field. On doing this he re solved to give a banquet to those only who could prove that they had partici pated in at least five duels. Selecting three of his friends, all of whom were entitled under the condition to an In vitation, he asked them to examine the credentials of those who claimed the right to be present As I have said, the count proposed to retire after his fifteenth encounter. Some said that at his twelfth ho had shown a lack of nerve, which was re peater and grew upon him in his sub sequent encounters, and that the rea son why he Intended to retire was that he dare not continue In the field. His twelfth meeting was with a mere boy barely eighteeu years old. Tho chal lenge was sent with a statement that tho count had killed the challenger's brother. Whether It was tho youth of EVEHY MAN ROSE. this his twelfth adversary or the cir cumstance of that adversary's fighting to avenge his brother or some super stition nu one knew, but Mennerzek showed an extreme distaste for killing the boy, intending to pink him. But tho youth fought so desperately that the count was finally obliged to run him through to save his own life. The youth did not die, but it was said that he would never recover from his wound. All these facts and encounters were the talk of Vienna, and never was there so much Interest manifested in any function as "the Immortal's" ban quet celebrating his retirement from the field lu which he had so long held the most conspicuous place. For two months the committee examined cre dentials. Among the applicants was one woman. She had beeu out only once, but claimed that for a woman to tight a duel with a man was equivalent to tho record of"the immortal" him self. She declined to appear before the '.'ommittee. but sent a certificate of a physician who had attended iiei after her encounter in which she had beeu wounded. The committee, all of whom were gallant gentlemen, uuaui mously voted to admit the applicant. When the evening for th.- banquet arrived Count Mennerzek received his ; nests in an anteroom communicating with the banquet hall. lie looked about as If for some one and said: "But I have been told that 1 am to entertain a lady. 1 dyn't see her." "She wrote, count." said one of the Invitation committee, "that Blu.e a woman would be out of place among so many men she would merely ap pear for a few mluutes after coffee is served." Tho host led the way Into the ban quet room and stood at his seat at the head of the table flanked by n man on his light who had fought the next greatest number of duels—thirteen— and on his left by one who had fought the next number—eleven. The others were arranged in accordance with their records. One seat was not oc cupied—that at the end of the table opposite the count. It was reserved for the lady. For three hours there was the hum of conversation, naturally about tho encounters of the converters, while the popping of corks represented those contests wherein pistols or rifles had been used. In several cases men met men who had been adversaries. It was singular to hear them discuss in a friendly way combats In which they had tried to kill each other. Then there were those who bad fought and had never been reconciled. Despite the injunction of the host that every man should be every other man's friend some of these glared at one an other as though they would like togo out again and settle their quarrel. One couple attempted to leave the room for such a purpose, but found them selves locked in. The count had fore seen that the meeting of so many men who had so often fought might kindle anew some smoldering (lamo and had taken the necessary precautions. Coffee had been brought on and had been drunk and still the one guest In whom was felt more Interest than In all the rest together did not appear. Mennerzek, whoso spirits were at the highest, called out to tha committee man who had told him the lady would join them at coffee to know why she did not appear. "I told her, count," was the reply, "that I oould not name the exact time coffee would bo served, but I thought it would bo at 12 o'clock. She will be here at that hour." There was something In this fight ing woman connected with the witch ing hour of night that added to the zest of her expected entrance. A clock resting on a mantel over a broad fire place marked the liour. and many ■>- —- the glances cast at it by the rt-velyrt. When the hands were near the hour of 12 every face was turned toward the door at which the guest would enter. The count, who sat facing the entrance. gave an order that the door should be unlocked. This was done v and the conversation gradually drop ped off until the clock struck 12, when It censed entirely. A few minutes after 12 the door was thrown open by a servant, and tha lady stepped Into the apartment. Every man rose. The woman who was entitled to a place among these duelists was about twenty-five years old, of medium height, a willowy figure and very dark hair and eyes. She wore a cloak, which she handed to the servant who had admitted her. It was evident that she had been beautiful and that her beauty had been lost by sorrow, for her face bore unmistakable signs of having suffered. Sha advanced to the vacant chair at the end of the table opposite the host, and as she seated herself the others resumed their chairs. Meanwhile the expression on the count's face changed to one of serious and eager curiosity. lie was the first— naturally the first since he was tha last—to speak. "Your face is familiar to me, madam. May I ask whore 1 have met you?" The answer came icy cold: "On the field. It's to my encounter with you tlint I am entitled to the honor of a place among you here." "I'ardou me; I have never fought a I woman." "You fought one you thought to be a beardless boy. I was that boy." The count started. A slight pallor overspread his face. The woman con tinued: "The duel you fought before that, count, was with my husband the day after our marriage. I offered my for tune to any man who would kill you. One tried to oblige me. but lost hid life in doing so. Then I felt that it was my own time to act. Personating the brother of this man who tried to avenge me, I challenged you and was carried off the field, as it was sup posed, mortally wounded." There was a pause. The clock on the mantel ticked loudly in the other wise silent room. Then the woman continued: "As you see, I recovered. I was plan ning further effort to punish you for your many crimes when I heard that you were about to retire from the duel ing field. I secured an invitation hero in order that you might grace your re tirement with one more victim. I have a proposition." The count continued to stare at his only woman guest, but did not speak. "Gentlemen," continued the lady, "I have no formal challenge for our host. I simply request that we be furnished with pistols and that sotn? one of your number will give us a sigual. We can do so as we sit and with a large num ber of export witnesses to see fair play." No one spoke for a few moments; then the man on the host's right said: "Gentlemen, you hear the lady's prop osition. It seems to me that we are in honor bound to accord her the oppor tunity she asks provided our host con sents to her terms." "I will not fight a woman." said tho count, almost with a groan. "You shall fight a woman," said the lady, "or I will post you as a coward all over the capital." All looked toward the count. It seemed that he read the hand of fate In the coming of this woman whoso 1 llfo he had wrecked. lie sat irreso lute, as If trying to make up his mind ] what to do, whether to sacrifice her or himself. There were too many wit nesses for him to act any other part than that of a man. lie could not kill a woman before them, especially one he had so Injured. If he did not kill her she would kill him. lie must ae ! cept one or the other of these nltcrna ' tlves. ! "Come, count," said his friend on his right, "what Is your decision?" "Bring the pistols." he replied in a scarcely audible voice. A smile of triumph lighted the face ; of his adversary. j One of the guests who was to stand as secoud lu an affair to come off in the early morning had a case of duel ing pistols within reach. They were brought. The count appointed one of his guests to act for him, and the lady | appointed another to act for her. But such action was The count knew that he was doomed, and it mattered not whether he was or was not prcperly served. As for the lady, she < \red not for her llfa provided she could kill the man who had slain her husband almost at very bridal. The pistols having been examined, one was handed to the count, the* other to the lady. One of the guest*, rose from his chair, holding a hand*, kerchief In his baud. "Are you ready?" he asked. "Ready." said the lady In a firm voice. The count gave the speaker a look to signify that ho was ready. The handkerchief fluttered to the table. A single shot rang out. The count fell dead. Ills weapon had d**, been discharged. UN DOT! A mellaDlo TIN SHOP r#f aH kind of Tin Rooflngi •poutinc nnd General Job Work. Stoves, Hooters, Riiuiee, Fumaoeo. eto. PRICES TUB LOWEST! QDiLITT TUB BEST' JOHN HIXSOA HQ. 11# R FRONT XT.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers