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.
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