The Humors of Falconbridge Part 65

"Must do," the second replies; and so paying for the tool, and swallowing down a fresh invoice of _ardiente_, the fighting men start to muster up their opponents, whom they found armed and equipped, upon a footing equal to the other side, or pretty near it, the Lieutenant having a little _heavier_ piece, with a bore into which a gill measure might be thrown.

"But--the difference!" cried seconds and princ.i.p.als.

"Let's fight, not talk," says the Adjutant.

"That's my opinion, gentlemen, exactly," the Lieutenant responds.

"Where shall we go?"

"Anywhere!"

"Better get out into the chaparral," say the cautious seconds; "don't want a crowd. Come on!" continue the seconds, very valorously; "let's fight!"

"Here's the ground!" cries one, as the parties reach a chaparral, a mile or so from town; "here is our ground!"

The princ.i.p.als stared around as if rather uncertain about that, for the bushes were so thick and high that precious little _ground_ was visible.

"It ain't worth while, gentlemen, to toss up for positions, is it?" says the Adjutant's second.

"No," cry both princ.i.p.als. "Measure off the _ground_, if you can find it; let us go to work."

"That's the talk!" says the Adjutant's second.

"Measure off thirty paces," the Lieutenant's second responds.

"No, ten!" cry the princ.i.p.als.

"Twenty paces or no fight!" insists the Adjutant's second. "Twenty paces; one, two, three----"

And the seconds trod off as best they could the distance, the pieces were loaded, the several bipeds took a drink all around from an ample jug of the R. G. they brought for the purpose, and then began the memorable duel. The princ.i.p.als were placed in their respective positions, to rake down each other; and from a safer point of the compa.s.s the seconds gave the word.

"Bang-g-g!" went the Adjutant's piece, knocking him down flat as a hoe-cake.

"F-f-f-izzy!" and the Lieutenant's piece hung fire.

The seconds flew to their men; a parley took place upon a "question"

whether the Lieutenant had a _right_ to prime and fire again, or not.

The Adjutant being set upon his pins; declared himself ready and willing to let the Lieutenant blaze away! The point was finally settled by loading up the Adjutant's piece, and priming that of the Lieutenant, placing the men, and giving the word,

"One, two, three!"

"w.a.n.g-g-g-g!"

"Fiz-a-bang-g-g-g!"

The seconds ran, or hobbled forward, each to his man, both being down; but whether by concussion, recoil of their fusees, force of the liquor, or weakness of the knee-pans, was a hard fact to solve.

"Hurt, Wash.?"

"Not a bit!" cries the Adjutant, getting up.

"Hit, d.i.c.k?"

"No, _sir!_" shouts the Lieutenant; "good as new!"

"Set 'em up!"

"Take your places, gentlemen!" cry the seconds.

All ready. w.a.n.g! bang! go the pieces, and down ker-_chug_ go both men again. The seconds rush forward, raise their men, all safe, load up again, take a drink, all right.

"Make ready, take aim, fire!"

"w.a.n.g-g-g!"

"Bang-g-g!"

Both down again, the Lieutenant's coat-tail slightly dislocated, and the Adjutant dangerously wounded in the leg of his breeches! Both parties getting very mad, very tired, and very anxious to try it on at ten paces. Seconds object, pieces loaded up again, princ.i.p.als arranged, and,

"One, two, three, fire!"

"w.a.n.g-g-g-g!"

"Bang-g-g!"

All down--load up again--take a drink--fire! and down they go again. It is very natural to suppose that all this firing attracted somebody's attention, and somebody came poking around to see what it was all about; and just then, as four or five Mexicans came peeping and peering through the chaparral, d.i.c.k and Wash. let drive--Bang-g! w.a.n.g-g! and though it seemed impossible to hit one another, the slugs, ricochetting over and through the chaparral, knocked down two Mexicans, who yelled sanguinary murder, and the rest of their friends took to their heels. The seconds, not _quite_ so "tight" as the princ.i.p.als, took warning in time to evacuate the field of honor, Lieut. d.i.c.k's second taking him one way, and Ajt. Wash.'s friend going another, just as a "Corporal's Guard" made their appearance to arrest the _rioters_. In spite of the poor Mexicans'

protestations, or endeavors to make out a true case, they were taken up and carried to the Guard-House, for shooting one another, and raising a row in general. A night's repose brought the morning's reflection, when the previous day's performances were laughed at, if not forgotten. Wash, and d.i.c.k became good friends, of course, and cemented the bonds of fraternity in the b.l.o.o.d.y work of a day or two afterwards, in storming Monterey.

THE END.

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