Year: 1869

and deliberately raised revolver.


1t was a very anxious moment for the
lookerson. One of the combatants was
brawny rufian, upon whose face was stamp
ed all the evil passions of the human race.
Black haired, black bearded, black eyed and
strong enough was he to have felled an OK
with single blow of his fist. The other
was a pale, slender, intellectual looking
young man, boy almost, with light curls and
complexion and blue eyes,


The scene was in the little town of Wash
ington, on the Brazos river in Texas, and
the time midnight.


"Do you know who yer talking to, boy?"
was the coarse and uneducated answer of
Luke Benton, than whom no gambler in the
vicinity was more detested and feared.


A man to whom (and not without reason)
was imputed every crime-even that of
murder; who was an unfailing shot with
the pistol and rifle and unmatched in skill
with that strictly border weapon-the bowie
knife. A short residence in that locality
and given him a reputation as duellist, for
the long grass of the Tempas covered the
forms of two who had fallen by his hand.
Where he came from no one knew, and he
was particularly retcent about his former
life. Still it was whispered-behind his
back, for no one was foolhardy enough to
say it to his face-that he was one of the
very few who escaped from the terrible
justice Of ''Natchez under the hill," when
the outraged citizens awoke in their wrath
and took speedy vengeance in their own
hands. Be that as it might, he had already
earned a name sufficiently bad to need no
additions even where the great majority of
crimes wene looked upon ightly-making
Texas in its infancy the paradise of scound-
rels.


On the other, his boy antagonist even
less was known. 1t was but two days since
his arrival, and he had come on horseback
and alone. OF his business he had nothing
to say, but his suave manner and quiet,
gentlemanly department had already made
him friends among the better portion of the
sparse population.


Very much to their surprise, therefore,
was it that they had seen him enter into
contest at cards with the professional game
ster Bouton, confident that he would either
be cheated or bullied out of his money, in
case he should be successful, which was
almost beyond the range of possibility.


But for two hours the game had been pro-
crossing, the gambler getting more angry
at every deal, and the youth keeping per
fectly cool and breathing taunting words,
as if his object was still further to provoke
him. If it was his purpose to do so, he
was more than successful, for Benton had
suddenly sprung to his feet aud drawn his
knife with oaths upon his lips and murder
flashing from his eyes.


'Put down that knife," again repeated
the young man, Mark Whiteman, as he had
given all to understand was his name. ''Put
it down. No one but coward and a cheat
would attempt to use such fatal arguments
in a simple game of chance"


GER cheat-coward !" thundered Benton,
with all his wrath aroused. ''By heaven,
Ill make yer eat yer words"


'For fear you do not fully understand, |
will repeat them


eyer dare not! was Missed from the
more than tightly compressed lips.


Coward cheat | dare say anything to
one like you


Coward er gin !" and his knife flashed
still more wildly around.


In vain the others interfered. They cared
little for the professional and brutal gamester
but they did for young Whiteman, aud could
not but be surprised at the almost sublimity
Of his GOODNESS and bravery, even though
he was counting his own death.


Something in the manner of the young
man, too, appeared to deeply impress his
antagonist, who had never before restrain
ed his hand from swift vengeance. The
delicate frame trembled not the sweet,
almost girlish expression upon those mobile
lips remained unaltered the cheeks were
unblanched, and the mild, blue eyes never
swerved from their steady gaze upon the
fiery black ones. It appeared as if the
serpent and the bird had changed places,
and the fierce charmer became the charmed.


''Pshaw!" at length continued Luke
Bolton, 81 am fool to take any notice of
er boy that could crush between my thumb
and fingers. Take yer money, eff yer such
er sneak; go back ermong the women and
never dare ter show yer face ermong men
ergain.'


81 care nothing for the money!" was still
the calm response. SITS nothing to me"


"What do yer want then?"


''To prove that you are coward at
heart"


'No man ever lived that dared ter say
such er thing


''Simply because you murdered them,
Luke Bouton."


Murdered? But, no, I'll not fight er
boy"


"Because You dare not. But you shall
have no excuse" and Mark Whiteman spat
full in the face Of the blood-stained gamb-
Ter.


In an instant all was confusion. Benton
sprang forward with his knife appraised, and
would have cut down his insulter with
a blow. But others did the same. They
realized that blood must be shed, but they
insisted upon "fair play" Even in the
horrible code of Texas duelling they de-
manded that the rules of honor (?) should
be strictly adhered to.


"1f you must fight" said an old ranger,