Eatin Crow; and The Best Man In Garotte | Page 5

is, and I reckon you're not as good at shootin' as at--other things." Again he paused to think, and then continued with the same deliberate air of careful reflection, "We all cotton to you, Jedge; you know that. Suppose you pick a man who kin shoot, and leave it to him. That'd be fair, an' you kin jes' choose any of us, or one after the other. We're all willin'."
"No," replied the Judge, taking away the handkerchief, and showing a jagged, red line on his forehead. "No! he struck me. I don't want any one to help me, or take my place."
"That's right," said Crocker, approvingly; "that's right, Jedge, we all like that, but 'tain't square, and this camp means to hev it square. You bet!" And, in the difficult circumstances, he looked round for the approval which was manifest on every one of the serious faces. Again he began: "I guess, Jedge, you'd better take my plan, 'twould be surer. No! Wall, suppose I take two six-shooters, one loaded, the other empty, and put them under a capote on the table in the next room. You could both go in and draw for weapons; that'd be square, I reckon?" and he waited for the Judge's reply.
"Yes," replied Rablay, "that'd be fair. I agree to that."
"Hell!" exclaimed Hitchcock, "I don't. If he wants to fight, I'm here; but I ain't goin' to take a hand in no sich derned game--with the cards stocked agen me."
"Ain't you?" retorted Crocker, facing him, and beginning slowly. "I reckon you'll play any game we say. See! any damned game we like. D'ye understand?"
As no response was forthcoming to this defiance, he went into the other room to arrange the preliminaries of the duel. A few moments passed in silence, and then he came back through the lane of men to the two combatants.
"Jedge," he began, "the six-shooters are there, all ready. Would you like to hev first draw, or throw for it with him?" contemptuously indicating Hitchcock with a movement of his head as he concluded.
"Let us throw," replied Rablay, quietly.
In silence the three dice and the box were placed by Doolan on the bar. In response to Crocker's gesture the Judge took up the box and rolled out two fives and a three--thirteen. Every one felt that he had lost the draw, but his face did not change any more than that of his adversary. In silence Hitchcock replaced the dice in the box and threw a three, a four, and a two--nine; he put down the box emphatically.
"Wall," Crocker decided impassively, "I guess that gives you the draw, Jedge; we throw fer high in Garotte--sometimes," he went on, turning as if to explain to Hitchcock, but with insult in his voice, and then, "After you, Jedge!"
Rablay passed through the crowd into the next room. There, on a table, was a small heap covered with a cloak. Silently the men pressed round, leaving Crocker between the two adversaries in the full light of the swinging lamp.
"Now, Jedge," said Crocker, with a motion towards the table.
"No!" returned the Judge, with white, fixed face, "he won; let him draw first. I only want a square deal."
A low hum of surprise went round the room. Garotte was more than satisfied with its champion. Crocker looked at Hitchcock, and said:
"It's your draw, then." The words were careless, but the tone and face spoke clearly enough.
A quick glance round the room and Hitchcock saw that he was trapped. These men would show him no mercy. At once the wild beast in him appeared. He stepped to the table, put his hand under the cloak, drew out a revolver, dropped it, pointing towards Rablay's face, and pulled the trigger. A sharp click. That revolver, at any rate, was unloaded. Quick as thought Crocker stepped between Hitchcock and the table. Then he said:
"It's your turn now, Jedge!"
As he spoke a sound, half of relief and half of content came from the throats of the onlookers. The Judge did not move. He had not quivered when the revolver was levelled within a foot of his head; he did not appear to have seen it. With set eyes and pale face, and the jagged wound on his forehead whence the blood still trickled, he had waited, and now he did not seem to hear. Again Crocker spoke:
"Come, Jedge, it's your turn."
The sharp, loud words seemed to break the spell which had paralyzed the man. He moved to the table, and slowly drew the revolver from under the cloak. His hesitation was too much for the crowd.
"Throw it through him, Jedge! Now's your chance. Wade in, Jedge!"
The desperate ferocity of the curt phrases seemed to move him. He raised the revolver. Then came in tones of triumph:
"I'll bet high on the Jedge!"
He dropped