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The Girl From His Town

Page 31

by Marie Van Vorst


  CHAPTER XXXI--IN REALITY

  Dan awoke from his dream, and sat suddenly up in bed in his shirtsleeves, and stared at the people in his room,--a hotel boy and twostrangers, not unlike the men in his dream. He brushed his hand acrosshis eyes.

  "Sit down, will you? Do you speak English?"

  They were foreigners, but they did speak English, no doubt far moreperfectly than did Dan Blair.

  "Look here," the boy said, "I don't know what's the matter with me--Imust have had a ripping jag on last night--let me put my head in a basinof water, will you?"

  He dived into the dressing-room, and came out in another second, hisblond head wet, wiping his face and hair furiously with a towel. Hehadn't beamed as he did now on these two strange men--for weeks.

  "Well," he asked slowly, "I expect you've come to ask me to fight withPrince Poniotowsky--yes? It's against our principles, you know, in theStates--we don't do that way. Personally, I'd throw anything at him Icould lay my hands on, but I don't care to have him let daylight throughme, and I don't care to kill your friend. See? I'm an American--yes, Iknow, I know," he nodded sagely, "but we don't have your kind of fightsout our way. It means business when we go out to shoot."

  He threw the towel down on the table, soaking wet as it was, put hishands in the pockets of his evening clothes, which he still wore, for hehad not undressed, threw his young, blond head back and frankly told hisvisitors:

  "I'm not up on swords. I've seen them in pictures and read about them,but I'll be darned if I've ever had one in my hand."

  His expression changed at the quiet response of Poniotowsky's seconds.

  "_Gee._ Whew!" he exclaimed, "he does, does he? Twentypaces--revolvers--why, he's a bird--a bird!"

  A slight flush rose along Dan's cheeks. "I never liked him, and youdon't want to hear what I think of him. But I'll be darned if he isn't abird."

  His eyes caught sight of a blue envelope on the table. He tore thetelegram open. It was Ruggles' answer to his question:

  "Quite true. Tell you about it. Arrive your hotel around noon."

  The despatch informed him that he was really a pauper and also that hehad a second for his duel with Poniotowsky. His guests stood formallybefore the young barbarian.

  "Look here," he continued amiably, "I can't meet your Dago friend likethis, it's not fair. He hasn't seen me shoot; it isn't for me to say it,but I can't miss. Hold," he interrupted, "he has, too. He was at theGaloreys' at that first shoot. Ah--well, I refuse, tell him so, will you?Tell him I'm an American and a cowboy and that for me a duel at twentypaces with a pistol would mean murder. I like his pluck--it's allright--tell him anything you like. He ought to have chosen swords. Hewould have had me there."

  They retired as formally as they had entered, and took his answer totheir client, and after a bath and careful toilet Dan went out, leavinga line for Ruggles, to say that he would be at the hotel to meet him atnoon.

 

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