The Master of the Ceremonies Part 43

"Not you," said the Colonel, as he tapped his companion on the shoulder.

"But I should have liked you to be fighting on account of some other lady."

"And I should not," cried Richard. "Is this likely to be serious?"

"I should be no true friend to you, my lad, if I concealed the truth from you. It may be very serious."

"For me?"

"I don't say that."

"But I never fired a pistol in my life, and I fence horribly."

"It will be pistols, d.i.c.k. I arranged that it should be. But you will be cool?"

"I hope I shall be just as I am now," said Richard calmly.

The Colonel looked at him intently, but no nerve showed a tremor.

"A good walk will do you good," he said, and after telling him the preliminaries, and the place where they were to meet, the conversation was changed and they walked slowly on till the edge of the Downs was reached, and they soon after entered an extensive wood, walking down a leafy glade where all seemed wonderfully peaceful, and its solemnity was so soothing to Richard Linnell that he was about to throw himself upon the turf when Colonel Mellersh stopped short, and pointing to a gnarled beech of stunted growth, exclaimed:

"That will do exactly."

"Do?" said Linnell. "Do for what?"

"Why, my dear boy, do you suppose I have brought you out here for nothing? No; since the abominable code for furbishing up injured honour exists, and a man may be called out, it is our duty to prepare for emergencies. You cannot use a pistol?"

"No," said Richard, shaking his head.

"I can. I have been out six times, and I'm going to show you how to hit your man and save yourself."

"I don't want to hit Major Rockley."

"But I want you to hit him and save yourself. My dear boy, you are worth five thousand Major Rockleys to your father, and we must not have you hurt."

As he spoke, to Richard's great surprise, he took out a brace of duelling pistols with flask and bullets, and after loading skilfully he took a few cards from his breast, and going to the stunted tree, tacked one on each of two boughs about on a level with a man's outstretched arms, another on the trunk, and another higher still, where the head would be.

"I used to practise with the pistol a great deal at one time, d.i.c.k, and I could hit either of those address cards as many times as I liked."

"Then I will not quarrel with you and call you out."

"Don't," said the Colonel, handing him a pistol, and proceeding to step out fifteen paces. "There," he said, "stand there and aim at that card on the trunk. That is where a man's heart would be. I will count slowly, and when I come to three, raise your pistol quickly and fire."

"One--two--_three_!"

Richard Linnell raised his pistol, and drew the trigger, but there was no report.

"It will not go off," he said.

"No," replied the Colonel; "pistols never will, unless you c.o.c.k them."

"Pish!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Richard, repairing the omission. "Again."

The Colonel counted once more; there was a flash, a sharp report, and a leaf or two fell from high up a tree to the right of the target.

"Take the other," said the Colonel quietly; "hold it a little more firmly, and raise it slowly. The moment your eye glances straight along the barrel, press the trigger softly, so as not to jerk the pistol.

Ready? Now--one--two--_three_!"

There was another sharp report, and the Colonel smiled.

"That's better," he said. "Your first bullet went over the enemy's head twenty feet or so. That one would have him in the shoulder. Try again."

The Colonel busied himself loading the pistols with all the quickness of an adept as his pupil fired, keeping him at it for quite a couple of hours, with intervals of rest. Now he made him fire at one card, then at another, practising as at his adversary's arms, head, and body, till Richard looked at him wearily.

"Yes; that will do now," said Colonel Mellersh. "You may congratulate yourself, d.i.c.k, upon being a horribly bad shot; but you will be able to handle your pistol properly, and raise it like a man who is used to the weapon."

"What is the use of that," said Richard, smiling, "if I cannot aim straight?"

"A great deal. If you had taken hold of your pistol in a bungling way to-morrow, Rockley would have felt that he had you at his mercy, and he would have been as cool as a fish. Now he will see that you know what a pistol is, and be perfectly ignorant of the fact that you are unskilful of aim. He will think he has a dangerous adversary before him, and be more likely nervous than cool."

"I see," said Richard, with his eyes lighting up. "I've had my turn at the scoundrel, and I'm satisfied. Of course I don't want to hit him, but at the same time I don't want him to hit me."

"Oh!" said the Colonel drily, "I thought you did."

"What! want him to hit me! Why?"

"You seemed so cool over it."

"Oh, but I'm not," said Richard gravely. "I suppose a good shot would hit one of those cards?"

"Time was, d.i.c.k, when I could have put half a dozen shots in either of them. I don't know that I could hit one now."

He raised the pistol he had been loading as he spoke, took a quick aim, and hit the centre card just on the edge, driving it into the bark of the tree.

"Bad!" he said. "Let's try another."

He aimed at the card representing the enemy's right arm fired, and struck it also about a quarter of an inch from the edge.

"Out of practice, d.i.c.k," he said, thrusting the pistols into their dark cloth bags, and replacing them in his pocket. "There, my lad, let's get home. Dine lightly this evening, go to bed in good time, and have a long night's rest."

"When is the meeting?" said Richard calmly.

"At six to-morrow morning."

"Where did you say?"

"On the sands, two miles out below the east cliff."

"Why there?"