rogated my antagonist, evidently
not comprehending my words. Without answering to the interrogatory, I
drew out my pocket-book; and, turning to a blank leaf of the memorandum,
wrote upon it: "_I have fallen in fair fight_." I appended the date;
signed my name; and, tearing out the leaf, handed it to my adversary.
He looked at it for a moment, as if puzzled to make out what was meant.
He soon saw the intention, however, as I could tell by his grim smile.

"You're right thur!" said he, in a drawling tone, and after a pause. "I
hedn't thunk o' that. I guess this dockyment 'll be nothin' the wuss o'
my name too? What's sauce for the goose, air likewise sauce for the
gander. Yur pencil, ef ye please? I ain't much o' a scholart; but I
reck'n I kin write my name. Hyur goes!" Spreading out the paper on the
top of a stump, he slowly scribbled his name below mine; and then,
holding the leaf before my eyes, pointed to the signature--but without
saying a word. This done, he replaced the document on the stump; and
drawing his knife, stuck the blade through the paper, and left the
weapon quivering in the wood! All these manoeuvres were gone through
with as cool composure, as if they were only the prelude to some
ordinary purpose!

"I reck'n, strenger," said he, in the same imperturbable tone, "that'll
keep the wind from blowin' it away, till we've settled who it's to
belong to. Now, to yur place! I'm agwine to throw the deer-meat!"

I had already dismounted, and stood near him rifle in hand.
Unresistingly, I obeyed the request; and walked off to the stump that
had been designated, without saying another word, or even looking
around. I had no apprehension of being shot in the back: for the late
behaviour of the man had completely disarmed me of all suspicion of
treachery. I had _not_ the slightest fear of his proving a traitor; and
no more did I hold him to be a coward. That impression was gone long
ago.

I confess, that never with more reluctance did I enter upon the field of
fight; and at that moment, had my antagonist required it, I should not
only have retracted the allegation of of cowardice, but, perhaps, have
surrendered up my claim to the clearing--though I knew that this could
be done, only at the expense of my name and honour. Were I to have done
so, I could never have shown my face again--neither in the settlement of
Swampville, nor elsewhere. Even among my polished friends of more
fashionable circles,