THE HUNTER’S DUEL. 
“T’ll meet you,” he said slowly, “to-mor- 
row morning at 4 o’clock at the unfinished 
bridge. You take one bank, I'll take the 
other; you use your old cannon and I'll 
use my popgun with 3 shots inside and 
no more. At pistol fire we start toward 
each other on the top plank. If either fires 
before he reaches the end, the spectators is 
at liberty to blow hell inter him, Missouri 
Bill and Roughlock Harry will stand by to 
see fair play, an’ invite everybody to be 
prescnt and keep their mouths shut.” 
The challenge was as direct as the test 
was appalling. The bridge was over 150 
feet high and 1,500 feet long, a huge skel- 
‘eton-like trestle needing several weeks’ la- 
bor before completion. Right in the center 
was a gap of 300 feet awaiting the arrival 
of stringers from the coast before it could 
be filled in. To reach the gap the rivals 
would have to walk an elevated pathway of 
8 inch planks laid end on, not too securely, 
and which, at the height of 150 feet would 
prove impassable to 99 men out of Ioo. 
All eyes turned on Cultus Jack. He 
braced himself, but with all his pluck he 
had not pluck enough to refuse the chal- 
lenger. 
“Let her go at that,’ he said. “It’s a deal. 
I pass the bill as read.” 
At that moment an old prospector, who 
had mined from Mexico to Alaska and 
made and lost fortunes entered the room. 
He was known as Crazy Jones. 
“Boys,” he said, “I’ve had the durndest 
searin’.. I left my cabin up the hills at 
daybreak, intendin’ fer to come here an’ 
celebrate, an’ pears ter me I’ve been cele- 
bratin’ ever since. 1 found all the cricks 
up and all the trail bridges gone out. Doc, 
my old hoss, is dead in to-mile creek. On 
7-mile I lost my rifle; my grub had gone 
already. I come on as far as Silver creek 
and was a sittin’ dryin’ myself and thinkin’ 
gen’rally and swearin’ particularly, when 
I heern some slow heavy movin’ brute 
crashin’ through the scrub below. Thinks 
I, that’s a b’ar; I'll chuck ‘im a rock. So 
I picks up a nice bit of quartz, gives a yell 
and lets him have it. Bar? Waal, I should 
say, an’ a grizzly at that; the biggest, ug- 
liest brute I ever seen. He sailed up that 
hill like a big brown whirlwind; he was 
mad an’ he was hungry an’ I guess he was 
celebratin’ too. I run, boys, run till I tore 
my clothes, lost my hat and got scratched 
worse than a Derby favorite. But I left 
him all right. Just wait till to-morrow, 
I'll borrow Klondike’s dog and Cultus 
Jack’s gun, an’ let lead an’ light an’ larn- 
in’ into that dog-gone brute.” 
Late that night Klondike Jim and Cultus 
Jack happened to meet. The former hesi- 
tatingly made a strange suggestion. “Jim,” 
he said, almost blandly, “ef it’s just the 
353 
same to you, we'll hev’ that shootin’ scrap 
a day later, instead of to-morrow; for one 
thing, I’ve got some important business, 
an’ for another’—hesitatingly—“you'll be 
fitter yourself.” 
Cultus Jack looked straight into his op- 
ponent’s eyes. He saw no sign of cowar- 
dice there and guessed the important busi- 
ness; well, he had some himself. 
“All right, darn yer,” he replied, “let 
Roughlock Harry know, and ye needn't 
think I can’t hold my liquor.” 
Nevertheless before tumbling into their 
bunks that night, each of them cleaned his 
rifle, and Klondike scribbled a note to 
Roughlock Harry announcing the postpone- 
ment. 
Unfortunately owing to continued cele- 
brating by the messenger, the letter was 
not delivered, and for a like reason Crazy 
Jones did not set out to hunt the grizzly. 
Early next morning, a small crowd gath- 
ered near the bridge. Four a. m. came and 
passed, and no combatants. Five o’ciock 
and still the rivals were absent. The crowd 
waxed impatient; a horseman galloped off, 
and returning, reported: 
“Neither one nor ’tother kin be found. 
They’ve both funked it, I s’pose, and skinned 
out. Let’s go home, rot ’em.” 
Old man Connor took it badly; his 
daughter took it worse. The fall to her 
pride confined her to her home a week. 
Crazy Jones came once more to town, 
looking more scared and worn and hag- 
gard than before. He had with him 
the biggest grizzly hide ever seen and a 
shocking tale to tell. He had seen bear 
sign and followed it; to his intense sur- 
prise had come on a gigantic bear lying. 
stone dead. It had been dead some days 
and the pelt was worth but little. In the 
skinning, he found bullet wounds in 2 
places; one through the thorax and an- 
other through the heart. He thought it 
strange the hunter had not bagged his 
quarry. Later, on going for a drink at a 
neighboring creek hetilearned why. There 
he found Klondike Jim lying lifeless and 
an examination showed, he had been dead 
some days. A rifle ball had smashed his 
left hip; the had dragged himself to the 
stream and there died. In his clenched 
hand lay a note. 
“It was a accident. We heard Crazy 
Jones tell of a bear. Jack mus’ have krep’ 
up the other side of the creek is I kem 
this. I never knowed he was thar. We 
both fired symultanyus. He mus’ be down 
to; he yelled once and aint moved since. 
The bear’s O. K. too. Love to Kitty. It’s 
better this way than on the bridge, it aint—™ 
The scrawl, evidently written with great 
difficulty, gradually flickered away as the 
