The Fistic Duel
The evening following the moonlight fête, a little after sunset when the western sky, stained with a luminous golden hue, had spread on verdant hills and valleys its radiance of languorous serenity, two motor cyclists were speeding along on a secluded path that led into the main highway, from the Diana Seminary to the West Point Military Academy. The one in advance was wheeling in a leisurely way, while the one behind exerted greater speed, as if in pursuit of the other. He was gaining rapidly so that in a very few minutes the foremost was overtaken, as they both reached a wooden bridge, spanning a small body of water.
Both came suddenly to a stop and dismounted. They were Professor Cielo Allenson and Carlos Don Seville. Don Seville, stung by the rebuke which the Professor had administered to him the night previous at the Seminary, had decided to take the cowardly course of waylaying the instructor, in this lonely path, in order to avenge himself for the righteous verbal punishment the latter had given him.
Carlos Don Seville was a degenerate scion of a once noble Spanish family, who had settled in the United States and, like many such offspring, was engaged in sowing his wild oats. Financially dependent on a small income, he was always at his wit’s end in order to secure money with which to continue his reckless profligacy. Being inherently foolish and improvident, he always had the illusion that some day “something would turn up,” and encouraged by this belief he had recourse to gambling and speculation. As soon as he received his dwindled allowance, he made himself a willing prey of card sharps and get-rich-quick brigands.
Lately, however, he had conceived the idea of marrying an heiress, and for that purpose he was hovering about Diana Seminary, annoying the young ladies by his unsolicited attentions, or by brazen audacity intruding unceremoniously upon their receptions. His snobbish mendacity reached its climax when at the night of the moonlight soirée he accosted Aurora and Margaret at the intermission of the dance, while they were sauntering arm-in-arm along the parterre to a trysting nook.
Notwithstanding Margaret’s bold declaration of the previous day, that she wanted to give the “Jewsky” a piece of her mind, the feminine temerity and reserve had taken possession of her. The minute they saw him advance they took to their heels, and scampered back with appealing gestures toward Professor Allenson who, divining at once the situation, came gallantly to their rescue, giving Don Seville a scathing reprimand and commanding him to depart, “unless he desired,” announced the Professor, “to be skinned alive by the war dogs of the Military Academy.”
Don Seville, frightened and abashed, beat an inglorious retreat and disappeared.
Professor Cielo Allenson, better known at the Military Academy as the “Old Guard,” was a venerable man past seventy. He had a highly intellectual countenance and his silvery white hair and patriarchal beard gave him a noble dignity which commanded respect. His strenuous virility and inexhaustible energy was ever a lesson and a rebuke to the many indolent youths who came in contact with him. He was a philosopher of the first rank and an intense lover of nature. Imbued with the deeper knowledge of the subtle workings of natural phenomena, “he could not draw a line,” he would say, “between the manifestations of human, animal and vegetable kingdoms.”
“Halt you d——d old cur! I demand no apology, but satisfaction,” snarled Don Seville abruptly, his face livid with anger.
For a second the Professor was taken aback. But in that very second, through his intuitive and resourceful mind flashed the fact that he was “cornered.” He was not a man easily frightened, for as a Major of Volunteers during the Panama and Columbian trouble, and while in his teens, he had led on his handful of men up the hills against the ramparts of the enemy.