Chapter 21

CHAPTER XXI

HOW A FRENCHMAN MANAGES AN AFFAIR

While the contract of this duel was being discussed by the
president and the captain-- this dreadful, savage duel, in which
each adversary became a man-hunter-- Michel Ardan was resting
from the fatigues of his triumph. Resting is hardly an
appropriate expression, for American beds rival marble or
granite tables for hardness.

Ardan was sleeping, then, badly enough, tossing about between
the cloths which served him for sheets, and he was dreaming of
making a more comfortable couch in his projectile when a
frightful noise disturbed his dreams. Thundering blows shook
his door. They seemed to be caused by some iron instrument.
A great deal of loud talking was distinguishable in this racket,
which was rather too early in the morning. "Open the door,"
some one shrieked, "for heaven's sake!" Ardan saw no reason
for complying with a demand so roughly expressed. However, he
got up and opened the door just as it was giving way before the
blows of this determined visitor. The secretary of the Gun Club
burst into the room. A bomb could not have made more noise or
have entered the room with less ceremony.

"Last night," cried J. T. Maston, _ex abrupto_, "our president
was publicly insulted during the meeting. He provoked his
adversary, who is none other than Captain Nicholl! They are
fighting this morning in the wood of Skersnaw. I heard all the
particulars from the mouth of Barbicane himself. If he is
killed, then our scheme is at an end. We must prevent his duel;
and one man alone has enough influence over Barbicane to stop
him, and that man is Michel Ardan."

While J. T. Maston was speaking, Michel Ardan, without
interrupting him, had hastily put on his clothes; and, in less
than two minutes, the two friends were making for the suburbs of
Tampa Town with rapid strides.

It was during this walk that Maston told Ardan the state of the
case. He told him the real causes of the hostility between
Barbicane and Nicholl; how it was of old date, and why, thanks
to unknown friends, the president and the captain had, as yet,
never met face to face. He added that it arose simply from
a rivalry between iron plates and shot, and, finally, that the
scene at the meeting was only the long-wished-for opportunity
for Nicholl to pay off an old grudge.

Nothing is more dreadful than private duels in America. The two
adversaries attack each other like wild beasts. Then it is that
they might well covet those wonderful properties of the Indians
of the prairies-- their quick intelligence, their ingenious
cunning, their scent of the enemy. A single mistake, a moment's
hesitation, a single false step may cause death. On these