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Lincoln, Nebraska
By C B. BURGESS
Copyright. 1910. by American Press
Association.
The best bluffer 1 ever knew was
Ned Thornton of Chicago. One win
ter Ned aud I met iu Berlin and went
together to a students' ball. While
Ned was dancing with a very pretty
fraulein a young fellow who evidently
had a claim upon her came up to him
and said:
"I will pigstick you."
That's the way they have over there
of telling a man that he's got to fight.
Ned turned upon him with well as
sumed fury and replied:
"And I will let the sawdust out of
you."
Later a dapper officer with a
wasp waist stepped up to Ned and
handed him a card on which was en
graved "Lieutenant Ernst von Batter
stein." Ned. understanding that the officer
addressed him as bearer of chal
lenge, whipped out his own card, on
which be had scrawled. "Instructor of
Fencing, No. Dearborn Street, Chi
cago. U. S. A."
You see, Ned had known very well
what was coming and with his usual
quick foresight had prepared his first
move. With a magnificent sweep of
his arm he referred the lieutenant to
me. and I agreed to meet the gentle
man at a cafe in the TJnter den Linden
in half an hour.
"Ned," 1 protested as soon as we
were alone, "you can't bluff one of
these young Germans with so palpable
a device as that. My opinion is that
we'd better Jump the town. You
know well enough you've never han
dled a foil in your life, and at shoot
ing you couldn't hit a ten story build
ing at ten paces. We don't duel any
in America, and it's no disgrace to flee
from these fellows who do. All we
have to do is to lose ourselves for the
rest of the night and take an early
train in the msrning."
"Oh. there's some better way out of
It than that Do you know what Gen
eral Grant said when going to attack
his first enemy? He said that the oth
er fellow was probably as much scared
as he was, and so he went on. Well,
I've put at least the probability into
this young man's head that I'm an ex
pert, and if he doesn't believe me he
won't be sure that I'm not. You go
and talk with his second and hear
what he has to say."
I met Von Batterstein and to help
Ned on in his game assumed a confi
dent air. I said as little as possible,
for when a man is playing a desperate
game it's best to let him do it all him
self. The slightest interference with
Ned In this instance might cost him
bis life. When the lieutenant asked
what weapons my friend as the chal
lenged party would choose I simply
replied." "Foils, of course!" and as to
other details I left them entirely to
him. except that the affair should be
settled at once, as my man bad an en
gagement in Paris with a pupil who
needed his services in an affair of the
same sort.
I flattered myself that this was keep-f
ing up the "Instructor In fencing" Il
lusion pretty well. If the principal on
the other side had been an officer in
the army the pretense couldn't be re
lied on, for a soldier can't very well
back out from sure death. But the
would be pigsticker was a civilian,
and that wasn't so bad. The officer
didn't appear in the least frightened,
but he was not the man who would
have to meet a fencing master.
It was arranged. In order that Ned
should meet bis engagement In Paris,
that we should be at a rendezvous
where such affairs are settled at 6
o'clock the same morning. 1 went
back and reported the outcome to Ned.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"You're certainly not going to let this
fellow run a sword through your vi
tals." "Oh. I'll keep up the bluff till the
last minute, and if the thing goes
against me I'll find a pretext to slide
out with honor."
At 5:30 we took a carriage and drove
to the rendezvous. I had left the pro
curement of the weapons to the enemy,
saying that my principal could fence
as well with a cutlass as a foil and I
would rely on them for weapons.
When we got on the ground the pig
sticker was looking over a stock of
foils and testing them, evidently think
ing that if he was to meet a fencing
master who didn't care whether be
used ' a foil or a cutlass he must be
carefully armed. It looked to me that
the bluff game was up and Ned would
have to wiggle out.
Just before taking position Ned sent
me to the enemy to say that since he
didn't wish to kill his antagonist be
would give him the choice between
losing an eye or having his nose cut
off. I was to bring back word which
f these the pigsticker preferred to
lose.
I saw by the appearance of the prin
cipal on the other side when this cool
proposition was announced to him that
we had made a break. Von Batterstein
took it to him, and tbey stood apart
talking earnestly. I was In suspense
as to the issue. Presently the lieuten
ant came to me and said that his prin
cipal bad decided that the contest was
too unequal to be undertaken and that
since his enemy was about to leave
for Paris the cause of the dissension
would be removed.
Well, there was more palaver, but
that was the end of It. The principals
shook bands, and Ned invited the pig
sticker If he ever came to Chicago to
visit bis academy on Dearborn street.
By F. A. MITCHEL
Copyright, 1910. by American Press
Association.
I am known as Mesereau the climber.
The guide upon whom I always re
lied when climbing iu the region about
Interlaken was Carl Weber, a German
Swiss. He was brave and faithful,
and I became very much attached to
him. I had him with me in every
climb I made out of Interlaken to the
summits of the Wetterhorn, Eiger,
Monk and Juugfrau. And frequently
when I attempted ascents in the south
ern Alps I would send for him to
come to me. He always responded
with alacrity, and I knew that he
would rather guide me than any one
else.
After an adventure we had on the
Matterhorn his affection for me was
greatly enhanced. We were alone on
the side of that razor backed peak
when, walking on a snow edge, a
crust gave way beneath me, and I fell.
Weber, knowing that the only way to
prevent his being dragged after me
was to throw himself on the opposite
side, did so. There we hun, each
dangling over a precipice divided by
a sharp edge of rock.' Unfortunately
Weber's right arm had become caught
in a loop of the rope and a bone
snapped.
"Herr." he called, "I cannot pull
myself up. My arm is broken. 1 think
there is snow beneath you. The rope
must be cut. You will fall a short
distance and may not be hurt."
"And you?" '
"I shall go down a thousand feet."
"Then the rope shall not be cut. I
will go up band over hand and, strad
dling the edge, will pull you up."
This I did. I expected Weber would
be overjoyed at bis escape, but he did
not appear to be so much pleased as
one would suppose.
"Ach!" he exclaimed bitterly. "I
shall never be the same man after
having been saved by one I have guid
ed." This was the last time Weber and 1
ever climbed together. Not long aft
erward, while conducting a party of
Englishmen to the summit of Mont
Blanc, the snow gave way beneath
them, an avalanche was started, and
they were all lost. Weber's body was
found buried under thirty feet of
snow, head down, his alpenstock held
tight in the grip of his icy hand.
On hearing of my faithful guide's
death 1 resolved that I would never
climb again. This was partly because
to climb' without Weber would not be
enjoyable and partly because his death
caused me to realize that there is no
safety In Alpine climbing even with
the best guide. 1 refrained for two
years; then, business calling me to
Europe, I found myself near my be
loved Switzerland in the summer sea
son and ran down to Chamonix for a
visit. Unluckily for my resolution
while at Chamonix I fell in with a
party about to climb to the summit
of Mont Blanc.
I stood looking up one morning at
the magnificent sight of the mountain
on which Weber had met bis death,
greatly tempted to make one more as
cent. I wondered If the soul of my
guide, freed from flesh and the at
traction of gravitation, was flitting
over the cliffs, sailing through the
vast splits between the peaks, revel
ing in being able to go like a bird
wherever it pleased. Then came to
me a superstitious dread lest if I wait
I should meet with misfortune.
I determined to adhere to my reso
lution to climb no more, when one of
the party began to talk with me about
the trip and when I spoke of remain
ing below manifested some surprise
that such a "noted climber" should be
content to see others go without going
himself. This decided me to be one of
the party.
We made the Grand Mulets, the but
built for a halfway stop, by evening
and started the next morning under
a cloudy sky for tbe summit. Within
an hour we were enveloped in by far
the worst snowstorm I bad ever en
countered in any of my ascents. It
was like an American blizzard, the
snow falling in miniature spirals and
deepening so rapidly that we soon
found moving in any direction diffi
cult I have never before seen Alpine
guides thoroughly frightened. "We
must return to the Grand Mulets,"
they all said, and, turning, we began
to descend. But how could we de
scend any more than ascend, not be
ing able to see a distance of ten
yards? If we stopped we would be
overcome by the snow. If we proceed
ed we would likely go Into a crevice
or over a precipice. And what was
the use of moving when we did not
know which way to move?
I went out on a circumscribed ex
ploring trip and stood apart from the
rest awed by the whirling snow,
when I heard a voice a voice fa
miliar, never to be forgotten.
"Herr," folgen sie mich!" (Sir, fol
low me).
At that moment I saw through tbe
snowflakes a vague form a short dis
tance before me. Calling to tbe oth
ers to come. I followed It they trail-j
lng in behind me. There were
heights above and chasms below, but
we walked near them without dan
ger. . And there before us, flickering,!
now fading, disappearing, but always
reappearing, was the figure.
Within twenty minutes we reached:
the -Grand Mulets.
Who or what led us to safety I
leave for the reader to surmise.
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