CHAPTER X
THE SUPREME COURT
If remorse, mental or physical, affected any of the dwellers atJefferson Barracks on the morning following the officers' ball, at leastneither was in evidence. By noon all traces of the late festivities hadbeen removed from the parade ground, and the routine of the Post went onwith the usual mechanical precision. The Army had entertained, it nowlabored. In a few hours it would again be ready to be entertained; thenext little event of interest being the pigeon match between Orme andmyself, which swift rumor seemed to have magnified into an importancenot wholly welcome to myself.
We had a late breakfast at Number 16, and my friend Stevenson, who wasto handle me in the match, saw to it that I had a hard tubbing beforebreakfast and a good run afterward, and later a hearty luncheon with noheavy wines. I was surprised at these business-like proceedings, whichwere all new to me, and I reflected with no satisfaction that myhot-headedness in accepting Orme's challenge might result in no glory tomyself, and worse than that, let in my friends for loss; for Stevensoninformed me that in spite of the fact that I had never shot in a race, anumber of wagers were backing me against the Englishman. I reasoned,however, that these responsibilities should not be considered by one whoneeded perfect command of himself. Moreover, although I had never shotat trapped birds, I reasoned that a bird in the air was a flying birdafter all, whether from trap or tree. Then, again, I was offended atOrme's air of superiority. Lastly, though it might be the fault of theCowles' blood to accept any sort of challenge, it was not our way toregret that so soon as the day following.
The grounds for the match had been arranged at the usual place, near tothe edge of the military reservation, and here, a half hour before thetime set, there began to gather practically all of the young officersabout the Post, all the enlisted men who could get leave, with cooks,strikers, laundresses, and other scattered personnel of the barracks.There came as well many civilians from the city, and I was surprised tosee a line of carriages, with many ladies, drawn up back of the score.Evidently our little matter was to be made a semi-fashionable affair,and used as another expedient to while away ennui-ridden Army time.
My opponent, accompanied by Major Williams, arrived at about the sametime that our party reached the grounds. Orme shook hands with me, anddeclared that he was feeling well, although Williams laughinglyannounced that he had not been able to make his man go to bed for morethan an hour that morning, or to keep him from eating and drinkingeverything he could lay his hands upon. Yet now his eye was bright, hisskin firm, his step light and easy. That the man had a superbconstitution was evident, and I knew that my work was cut out for me,for Orme, whatever his profession, was an old one at the game of speedygoing. As a man I disliked and now suspected him. As an opponent at anygame one was obliged to take account of him.
"What boundary do we use, gentlemen?" Orme asked, as he looked out overthe field. This question showed his acquaintance, but none the less hisconfidence and his courtesy as well, for in closely made matches alldetails are carefully weighed before the issue is joined. "I am moreused to the Monaco bounds of eighteen yards," he added, "but whatever isyour custom here will please me. I only want to have a notion of yoursport."
"Our races here have usually been shot at fifty yards bounds," saidStevenson.
"As you like," said Orme, "if that pleases Mr. Cowles."
"Perfectly," said I, who indeed knew little about the matter.
Orme stepped over to the coops where the birds were kept--splendid,iridescent creatures, with long tails, clean, gamy heads and all thecolors of the rainbow on their breasts. "By Jove!" he said, "they'rerippers for looks, and they should fly a bit, I'm thinking. I have neverseen them before, much less shot a race at them."
"Still your advantage," said I, laughing, "for I never shot a race atany sort in my life."
"And yet you match against me? My dear fellow, I hardly like--"
"The match is made, Captain Orme, and I am sure Mr. Cowles would not askfor any readjustment," commented Stevenson stiffly.
"Don't understand me to wish to urge anything," said Orme. "I only wishit so we shall all have a chance at revenge. Is there any one who wishesto back me, perhaps, or to back Mr. Cowles? Sometimes in England weshoot at a guinea a bird or five, or ten." Stevenson shook his head."Too gaited for me at this time of the month," he said; "but I'll layyou a hundred dollars on the issue."
"Five if you like, on the Virginian, sir," said young Belknap of theNinth to Orme.
"Done, and done, gentlemen. Let it be dollars and not guineas if youlike. Would any one else like to lay a little something? You see, I'm astranger here, but I wish to do what will make it interesting for any ofyou who care to wager something."
A few more wagers were laid, and the civilian element began to plunge abit on Orme, word having passed that he was an old hand at the game,whereas I was but a novice. Orme took some of these wagers carelessly.
"Now as to our referee, Captain," said Stevenson. "You are, as you say,something of a stranger among us, and we wish your acquaintance weregreater, so that you might name some one who would suit you."
"I'm indifferent," said Orme politely. "Any one Mr. Cowles may name willplease me."
His conduct was handsome throughout, and his sporting attitude made himmany friends among us. I suspect some Army money went on him, quietly,although little betting was now done in our presence.
"I see Judge Reeves, of the Supreme Court of the State, over there in acarriage," suggested Major Williams. "I've very much a notion to go andask him to act as our referee."
"God bless my soul!" said Orme, "this is an extraordinary country!What--a judge of the Supreme Court?"
Williams laughed. "You don't know this country, Captain, and you don'tknow Judge Reeves. He's a trifle old, but game as a fighting cock, andnot to mention a few duels in his time, he knows more even about gunsand dogs to-day than he does about law. He'll not be offended if I askhim, and here goes."
He edged off through the crowd, and we saw him engaged in earnestconversation with the judge. To our surprise and amusement we observedthe judge climb hastily down out of his carriage and take MajorWilliams' arm.
Judge Reeves was a tall, thin man, whose long hair and beard weresilvery white, yet his stature was erect and vigorous. It was alwayssaid of him that he was the most dignified man in the State of Missouri,and that he carried this formality into every detail of his daily life.The story ran that each night, when he and his aged consort retired,they stood, each with candle in hand, on either side of the great bedwhich all their married life they had occupied in harmony. She, formallybowing to him across the bed, said "Good-night, Judge Reeves"; whereathe, bowing with yet greater formality, replied, "Good-night, Mrs.Reeves." Each then blew out the candle, and so retired! I cannot vouchas to the truth of this story, or of the further report that theycarried out their ceremony when seating themselves at table, each mealof the day; but I will say that the appearance of this gentleman wouldhave given such stories likelihood.
We uncovered as the judge approached us, and he shook hands with us inthe most solemn way, his own wide black hat in his hand. "A--a--hem,gentlemen," he said, "a somewhat unusual situation for one on thebench--most unusual, I may say. But the Court can see no harm in it,since no law of the land is violated. Neither does the Court hold itbeneath the dignity of its office to witness this little trial of skillbetween gentlemen. Further speaking, the Court does not here pass uponquestions of law, but sits rather as jury in matters of ocular evidence,with the simple duty of determining whether certain flying objects fallupon this or the other side of that certain line marked out as theboundaries. Gentlemen, I am, a--hem, yours with great pleasure." Ifthere was a twinkle in his eye it was a very solemn one. I venture tosay he would have lost no votes at the next election were he up foroffice.
"Is the case ready for argument?" presently asked the judge, benignly.Williams and Stevenson both replied "All ready."
"I suggest that the gentlemen
place their ammunition and loading toolsupon the head of the cask at my right," said the judge. "I presume it tobe understood that each may employ such charge as he prefers, and thateach shall load his own piece?" The seconds assented to this. Of course,in those days only muzzle loaders were used, although we had cut-feltwads and all the improvements in gunnery known at that time. My weaponwas supplied me by Captain Stevenson--a good Manton, somewhat batteredup from much use, but of excellent even pattern. Orme shot a Pope-madegun of London, with the customary straight hand and slight drop of theEnglish makes. I think he had brought this with him on his travels.
"Shall the firing be with the single barrel, or with both barrels?"inquired our referee. In those days many American matches were shot fromplunge traps, and with the single barrel.
"I'm more used to the use of both barrels," suggested Orme, "but I donot insist."
"It is the same to me," I said. So finally we decided that the riseshould be at twenty-eight yards, the use of both barrels allowed, andthe boundary at fifty yards--such rules as came to be later moregenerally accepted in this country.
"Gentlemen, I suggest that you agree each bird to be gathered fairly bythe hand, each of you to select a gatherer. Each gentleman mayremunerate his gatherer, but the said remuneration shall in each caseremain the same. Is that satisfactory?" We agreed, and each tossed asilver dollar to a grinning darky boy.
"Now, then, gentlemen, the Court is informed that this match is to befor the sum of twenty-five hundred dollars, wagered by Captain Orme,against a certain black stallion horse, the same not introduced inevidence, but stated by Mr. Cowles to be of the value of twenty-fivehundred dollars in the open market. As the match is stated to be on eventerms, the said John Cowles guarantees this certain horse to be of suchvalue, or agrees to make good any deficit in that value. Is thatunderstood, gentlemen?"
"I did not ask any guarantee," said Orme. "I know the horse, and he isworth more than twice that sum. You are using me very handsomely,gentlemen."
"Judge Reeves is right," said I. "The match is to be even." We bowed toeach other.
The judge felt in his pockets. "Ahem, gentlemen," he resumed. "The Courtbeing, as it were, broke, will some one be so good as to lend the Courta silver coin? Thank you," to Williams, "and now, gentlemen, will youtoss for the order of precedence?"
We threw the coin, and I lost the toss. Orme sent me to the score first,with the purpose, as I knew, of studying his man.
I loaded at the open bowls, and adjusted the caps as I stepped to thescore. I was perhaps a bit too tense and eager, although my health andyouth had never allowed me to be a victim of what is known asnervousness. Our birds were to be flown by hand from behind a screen,and my first bird started off a trifle low, but fast, and I knew I wasnot on with the first barrel, the hang of Stevenson's gun being notquite the same as my own. I killed it with the second, but it struggledover the tape.
"Lost bird!" called out Judge Reeves sharply and distinctly; and it wasevident that now he would be as decisive as he had hitherto beendeliberate.
Under the etiquette of the game no comment was made on my mishap, and mysecond, Stevenson, did not make the mistake of commiserating me. No onespoke a word as Orme stepped to the score. He killed his bird as cleanas though he had done nothing else all his life, and indeed, I think hewas half turned about from the score before the bird was down. "Deadbird!" called the referee, with jaw closing like a steel trap.
Stevenson whispered to me this time. "Get full on with your first," hesaid. "They're lead-packers--old ones, every one, and a picked lot."
I was a trifle angry with myself by this time, but it only left me wellkeyed. My bird fell dead inside of Orme's. A murmur of applause ran downthe line. "Silence in the court," thundered Judge Reeves.
We shot along for ten birds, and Orme was straight, to my nine killed.Stevenson whispered to me once more. "Take it easy, and don't be worriedabout it. It's a long road to a hundred. Don't think about your nextbird, and don't worry whether he kills his or not. Just you kill 'emone at a time and kill each one dead. You mustn't think of anything onearth but that one bird before you."
This was excellent advice in the game, and I nodded to him. Whatever thecause, I was by this time perfectly calm. I was now accustomed to mygun, and had confidence in it. I knew I could shoot to the top of myskill, and if I were beaten it would be through no fault of my ownnerves and muscles, but through the luck of the birds or the greaterskill of the other man.
Orme went on as though he could kill a hundred straight. His time wasperfect, and his style at the trap beautiful. He shot carelessly, butwith absolute confidence, and more than half the time he did not use hissecond barrel.
"Old Virginia never tires," whispered Stevenson. "He'll come back to youbefore long, never fear."
But Orme made it twenty straight before he came back. Then he caught astrong right-quarterer, which escaped altogether, apparently verylightly hit. No one spoke a word of sympathy or exultation, but I caughtthe glint of Stevenson's eye. Orme seemed not in the least disturbed.
We were now tied, but luck ran against us both for a time, since out ofthe next five I missed three and Orme two, and the odds again wereagainst me. It stood the same at thirty, and at thirty-five. At fortythe fortune of war once more favored me, for although Orme shot like amachine, with a grace and beauty of delivery I have never seensurpassed, he lost one bird stone dead over the line, carried out by aslant of the rising wind, which blew from left to right across thefield. Five birds farther on, yet another struggled over for him, and atsixty-five I had him back of me two birds. The interest all along theline was now intense. Stevenson later told me that they had never seensuch shooting as we were doing. For myself, it did not seem that I couldmiss. I doubt not that eventually I must have won, for fate does not sofavor two men at the same hour.
We went on slowly, as such a match must, occasionally pausing to coolour barrels, and taking full time with the loading. Following mysecond's instructions perfectly, I looked neither to the right nor tothe left, not even watching Orme. I heard the confusion of low talk backof us, and knew that a large crowd had assembled, but I did not looktoward the row of carriages, nor pay attention to the new arrivals whichconstantly came in. We shot on steadily, and presently I lost a bird,which came in sharply to the left.
The heap of dead birds, some of them still fluttering in their lastgasps, now grew larger at the side of the referee, and the negro boyswere perhaps less careful to wring the necks of the birds as theygathered them. Occasionally a bird was tossed in such a way as to leavea fluttering wing. Wild pigeons decoy readily to any such sign, and Inoticed that several birds, rising in such position that they headedtoward the score, were incomers, and very fast. My seventieth bird wassuch, and it came straight and swift as an arrow, swooping down andcurving about with the great speed of these birds when fairly on thewing. I covered it, lost sight of it, then suddenly realized that I mustfire quickly if I was to reach it before it crossed the score. It was soclose when I fired that the charge cut away the quills of a wing. Itfell, just inside the line, with its head up, and my gatherer pouncedupon it like a cat. The decision of the referee was prompt, but evenso, it was almost lost in the sudden stir and murmur which arose behindus.
Some one came pushing through the crowd, evidently having sprung downfrom one of the carriages. I turned to see a young girl, clad in whitelawn, a thin silver-gray veil drawn tight under her chin, who now pushedforward through the men, and ran up to the black boy who stood with thebird in his hand, hanging by one wing. She caught it from him, and heldit against her breast, where its blood drabbled her gown and hands. Iremember I saw one drop of blood at its beak, and remember how glad Iwas that the bird was in effect dead, so that a trying scene would soonbe ended.
"Stop this at once!" cried the girl, raising an imperative hand. "Aren'tyou ashamed, all of you? Look, look at this!" She held out the dyingbird in her hand. "Judge Reeves," she cried, "what are you doing there?"
 
; Our decisive referee grew suddenly abashed. "Ah--ah, my dear younglady--my very dear young lady," he began.
"Captain Stevenson," exclaimed the girl, whirling suddenly on my second,"stop this at once! I'm ashamed of you."
"Now, now, my dear Miss Ellen," began Stevenson, "can't you be a goodfellow and run back home? We're off the reservation, and really--this,you see, is a judge of the Supreme Court! We're doing nothing unlawful."He motioned toward Judge Reeves, who looked suddenly uncomfortable.
Major Williams added his counsel. "It is a little sport between CaptainOrme and Mr. Cowles, Miss Ellen."
"Sport, great sport, isn't it?" cried the girl, holding out her drabbledhands. "Look there"--she pointed toward the pile of deadbirds--"hundreds of these killed, for money, for sport. It _isn't_sport. You had all these birds once, you owned them."
And there she hit a large truth, with a woman's guess, although none ofus had paused to consider it so before.
"The law, Miss Ellen," began Judge Reeves, clearing his throat, "allowsthe reducing to possession of animals _feroe naturoe_, that is to say,of wild nature, and ancient custom sanctions it."
"They were already _reduced_" she flashed. "The sport was in gettingthem the first time, not in butchering them afterward."
Stevenson and Williams rubbed their chins and looked at each other. Asfor me, I was looking at the girl; for it seemed to me that never in mylife had I seen one so beautiful.
Her hair, reddish brown in the sunlight, was massed up by the bindingveil, which she pushed back now from her face. Her eyes, wide and dark,were as sad as they were angry. Tears streamed from them down her cheek,which she did not dry. Fearless, eager, she had, without thought,intruded where the average woman would not have ventured, and she stoodnow courageously intent only upon having the way of what she felt wasright and justice. There came to me as I looked at her a curious sensethat I and all my friends were very insignificant creatures; and it wasso, I think, in sooth, she held us.
"Captain Orme," said I to my opponent, "you observe the actual SupremeCourt of America!" He bowed to me, with a questioning raising of hiseyebrows, as though he did not like to go on under the circumstances.
"I am unfortunate to lead by a bird," said I, tentatively. For somereason the sport had lost its zest to me.
"And I being the loser as it stands," replied Orme, "do not see how Ican beg off." Yet I thought him as little eager to go on as I myself.
"Miss Ellen," said Judge Reeves, removing the hat from his white hair,"these gentlemen desire to be sportsmen as among themselves, but ofcourse always gentlemen as regards the wish of ladies. Certain financialconsiderations are involved, so that both feel a delicacy in regard tomaking any motion looking to the altering of the original conditions ofthis contract. Under these circumstances, then, appeal is taken fromthis lower Court"--and he bowed very low--"to what my young friend veryjustly calls the Supreme Court of the United States. Miss Ellen, it isfor you to say whether we shall resume or discontinue."
The girl bowed to Judge Reeves, and then swept a sudden hand towardStevenson and Williams. "Go home, all of you!" she said.
And so, in sooth, much shamefaced, we did go home, Judge of the SupremeCourt, officers of the Army, and all, vaguely feeling we had been caughtdoing some ignoble thing. For my part, although I hope mawkishness nomore marks me than another, and although I made neither then nor at anytime a resolution to discontinue sports of the field, I have never sincethen shot in a pigeon match, nor cared to see others do so, for it hasnever again seemed to me as actual sport. I think the intuitive dictumof the Army girl was right.
"Now _wasn't_ that like Ellen!" exclaimed Kitty, when finally we foundourselves at her carriage--"just _like_ that girl. Just _wasn't_ it_like_ that _girl_! To fly in the face of the Supreme Court of theState, and all the laws of sport as well! Jack, I was keeping count,"she held out her ivory tablets. "You'd have beaten him sure, and Iwanted to see you do it. You were one ahead, and would have made itbetter in the next twenty-five. Oh, won't I talk to that girl when I seeher!"
"So that was Ellen!" I said to Kitty.
"The very same. Now you've seen her. What you think I don't know, butwhat she thinks of you is pretty evident."
"You were right, Mrs. Kitty," said I. "She's desperately good looking.But that isn't the girl I danced with last night. In the name ofProvidence, let me get away from this country, for I know not what mayhappen to me! No man is safe in this neighborhood of beauties."
"Let's all go home and get a bite to eat," said Stevenson, with muchcommon sense. "You've got glory enough just the way it stands."
So that was Ellen! And it moreover was none less than Ellen Meriwether,daughter of my father's friend and business associate, whom I hadtraveled thus far to see, and whom, as I now determined, I must meet atthe very first possible opportunity. Perhaps, then, it might verynaturally come about that--but I dismissed this very rationalsupposition as swiftly as I was able.