'If so be as how you've got this 'ere lady's valise, she's all
right, and can go. But, in that case, this is yourn, and it comes on you
to account for them 'are stole spoons. Have to take _you_ in charge, all
four of ye.'
'Why, you impudent scoundrel!' roared the Captain; 'I'll see you in
----. I wish I had my pistols here; I'd teach you how to insult
gentlemen!'--shaking his fist.
The dispute waxed fast and furious. The outsiders began to take part in
it, and there is no telling how it would have ended, had not an
explosion, followed by a heavy fall and a scream of pain, been heard in
an adjoining room.
The crowd rushed to the scene of the new attraction.
The door was fast. It was soon burst open, and the mystery explained.
The thief, who had carried off the Captain's valise by mistake for his
own, had taken it up to his room, and opened it to gloat over the booty
he supposed it to contain, thrusting his hand in after the spoons. In so
doing he had touched one of the hair triggers, and the pistol had gone
off, the bullet making a round hole through the side of the valise, and
a corresponding round hole in the calf of his leg.
The wounded rascal was taken in charge, first by the policeman, and then
by the doctor; and the duelists and the wedded pair struck up a
friendship on the score of their mutual mishaps, which culminated in a
supper, where the fun was abundant, and where it would he hard to say
which was in the best spirits,--the Captain for recovering his pistols,
the bride for getting her night-cap, the bridegroom for escaping the
station-house, or the duelists for escaping each other.
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