It happened that while he was in his rage, Uncle Kit, Jake
Harrington and I, knowing nothing of Shewman's mad fit, started
out to look after our horses and had to pass near their camp. Just
as we were passing by their cabin, Shewman said:
"There goes the d--d white-faced American now. Look at him, he
looks just like a coward, and he is a d--d cowardly cur, just like
all the rest of the Americans."
Uncle Kit stopped and addressed him in the following manner:
"I am an American and I feel proud of the name, but I would have
you understand that I am no coward. I will fight you any way that
you wish."
Shewman said: "If you want me to kill you, get your horse and I
will get mine, and we will get one hundred yards apart and start
at the word. After we start, each fire when we please."
This Uncle Kit agreed to, saying: "There is my horse, I will be
ready in three minutes. Get ready as soon as you please; as you
seem to want to fight, I will accommodate you."
I had been with Uncle Kit now since 1847, and this was the first
time I had ever seen him in any serious trouble, and I was
surprised at the cool and unexcited manner in which he talked to
Shewman. He was apparently as cool as though he was just in the
act of starting out buffalo hunting. There was a smile on his
countenance when he was talking to Shewman about the fight that
was to take place, in which one of them was to lose his life.
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