od friend, I presume you have made a mistake in the house. This is
a private meeting, where none but members are admitted."

The stranger did not appear to comprehend the words; but he could not
fail to understand the mild and deprecatory manner. His rigid features
relaxed, and moving to a table in the center of the hall, where there
were materials and implements for writing, he seized a pen, and traced
one line: "I am deaf." He then held it up before the spectators, as a
sort of natural apology for his own want of politeness.

Judge Webb took the paper, and wrote a question: "Dear sir, will you be
so obliging as to inform us what is your business with the
present meeting?"

The other responded by delivering a letter, inscribed on the back, "To
the citizens of Austin." They broke the seal and read it aloud. It was
from Houston, and showed the usual terse brevity of his style:

"FELLOW CITIZENS:--Though in error, and deceived by the arts of
traitors, I will give you three days more to decide whether you will
surrender the public archives. At the end of that time you will please
let me know your decision."

SAM. HOUSTON.

After the reading, the deaf man waited a few seconds, as if for a reply,
and then turned and was about to leave the hall, when Colonel Morton,
interposed, and sternly beckoned him back to the table. The stranger
obeyed, and Morton wrote: "You were brave enough to insult me by your
threatening looks ten minutes ago; are you brave enough now to give me
satisfaction?"

The stranger penned his reply: "I am at your service!"

Morton wrote again: "Who will be your second?"

The stranger rejoined: "I am too generous to seek an advantage; and too
brave to fear any on part of others; therefore, I never need the aid of
a second."

Morton penned: "Name your terms."

The stranger traced, without a moment's hesitation: "Time, sunset this
evening; place, the left bank of the Colorado, opposite Austin; weapons,
rifles; and distance, a hundred yards. Do not fail to be in time!"

He then took three steps across the floor, and disappeared through the
window, as he had entered.

"What?" exclaimed Judge Webb, "is it possible Colonel Morton, that you
intend to fight that man? He is a mute, if not a positive maniac. Such a
meeting, I fear, will sadly tarnish the luster of your laurels."

"You are mistaken," replied Morton, with a smile; "that mute is a hero
whose fame stands in the records of a dozen battles,