a preconcerted signal—­the waving of a white handkerchief—­walked slowly and steadily off, in opposite directions, counting their steps until each had measured fifty.  They both completed the given number about the same instant, and then they wheeled, each to aim and fire when he chose.  As the distance was great, both paused for some seconds—­long enough for the beholders to flash their eyes from one to the other, and mark the striking contrast betwixt them.  The face of Colonel Morton was calm and smiling; but the smile it bore had a most murderous meaning.  On the contrary, the countenance of Deaf Smith was stern and passionless as ever.  A side view of his features might have been mistaken for a profile done in cast iron.  The one, too, was dressed in the richest cloth; the other in smoke-tinted leather.  But that made no difference in Texas then; for the heirs of heroic courage were all considered peers—­the class of inferiors embraced none but cowards.

Presently two rifles exploded with simultaneous roars.  Colonel Morton gave a prodigious bound upward, and dropped to the earth a corpse!  Deaf Smith stood erect, and immediately began to reload his rifle; and then, having finished his brief task, he hastened away into the adjacent forest.

Three days afterward, General Houston, accompanied by Deaf Smith and ten other men, appeared in Austin, and, without further opposition, removed the state papers.

The history of the hero of the foregoing anecdote was one of the most extraordinary ever known in the West.  He made his advent in Texas at an early period, and continued to reside there until his death, which happened some two years ago; but, although he had many warm personal friends, no one could ever ascertain either the land of his birth, or a single gleam of his previous biography.  When he was questioned on the subject, he laid his finger on his lip; and if pressed more urgently, his brow writhed, and his dark eye seemed to shoot sparks of livid fire!  He could write with astonishing correctness and facility, considering his situation; and, although denied the exquisite pleasure and priceless advantages of the sense of hearing, nature had given him ample compensation, by an eye, quick and far-seeing as an eagle’s; and a smell, keen and incredible as that of a raven.  He could discover objects moving miles away in the far-off prairie, when others could perceive nothing but earth and sky; and the rangers used to declare that he could catch the scent of a Mexican or Indian at as great a distance as a buzzard could distinguish the odor of a dead carcass.