Part 43 (1/2)

”I am sorry to have forfeited your good opinion, Major,” he contented himself with saying.

The major marched straight back to the Monumental, where Bennett and a number of friends were awaiting the result of his mission. The major's angry pa.s.sions had been rising, every foot of the way.

”He won't fight, suh!” he bellowed, slamming his cane across the table.

”He won't fight! And I stigmatized him to his face as a white-livered hound!”

Calhoun Bennett sank back pale, and speechless. His companions deluged him with advice.

”Horsewhip the craven publicly.” ”Warn him to go heeled, and then force the issue!” ”Shoot him down like the dog he is!”

But the major's mighty bellow dominated everything.

”I claim the privilege!” he roared. ”Egad, I _demand_ the privilege! It is my right! I am insulted by such a rebuff! Now that I have acquitted myself of Cal's errand, I will call him out myself. Ain't that right, Cal? I'll make the hound fight!”

The old major looked redder and fiercer than ever. There could be no doubt that he would make any one fight, once he started out to do so, and that he would carry the matter through. He was brave enough.

But little Jimmy Ware, who had been doing some thinking, here spoke up.

It seemed to him a good chance to get a reputation without any risk.

Since James King of William had uncompromisingly refused to fight duels, his example had been followed. A strong party of those having conscientious scruples against the practice had come into being.

Keith's refusal to fight Bennett, to Ware's mind, indicated that he belonged to this cla.s.s. It looked safe.

”Pardon me, Major,” he broke in suavely; ”but each in turn. I claim the right. Cal had first chance because he had personally warned the man of the consequences. But I am equally accused. You must admit my prior claim.”

The major came off the boil. Puffing his red cheeks in and out he considered.

”Yo're right, suh,” he conceded reluctantly.

After considerable persuasion, and some flattery as to his familiarity with the niceties of the Code, the major consented to bear Jimmy's defiance. He entered Keith's office again, stiffer than a ramrod. Keith smiled at him.

”There's no use, Major, I won't fight Cal Bennett,” he greeted his visitor.

”I am the bearer of a challenge from Mistah James Ware,” he announced.

”What!” yelled Keith, so suddenly and violently that Major Miles recoiled a step.

”From Mistah James Ware,” he repeated.

Keith laughed savagely.

”Oh, I'll fight him,” he growled; ”gladly; any time he wants it.”

The major's face lit up.

”If you'll name yo' friend, suh,” he suggested.

”Friend? Friend? What for? I'm capable of arranging this. I haven't time to hunt up a friend.”

”It's customary,” objected the major.

”Look here,” Keith swept on, ”I'm the challenged party and I have the say-so, haven't I?”