"Not so agreeable an occasion as when we last acted together in the field, Major Macdonnel; I'd sooner be clearing the course for my friend's horse, than measuring the ground for his fire."
"True, indeed, Major Longsword; true, indeed. Don't you think you're putting your friend a leetle too much under the shade? I don't know—perhaps not—but a foot or two off the trees gives a more equal light; that's it."
"I believe we're ready now—eh, Major?"
"Quite ready, Major. We'll have it over in two minutes."
"I say, Major," and the other Major whispered; "Blake's just under the small bush there, I hope you won't want him."
"Thank ye, Major, thank ye—I hope not."
"And, Major, there can be no necessity for a second shot, I think—eh? Brown won't want a second shot, will he?"
"Not at all, Major, not at all; a trifling thing like this—we'll have it over now in a double crack, eh?"
"True, Major, true; put your man up, and I'll give the word."
And the Majors put up their men with great dexterity, and the word was given. They both fired, each at his adversary, but each without attempting to cover the other. Brown's ball whistled harmlessly away without approaching within any dangerous proximity of the Counsellor's body; but not so Webb's; it was very evident Jonas was hit, for his body gave a spasmodic jerk forwards, his knees bent under him, and his head became thrown back somewhat over his shoulders. He did not fall himself, but his hat did; he dropped his pistol to the ground, and inserted both his right and his left hand under the tails of his coat.