“I hope that miserable Conway will give you no trouble,” said Jennie, as they parted.
“No fears on that score,” lightly replied Calhoun, as he bade her good-bye.
But Calhoun well knew there would be trouble. No Kentucky officer would forgive a blow, no matter what the provocation was under which it was given.
The blow which Conway received had the effect of sobering him, but he presented a pitiable sight. His face was covered with blood, and one eye was nearly closed. When he knew it was Calhoun that had struck him, his rage was fearful. Nothing but blood would wipe out the insult. For a Kentucky gentleman not to resent a blow meant disgrace and dishonor; he would be looked upon as a contemptible coward. But Conway was no coward. He knew he was in fault, but that would not wipe out the disgrace of the blow. There was but one thing for him to do, and that was to challenge Calhoun.
That night Calhoun was waited upon by Captain Mathews, who in the name of Conway demanded an abject apology. This, of course, was refused, and a formal challenge was delivered. Calhoun at once accepted it, and referred Mathews to his friend Lieutenant Matson.
“Look here, Pennington,” said Mathews, “I do not want you to think I uphold Conway in what he did. I am no saint, but I never insulted a woman. [pg 136]Conway would not have done it if he had not been drunk. I was just going to the lady’s rescue when you struck the blow. There was no need of knocking Conway down. I understand the girl is a Lincolnite, but that makes no difference, Conway is right in demanding satisfaction.”
“And I am willing to give it to him,” answered Calhoun. “The only thing I ask is that the affair be arranged quickly. Let it be to-morrow morning at sunrise. And, Captain, understand that I bear you no grudge. I consider your action perfectly honorable.”
Mathews bowed and withdrew. He and Matson quickly arranged the preliminaries. The meeting was to take place at sunrise, in a secluded spot near Danville; the weapons were pistols, the distance fifteen paces. Only one shot was to be allowed. The affair had to be managed with the utmost secrecy; above all things, it had to be kept from the ears of Morgan. But it was whispered from one to another until half the officers knew of it. None blamed Calhoun, yet none could see how Conway could avoid giving the challenge.
“Both are dead men,” said an officer, with a grave shake of the head. “Morgan ought to be told; he would stop it.”
“Tell Morgan if you dare!” cried half a dozen voices.