"Are you mad?" he muttered, staring.
I laughed.
"Not I," I said, gayly, "but the pack o' fools who curse my country with their folly, like that withered, half-witted Governor of Virginia, like that pompous ass in Boston, like you yourself, sir, though God knows it chokes to say it of your father's son!"
"Major Benning," cried Sir John, "you will place that lunatic under arrest!"
My major started, then took a step towards me.
"Try it!" said I, all the evil in me on fire. "Go to the devil, sir!—where your own business is doubtless stewing. Hands off, sir!—or I throw you through the window!"
"Good Gad!" muttered Benning. "The lad's gone stark!"
"But I still shoot straight," I said, picking up Sir William's favourite rifle and handling it most carelessly.
"Mind what you are about!" cried Sir John, furiously. "That piece is charged!"
"I am happy to know it," I replied, dropping it into the hollow of my arm so he could look down the black muzzle.