"Tell Cal Bennett I will not fight him," said Keith quietly.
The major was plainly flabbergasted, and for a moment puffed his red cheeks in and out rapidly.
"You mean to tell me, suh, that yo' refuse the satisfaction due a gentleman after affrontin' him?"
"I won't fight Cal Bennett," repeated Keith patiently.
The major turned even redder, and swelled so visibly that Keith, in spite of his sad realization of the gravity of the affair, caught himself guiltily in a boyish anticipation that some of the major's strained buttons would pop.
"I shall so repo't to my principal, suh. But I may add, suh, that in my opinion, suh, yo' are conductin' yo'self in a manner unbecomin' to a gentleman; and othuh gentlemen will say so, suh! They may go even farthah and stigmatize yo' conduct as cowardly, suh! And it might even be that I, suh, would agree with that expression, suh!"
The major glowered. Keith smiled wearily. It did not to him at the moment that this would be so great a calamity.
"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 passions 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!"