I was too much aroused, by this time, to sleep any more, so I lay awake thinking of the possible dangerous outcome of the meeting that would soon take place.
Soon I heard footsteps again approaching along the corridor, and I was then aware that Barron and Will Byrd were approaching the Major's room. It was barely daylight, but I jumped up and dressed and made my way into the room to join them.
The Major was still undressed. He sat on the edge of the bed and appeared so nervous that he could hardly put on his clothes.
This amused Barron very much.
"It's no use, Barry! you know the old saying about the dogs' hair being good for his bite," said the Major, throwing down his clothes. "Gimme some of the hair, and I'll see if this twitching of the bones and numbing of the nerves don't hold off a bit. Lord! I didn't drink anything last night to amount to anything. I was just a little tired out riding over from Pendletons."
Barron poured out a good, stiff drink of brandy, and the Major gulped it down without winking.
Then a most remarkable change came over the old fighter's grizzled features. He jumped up, and in less time than it takes to tell of it, he had his clothes on, and was just buckling on his sword belt, when Barron stopped him.
"Now, Bull, whoever heard of fighting a duel in such a rig," he cried. "Take it off, man. Byrd has the tooth-picks for this work," and he pointed to a couple of rapiers, wrapped carefully in cloth, that Will carried under his arm.
The Major looked from one to the other of us.
"Fight a duel!" he cried in astonishment. "Who in the name of six sons of Hayman is going to fight a duel?" and he forthwith strapped on his sword-belt.