"Ah!" said the Major, as he set laboriously about loading the pistols, handling the balls somewhat ostentatiously.
George Washington asserted, "I b'lieve I know mo' 'bout the Code 'n you does, Marse Nat."
The Major looked at him quizzically as he rammed the ball down hard. He was so skilful that George at length added condescendingly, "But I see you ain' forgit how to handle dese things."
The Major modestly admitted, as he put on a cap, that he used to be a pretty fair shot, and George Washington in an attitude as declarative of his pride in the occasion as his inebriated state admitted, was looking on with an expression of supreme complacency, when the Major levelled the weapon and sighted along its barrel. George Washington gave a jump which sent his cherished beaver bouncing twenty feet.
"Look out, Marse Nat! Don' handle dat thing so keerless, please, suh."
The Major explained that he was just trying its weight, and declared that it "came up beautifully;" to which George Washington after he had regained his damaged helmet assented with a somewhat unsteady voice. The Major looked at his watch and up at the trees, the tops of which were still brightened with the reflection from the sunset sky, and muttered an objurgation at the failure of the principals to appear, vowing that he never before knew of a similar case, and that at least he had not expected Jeff to fail to come to time. George Washington again proudly announced that he represented Jeff and that it was "that urr gent'man what had done fly de track, that urr gent'man what you ripresents, Marse Nat." He spoke with unveiled contempt.
The Major suddenly turned on him.
"George Washington!"
"Suh!" He faced him.