“I say I did not have that pleasure,” corrected the Major, blandly; “the affair was, as I stated, arranged without a shot; yet do you know? that rascal George Washington will not allow that it was so, and I understand he recounts with the most harrowing details the manner in which ‘he and I,’ as he terms it, shot my friend—murdered him.”
Miss Jemima gave an “Ugh. Horrible! What depravity!” she said, almost under her breath.
The Major caught the words.
“Yes, madam, it is horrible to think of such depravity. Unquestionably he deserves death; but what can one do! The law, kept feeble by politicians, does not permit one to kill them, however worthless they are (he observed Miss Jemima’s start,)—except, of course, by way of example, under certain peculiar circumstances, as I have stated to you.” He bowed blandly.
Miss Jemima was speechless, so he pursued.
“I have sometimes been tempted to make a break for liberty, and have thought that if I could once get the rascal on the field, with my old pistols, I would settle with him which of us is the master.”
“Do you mean that you would—would shoot him?” gasped Miss Jemima.
“Yes, madam, unless he should be too quick for me,” replied the Major, blandly,—“or should order me from the field, which he probably would do.”
The old lady turned and hastily left the room.