“Well, what do you imagine they were used for?”
“I haven’t a notion.”
The Major wagged his head. “My boy, it’s a testimonial to the progress of the world that you haven’t a notion. Time was, I’m sorry to say, when a fine, upstanding lad like you would have known only too well what these were and how they were used. These are dueling pistols, sir!”
“Oh!” cried Sam, and bent over the case with increased interest. “And—and were they ever—ever——”
“They were,” said the Major drily. “Oh, yes—more than once. Genuine article, I do assure you! But that sort of thing is over and done with, fortunately.”
Sam straightened his back. “I’ve read about duels, of course. And some of the books speak as if there must have been lots of them.”
“Too many!” snorted the Major. “That’s perfectly true, sir. Principle was all wrong, but it took centuries to make the discovery. Honest men, honorable men mistakenly believed that the way to do justice and to accept justice was by killing each other or standing up to be killed. All wrong; all wrong, sir! The law is the law, and to it we must look for redress for injuries.”
“Yes, sir,” said Sam, a deal impressed by this testimony from one commonly reputed to be a stubborn and unyielding antagonist. “Only—only”—a curious thought had thrust itself upon him—“only, can you always be sure of what the law is? I mean, that is, can you always be sure of what you ought to do?”
“Eh?” The bushy eyebrows came together as if the Major were perplexed by the question.
“Can you always find a law—or a rule—that applies?”