“My principal, Mr. Pickering Lawrence, having failed to appear at the designated time and place to meet his engagement with Mr. Jefferson Lewis, I, as his second and representative, offer myself to take his place and assume any and all of his obligations.” George Washington bowed grandly. “Yes, suh, of cose,--dat is accordin’ to de Code,” he said with solemnity befitting the occasion. The Major proceeded. “And your principal, Mr. Jefferson Lewis, having likewise failed to appear at the proper time, you take his place.” “Suh,” ejaculated George Washington, in sudden astonishment, turning his head slightly as if he were not certain he had heard correctly, “Marse Nat, jis say dat agin, please, suh?” The Major elevated his voice and advanced his pistol slightly. “I say, your principal, Mr Jefferson Lewis, having in like manner failed to put in his appearance at the time and place agreed on for the meeting, you as his representative take his place and assume all his obligations.” “Oh! nor, suh, I don’t!” exclaimed George Washington, shaking his head so violently that the demoralized beaver fell off again and rolled around unheeded. “I ain’ bargain for no sich thing as dat. Nor, suh!” But the Major was obdurate. “Yes, sir, you do. When you accept the position of second, you assume all the obligations attaching to that position, and----” the Major advanced his pistol--“I shall shoot at you.” George Washington took a step towards him. “Oh! goodness! Marse Nat, you ain’ gwine do nuttin like dat, is you!” His jaw had fallen, and when the Major bowed with deep solemnity and replied, “Yes, sir, and you can shoot at me,” he burst out. “Marse Nat, I don’ warn’ shoot at you. What I warn’ shoot at you for? I ain’ got nuttin ‘ginst you on de fatal uth. You been good master to me all my days an’----” The Major cut short this sincere tribute to his virtues, by saying: “Very well, you can shoot or not as you please. I shall aim at that waistcoat.” He raised his pistol and partially closed one eye. George Washington dropped on his knees. “Oh, Marse Nat, please, suh. What you want to shoot me for? Po’ ole good-for-nuttin George Washington, whar ain’ nuver done you no harm” (the Major’s eye glanced over his blue coat and flowered vest; George saw it), “but jes steal you’ whiskey an’ you’ clo’es an’--Marse Nat, ef you le’ me off dis time I oon nuver steal no mo’ o’ you’ clo’es, er you’ whiskey, er nuttin. Marse Nat, you wouldn’ shoot po’ ole good-for-nuttin George Washington, whar fotch’ up wid you?” “Yes, sir, I would,” declared the Major, sternly. “I am going to give the word, and--” he raised the pistol once more. George Washington began to creep toward him. “Oh, Lordy! Marse Nat, please, suh, don’ pint dat thing at me dat away--hit’s loaded! Oh, Lordy!” he shouted. The Major brandished his weapon fiercely. “Stand up, sir, and stop that noise--one--two--three,” he counted, but George Washington was flat on the ground.