"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. Barron burst into a fit of laughter. "Never mind, come along with us. But where on earth, Bull, did you think we were bound for at this hour in the morning?" "Think!" roared Bullbeggor, "I know I'm going to ride to Williamsburg and report to Colonel Woodford. Think thunder." Will looked a little disgusted, but said nothing, and I led the way softly down the corridor and out the back way without awakening my mother or sister. The Major looked about him with blinking, sheeny eyes for his mare. Not seeing her, he started for the stables, calling out lustily for Snake in the Grass. Barron seized him by the arm and stopped him. "Bull," he cried laughing, "you've made an appointment to meet Harrison, and he is waiting to get a clip from you down on the shore. Don't make any more racket, but come along before you wake up the household." I must say, I was somewhat disgusted with the Major's behavior, so I spoke out, telling him he would have to meet his man. "Meet him!" he bawled, turning on me fiercely. "Of course I'll meet him." Then he turned toward the stable. "Snake!" he cried, as his nigger appeared, "Get the mare ready, for I'll be through in a few minutes. Lead the way, Mr. Judkins. Meet the devil!" I then led the way down to the river bank, just as the rising sun tipped the tree tops with golden light. The shore in the bend was very flat and sandy, being overhung partly with great, sweeping willows. As we neared the spot fixed upon we were aware of the presence of Harrison and Phripps. They were standing under a large tree and appeared to be much absorbed in conversation. As we approached them they turned about, and Phripps advanced, holding a pair of small swords in one hand and a case containing pistols in the other.