Almost immediately after the filing of the complaint he was waited on in his office by a man only slightly known to him, Major Marmaduke Miles. The major's occupation in life was obscure. He was a red-faced, tightly buttoned, full-jowled, choleric Southerner of the ultra-punctilious brand, always well dressed in quaint and rather old-fashioned garments, with charming manners, and the reminiscence of good looks lost in a florid and apoplectic habit. This person entered Keith's office, greeted him formally, declined a chair. Standing very erect before Keith's desk, his beaver hat poised on his left forearm, he said: "I am requested, suh, to enquiah of yo' the name of a friend with whom I can confer." "If that means a challenge, Major, I must first ask the name of your principal," returned Keith. "I am actin' fo' Mr. Calhoun Bennett, suh," stated the major. "Tell Cal Bennett I will not fight him," said Keith quietly. The major was plainly flabbergasted, and for a moment puffed his red cheeks in and out rapidly. "You mean to tell me, suh, that yo' refuse the satisfaction due a gentleman after affrontin' him?" "I won't fight Cal Bennett," repeated Keith patiently. The major turned even redder, and swelled so visibly that Keith, in spite of his sad realization of the gravity of the affair, caught himself guiltily in a boyish anticipation that some of the major's strained buttons would pop. "I shall so repo't to my principal, suh. But I may add, suh, that in my opinion, suh, yo' are conductin' yo'self in a manner unbecomin' to a gentleman; and othuh gentlemen will say so, suh! They may go even farthah and stigmatize yo' conduct as cowardly, suh! And it might even be that I, suh, would agree with that expression, suh!" The major glowered. Keith smiled wearily. It did not to him at the moment that this would be so great a calamity. "I am sorry to have forfeited your good opinion, Major," he contented himself with saying. The major marched straight back to the Monumental, where Bennett and a number of friends were awaiting the result of his mission. The major's angry passions had been rising, every foot of the way. "He won't fight, suh!" he bellowed, slamming his cane across the table. "He won't fight! And I stigmatized him to his face as a white-livered hound!" Calhoun Bennett sank back pale, and speechless. His companions deluged him with advice. "Horsewhip the craven publicly." "Warn him to go heeled, and then force the issue!" "Shoot him down like the dog he is!" But the major's mighty bellow dominated everything. "I claim the privilege!" he roared. "Egad, I _demand_ the privilege! It is my right! I am insulted by such a rebuff! Now that I have acquitted myself of Cal's errand, I will call him out myself. Ain't that right, Cal? I'll make the hound fight!"