And, good as his word, when the man was taken, the Lieutenant had him whipped severely. This riled up Adjt. Wash., who, in good, round, unvarnished terms, volunteered to lick the Lieutenant--out of his leathers! From words they came to blows, very expeditiously, and somehow or other the Lieutenant came out second best--bad licked! This sort of a finale did not set well upon the stomach of the gallant Lieutenant; so he ups and writes a challenge to the Adjutant to meet in mortal combat; and readily finding a second, the challenge was signed, sealed, and delivered to Adjt. Armstrong, Company ----, Ohio volunteers. All these preliminaries were carried on in, or very near in, Camargo. The Adjutant readily accepted the invitation to step out and be shot at; and, having scared up his second, and having no heirs or assigns, goods, chattels, or other sublunary matters to adjust, no time was lost in making wills or leaving posthumous information. The duel went forward with alacrity, but all of a sudden it was discovered by the several interested parties that no arms were in the crowd. It would not very well do to go to camp and look for duelling weapons; so it was proposed to do the best that could be done under the circumstances, and buy such murderous tools as could be found at hand, and go into the merits of the case at once. At length the Adjutant and friend chanced upon a machine supposed to be a pistol, brought over to the Continent, most probably, by Cortez, in the year 1--sometime. It was a _scrougin_' thing to hold powder and lead, and went off once in three times with the intonation of a four-pounder. "Hang the difference," says the Adjutant; "it will do." "Must do," the second replies; and so paying for the tool, and swallowing down a fresh invoice of _ardiente_, the fighting men start to muster up their opponents, whom they found armed and equipped, upon a footing equal to the other side, or pretty near it, the Lieutenant having a little _heavier_ piece, with a bore into which a gill measure might be thrown. "But--the difference!" cried seconds and principals. "Let's fight, not talk," says the Adjutant. "That's my opinion, gentlemen, exactly," the Lieutenant responds. "Where shall we go?" "Anywhere!" "Better get out into the chaparral," say the cautious seconds; "don't want a crowd. Come on!" continue the seconds, very valorously; "let's fight!" "Here's the ground!" cries one, as the parties reach a chaparral, a mile or so from town; "here is our ground!" The principals stared around as if rather uncertain about that, for the bushes were so thick and high that precious little _ground_ was visible. "It ain't worth while, gentlemen, to toss up for positions, is it?" says the Adjutant's second. "No," cry both principals. "Measure off the _ground_, if you can find it; let us go to work." "That's the talk!" says the Adjutant's second. "Measure off thirty paces," the Lieutenant's second responds. "No, ten!" cry the principals.