Keith's investigations proceeded until at last he felt justified in
preferring before the Bar Association charges of irregular practice
against James Ware, Bernard Black, and--to his great regret--Calhoun
Bennett. He conceived he had enough evidence to convict these men
legally, but he as yet shrank from asking for an indictment against
them, preferring at first to try for their discipline before their
fellow lawyers. If the Bar Association failed, however, he had every
intention of pressing the matter in the courts.
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!"
The old major looked redder and fiercer than ever. There could be no
doubt that he would make any one fight, once he started out to do so,
and that he would carry the matter through. He was brave enough.
But little Jimmy Ware, who had been doing some thinking, here spoke up.
It seemed to him a good chance to get a reputation without any risk.
Since James King of William had uncompromisingly refused to fight
duels, his example had been followed. A strong party of those having
conscientious scruples against the practice had come into being.
Keith's refusal to fight Bennett, to Ware's mind, indicated that he
belonged to this class. It looked safe.
"Pardon me, Major," he broke in suavely; "but each in turn. I claim the
right. Cal had first chance because he had personally warned the man of
the consequences. But I am equally accused. You must admit my prior
claim."
The major came off the boil. Puffing his red cheeks in and out he
considered.
"Yo're right, suh," he conceded reluctantly.
After considerable persuasion, and some flattery as to his familiarity
with the niceties of the Code, the major consented to bear Jimmy's
defiance. He entered Keith's office again, stiffer than a ramrod. Keith
smiled at him.
"There's no use, Major, I won't fight Cal Bennett," he greeted his
visitor.
"I am the bearer of a challenge from Mistah James Ware," he announced.
"What!" yelled Keith, so suddenly and violently that Major Miles
recoiled a step.
"From Mistah James Ware," he repeated.
Keith laughed savagely.
"Oh, I'll fight him," he growled; "gladly; any time he wants it."
The major's face lit up.
"If you'll name yo' friend, suh," he suggested.
"Friend? Friend? What for? I'm capable of arranging this. I haven't
time to hunt up a friend."
"It's customary," objected the major.
"Look here," Keith swept on, "I'm the challenged party and I have the
say-so, haven't I?"
"Yo' can name the weapons," conceded Major Marmaduke Miles.
"All right, we'll call this revolvers, navy revolvers--biggest there
are, whatever that is. And close up. None of your half-mile shooting."
"Ten yards," suggested Major Miles with unholy joy.
"And right away--this afternoon," went on Keith. "If that little runt
wants trouble, egad he's going to have all his little skin will hold."
But the major would not have this. It was not done. He waived
conducting his negotiations through a second, but that was as far as
his conventional soul would go. He held out for three o'clock the
following afternoon.
"And I wish to apologize, Mistah Keith," he said, on parting, "fo' my
ill-considered words of a short time ago. I misunderstood yo' reasons
fo' refusin' to fight Mistah Bennett."
He bowed his rotund, tightly buttoned little figure and departed, to
strike Jimmy Ware with complete consternation.
Duels in the fifties were almost an acknowledged public institution.
Although technically illegal, no one was ever convicted of any of the
consequences of such encounters. They were conducted quite openly.
Indeed, some of the more famous were actively advertised by steamboat
men, who carried excursions to the field. Keith's acceptance of Ware's
challenge aroused the keenest interest. Outside the prominence of the
men involved, a vague feeling was current that in their persons were
symbolized opposing forces in the city's growth. As yet these forces
had not segregated to that point where champions were demanded, or
indeed would be recognized as such, but vague feelings of antagonism,
of alignments, were abroad. Those who later would constitute the Law
and Order class generally sympathized with Ware; those whom history was
to know as the Vigilantes felt stirrings of partisanship for Keith.
Therefore, the following afternoon a small flotilla set sail for the
Contra Costa shore, and a crowd of several hundred spectators
disembarked at the chosen duelling ground.
Nan knew nothing of all this. Keith was now in such depths of low
spirits that his wearied soul did not much care what became of him. He
put his affairs in shape, shrugged his shoulders, and went to the
encounter with absolute indifference.
The preliminaries were soon over. Keith found himself facing Jimmy Ware
at the distance he had himself chosen. A double line of spectators
stood at a respectful space on either side. Major Miles and an
acquaintance of Keith's who had volunteered to act for him were posted
nearer at hand. Keith had listened attentively to the instructions. The
word was to be given--_one, two, three. Fire!_ Between the first and
last words the duellists were to discharge the first shot from their
weapons. After that they were to fire at will. One shot would have
sufficed Jimmy Ware; but Keith, without emotion, filed with a dead
indifference to any possible danger and a savage contempt for the whole
proceedings, had insisted on the full measure. He was totally
unaccustomed to weapons. At the word of command he raised the revolver
and fired, carelessly but coolly, and without result. One after the
other he discharged the six chambers of his weapon, aiming as well as
he knew how. It did not occur to him that Ware was firing at him. After
the sixth miss he threw the revolver away in cold disgust.
"This is a farce," said he, "and I'm not going to be fool enough to
take part in it any longer."
Jimmy Ware, delighted at finding himself unharmed, and confident now
that bluff would go, started to say something lofty and disdainful.
Keith whirled back on him.
"If you want 'satisfaction,' as you call it, you'll get it, and you'll
get it plenty! I'm sick of being made a fool of. Just open your ugly
head to me again, and I'll knock it off your shoulders!" His eye
smouldered dangerously, and Jimmy Ware, very uncertain in his mind,
took refuge in a haughty look. Keith glared at him moment, then turned
to the crowd: "I'll give all of you fair warning," said he. "I'm going
to do my legal duty in all things; and I'm not going to fight duels.
Anybody who interferes with me is going to get into trouble!"
An uproar ensued. All this was most irregular, unprecedented, a
disgrace to a gentlemen's meeting. The major roared like a bull. If a
man would not fight, would not defend his actions, how could a
gentleman get at him except by street brawling or assassination, and
both of these were repugnant to finer feelings. A dozen fire-eaters
felt themselves personally insulted. The crowd surrounded Keith,
shouting at him, jostling him, threatening. A cool, somewhat amused
voice broke in.
"Gentlemen," said Talbot Ward, in so decided a tone that they turned to
hear. "I am a neutral non-partisan in this little war, I am for neither
party, for neither opinion, in the matter. I, like Mr. Keith, never
fight duels. But may I suggest--merely in the interest of fair
play--that for the moment you are forgetting yourselves? My opinion
coincides with Mr. Keith's that duelling is a foolish sort of game, but
it is a game, and recognized; and if you are going to play it, why not
stick to its rules? Mr. Keith, and Mr. Ware have exchanged shots. Mr.
Ware has therefore had 'satisfaction.' Now Mr. Keith and I going to
walk--quietly--to the boat. We do not expect to be molested."
"By God, Tal!" cried Major Miles in astonishment, "ye' don't mean to
tell me yo're linin' yourself up on the side of that blackleg!"
"Well," put in a new voice, a very cheerful voice, "I don't pretend to
be neutral, and I'd just as lief fight duels as not, and I'm willing to
state to you all that though I don't know a damn thing about this case
nor its merits, I like this man's style. And I'm ready to state that
I'll take his place and fight any--or all of you--right here and now.
You, Major?"
All eyes turned to him. He was a dark, eager youth, standing with his
slouch hat in his hand, his head thrown back, his mop of shiny black
hair tossed from his forehead, his eyes glowing. The major hummed and
fussed.
"I have absolutely no quarrel with you, suh!" he said.
"Nor with my friend yonder?" insisted the newcomer.
"I should esteem it beneath my dignity to fight with a craven and a
coward, suh!" the major saved his face.
The stranger glanced at Keith, an amused light in his eyes.
"We'll let it go at that," he conceded. "Anybody else?" he challenged,
eying them.
Every one seemed busy getting ready to go home, and appeared not to
hear him. After a moment he put on his felt hat and joined Keith and
Ward, who were walking slowly toward the landing.
"Well," remarked a rough-looking Yankee--our old friend Graves of the
Eurekas to his friend Carter--"I didn't know anything would cool off
the major like that!"
"I reckon the major knew who he was talking to," replied Carter.
"Who is the cuss? I never saw him before."
"Don't you know him? I reckon you must have heard of him, anyway. He's
just down from the Sierra. That's the express rider, Johnny
Fairfax--Diamond Jack, they call him."
Graves whistled an enlightened whistle.