e, Mr. Washington had written five letters in his large resolute
hand, and sealed them with his seal. One was to his mother, at Mount
Vernon; one to his brother; one was addressed M.C. only; and one to his
Excellency, Major-General Braddock. "And one, young gentlemen, is for
your mother, Madame Esmond," said the boys' informant.

It was the landlord of the tavern who communicated these facts to the
young men. The Captain had put on his old militia uniform to do honour to
the occasion, and informed the boys that the "Colonel was walking up and
down the garden a-waiting for 'em, and that the Reg'lars was a'most
sober, too, by this time."

A plot of ground near the Captain's log house had been enclosed with
shingles, and cleared for a kitchen-garden; there indeed paced Colonel
Washington, his hands behind his back, his head bowed down, a grave
sorrow on his handsome face. The negro servants were crowded at the
palings and looking over. The officers under the porch had wakened up
also, as their host remarked.

There, then, stalked the tall young Colonel, plunged in dismal
meditation. There was no way out of his scrape, but the usual cruel one,
which the laws of honour and the practice of the country ordered. Goaded
into fury by the impertinence of a boy, he had used insulting words. The
young man had asked for reparation. He was shocked to think that George
Warrington's jealousy and revenge should have rankled in the young fellow
so long; but the wrong had been the Colonel's, and he was bound to pay
the forfeit.

A great hallooing and shouting, such as negroes use, who love noise at
all times, was now heard at a distance, and all heads were turned in the
direction of this outcry. It came from the road over which our travellers
had themselves passed three hours before, and presently the clattering of
a horse's hoofs was heard, and now Mr. Sady made his appearance on his
foaming horse. Presently he was in the court-yard, and was dismounting.

"Sady, sir, come here!" roars out Master Harry.

"Sady, come here, confound you!" shouts Master George.

"Come directly, Mas'r," says Sady. He grins. He takes the pistols out of
the holster. He snaps the locks. He points them at a grunter, which
plunges through the farm-yard. He points down the road, over which he has
just galloped, and says again, "Comin', Mas'r. Everybody a-comin'." And
now, the gallop of other horses is heard. And who is yonder? Little Mr.
Dempster, spurring an