The excitement occasioned by the terrific combat in the ball-room was intense. On the following morning groups of anxious persons were discussing the probability of a duel between Bragg and Botts. There had been an interchange not only of harsh language but of blows between these gentlemen, and it was the general opinion that a hostile meeting was inevitable. Toney and Tom were sitting in the room of the former, puffing their cigars, and conversing about the events of the preceding evening, when there was a knock at the door, followed by the entry of a gentleman whose countenance indicated that he was troubled by very great mental anxiety.

"Good-morning, Mr. Pate. Let me introduce you to my friend Mr. Seddon."

The two gentlemen shook hands, and Seddon made some meteorological observation, which was unheeded by Pate, who nervously turned to Toney, and said,—

"Mr. Belton, I have called to see you about a matter of great importance,—I might say an affair of life or death."

"Indeed, Mr. Pate! To what have you reference?"

"I refer, sir, to the unfortunate affair between our friend Mr. Botts and—and——"

"The monkey?"

"Just so, sir. I am afraid that the—the—the difficulty will end in—in bloodshed, sir. I apprehend that Mr. Botts is about to send a challenge to—to—to——"

"The monkey? Why, Mr. Pate, the animal will not accept it if he does."

"I don't mean to the monkey, sir; I mean to Captain Bragg."

"Oh, that alters the case. The captain is a fighting man."

"Yes, sir; and Mr. Botts is determined on a bloody issue. He has been with Wiggins the whole morning, and I know that he has penned a challenge."

"Well, my dear sir, what can I do to prevent the issue which you apprehend?"

"Bragg will apply to you to act as his second. Could you not persuade him to apologize?"

"Apologize! Apologize for knocking Botts down? Impossible, sir!"

"How impossible? Cannot a man apologize for what he has done?"

"Mr. Pate, you are well versed in legal lore, but you seem to be profoundly ignorant of a very stringent article in the code of honor."

"And what is that, sir?"

"One of the thirty-nine articles of the code of dueling, compiled by 'A Southron,' prohibits a gentleman, who has received a blow, from accepting an apology until the party who has dealt the blow first allows himself to be slapped on the face in the most public place in the town. Now, do you suppose that Captain Bragg will consent to stand in the street, in front of the hotel, before a crowd of spectators, male and female, and allow Botts to knock him down, and then get up and apologize for having knocked Botts down? Impossible, sir! impossible! There can be no apology."

"No apology? If a man is sorry for what he has done, is he prohibited from saying so? Monstrous, sir! monstrous! Is this a Christian country?"

"I believe it is; and dueling is a Christian practice."

"I deny it most emphatically, sir. It is a barbarous, a heathenish practice!"

"Why, Mr. Pate, who ever heard of the code of honor among the heathen Greeks or Romans, or among any other heathens, ancient or modern? Christians are the only duelists. The custom originated with the knights who fought for the Cross and against the Crescent. It has been the favorite mode of settling difficulties, among gentlemen in Christian countries, ever since. Yes, sir; and even churchmen have fought duels. A parson, in one of our Southern States, once challenged a layman, and shot him through the heart in accordance with the code of honor."[1]

"Horrible! Mr. Belton, what—what is to be done?"

"Why, I suppose, we must let the men fight, if they are determined to do so."

"Can we not apply to a justice of the peace? Can we not have them arrested?"

"Mr. Pate, if you were to do so, public opinion is such that you would be mobbed, ridden on a rail, pelted with rotten eggs, and your life might be in danger."

"My dear, dear sir, what—what is to be done? I cannot see poor Botts shot down,—cut off in the flower of his days!"

Here Mr. Pate was so overcome by his feelings that the big tears began to roll down his cheeks, and Tom Seddon's heart was softened.

"Why, Mr. Pate," said he, "there will be no duel if Botts does not send the challenge. Could you not use your influence with him, and induce him to heap coals of fire on Bragg's head by forgiving the injury?"

"And I promise you," said Belton, "that if the duel does come off, it shall not have a tragical termination. I will not advise Bragg to fire in the air; for a friend of mine once did so and shot a boy, who was perched among the boughs of a cherry-tree, through the calf of the leg. Since then I have always been opposed to the absurd and dangerous practice of firing in the air. Seconds, however, can usually prevent bloodshed, unless their principals are exceedingly savage and sanguinary. But I think that the suggestion of my friend Seddon is a good one. You should hurry back, and endeavor to prevent Botts from sending the challenge."

"I will do so! I will do so! God bless you both!" And with this benediction Pate hurried away in extreme agitation.

[1] This happened in Maryland many years ago.