“Well, one good thing happened,” said Dick; “it cured him of his foolishness over Sarah Ann.”
“He sure is well cured,” agreed Buckhart.
There came a sharp knock on the door. Before they could open it, it was flung wide by the giant Nubian, and Aziz Achmet again entered the room.
“This is too much!” exclaimed Dick. “I’ll call the proprietor and see if we are to be annoyed by this man in this outrageous manner.”
“Wait a moment, boy,” advised the Turk, still maintaining his cool and insolent manner. “I am here on most important business. Professor Gunn has been challenged to mortal combat by Major Fitts, and I have come as the representative of the major to make arrangements for the affair of honor.”
“Well,” said Dick, “you may return and tell that little blusterer to go to a warmer clime! Professor Gunn is not a fighting man, and he will not meet Major Fitts in a duel.”
“Hold on—hold on, Richard!” called the professor, who was beginning to feel the influence of the “medicine” from the leather-covered flask. “Don’t be so hasty! I want you to understand that I am no coward! That withered old pippin can’t frighten me! No, sir! If he wants to fight a duel, I’ll meet him, and I’ll give him all he wants of it!”
“Professor, you——”
“Stop, Richard—stop right there! I know my own business. If I were to let that mistake from Mississippi drive me into my boots I’d never after have the face to look at my own reflection in a mirror.”
“But a duel, professor—a real duel——”