“One,” continued Dick, “is loaded. The other is not. You shall toss for choice. Then you shall stand at arm’s length, place the pistols against each other’s breast, and pull the triggers at the word. A moment later one of you will be a dead man, while the other will be unharmed. Does that suit you better, major?”
“It’s unusual—decidedly unusual, suh! No, suh, it does not suit me at all, suh! I prefer the eggs.”
“Good!” whispered Zenas. “So do I!”
“Then take your positions, gentlemen,” ordered Dick.
Aziz Achmet threw up his hands, shaking his head in a baffled manner.
“Oh, these Americans, these Americans!” he muttered, retreating. “I had hoped they might destroy each other, which would save me further trouble with them. Now they are going to fight a duel with rotten eggs! Pah!”
The surgeon hastily threw his instruments into the case, which he closed and picked up, also retreating to get out of probable danger of being hit by one of those eggs.
The professor and the major got ready for action. Each picked up as many eggs as he could hold in his left hand and took one in his right.
“Are you ready, gentlemen?” asked Dick, also backing off a little, an example followed by Brad.
“Ready!” answered both.