"The fellow they call Jack?"
"Yes."
"I should say so! It was his bull pup that chewed a piece out of the leg of my trousers. I kicked the dog downstairs, and Diamond came near having a fit over it. He's got a peppery temper, and he was ready to murder me. I reckon he thought I should have taken off my trousers and given them to the dog to chew."
"He's a Southerner—from Virginia. He's a dangerous chap, Frank—just as lief eat as fight—I mean fight as eat. He's been in town to-night, drinking beer with the boys, and he's in a mighty ugly mood. He says you insulted him."
"Is that so?"
"It's just so, and he's going to dallenge you to a chewel—I mean challenge you to a duel."
Frank whistled softly, elevating his brows a bit.
"What sort of a duel?" he asked.
"Why, a regular duel with deadly weapons. He's awfully in earnest, Frank, and he means to kill you if you don't apologize. All the fellows are backing him; they think you will not fight."
"Is that so? Looking for me to show the white feather, are they? Well, I like that!"