"Don't 'sah' me, you measly old fraud!" howled Scotch, waving his fists in the air. "I don't believe in fighting, but this is about my time to scrap. If you don't apologize for the intrusion, may I be blown to ten thousand fragments if I don't give you a pair of beautiful black eyes!"
"Sah, there seems to be some mistake, sah," fluttered Colonel Vallier, turning pale.
"You made the mistake!" thundered Scotch, leaping to his feet like a jumping jack. "Get up here, and let me knock you down!"
"I decline to be struck, sah."
"You don't dare to get up!" howled the excited little man, growing still worse, as the colonel seemed to shrink and falter. "Why, I can lick you in a fraction of no time! You've been making lots of fighting talk, and now it's my turn. Get up and put up your fists."
"Will somebody kindly hold this lunatic?" palpitated Colonel Vallier. "I am no prize-fightah, gentlemen."
"That isn't my lookout," said the professor, who was forcing things while they ran his way. "Get up and take off your coat! We'll settle this affair without delay."
"With pistols, sah?"
"Yes, with pistols, if you want to!" cried the professor, to the amazement of the boys. "I am ready, sir. We will settle it with pistols, at once, in this room."
"But this is no place foh a duel, sah; yo' should know that, sah."