“The duel was too much for you. Now, Merriwell seems as cool as ice.”
Dunton went down to his dressing room.
Sargent was there, and he stared at Dunton as the latter came in and dropped down limply on a square box.
“Well,” said Sargent, “what do you think of Frank Merriwell now?”
“Why!” gasped Dunton.
“Why! Don’t I know! Didn’t I watch it all! Didn’t I understand! Think I’m a fool?”
“What are you driving at?” asked Dunton, weakly.
“You know. You made a fool of yourself, Dug. You tried to run him through!”
The fellow sprang up off the box, his eyes glaring.
“Don’t you dare say that!” he panted—“don’t you dare! It’s a lie!”