“I have fenced—a little.”
“I was told to-day that you are a champion at everything you undertake. That’s ridiculous if you undertake many things. You have undertaken fencing. Well, I’d like to convince some people that there is one thing at which you are not much of a champion.”
“Would you?” asked Merry, smiling pleasantly.
“Indeed I would. The crowd wants to see a fencing bout to-night. Marlowe has taken water. He isn’t here. You are here. Of course we can’t fence for honors in the series, as you have not been engaged in previous contests. All the same, we can give an exhibition go. There will be an element of uncertainty about it. What do you say?”
“Why, I don’t know——” came slowly from Merry, as if he hesitated over it.
“Oh, if you’re afraid,” sneered Darleton—“if you haven’t the nerve, that’s different.”
A strange, smothered growl was choked back in the throat of Bart Hodge.
“I don’t believe I am afraid of you,” said Frank, with the same deliberate manner. “I was thinking that such an affair would be quite irregular if interpolated with the finals.”
“Don’t worry about that. If you are willing to meet me, I’ll fix it.”
“Of course I’m willing, but——”