Frank was smiling, but he said nothing.
“The duel began,” Dunton continued. “I started to play with Mr. Merriwell, who had rehearsed awkwardly in the afternoon. To my surprise, I found his awkwardness was gone. He met me with the touch and skill of an expert. At first I could not realize that he had fooled me. When I did, I was infuriated beyond measure. My first thought was to wound him, if I could.”
Havener uttered a low exclamation.
“I fought with all the skill and fury I knew,” said Dunton; “but he met all my attacks, and held me at bay with ease. My rage increased till I lost my head entirely. I longed to kill him, I swore I would kill him—I made a desperate attempt to do it!”
“Gosh!” gasped the Vermont youth, staring at the speaker.
“I remember that the duel was the finest I ever saw on the stage,” said Havener, “but I was afraid something would happen. I didn’t dream it was a real duel.”
“It was,” nodded Dunton. “I lunged straight for Merriwell’s body, trying to run him through.”
“Waal, darn my pertaturs!” palpitated Ephraim Gallup.
“I know that he understood my purpose. I do not think I deceived Mr. Merriwell for a moment. He met me fairly. Then, before I knew it, my weapon was wrenched from my hand and sent spinning into the air.”
“Hooray!” exclaimed the Vermont youth, with satisfaction.