“I have nothing to apologize for; therefore I am afraid it means a duel.”
“Not if I can prevent it,” exclaimed Chester, jumping to his feet.
“But you can’t,” replied Hal grimly. “And you had better lie down again. You are liable to strain your wound.”
“Oh, I am not worrying about the wound,” exclaimed Chester. “The doctor said there was no danger. It’s you I am worrying about. Why, you are likely to be killed.”
“Oh, I guess I can give a good account of myself,” returned Hal. “I’ve been pretty fortunate thus far. I don’t figure I am going to fall before any Frenchman’s sword or pistol. I’ll probably be saved for a German bullet some of these days.”
Chester became silent. He knew that an argument was useless. Besides, he knew that in Hal’s position his own actions would be the same.
It was shortly after 6 o’clock that evening when two French officers made their way to the quarters to which the boys had been assigned.
“Choose swords,” said Hal laconically, as Chester rose to greet the callers.
“Mr. Paine,” queried one of the Frenchmen politely.
“No,” replied Chester; “but I shall act for him.”