"Don't be worried," replied Dick coolly. "I have not selected pistols. But we are delaying too long. I am ready."
"So are we," said Stiver, but it was observed that his voice was not very steady. He was beginning to wish he had had nothing to do with this. It seemed to be getting serious, and he, as well as Dutton, wondered what Dick could be carrying under his overcoat.
"Take your places," said Paul.
"But the weapons," insisted Stiver.
"My principal will hand one to your principal as soon as he takes his place," went on Paul. "We seconds must retire to a safe distance."
"They—they aren't rifles, are they?" asked Stiver, and this time his voice was very shaky.
"They are not rifles," said Dick, somewhat solemnly. "Come, I can't stay here all night. I want to write an account of this to Miss Hanford."
"Don't you dare!" cried Dutton.
"Hush! Take your place," said his second.
Dutton approached Dick, and held out his hand to receive his weapon. Dick unfolded his coat and extended—not a sword or gun, but a big bladder, fully blown up, and tied to a short stick. He kept a similar one for himself.