No. To the young mind of Rupert this was not "the clean potato," and he was disappointed in his friend. As they undressed, in silence, an idea struck him, and he turned to that gentleman.
"I say, look here, Bull, old chap," quoth he. "You'll of course do as you think best in the matter, and so shall I. I'm going to challenge Rivoli myself. I shall follow your admirable example and challenge him publicly, and I shall add point to it by wasting a litre of wine on his face, which I shall also smack with what violence I may. I am not Company Marksman like you, but, as Rivoli knows, I am a First Class shot. I shall say I have been brooding over his breaking my back, and now want to fight him on even terms."
A look of pain crossed the face of the old soldier.
"Rupert," he said, rising and laying his hand on his friend's shoulder, "you'll do nothing of the kind.... Not, that is, if you value my friendship in the least, or have the slightest regard for me. Do you not understand that I have given Carmelita my word that I will neither fight Rivoli with a weapon in my hand, nor attack him with one? Would she not instantly and naturally suppose that I had got you to do it for me? ... Would anything persuade her to the contrary?"
"Is he to go unpunished then? Is he to ride roughshod over us all? He'll be ten times worse than before. You know he'll ascribe your withdrawal to cowardice--and so will everybody else," was the reply.
"They will," agreed John Bull.
"What's to be done then?"
"I don't know, but I'll tell you what is not to be done. No friend of mine is to challenge Rivoli to a duel."
The Bucking Bronco entered.
"Say, John," he drawled, "I jest bin and beat up Mister Mounseer Malvin, I hev'. 'Yure flappin' yure mouth tew much,' I ses. 'Vous frappez votre bouche trop,' I ses. 'Yew come off it, me lad,' I ses. 'Yew jes' wipe off yure chin some. Effacez votre menton,' I ses. Then I slugs him a little one."