“Now, gentlemen,” said Mark, “I think our interview is at an end. You understand my point. And that is all.”
“And as for you,” retorted the other. “Do you understand your position? You will be branded by the cadets as a coward. You will fight Fischer as sure as the class can make you. And you will fight no one else, either, until you fight him.”
Mark bowed.
“And you’ll allow me to express my opinion of you right here,” snapped the insulted one, who was going to fight a moment ago. “You needn’t get angry about it, either, because you’ve no redress till you fight Fischer. You’re a coward, sir! Your whole conduct since you came here has been one vulgar attempt to put up a bluff with nothing to back it. And you lack the first instincts of a gentleman, most of all, sir, because you’ll swallow such insults from me instead of fighting, and taking the licking you’ve earned. You can’t fight me till you’ve fought Fischer.”
“Can’t, hey! Say, d’ you think I’m a-goin’ to stan’ sich——”
“Texas!”
And once more there was quiet, at the end of which the indignant committee faced about without a word and marched out in disgust.
“He’s not worth fooling with,” said the spokesman, audibly. “He’s a coward.”
After which Mark turned to Texas and smiled.
“That was the first dose, old man,” said he. “How did you like it?”