"Not at all," said Peele. "Quite customary in France. Much deadlier than pistols."
"But how d'you do it?" asked the crestfallen Gough.
Peele shrugged his shoulders.
"Oh, stand on one stilt and hit with the other," he said. "Gentlemen generally leave details to their seconds."
"That's all very well," said Gough. "I didn't come over to England with a Norman pig-driver, and ain't used to those things; but we can't make fools of ourselves in the middle of the playground. If you can hit on a way of working it without making asses of ourselves I'm game."
"All right," said Peele, loftily; "I'll work it out. The Tadpole acts for me. I suppose the Guinea-Pig will do the same for you?"
"Yes," said Gough, sulkily, creeping away to his end of the school-room.
Peele's followers gathered round him again and began to worship.
"Of course it's all guff," said the Tadpole. "Nothing but a stork could fight on one leg."
Peele again waved his hand.