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Frank Merriwell Down South, a novel by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 16. Professor Scotch Feels Ill |
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_ CHAPTER XVI. PROFESSOR SCOTCH FEELS ILL Frank found it impossible to restrain his laughter longer, and he gave way to it. "Ha, ha, ha!" he merrily shouted. "You surely look ill, professor! I'd like to have your picture now! Ha, ha, ha! It would make a first-rate picture for a comic paper." "This is no laughing matter," came dolefully from Scotch. "I don't know how to fire a pistol, and I never had a sword in my hand in all my life. And to think of standing up and being shot full of holes or carved like a turkey by that fire-eater with the fierce mustache! It is awful, awful!" "But you were eager to fight the young fellow." "No, I was not. I was simply putting up a bluff, as you call it. I was doing my level best to get you out of the scrape, Frank. I didn't think he would fight me, and so I pretended to be eager to meet him. And now see what a scrape I am in! Oh, my soul and body! What can I do?" "Fight." "Never!" "I don't see how you can get out of it." "I'll run away." In a moment Frank became very grave. "That is impossible, professor," he said, with the utmost apparent sincerity. "Think of the disgrace! It would be in all the papers that Professor Scotch, a white-livered Northerner, after insulting Colonel La Salle Vallier and presenting his card, had taken to his heels in the most cowardly fashion, and had fled from the city without giving the colonel the satisfaction that is due from one gentleman to another. The Northern papers would copy, and you would find yourself the butt of ridicule wherever you went." The professor let out a groan that was more dismal and doleful than any sound that had previously issued from his lips. "What can I do?" he gasped. "There is one way to get out of the difficulty." "Name it! name it!" shouted the wretched man. "I'll do anything!" "Then commit suicide." The professor collapsed again. "Are you entirely heartless?" he moaned. "Can you joke when I am suffering such misery?" His face was covered with perspiration, and he was all a-quiver, so that Frank was really touched. "You can apologize, professor." "Apologize for what? I don't know that I have done anything to apologize for; but then I'll apologize rather than fight." "Well, I guess you'll be able to get out of it some way." But it was no easy thing to reassure the agitated man, as Frank soon discovered. "I'll tell you what, professor," said the boy; "you may send a representative--a substitute." "I don't think it will be easy to find a substitute." "Oh, I'll find one." "Perhaps Colonel Vallier will not accept him." "But you must be too ill to meet the colonel, and then he'll have to accept the substitute or nothing." "But who will act as substitute? I don't know any one in New Orleans who'll go and be shot in my place." "Barney Mulloy has agreed to join us here, and he may arrive on any train," went on Frank, mentioning an old school chum. "That wild Irishman!" cried the professor, hopefully. "Why, he'd fight a pack of wildcats and think it fun!" "Yes, Barney is happiest when in trouble. According to my uncle's will, I am at liberty to carry a companion besides my guardian on my travels, and so, when Hans Dunnerwust got tired of traveling and went home, I sent for Barney, knowing he'd be a first-class fellow to have with me. He finally succeeded in making arrangements to join us, and I have a telegram from him, stating that he would start in time to reach here before to-morrow. If you are forced into trouble, professor, Barney can serve as a substitute." "That sounds very well, but Colonel Vallier would not accept a boy." "Then Barney can disguise himself and pretend to be a man." "I'm afraid it won't work. Not that Barney Mulloy will hesitate to help me out of the scrape, for he was the most dare-devil chap in Fardale Academy, next to yourself, Frank. You were the leader in all kinds of daring adventures, but Barney made a good second. But he can't pass muster as a man." "Perhaps he can. But you have not yet received a challenge from Colonel Vallier; so don't worry about what may not happen." "I can't help worrying. I shall not take any further pleasure in life till we get out of this dreadful city." "Oh, brace up! Come on; let's go out and see the sights." "No, Frank--no, my boy. I am indisposed--I am quite ill. Besides that, I might meet Colonel Vallier. I shall remain in my room for the present." So Frank was obliged to go out alone, and, when he returned for supper, he found the professor in bed, looking decidedly like a sick man. "I am very ill, Frank--very ill," Scotch declared. "I fear I am in for a protracted illness." "Nonsense, professor! Why, you'll miss all the fun to-morrow, and we're here to see the sport." "Confound the sport! I wish we had stayed away from this miserable place!" "Why, you were very enthusiastic over New Orleans and the people of the South this morning." "Hang the people of the South--hang them all! They're too hot-headed--they're altogether too ready to fight over nothing. Now, I'm a peaceable man, and I can't fight--I simply can't!" "Well, well! I don't fancy you'll have to fight," said Frank, whose conscience was beginning to smite him. "Then I'll have to apologize, and I'll be jiggered if I know what I'm going to apologize for!" "What makes you so sure you'll have to apologize?" "Look at this--read it!" The professor drew an envelope from beneath his pillow and passed it to Frank. The envelope contained a note, which the boy was soon reading. It was from Colonel Vallier, and demanded an apology, giving the professor until the following noon in which to make it, and hinting that a meeting of honor would surely follow if the apology was not forthcoming. "Whew!" whistled Frank. "This does seem like business. When did you receive this?" "Shortly after you went out." "I scarcely thought the colonel would press the affair." "There's a letter for you on the table." "From whom is it?" "Don't know. Raymond, I suppose. The same messenger brought them both." Frank picked up the letter and tore it open. It proved to be from Rolf Raymond, and was worded much like the note to Professor Scotch. The warm blood of anger mounted to the boy's cheeks. "This settles it!" he exclaimed. "Mr. Rolf Raymond shall have all the fight he wants. I am a good pistol shot and more than a fair swordsman. At Fardale I was the champion with the foils. If he thinks I am a coward and a greenhorn because I come from the North, he may find he has made a serious mistake." The professor literally writhed in the bed. "But you may be killed, and I'd never forgive myself," he moaned. "Killed or not, I can't show the white feather!" cried Frank, warmly. "I do not believe in duelling." "Nor do I, but I have found it necessary to do some things I do not believe in. I am not going to run, and I am not going to apologize, for I believe an apology is due me, if any one. This being the case, I'll have to fight." "Oh, what a scrape--what a dreadful scrape!" groaned Scotch, wringing his hands. "Why did we ever come here?" "Oh, do brace up, professor!" cried Frank, impatiently. "We have been in worse scrapes than this, and you were not so badly broken up. It was only a short time ago down in Mexico that Pacheco's bandits hemmed us in on one side and there was a raging volcano on the other; but still we live and have our health. I'll guarantee we'll pull through this scrape, and I'll bet we come out with flying colors." "You may feel like meeting Rolf Raymond, but I simply can't stand up before that fire-eating colonel." "There seems to be considerable bluster about this business, and I'll wager something you won't have to stand up before him if you will put on a bold front and make-believe you are eager to meet him." "Oh, my boy, you don't know--you can't tell!" "Come, professor, get out of bed and dress. We want to see the parade this evening. They say it will be great." "Oh, I wish the parades were all at the bottom of the sea!" "We couldn't see them then, for we're not mermaids or fishes." "Will you never be serious?" "I don't know; perhaps I may, when I'm too sick to be otherwise. Are you going to get up?" "No." "Do you mean to stay in bed?" "Yes." "And miss the parade to-night?" "I don't care for the old parade." "Well, I do, and I'm going to see it." "Will you see some newspaper reporters and state that I am very ill--dangerously ill--that I am dying. Do this favor for me, Frank. Colonel Vallier can't force a dying man to meet him in a duel." "I am shocked and pained, professor, that you should wish me to tell a lie, even to save your life; but I'll see what I can do for you." _ |
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