"No!" snapped Dutton.

d.i.c.k hesitated a moment, and, not wishing to quarrel with the captain in the ballroom, he followed him out on a verandah.

"What do you mean by insulting me, and making me ridiculous?" demanded Dutton fiercely.

"Insulting you?" repeated d.i.c.k.

"That's what I said. You refused to come back when I called you. I'm your superior officer."

"Not on an occasion like this!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, and he drew himself up, and looked Dutton straight in the eyes. "We are all equal here to-night, Captain Dutton. I take no orders from you!"

"We'll see about that. Why did you deliberately spill that ice over me?

You wanted to make me the laughing stock of everyone in the room!"

"I did not. You have no right to say that. It was an accident, pure and simple, and I have already apologized to you for it."

"That is not enough. No one can insult me with impunity. I demand satisfaction!"

"I don't see what satisfaction I can give you--unless I buy you a new coat. If that is what you what you want I will be happy to send you a check for whatever amount----"

"Hold on, Hamilton!" cried Dutton hoa.r.s.ely. "This is going too far!

You're getting mighty fresh. I suppose because you are a millionaire you think your money will do anything. But I tell you it won't. You can't buy a gentleman with money, nor make one either. You come here with a lot of millions behind you, and you think all you need to do is to insult a gentleman, and then offer to pay for it. I tell you I'll not stand it. You did that on purpose and----"

"I have already told you that I did not."

"And I say you did."

There was no mistaking Dutton's meaning. d.i.c.k took a step forward. His face was slightly pale.

"That will do!" he said sternly. "Are you aware that you have practically accused me of telling an untruth?"

"That's what I meant to do," answered Dutton fiercely. "You're a cad--a sneak--you threw that ice at me on purpose!"

"If you say that again," exclaimed d.i.c.k, "I'll----"

"Well, what will you do?" sneered Dutton.

"I think I shall have to buy you two coats," spoke d.i.c.k calmly, for he saw that Dutton was losing control of his temper, and the young millionaire wanted to end the affair.

"Don't you give me any of your fresh talk!" cried the captain.

"I shall say what I please on an occasion like this," responded d.i.c.k. "I have that privilege."

"You have, eh? Then look out for yourself!"

Dutton fairly leaped forward, and endeavored to strike d.i.c.k, but the young millionaire was too quick for him, and stepped to one side, at the same time involuntarily shooting out his fist, which caught the bully in the side. Dutton stopped short.

"I suppose you know what striking a gentleman means," he said slowly.

"I do when I hit one. I haven't struck any gentleman to-night," said d.i.c.k coolly.

"You're adding insult to it. You've got to give me satisfaction for this!"

"I suppose so. You recall how it turned out last time."

"This time will be different. You won't get off so easily."

"Have your own way about it. I guess Paul Drew will be my second again, but I should think you'd had enough of fighting."

"Not with you! I'll never be satisfied until I've beaten you!"

"Then you'll wait a long time."

The two had talked in rather low but tense tones, and they were not aware that they were directly beneath a window that had been opened to let in the fresh air. Nor did they see the frightened face of a girl at the cas.e.m.e.nt.

"Will after the ball suit you?" asked Dutton, as he turned aside.

"Any time."

d.i.c.k remained in the cool winter air a little longer, filling his lungs with the oxygen, and when he returned to the ballroom he saw no sign of Dutton. Nor did he see Miss Hanford, though he looked for her, as he had another dance coming.

Supper was served soon after this, and d.i.c.k had no sooner risen from the table than Paul Drew signalled him to step one side.

"Dutton has sent a challenge to you by Stiver," he said.

"I expected it."

"Yes, but what do you think he wants?"

"What?"

"To fight with swords."

"Swords?"

"Yes. Like the students do in German schools. Heads and body protected so you can't either be more than scratched. I think it's silly, but of course I said I'd tell you."

"That's right. Swords, eh? Well, with football helmets on, and a baseball chest protector, and heavy gloves, I guess it won't be dangerous. But what's the use of fighting if some one doesn't get hurt?

I prefer my fists."

"Dutton's idea seems to be for you both to be rigged out as we are when we practice with broadswords on horses," said Paul, referring to one of the drills taught at the school.

"Well, I don't like to object," said d.i.c.k, "but it strikes me that as the challenged party, I have the choice of weapons."

"So you have. I forgot that. Then you don't want swords?"

"I'll tell you later. You can inform Dutton I'll fight him when and where he pleases, and that, as it's my right, I'll name the weapons when we meet."