Your offense has been so serious--so rank--that I won't accept an apology.

You shall fight, mister!" "When?
Whom ?" asked Dan, the big grin still on his face.
"_Me_, mister--and as soon as the thing can be pulled off." "Oh, all right, sir," nodded Dalzell.

"Any time you like, then, sir.

I've been accustomed, before coming here, to getting most of my exercise out of fighting.

But--pardon me, if I meet, I shall have to hit--pardon me--that face." "Call this plebe out, Quimby, and trim him in good shape," urged one of the other youngsters present.