CHAPTER XLII.
THE CHALLENGE.
That night, immediately after supper, Rupert Reynolds appeared at the door of Frank's tent.
"Mr.Merriwell," said Reynolds, stiffly, "I am here in the interest of my friend, Mr.Bascomb." "I presumed as much," came quietly from Frank's lips.
"You have openly insulted Mr.Bascomb, and he demands an immediate apology." Frank whistled.
"Is that all ?" he exclaimed, with a queer twist of his face and a twinkle in his eyes.
"You will find this a very serious matter, sir," said Reynolds, with an assumption of great dignity.
"Mr.Bascomb may also find it serious." "Will you apologize ?" "You may tell Mr.Bascomb that I will apologize to him when he is man enough to apologize to Fred Davis, and publicly acknowledge that he treated the little plebe in an unmanly and bullying manner." Reynolds made a scornful gesture.
"Mr.Bascomb will not do anything of the kind!" "Very well; I shall not apologize to him." "Then you must fight him." "I will do so with the greatest of pleasure." "Oh, you won't find much fun in it," sneered Reynolds.

"It isn't going to be that kind of a fight.

Bascomb is thirsting for your life.

It was with the greatest difficulty I persuaded him not to challenge you to fight a duel with deadly weapons.

He said he would take satisfaction in meeting you in an affair of honor where he could run a blade through your body or perforate you with a bullet." Frank whistled again.
"Why, he has become very courageous since he took to bullying boys! He is really bloodthirsty." "He is determined to square accounts with you, sir.