"Merciful Heaven, what grammar!" says the other guy. "I didn't come at you, as you say in that quaint English of yours, I thought you could take a joke or—"
"Yeh?" interrupts the Kid. "That's what the formerly Kaiser has been tryin' to tell the world, but it ain't goin' into hysterics over his comedy!"
"Well," says the other guy, buttonin' up his coat and glarin' at us both, "this is not the end of the incident, you can rest assured of that! The next time we meet I think the result will be different!"
"Say!" pipes the Kid. "What d'ye think I'm gonna do—fight a world series with you? If you wanna scrap, I know where you can get all the action you can handle."
"And where is that, pray?" asks the other guy.
"Russia!" says the Kid. "You must have seen it in the papers." He pats him on the shoulder. "And now, good-by and good luck," he goes on. "I'm sorry I had to bounce you, but—"
"Enough of this nonsense!" cuts in the other guy, pullin' out a card and passin' it over to the Kid. "My seconds will wait upon you to-morrow. I choose rapiers!"
"You which?" says the Kid, examinin' the card. "I don't make you."
"I said that my choice of weapons is rapiers!" explains this guy. "And as a matter of fairness I must tell you that I have never met my equal with a sword!"
"Are you tryin' to kid me?" asks Scanlan. "What d'ye mean rapiers?"