he other under the chin,
hurling him backward into the arms of a man behind him, where he lay
gasping and dazed.

Frank would have rushed toward the carriage, but he saw it move swiftly
away, carrying the mysterious Queen of Flowers, and, with deep regret,
he realized he was too late.

The man with the bristling white mustache and imperial did not depart in
the carriage, but he again forced his way through the crowd, and found
his companion slowly recovering from the stunning blow he had received.

"Mistah Raymon', sah, what does this mean?" he cried, in amazement.

"It means that I have been insulted and struck!" hissed the one
questioned, quivering with unutterable anger.

"Struck, sah!" cried the man, in unbounded amazement. "You were struck!
Impossible, sah--impossible!"

"It is true!"

"Who struck you, sah?"

"This young coxcomb of a Northern cur!"

The man glared at Frank, who, with his hands on his hips, was quietly
awaiting developments, apparently not at all alarmed. He did not quail
in the least before the fierce, fire-eating look given him by the man
with the bristling mustache and imperial.

"If this--ah!--young gentleman struck you, Mistah Raymon', sah, there
can be but one termination of the affaiah. He will have to meet you,
sah, on the field, or humbly apologize at once."

"That's right!" blustered the young man, fiercely. "I'll have his life,
or an instant apology!"

Frank smiled as if he were quite amused.

"As I happen to feel that I am the one to whom an apology is due, you
will have to be satisfied with taking my life," he said.

The youth with the dark face drew out a handsome card case, from which
he extracted an engraved card, which he haughtily handed to Frank, who
accepted it, and read aloud:

"'Mr. Rolf Raymond.' A very pretty name. Allow me; my card, Mr. Raymond.
I am stopping at the St. Charles Hotel. You will be able to find me
without difficulty."

"Rest assured that a friend of mine will call on you without delay, Mr.
Merriwell," stiffly said Raymond, thrusting Frank's card into his
pocket.

Professor Scotch had forced his way through the crowd in time to catch
the drift of this, and the full significance of it dawned upon him,
filling him with amazement and horror.

"This will not do--it will never do!" he spluttered. "Dueling is a thing
of the past; there is a law for it! I will not have it! Frank, you
hot-headed young rascal, what do you mean by getting into suc