"Call them that. But speaking of this ideal duel, here it is. No
seconds, of course, and no onlookers. The two principals alone are
necessary. They may use any weapons they please, from revolvers and
rifles to machine guns and pompoms. They start a mile apart, and advance
on each other, taking advantage of cover, retreating, circling,
feinting--anything and everything permissible. In short, the principals
shall hunt each other--"
"Like a couple of wild Indians?"
"Precisely," cried Tudor, delighted. "You've got the idea. And Berande
is just the place, and this is just the right time. Miss Lackland will
be taking her siesta, and she'll think we are. We've got two hours for
it before she wakes. So hurry up and come on. You start out from the
Balesuna and I start from the Berande. Those two rivers are the
boundaries of the plantation, aren't they? Very well. The field of the
duel will be the plantation. Neither principal must go outside its
boundaries. Are you satisfied?"
"Quite. But have you any objections if I leave some orders?"
"Not at all," Tudor acquiesced, the pink of courtesy now that his wish
had been granted.
Sheldon clapped his hands, and the running house-boy hurried away to
bring back Adamu Adam and Noa Noah.
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