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 Clif laughed, and then, remembering that here was an enemy, he froze up quickly. "I guess it would worry him to know that," he remarked with immense sarcasm. "Look here, Kemble, how about to-morrow?"

"To-morrow?" Kemble looked blank.

"Yes, to-morrow," answered Clif sternly. "You needn't pretend you've forgotten."

"Oh, that! I really had forgotten, though; give you my word, Bingham. Why, any time you say. That is, if you really want to go on with it."

"I certainly do," answered Clif emphatically. "Unless," he added after an instant, "you care to apologize." He hoped, when he had said it, that his tone hadn't sounded as eager to Kemble as it had to him!

"Apologize? Sure! Why not?" replied the other readily. "That's much the best way, eh? You know, I'm about a dozen pounds heavier than you, old scout, and a couple of inches taller, too, and I guess—here, put your arm out." Clif obeyed and Kemble tucked his fingers under the other's armpit. "Just as I thought. I can outreach you by two inches."

"That makes no difference," declared Clif warmly. "You said you'd fight me—"

"Yes, I know," broke in Kemble soothingly, "but I've apologized, haven't I?"

"No, you haven't. You merely said you were willing to.

"Oh, gosh, why the formality? All right, though. I apologize, Bingham, for—I say, what the dickens do I apologize for?"