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Updated: May 5, 2025
"It's Just the very Biggest Thing in the World" Hardly was it shut when Mrs. Challenger darted out from the dining-room. The small woman was in a furious temper. She barred her husband's way like an enraged chicken in front of a bulldog. It was evident that she had seen my exit, but had not observed my return. "You brute, George!" she screamed. "You've hurt that nice young man."
Far off in some unknown, remote land a rooster crowed, the day's champion, the first of all to greet the rising sun. Almost instantly, a cock in Striker's barnyard awoke in confusion and dismay, and sent up a hurried, raucous cock-a-doodle-doo, too late by half a minute to claim the honours of the day, but still a valiant challenger.
We were all fascinated to see them take the dive, even when we thought it would be our turn next on the spring-board. "Well, it wasn't. They kept six of the Indians up for to-day that's how I understood it but I fancy we were to be the star performers in the show. Challenger might get off, but Summerlee and I were in the bill.
"Well," said Lord John, "if we've got to sit suckin' at those tubes like so many babies with their bottles, I'm not takin' any." "There will be no need for that," Challenger answered. "We have made arrangements it is to my wife that you chiefly owe it that her boudoir shall be made as airtight as is practicable. With matting and varnished paper."
The "affair of honor," the mention of which will close this chapter, owes its chief importance to the prominence attained at a later day by its principals. The challenger, James Shields, was at that time, 1842, a State officer of Illinois, and later a general in two wars and a Senator from three States. The name of his adversary has since "been given to the ages." Mr.
We had passed between the white posts of a gate and up a curving drive, lined with rhododendron bushes. Beyond stood a low brick house, picked out with white woodwork, very comfortable and pretty. Mrs. Challenger, a small, dainty, smiling figure, stood in the open doorway to welcome us. "Well, my dear," said Challenger, bustling out of the car, "here are our visitors.
The table was set under the shadowing branches of a great tree, for it was early summer and the sun shone in his strength. So Concobar and Fergus, lightly laughing, affectionate and mirthful, the challenger and the challenged, came forth through the wide doorway of the dun. Armed youths went with them.
What do you say, young fellah?" "Of course I will come." "And you, Challenger?" "I will assuredly co-operate." "And you, Summerlee?" "We seem to be drifting very far from the object of this expedition, Lord John. I assure you that I little thought when I left my professional chair in London that it was for the purpose of heading a raid of savages upon a colony of anthropoid apes."
Summerlee, the veteran Professor of Comparative Anatomy, rose among the audience, a tall, thin, bitter man, with the withered aspect of a theologian. He wished, he said, to ask Professor Challenger whether the results to which he had alluded in his remarks had been obtained during a journey to the headwaters of the Amazon made by him two years before. Professor Challenger answered that they had.
Thus here was I, in this excellent company, with no choice but that of either fighting or running away. The robust, Herculean fellow grew more insolent, and I, turning round to the bystanders, asked them to lend me a snickasnee. "No, no," said the challenger, "draw your great knife from your side, and, long as it is, I will lay you a dozen ducats you get a gash in the cheek."
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