“And have them gloat over us forever afterward?” said Sands. “Not on your life!”
“We should never hear the last of it,” said Todd, wondering how a fellow could be cold-blooded enough to suggest such a course,—but Dickinson always had been queer.
Marks and Reynolds now joined the company, and heard a report of proceedings.
“I agree with Dickinson,” said Melvin, renewing the discussion. “These class rows are dangerous things to start, for you can’t tell what the end will be. If we take down the middlers’ flag and put ours up, the middlers will set their hearts on getting back at us, and then the thing will seesaw back and forth until there’s serious trouble. We had a good example of that last year when Martin and his gang stopped the car.”
“If we let them get ahead of us in this, they’ll be encouraged to try something else,” remarked Curtis. “Hit ’em when you can, I say, only be sure you don’t miss. It’s worse to try and fail than not to try at all.”
“And on the other hand,” put in Varrell, quietly, “if you let them entirely alone and pay no attention at all to their doings, they will find no special credit in the thing. The easiest way to beat them is to let them alone.”
“What a sandless lot!” exclaimed Marks, in disgust. “Why don’t you come out square and say you’re afraid to do it?”
“Shut up, Marks,” ordered Sands, “or you’ll get into trouble.”
“A valiant man like Marks might do it alone,” said Melvin, stretching himself as he rose to his feet. “I shouldn’t think of interfering with his opportunity. Well, good night all; I’m going home to bed.”
Varrell and Dickinson joined him at the door. Curtis started to follow, but a significant wink from Sands detained him. “Good night,” he called after them, “I guess I won’t go just yet.”