“He is a clever fellow, Brad; you can’t deny that.”
“All the same, he can’t beat you again once out of ten times.”
“I don’t know about that. In fact, I am inclined to think your statement altogether extravagant.”
Ten minutes later Dick had changed his clothes for a gymnasium suit and came forth to engage in a fencing bout with Darrell. Both boys were clever with the foils, and soon a number of cadets were watching them. Arlington and Fraser joined the spectators.
It was a beautiful spectacle to watch the graceful movements of the two lads, and the clever work of both was applauded. Dick was beyond question the superior of Darrell, who accepted the situation with good grace.
Arlington, however, did not hesitate to comment on Merriwell’s style and work. These comments were not wholly complimentary.
“Look at that lunge!” he exclaimed derisively. “Why, any one could parry that! His wrist is stiff. He loses half his opportunities to counter.”
“Still,” observed Fraser, “he is called the best fencer in the school.”
At this Chet laughed derisively.
“Wait,” he said. “If he dares I will try him a go. Come on, and I will get into a suit.”