“You seem to have recovered from your recent depression,” said Dick.
“Oh, he doesn’t know enough to remain depressed long,” sneered Bigelow. “He told me he was coming in to punch Buckhart for insulting him. I came to save his life if he tried it.”
“We’ll have to assemble the braves and smoke the pipe of peace,” said Dick.
“How can you show such unseemly merriment?” snarled Jones. “I believe you’re pleased because we were beaten.”
“You’ve got another guess coming,” said Dick. “But there’s no use crying over spilled milk.”
“‘Doth not wisdom cry and understanding put forth her voice?’” mocked Blessed. “I think we’d better call the team together and choose a new captain.”
“Choose a new captain?” exclaimed Merriwell, in surprise.
“Sure. I couldn’t seem to do anything with that crazy bunch after Kates went to pieces. The more I talked to them, the worse they played. They wouldn’t pay any attention to my orders, yet the wise in heart will receive commandments, but prating fools shall fall.”
“Weren’t you too harsh in your manner of reproving them?” asked Dick.
“Whoso loveth instruction loveth knowledge, but he that hateth reproof is brutish.”