“I’d like to speak with you, Dick Merriwell,” he said.
“All right,” said Dick, rising at once and approaching Cole. “Here I am. Go ahead.”
“Won’t you jest step out here alone with me?” invited Jack. “I’d rather talk to you where there won’t nobody hear us.”
“Keep your eyes open, pard,” warned the Texan.
“Don’t worry,” said Dick, and he followed Cole, who walked away a short distance into the little grove.
The Maplewood boy seemed hesitating and downcast as he again turned to face Merriwell.
“I’ve been thinking about that business over t’other side of the lake,” he said. “The more I thought about it the sorer I got. I ain’t seen Tom Fernald sence. When I do he’ll hear from me, and don’t you forgit it! I’ll tell him something he won’t like. I’ve been thinking that it was up to me to thank you for jumping in and keeping me from drowning.”
Dick was surprised, for gratitude from Cole had been the last thing expected by him.
“I couldn’t leave you to drown after you were thrown into the water in that manner,” he said.
“I guess you’re not the kind of a feller to go off and leave anybody in such a situation. I’ve been thinking about you, too, while I was walking round here. You know I took a dislike to you the fust time I saw you. I thought your brother was coming here with a baseball team, and I was down on him even before I saw him. That was ’cause I wanted to play myself and I s’posed I wouldn’t have no chance. Then when we challenged your fellers to play and you batted me out of the box it made me roaring ugly. Right on top of that we sailed into you, and you got the best of the fight, which didn’t make me feel no better toward you. I kept saying I’d git even somehow, and I hoped I’d be able to do it while I was playing on the team here, but the chance never came round. Then when Hammerswell got his new team, he dropped me along with the others.”