"I hope I’ll never come to that."
"Oh, you do? What’s the matter with you, anyhow? I thought something must be the matter with you, else you’d never try to make the team with Dick Merriwell playing on it. He hates you, and a word from him will keep you off the team. His brother runs the eleven, and all Dick has to do is to speak the word—he gets things just as he wants them. Do you fancy he’s going to give you a chance to play with him? You must have bats in your belfry!"
Darrell turned sharply on Lynch.
"I don’t like you or your style of talk!" he exclaimed. "Go away! I don’t want any one to see you talking to me. They might think I’d come to being friendly with you, and that’s enough to queer anybody at this school."
Lynch literally turned purple with rage.
"Oh, you’re very high and lofty now!" he said. "There was a time when you were willing to be friends."
"That was before you had advertised yourself to be a thoroughbred rascal."
"You even had some ideas about going in with me to down Merriwell."
"But not in a sneaking way."
Jabez came close to Darrell.