"You promised to tell me how we could defeat Fardale in the game this afternoon."
"Yes."
"Well, I confess that you aroused my curiosity, and I got a notion to hear what you had to tell. But I can’t see why you should wish to give anything away, for you’re a Fardale man."
"And a chap I hate worse than poison is on that team," said Uric, rubbing his narrow chin with his fingers. "I am ready to do anything to down him."
"Oh, that’s it. Well, Fardale has been pretty lucky this year. She never started off so strong before. In fact, we’ve reckoned Fardale as easy meat in the past; but I’m willing to acknowledge that she worried us a little by downing Rivermouth. If it hadn’t been for that, no attention would have been paid to your letter. We beat Rivermouth to open the season, but it was by a fluke. If it hadn’t been for that fluke, they would have held us for a tie game. They’ve got a fierce old team this season, and everybody our way expected they would wipe up the earth with you chaps. When you beat them we had fits. Now, if you can give us a tip that will make it easy for us to walk over Fardale, I shall be much obliged. Does that pay the bill, or are you looking for dough?"
"I want no dough. All I want is for you to rub it into Fardale hard. The fellow I hate was the fellow who beat Rivermouth, and he’ll beat you to-day if you don’t take my tip. His brother is coaching the team, and——"
"So that’s it!" exclaimed Glennon. "You’re talking about Dick Merriwell?"
"You’ve heard of him?"
"I guess yes! We knew there was something doing when we heard Frank Merriwell was coaching Fardale. Then came the stories of the doings of this Dick Merriwell. He must be a holy terror."
Scudder turned almost green.