“No; it belongs to me,” declared Dick, as he slipped it into his pocket. “As parting advice to you, Arlington, take care that your snaky friend does not carry a knife, unless you wish him to land you in prison by murdering somebody when you are not around.”
Dick walked out, without once looking back. His manner was perfectly fearless.
When the door closed behind Merriwell, Bunol uttered a little exclamation of disappointment, dropping the Indian club to the floor. He sat down heavily on a chair.
“You fool!” said Chester scornfully. “Do you want to get us both hanged? If that knife had struck him——”
“He would be dead now!”
“And we would be in a fine scrape! Merriwell is right; you must stop carrying a knife.”
“I—I stop? I—I no carry knife?”
“Well, if you do, I’ll have to cut clear of you.”
Bunol seemed thunderstruck.
“You—you do that? You cut clear of me? Why, you bring me here! You pay my way here! You say I must come to school at Fardale.”