“Bah! No! Because you ’fraid Dick Merriwell! That it! I know! First you come here you think you walk over him. Ha! You try it. Ha! You find it no work. Then you mean to beat him some way. You try it. It no work. Ha! You find he very much smart. He no ’fraid anything. When you try, try, try, you begin to get ’fraid of him an’ you——”
“That’s a lie, Bunol!” exclaimed Chester harshly. “I am not afraid of anything. But I know now that Merriwell cannot be defeated by ordinary means. I acknowledge it. I remain his enemy, just the same. I shall defeat him in the end. I shall triumph. But I must begin differently. I must work in more subtle ways. Thus far, for the most part, I have tried to down him by main force. Now I have decided that I must use my brain—I must resort to strategy. From this day my fight against him shall be strategical. He may not even think me his enemy. He may fancy me defeated. He may even imagine me something of a friend. All the while I shall be working silently against him. When the time comes for me to strike the crushing blow I shall strike it. But not until I have triumphed shall I let him know that it was my hand that pulled him down. This is something new for an Arlington. We meet our enemies openly and defeat them. But I have found this enemy too strongly intrenched.
“As I have decided on such a course, I have also concluded that I shall be better off without you here. Therefore, Bunol, I think you had better make arrangements to leave Fardale. I will give you a hundred dollars, and you may go where you choose.”
The Spaniard walked excitedly up and down the floor. Of a sudden he stopped beyond the table, across which he glared at Chester, who had lighted a fresh cigarette.
“I shall not go!” he exclaimed.
“So?” said Chester, lifting his eyebrows. “You will remain here?”
“I remain.”
“Indeed! How will you get along?”
“Get ’long? Why, jest same.”
“You may have some trouble to pay your way.”