“It is.”
“Ha! You think it. You change your mind. I make you change your mind.”
“You—you make me?” The idea that Bunol could make him do anything was amusing to Arlington.
“I make you,” reiterated the Spaniard.
“That’s a joke! Why, you poor fool, how will you go about it? What way have you to make me do anything?”
“Plenty way. You say ‘no’? Ha! How you like it if I tell few thing ’bout you?”
“Tell—tell what?”
“How you do some thing since you come here. Ha! How you do your best to beat Deek Merriwell. How you try to have football-team beat, so Deek Merriwell he is beat. How you want him scratch with the poison ring, so his arm it swell, and so he can play no more at the football. Oh, I can tell!”
“But you’ll get yourself into a worse scrape than I, for you have been the one to do most of the work against Merriwell. I shall swear that you lie.”
“I tell your seester! I tell your mother!”