“If any of your friends make the kind of talk you did to me,” he politely said, “I’ll cheerfully apply the same treatment.”
Crauthers, with his face bruised and one eye rapidly closing, made no reply, but he ground his dark teeth in impotent rage.
Arlington, however, had demonstrated that he would fight, and from that time there was little outspoken criticism of his change in bearing toward Dick Merriwell.
Brad Buckhart was heartily disgusted when he heard of the new position Arlington had taken.
“Wouldn’t that freeze your feet!” he exclaimed, as he finished telling Dick about it. “He’ll be trying to get chummy with you next. He will, I know!”
Dick smiled a bit, but said nothing.
“Say, pard,” came anxiously from the Texan, “I hope you won’t let that onery coyote come crawling round you any whatever. Not even for his sister’s sake. She’s all right, but you can’t trust Chet Arlington.”
“Don’t worry,” was all Dick said.
That afternoon Arlington was on hand to watch the practise of the football-team.
Unhampered by the orders of the committee, Dick had full charge of the men on the field, and he put them through their paces in a way that demonstrated what he could do with them if given full sway. The boys seemed to show up unusually well and take hold of the work with new interest.