“Don’t be fools!” he said, in the same soft voice. “You will not find it safe to soak Miguel Bunol.”
“He carries a knife,” said Stark.
Bunol’s lips curled in a bitter smile. They did not know what had become of his knife. Dick Merriwell had it, but some day he would get it back.
“Look here, you!” he said, “Let me tell you! I have done with Chester Arlington as friend. You think a long time he is my master. Bah! All the time I am his master! All the time he pay my way here at school. I make him give to me the money. How I do it? No matter. I have way. Now he have spend so much he get in bad hole. He try to throw me over. Ha! I say no. He think he is my master, and he say I have to go. He give me one hundred dollars to get me to go. I laugh at him. I say one thousand. He cannot give that. I know he cannot give it. I stay. But I know he mean to get done with me soon as he can. I have done many thing for him, and it make me sore. Ha! See? No longer am I his friend. I make him give me money, but no longer will I do anything for him. I like to see him get it some in the neck. Ha!”
Again the boys looked at each other, this time wondering if Bunol spoke the truth.
“What kind of a game is this?” muttered Stark.
But Bunol protested that it was no game at all, and he swore by all things good and bad that he spoke the truth. He began to convince them. He showed his feeling of hatred for Chester Arlington was intense as well as unreasoning. He seemed to feel that, after providing him with money so long, after accepting him as a companion, after introducing him as belonging to a noble family, that Chester had no right to cast him off and refuse to maintain him longer. He seemed to feel that Chester was doing him a great injury, and he was burning with a desire for revenge.
Crauthers, Hogan, and Stark put their heads together and whispered.
“What do you think?” asked Hogan.
“Fellow’s on the level,” said Stark.