“It’s hard to tell what’s biting Blunt and Handy, Ellis,” said Frank. “Looks like they’re trying to make out that they’re ready for harps and halos, while they’re only convincing people that they’re snobs, with little, two-by-four dispositions that are anything but heavenly.”
“Well, even at that, the feeling against Jode is pretty general, isn’t it?”
“There are more than Blunt and Handy against his playing ball to-morrow, but the rest have the decency to keep their objections to themselves.”
“Isn’t there any possible chance for getting Jode into the game, Chip?”
Darrel spoke earnestly, almost eagerly.
“Do you mean to say, Curly,” asked Merriwell, “that you’d like to see him play against Gold Hill?”
“I’d like to see him give a good account of himself on the diamond. He has squared away, and is trying to make something of himself. I think it would help him to brush up against fellows who used to be his friends, and corral a little of the good feeling that breaks out in a snappy, well-fought game of ball.”
“Well, I’ll be darned!” muttered Merriwell. “What would the colonel say if he heard you talk like that?”
“I don’t know as that would make any difference. I think a heap of the colonel, Chip, but I haven’t reached the point where he does my thinking for me. I’m not sore at Lenning. We have had our differences, and I’ve managed to come out on top. Jode is the under dog, and now that he’s trying to be white, I’d like to help him.”
“Put it there, Darrel!” cried Merriwell heartily, thrusting out his hand. “I wish Blunt and Handy were here to absorb your sentiments. Hearing you talk like that ought to make them feel pretty small.”