"Wow!" exclaimed Ben Jordan. "Do we all know anything about this perfesser? Well, I reckon. Why, he's—"
"Cork!" shouted Blunt sharply. "You chaps keep still about the professor. I'll do the talking on that point." He turned in his saddle to face Merriwell, "We can tell you a whole lot about this professor of yours," he went on, "but I've an ax to grind, Merriwell, and the information is going to cost you something."
"I thought that was your stripe," sneered Clancy.
"Oh, you did? Say, if I wasn't so teetotally wrapped up in Merriwell, I'd give a little attention to you, my buck."
"What is the information going to cost?" asked Frank.
"It's going to cost you a fight—with me. Sabe? If you can put me down for the count, Merriwell, we'll not only tell, you what we know about Borrodaile, but we'll turn in, every man jack of us, and help you get hands on him."
That was Barzy Blunt to a hair. He never allowed a chance for a contest with young Frank Merriwell to get past him.
"Give him his wish, Chip—or let me," growled Clancy. "He ought to have a little sense pounded into that head of his, and here's an opening."
"If you're hankerin' fer a go, Redhead," called Ben Jordan, "mebby I could oblige."
"No," put in Frank. "This little matter is between Blunt and me. We've got the center of the stage, and were going to keep it. The rest of you can look on." He turned to the Cowboy Wonder. "Sparring is all right, Blunt," he continued, "but, if it is all the same to you, why not settle, the matter catch as catch can? I have already taken one fall out, of you, but you have always claimed you could have turned the tables on me if the bout hadn't been interrupted."