"You know well enough that Frank Merriwell is not afraid," said Bart, quickly.
"Well, it looks that way," declared Leslie.
"Yes, it looks that way," echoed Wat.
"Possibly he has too much sense to spend his nights here," said Hodge. "If I had known that much, I wouldn't have gone back a class. Merriwell is in the first section, and he is making right along."
"Well, he is a different fellow than I thought he was," asserted Snell. "Until lately, he has seemed quite a fellow for sport, but he is degenerating into a drone."
"Such drones are the fellows who get along well in school and in the world."
"Bah! Give me a fellow with blood in him!" came contemptuously from Gage.
Leslie had grown desperate, having come to the conclusion that Frank was not to be cajoled into playing poker any more. He now determined, of a sudden, that he would take another tack, and see if he could not anger Merriwell into coming.
Hodge remembered that Gage had tried to injure Frank in the past, and the dark-eyed plebe was ready to blaze forth in an instant. Although he did not know it, Gage was treading on the very thin crust that covered a smoldering volcano.
Leslie was not warned by the fire that gleamed in Bart's eyes, for he continued: