“Who is he?”
“His name is Hawkins. I met him in Paris last summer. It happened that my father was able to do him a favor, as he had gotten into some trouble through a duel in which he came within an ace of killing his man. Father had a pull, and enabled him to get off and leave the country. Naturally, he feels under obligations. He is here in New Haven.”
Packard snapped his fingers.
“What of all that?” he asked.
“Wait a little. This fellow is not over twenty-two or three years of age, but he is the most wonderful swordsman I ever saw. You know I can handle a rapier a little myself. Well, this chap can toy with me as a cat toys with a mouse. And he can fight with his fists and feet. You know Merriwell learned in France to fight with his feet as well as with his fists. Here is a man who can box as well as Merriwell, and can kick better. It is marvelous the way he can handle those feet. He is the only fellow I ever saw in America who could defeat Merriwell at that trick. He can do it! I know it! But that is not the limit. As an athlete my man is a wonder. I have no hesitation in saying that he can outpoint Merriwell in any feat of strength.”
“How do you know about that last? Merriwell, you know, believes it is a mistake for any athlete to be continually performing great feats of strength. It is his argument that any athlete who follows up such a practise must overstrain and weaken himself some time, which will do him permanent injury. I don’t like Merriwell, but I have a belief that the fellow never displays the full capacity of his athletic powers.”
“And I,” cried Defarge, “believe he is much overrated in that respect.”
“I used to think so; but I have come to change my mind. I was forced to change my mind, to tell the truth. I didn’t like to, but I couldn’t help it.”
“And now you think he really is a wonder?”
“I think he is a remarkable athlete. Mind you, I dislike the fellow just as much as I ever did; but I have been forced to acknowledge to myself that he is a wonder.”