The face of Snodgrass took on a look of vindictive resolve.
“That’s right!” he grated. “The freshmen shall not win now! It will hurt Merriwell if they fail! We will prevent them, Arnold.”
“If I help you, will you cancel the account against me?”
“In case we succeed—yes.”
“Then shake on it!”
They shook hands over the table.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
SNODGRASS SEEKS SATISFACTION.
Of course the unexpected withdrawal of Arnold and Snodgrass from their respective crews created comment. Both men manufactured excuses, but these excuses proved to be rather flimsy when investigated. They seemed to have suddenly lost their sand in the face of the rigid training, and decided to get out. This caused many to regard them with contempt, and Snodgrass ate his heart out with rage toward the one he regarded as the author of all his trouble. Never for a moment did he regard himself as in any way to blame.
Arnold was afraid of Merriwell; but, if possible, just then he was more afraid of Snodgrass, who was desperate enough for any move. The sophomore swore by various things he was supposed to regard as sacred that he would get even with Merriwell. He vowed that the freshmen should meet with defeat, but when he came to meditate on the matter some time it did not seem to him that the simple defeat of the freshmen would be revenge enough on Merriwell.
No; he longed for blood! He pictured himself as jumping on Frank and giving him a terrible drubbing. In this fanciful encounter he knocked Merriwell down again and again. Oh, how he quivered with satisfaction as he felt his fists beating Merriwell’s handsome face into a mass of cuts and bruises! How he laughed and gloated. And at last, when he had knocked down and out the fellow he hated, he stood and sneered at him, with arms folded and a heart full of triumph.