“It’s all right for a man to graduate as near the head of his class as possible,” Merry asserted, “in case he gives enough time to exercise to keep his health and strength; but when he wears his life away and goes forth from college a physical wreck he has committed a crime. Not only that, but he will be punished for his crime, and there is no way for him to escape that punishment.”
“And all the while he doesn’t dream what fun he’s missing,” laughed Jack, thumping his breast with his clenched hands. “Why, it’s great just to be living and feel this way! I could fly—if I had a flying-machine.”
“You have the necessary wheels in your head,” declared Merry.
“But you’ll never develop a pair of wings,” asserted Hodge.
By the time they were well out into the suburbs it had begun to grow dark. They had passed Beaver Ponds, and were not far from West Rock, before the leader swung to the left by a country road and turned back toward the city.
The men had strung out behind for a short distance. It was impossible to tell if all of them had held out and kept with the squad.
In fact, one of them had not. Defarge had slowly fallen behind until he was near the rear of the squad, and then, making an excuse to tighten up his shoe, he knelt beside the road and let them go on without him.
“I know the way they’ll come back,” he muttered. “And I know where I can watch them without being seen. If Merriwell would just take a fancy to spurt, or would get off by himself! Oh, yes! I’d make one more try to settle his hash!”
Then he turned back, struck into a cross-lane, and ran swiftly through the gathering gloom, his heart filled with black thoughts and evil designs.