“How do you like it, dudie?” asked one of the wipers, mockingly.
“Speaking to me, sir?” inquired Frank, placidly.
“Yes.”
“My name is Merriwell.”
“Oh, it is?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, dudie is good enough, and that goes.”
“Hey, Bill,” called another wiper, “you don’t know who you’re chinnin’ there.”
“Why, I’m chinnin’ the new superintendent of the road,” grinned the taunting wiper.
“You’re talkin’ to the chap that knocked the stuffin’ out of Old Slugs yesterday.”