“Refuse me,” snickered Ready. “I did not do it, I assure you. Is Mr. Frank Merriwell present?”
“Yes,” laughed Frank, “I’m here.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
But as he said the word Frank moved suddenly to one side, and thus he avoided the blow which Ready aimed at him. Jack’s fist struck against something hard, and his knuckles were skinned.
“Merriwell,” he said, “you are awfully hard. I’d like to pound you awhile with a club, just to see if I could not mellow you up a bit.”
“Refuse me!” said Merry, catching up Ready’s favorite expression. “I am afraid I’d not enjoy it. How did you like your trip on the back of a fiery Arab steed?”
“It was excellent—as far as it went.”
“I’m thinking you may fancy it went too far.”
“In one direction, yes. You are a very clever person, Mr. Merriwell, but there is such a thing as being too clever.”