“Don’t let him bully you!” cried Skelding. “He’s the kind of fellow to pretend to hate Merriwell, but, now Merriwell has got the best of him a few times, he’s ready to crawl round and bow down before his conqueror.”
“You’re a prevaricator, by the clock!” said the Kansas man promptly. “Because I cut clear of you does not make it that I’m ready to pick up with Merriwell. We are enemies still.”
“You’re the one who is still,” chuckled Ollie Lord, dodging behind Skelding. “You don’t dare open your mouth to Merriwell any more.”
“You’re not worth noticing, you imitation of a man!” broke from Badger. “If there is anything in the world that can make me cease to hate Merriwell it will be because you chaps hate him so much.”
Badger’s words had been spoken rather loudly, and now Chickering noted that a crowd was gathering, and he began to feel that it was time to close up. He gave the others the tip to do so, and backed out of the crowd himself.
Somebody asked Badger what he thought about Merriwell being dropped.
“Say,” cried the Westerner, “whatever do you take me for? I reckon it’s pretty generally known that I’m no friend of his. That being the case, my opinion would not amount to shucks.”
“He knows enough not to talk as much as Merriwell,” said somebody.
“Who says Merriwell talks too much?” roared Bruce Browning. “He’s one of the closest-mouthed fellows living.”
“Well, he talked so much to-day that he got it in the neck.”