“Oh, go fall on yourself!” retorted Diamond.
“I’m no contortionist, nor yet a magician,” said Ready quickly. “I can’t fall on myself, but I may fall on you some day.”
“Any time you like you may try it!” flared Jack, rising to his feet, his face pale and his eyes glittering. “I’ll give you a reason now.”
But Frank Merriwell got hold of the hot-blooded Virginian and pulled him down.
“Let up on this!” commanded Frank. “It’s a fine time to be picking up trouble! We have won a great victory, and we should rejoice. Don’t both of you be fools!”
“All right,” said Ready; “I’ll leave that privilege to your friend, Mr. Merriwell. I believe he has a reputation as a fire-eater. I shall expect a challenge from him. We will meet on the field of honor—not!”
Diamond felt like attacking Ready then and there, but Frank would not have it.
“He’s an insolent prig!” panted the Southerner. “He has insulted you, Merriwell, by claiming to have divided honors with you on the field to-day.”
“I think I can stand it,” laughed Frank.
Of course the victors were given a reception at the campus. There were no bonfires, but there was plenty of shouting, singing, and speech-making. Merriwell made a speech that aroused great enthusiasm. He compared Yale’s record against Brown with that of Harvard. The score seemed to indicate that the blue was far stronger than the crimson. The time was close at hand when that point would be settled on the gridiron, and Merry promised that Old Eli would put up a fight that would make every Yale man thrill with joy and pride. When this speech was over, a great crowd gathered about Frank near the fence, to congratulate him and shake his hand. He was forced to give them his left hand, on account of the injury to his right wrist.