“That’s what I am,” was the confession. “I’m looking for it, and I’m going to have it!”
“Now you’re talking,” nodded Frost. “Rib him into the pole vault at our meet, and I’ll give you a taste of it.”
“Don’t be too sure. I thought I could put it over him on the alley to-day. I’d like to smash his face!”
“Why don’t you?” murmured Frost.
“I may—when I get a chance. Couldn’t pick a quarrel with him here, you know. Hello! here’s Necker.”
A slender, blue-eyed chap approached.
“What’s this I hear?” he exclaimed. “They tell me you’ve let a stranger down you at tenpins, Mant.”
“So they’re blowing it round?” snapped Manton, frowning. “I thought they would. Seem to take delight in it. I suppose there are fools around here who fancy it’s an honor for a member of this club to be defeated by the great Frank Merriwell.”
Necker whistled.