“I tell you he is a bad man at anything,” said Fisher. “I didn’t think it a while ago, but I believe it now. He’s a chap with supreme confidence in himself.”
“Sort of a swell head, eh? Goes round with his chest out and a chip on his shoulder?”
“That’s what makes me all the sorer on him. He doesn’t go round that way. He’s too quiet and modest. Never’d know he considered himself anything in particular. Of course, that’s all a bluff. I’ll guarantee he’s all swelled up inside, even if he doesn’t show it.”
“I’m growing more and more interested,” smiled Necker. “If he can be induced to enter the jumping contest I’ll make him look like a yellow dog with a tin can tied to its tail, I promise you.”
“And I’m ready to do the same thing to him at the pole vault,” said Frost.
“And I’m going to push up against him in another way if I find an opportunity,” growled Manton, clenching his fist and looking at it earnestly.
“It seems to me,” said Fisher, “that Mr. Merriwell will have his hands full of business if he lingers around here.”