“I thought it a shame to run in a rank amateur like Merriwell on a lead.”
“You said so.”
“Well, I was hot because I could not have the part, and I did not rehearse very well.”
Havener nodded. He remembered all this perfectly.
“In my heart,” Dunton went on, “was a perfect hell of fury. I don’t think I ever felt that way before. My hatred for Merriwell knew no bounds. I resolved to show him up. I am something of a fencer and there was a sword duel in the play. I was the villain in the piece, and I fought with the hero. It was necessary for Merriwell to do the duel with me. In the piece I should seem to have the best of it at first, and then he should show superior skill and disarm me.”
“I remember all about that,” said Havener. “Go on.”
“It was in that duel that I determined to make a monkey of him. I would show the audience what a stick he was.”
Ephraim Gallup chuckled.
“I’ve known other folks to git fooled in a real duel with him,” said the Vermonter.
“This turned out a real duel,” said Dunton. “When the time came, I insulted Merriwell by adding venom to the regular lines of the part. I called him a crawling cur. I did my best to make him feel my real contempt for him.”