"Well, what sort of a game do you think it was?"
"They're trying to fool you—trying to make you think they are ready to bury the hatchet, while they are
still waiting to hit you behind your back whenever they can. That's the kind of chaps they are. They can't fool me, if they can you. If they can lull you into carelessness till their opportunity comes, they will drive the knife into you, and sink it deep. Don't mink I'm thisted—I mean don't think I'm twisted. I am dead certain of the sort of cattle I'm talking about. You will be playing right into their hands if you get the idea that they have let up on you in the least. When they get a good chance, you'll get it in the neck."
"Well, Harry, you may be right; but I have reasons to believe that Flemming is anxious to call a truce just at present. He made a serious mistake when he tried to enlist David Scott against me. Scott found out all of Flemming's plots and secured enough evidence of the fellow's rascality to cause his expulsion from Yale if it were made public."
"Well, it should be made public immediately."
"Oh, I don't know about that! Expulsion from college might mean the ruin of Flemming's future."
"If he keeps on, he'll do that, whether he is expelled or not."
"If he does it himself, I shall not have it on my conscience. If I were to bring about his expulsion, and he went to the dogs, I might blame myself for it, thinking he would have done differently had he remained here. Do you catch on?"
"I catch on that you are dead easy with your enemies till they force you to down them for good."