"I believe you are jealous of him, Marline. If you are, take my advice, and conceal it, or the boys will jolly you to death."
Rob Marline drew himself up with as much haughtiness as possible, considering his lame ankle.
"Sah," he said, hissing the words through his white teeth, "the boys had better be careful. I am in no condition to be jollied on that point, sah."
Had any other fellow at Yale taken such a stand, it would have produced shouts of laughter. As it was, not a fellow of the group grinned, and Burn Putnam observed:
"If you don't want to be jollied, you'd better keep still about Merriwell. All the fellows will be onto you if you keep it up."
Rob flashed Old Put a cutting look, and then haughtily returned:
"My tongue is my own, sah!"
"All right," grunted Burn. "Use it as you please. You'll find I've given you a straight tip."
"I presume, sah, a man has a right to criticise the playing of any fellow on the eleven?"
"Sure; but it doesn't come very well from you, as you and Merriwell were rivals."