“A caddish person whom I seemed to care for?” she questioned. “You can’t mean Bart Hodge?”
“Oh, no!”
“Then I’m sure I can’t conceive whom you do mean. Will you please name him.”
“Why, Frank Merriwell, of course,” smiled the young soldier.
Inza’s eyes flashed.
“I’d like to know for what reason you call him caddish?” she exclaimed, the flaming color leaping to her cheeks and her dark eyes flashing.
“Oh-ho!” murmured Swift, as he saw how he had aroused her.
“I thought you were one of his friends at the academy,” said Inza.
“Never that,” declared the youth with the bronzed face. “I was not an open enemy, but I never liked him.”
“Why not?”