“I’m too mad to smoke or do anything else but fight. Take the things away! Why don’t you answer my question?”
Leon selected a cigarette and prepared it for lighting. Don found it hard to restrain himself while the fellow was doing all this. When Bentley had lighted the cigarette, he took a deep pull at it, inhaled the smoke, and let it escape from his mouth in little puffs as he asked:
“What was your question?”
“I asked you why you didn’t show your colors and stand by me when I had my quarrel with Renwood.”
“I didn’t consider it policy just then, Don.”
“But you saw I was all alone. Everybody seemed against me. If you had put yourself openly on my side just then I’d appreciated it.”
“Sometimes it is best not to be too open in such affairs. The matter with you is that you’re too open in everything. If you hate a fellow, you let him know it right off, so he’s prepared for any move you make against him. Now, I don’t believe in that. If I hate a chap, I just keep still till I get a good chance to soak him, and then I can take him by surprise.”
Leon said this with a foxy smile that was rather repulsive to the other.
“No, I don’t fancy that way of doing things,” admitted Don, promptly. “If I hate a fellow, I want him to know it. It’s a satisfaction to have him know just what I think of him.”
“And it puts him on his guard against you. That’s not my style. I’m just as sore on Renwood as you are, but I felt that I might hit him harder if I kept still. I’m onto him, and I know he’s down on me. He wants to chuck me off the eleven, so I wasn’t going to play right into his hands by siding openly with you and giving him a good excuse to turn Sterndale against me.”