Leon said this with such evident earnestness that the unfortunate youth could not help feeling gratitude and showing it.
“Thank you, Bent,” he said, his voice being a trifle husky despite himself. “I’m glad to hear you say that, anyhow. I won’t forget it, either.”
“I don’t believe you are the kind to forget easily,” asserted the crafty Leon. “It wouldn’t be like you to forget that I was the only one to stand by you and believe in you when almost everybody turned against you.”
“No, I do not forget easily, and I’ll not forget Dolph Renwood! My turn will come, and I’ll soak him when it does! I suppose they were saying all manner of nasty things about me?”
“Rather. They said you put up a big bluff, but Sterndale was sure you’d come round and cave in before night.”
“He never made a bigger mistake in his life.”
“But he says he’s going to apply to your father for pay for the football and suits if you don’t fork over. You don’t want him to do that, do you?”
“I don’t want him to, but I’ll never pay to keep him from doing it. Not in a million years! If he thinks I will, he’ll find he’s awfully mistaken.”
Don was rowing again, and he pulled the boat up under the shelter of the high promontory known as Duffy’s Nose, where they lingered till they knew the afternoon session at the academy had begun. Then away across the harbor the boat went, with Scott laboring at the oars and Bentley lazily smoking in the stern. Into Crab Inlet they steered, pulling up as far as the bridge across Powder Mill Creek. Having tied the dory beneath the bridge, where it would remain hidden from view, they set off on foot toward the Old Powder Mill.
Leon put his rifle together and loaded it, having brought along a supply of cartridges, and began to look round for something to shoot.