“That’s because you told the fellows what he and Crawford were doing the night of the flood,” he snapped. “But he’d better keep his mouth shut! I could tell things about him that would get him fired out of college so quick it’d make his head swim!”
“Easy, you old firebrand,” said Larry; “you’ve got your own quarrel with Underhill on that ‘Mixer’ business, but this one is mine, and I’m big enough to fight my own battles.”
“What’s he doing now?” Dick demanded.
“Telling lies about me, chiefly. Purdy gets onto everything of that sort”—little Purdick was out somewhere, and the two had the big room in the Man-o’-War to themselves.
“What sort of lies?”
“Dirty ones. You remember when the Underhill Contracting Company had a job on the Short Line a couple of years ago? Underhill was out there a while that summer, stopping at the hotel in Brewster most of the time, I guess, and he claims that he found out a lot about me and my people. Shubrick had his mother and sister down here last week on a visit, and Underhill told Shuby he’d better not introduce me; that I wasn’t the kind of fellow he’d want his folks to meet.”
Dick got up, and his eyes were blazing out of a face that was as white as a sheet of paper.
“There’s a limit to all things, Larry!” he broke out furiously. “Do you suppose I could break into Prexy’s house at this time of night?”
“Of course you couldn’t,” said Larry calmly. “Why should you want to?”
“You know good and well why I want to. Underhill’s smashed every rule and every tradition of Old Sheddon ever since he first hit the campus last fall. He’s not only a boozer and a gambler—he’s a cheat. I stood in for him and his crowd that time when the police caught us, and mighty nearly got canned for it. But now I’m going to tell everything I know!”