“That isn’t the point,” persisted Fred. “A thoroughbred might have felt sore, but he wouldn’t have shown it. I tell you, Bobby, you want to look out for that fellow. If you could have seen the way he looked at you while you were pitching.”
“Looks don’t hurt,” Bobby flung back carelessly.
But a few days later an incident occurred which showed that Hicksley was willing to go much further than looks in his hatred of his rival.
It was one of those unseasonably warm days that sometimes come in the spring. Recitations were being held in the classroom of Mr. Leith, the head teacher, and in order to make the air cooler the electric fan had been set going.
The seats of Hicksley, Bronson and Jinks were just behind those of Bobby and Fred, and were in the rear of the room.
The lessons were proceeding as usual, when suddenly there was a crash, and something wet and sticky and evil smelling was scattered over the room. Almost all the boys got some of it, and a large yellow splash showed against the immaculate white shirt of Mr. Leith himself.
Somebody had thrown an egg into the electric fan! And it was a very old egg, as was proved by the vile odor which spread through the classroom.
CHAPTER XXIV
AN UNDESERVED PUNISHMENT
The whirling fan, going at tremendous speed, had scattered the contents of the egg far and wide, and hardly any one had escaped.
For a moment there was a stunned silence. Then a roar of laughter broke from the boys. To them it seemed a capital joke.