"When we see Chunky's version of the affair in the home paper. After that paper comes out, though, I am going to teach Chunky a lesson."
"What kind of a lesson?" demanded Stacy suspiciously.
"After your story comes out in home print," laughed Ned, "I'm going to take all the wind out of your sails by telling everybody in town the real version of the affair."
"You just dare," flared Chunky.
"Why?" queried Walter mildly. "Do you mean, Stacy, that you would knowingly give a false version to the home paper, and that you'd resent having Ned tell the people the straight account of the matter?"
"I mean," sputtered Chunky. "I mean—Well, I mean that I won't have anybody else mixing up in my business and trying to make me look ridiculous. That's what I mean, and I mean it."
"No fellow looks half so ridiculous," put in Tad quietly, "as the fellow who tells yarns about his achievements that no one in the home town would think of believing. Remember your lion story, Chunky, as printed in the Chillicothe paper?"
"Yes. And it was a mighty good story, too," declared young Brown. "The editor told me so."
"What do you suppose no less than three persons at home asked me?" Tad went on. "They wanted to know how it was that you never did anything at home to amount to a hill of beans, yet, as soon as you got a few hundred miles away, you invariably began to prove yourself a wonder. You see people are beginning to size your stories up."
"Who asked you that?" demanded Chunky heatedly.