"Certainly I care! I've gone into this for one thing—just one thing," Pence declared with sudden sharpness.
"I'd like to know what it is. We'll bust up in a row with those fellows. I come near licking that redheaded guy to-day."
"You'd have a nice time doing it, Kirby," put in Ben Comas, delighted to see his two comrades on the verge of a scrap. "Phillips could eat you up. I saw him boxing with Kingdon the other morning, and, take it from me, he has a punch. King had hard work to keep away from it."
"King!" snarled Kirby, like an angry dog. "You've got the disease, too, Comas!"
"What disease is that?" asked the lazy one, startled.
"Calling that curly-haired pet King. He's a fine king! If it wasn't for his name, he wouldn't be leading that bunch. He's got 'em under his thumb, and now he's starting in on you fellows."
"Hear him rave," grunted Pudge MacComber, widely agrin. "Never did hear Harry take on so."
"The whole thing will end up in a fight," insisted Kirby, subsiding.
"That'll be nice," chuckled Pudge.
"You won't be in it, if you see it coming," drawled Pence. "We may be sure it suits Kingdon. He says he loves to fuss with us."