"If our coach could get hold of you he'd turn out a real ball-player before he got through with you, believe me!"
"Indeed?" drawled Horace. "I had no idea you had a coach at that fresh-water kindergarten. Thought you were the whole cheese there."
"Oh, no," laughed Kingdon, apparently not at all ruffled. "There are other cheeses at Walcott Hall."
He turned away and called his crew together, while Pence went back to his friends and sat down in the shade.
"Say!" exploded Ben Comas. "You're thicker'n hasty-puddin' with that blond fellow. What's the idea?"
"Why didn't you knock his head off?" growled the glowering Kirby. "He's too fresh!"
"He wasn't fresh with me," Horace Pence returned cheerfully. "Knock his head off yourself, Harry—if you think you can do it."
"Huh!" grunted Ben. "You said you was going to fix him if he came to Storm Island. Didn't he, Pudge?"
"That's what you did, Horrors," agreed the fat chap.
"Wait till he gives me an opening, will you?" snapped Horace with some fretfulness.