“They’re sure a bad lot,” commented Lanky, drily. “Ever since Lef Sellers was hustled off to military school by his dad because he made such a racket in town that the authorities threatened to send him to the reform school, Bill has tried to fill his shoes as the town bully, and bad boy generally.”
“And some say he’s even worse than Lef ever was,” added Frank; “but see here, Lanky, what’s up?”
“Now please tell me why you think anything is?” demanded the other.
“Well,” Frank went on, with a good-natured laugh, “I can see it in your face that you’ve got something to tell me. You may fool some of the fellows, but you can’t me, old chum. Open up and let’s hear what it is. Anything connected with the big meet we’re all talking so much about?”
“Nope,” replied Lanky, tersely.
“I hope you haven’t been running across the trail of that Walter Ackerman, and doing what you once threatened to do, Lanky?”
The other sneered at this.
“Don’t see any scratches or bruises on my phiz; do you, Frank?” he remarked; “and as I calculate that Walter is something of a scrapper himself, I couldn’t polish him off without showing the signs; could I? Shucks! forget him, won’t you? If Dora chooses that city chap before me, she’s at liberty to do it. I’m not going a foot out of my way to please her and make her think she’s the only one in Columbia worth looking at. There are plenty of girls.”
But however brave his words, Lanky did not deceive the keen eyes of Frank Allen, who happened to know what a tremendous hold the red-cheeked Dora had upon the affections of the tall boy.
“Well, let’s change the subject, Lanky,” he said. “You didn’t deny it when I remarked that something was exciting you. What is it? Anything that concerns me?”