"Why not post Prescott first?" demanded a cold voice. A cadet had halted behind the pair.
"Oh, you, Furlong?" snarled Dodge, turning.
"Yes," replied Cadet Furlong. "And I told you, on a former occasion, what I thought about back-biters."
"Be careful, Furlong!" warned Dennison angrily.
"At your service, sir, any time," coolly replied Furlong, though he was a head shorter than Dennison, who was one of the big athletes of the yearling class.
"But the class ought to know some truths," retorted Dodge harshly.
"Here comes some of the class now," replied Furlong, as seven yearlings, on their way back from the library, turned in at the sally-port. "Tell them for a start, Dodge, and I'll listen. Hold on there, fellows. Oh, you there, Prescott? That's lucky. Dodge has some 'facts' he thinks the class ought to know, and I want you to hear them. Now, Dodge, turn around and repeat what you were just saying."
There was no help for it. Dodge had to speak up, or be considered a cur that bit only in the dark.
So, with a show of defiance, Dodge spoke hotly giving a very fair repetition of what he had lately said. Prescott stood by, his fists clenched, his face white, but without interrupting or making any move.
"Now, state what you said, Mr. Dennison," requested Furlong coldly.