“Do you mean to say that, merely because he has become a reporter, you refuse to admit to these grounds the man who was captain of this crew only two weeks ago?” cried Myles, hotly.
“That’s about the size of it. If we exclude one reporter we must exclude all. Those, I believe, were your own words. I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t do, you know, to let friendship interfere with business.”
“If I acknowledge that I was a fool when I made that speech, if I tell you that this miserable notice is one of the biggest mistakes you could possibly make, and beg you, for the sake of the college and of the crew, to take it down, won’t you do it?” asked Myles.
“No; I don’t think we will. Of course it is natural for you to think that way now. Perhaps I would in your place; but, as I have not the motive that you have to change my opinion of reporters, I rather think we will let the notice remain where it is, and act up to it.”
“Then,” replied Myles, whose hot temper was rapidly escaping from his control, “all I have to say is that, in putting up this notice, you made a fool of yourself, and in keeping it up you not only disgrace yourself but the college you represent.”
“And in reply to such a very friendly speech I would remark that when a fellow, pretending to be a gentleman, relinquishes those pretensions and becomes a reporter, he has descended to the level for which nature intended him,” retorted Watkins.
“If it were not for breaking up the crew on the eve of a great race, I’d make you apologize for those words, Ben Watkins!” cried Myles.
“You can’t do it, and you dare not try,” was the mocking answer.
Myles had so completely lost control of himself by this time, that he would have answered this taunt by something much more forcible than words, and undoubtedly Ben Watkins would have had cause to regret arousing the wrath of the young athlete before whom the best men in the X—— gymnasium had been unable to stand up; but just then a soft hand was laid on the young reporter’s shoulder, and Billings’ languid voice drawled out: