“I can’t quite imagine him doing it,” replied Dan, with a smile. “He’s more likely to punch his head, if only to make use of what you’ve taught him.”
“Well, we’ll see the thing through, anyway,” answered Alf hopefully. “We’ll get his name up to the Committee. After that—well, it’s past us. But if G could make it up with T, I guess he’d go through all right.”
“He never would, though. Still, I’ll suggest it to him when we go back.”
“Got you,” said Tom quietly.
“How? Why?” asked Gerald, studying the board perplexedly. “Why can’t I move—.” He stopped. Then: “O-oh!” he said expressively. Dan and Alf laughed.
“Beat you again, did he?” asked Dan. Gerald nodded, smiling somewhat sheepishly.
“Don’t you care, Gerald,” said Alf. “Tom is really a pretty neat little chess player. I dare say there isn’t more than one fellow in school who can beat him, and modesty forbids my mentioning that fellow’s name.” Tom snorted. “Chess is a fool game, anyway; a game for children and idiots.”
“Don’t you play?” asked Gerald innocently.
“Play?” answered Alf above the laughter. “Well, you just ask Tom who wins when we play together.”
“Yes, ask me,” said Tom dryly. “Checkers is your game, Alf.”