“It’s a fine idea,” said Dud sarcastically, “but suppose you’re wrong? Then what?”
“Why, then you’ll have to mix it up a bit,” replied the other quite cheerfully. “But we won’t try it until we’ve got in shape some. We’d ought to have a couple of pairs of light gloves. Know any fellow who has any, Dud?”
“No, I don’t,” answered the other emphatically. “And if you think I’m going to stand up to Star Meyer and have him knock me around just to—just to please you, you’re horribly mistaken. Nothing doing!”
“To please me! I like that! It isn’t to please me, you silly chump; it’s for your own good. Star is distinctly—distinctly inimical to your interests, and——”
“Yes, and he’d be distinctly inimical to my nose,” interrupted Dud warmly. “And I like my nose the way it is. You may not, but I do. I’m not going to fight him, and that’s all there is to it!”
Jimmy was plainly disappointed. “It seems the only way, though, Dud,” he said pleadingly. “If you know any better way—— And besides you’ve got a reputation for slugging to keep up. What will fellows think if you let Star sneer at you and don’t call him down?”
“You had no business telling fellows I was a fighter,” said Dud. “You didn’t consult me about that and I’m not responsible now for what they think. I’m not a fighter and never was and never could be. I don’t know anything about it. And—and I don’t want to.”
Jimmy sighed and shrugged. “You’re extremely difficile, Dud,” he said in a discouraged tone. “I plan things for you——”
“Plan things! I should say you did! You’re a bully little planner, Jimmy, but I don’t like your plans. Think up something that won’t get me killed, please!”