“Piffle! What if Star did give you a black eye? You’d have the credit of putting up a game fight and fellows would like you better. I tell you, Dud, a fellow’s got to risk something now and then!”
“You do the risking then,” replied the other a trifle sullenly. “I don’t want any black eyes, thanks.”
“Oh, all right then. Still, we’ve got to take Star down a peg or two, Dud. But don’t you worry. I’ll fix my giant intellect on the problem. Leave it all to me, old chap.”
“Yes,” answered Dud bitterly, “and find myself all beaten up some fine day! Look here, Jimmy, I guess this thing’s gone about far enough. Let’s drop it now. I—I guess I don’t care so much about being a ‘regular feller’ as I did. It—it’s too plaguey strenuous!”
“Give it up just when we’re beginning to show results?” cried Jimmy in amazement. “Never! When I start a thing, Dud, I see it through. That’s me, old chap. Having once set my hand to the plow——”
Dud groaned in despair. “Well, then,” he muttered, “I wish you’d go off and plow somewhere else!”
“Cheer up, Dud, the dawn is breaking!” Jimmy slapped him encouragingly on the back. “We’ll make a regular feller of you yet!”
“That’s all well enough, Jimmy, but what I want to know is this. What’s Star Meyer going to do when he hears that I’m telling it around school that he’s afraid of me? It’s a wonder to me that he hasn’t heard it already!”
Jimmy winked. “I sort of think he has, Dud,” he said softly.