“I wouldn’t bother to!” Star laughed. “I might break you in two if I hit you!”
“You’ll fight me,” reiterated Dud doggedly. “If you won’t——”
He stopped, for Davy was glowering at him from the doorway.
“Look you, Baker, what I say I mean! One more word about fighting while you’re in this place and out you go!”
Dud subsided and silence reigned until the door opened to admit a number of released second team candidates, by which time Dud was ready for his shower. When he returned to the lockers Star had gone. By that time the room was crowded from end to end, for practice was over and some forty-odd boys were struggling for space. Jimmy spied his chum and pushed his way to him.
“Oh, Dud, it was fine!” he whispered delightedly. “Only why didn’t you put it a foot or so higher and ‘bean’ him? Did you see him again?”
Dud nodded.
“Was he mad?” demanded Jimmy eagerly. “Hello, what are you looking so funny about? You didn’t—I say, Dud, you two didn’t——” He paused expressively.
“We had words,” replied Dud in low tones, “and he—slapped my face.”
“Slapped——” Jimmy whistled. Then: “Great stuff, Dud! What did you do? Where were you? I wish I’d seen it!”