Dud brought the narrative to its conclusion by the time they were crossing the campus, and Jimmy disengaged his arm in order to slap Dud approvingly on the back. “Fine!” he declared. “Just what we wanted! By the time we put this thing through, Dud, you’ll be the most talked-of fellow in school!”
“I don’t want to be talked of. I’m sick of all that rot. All I want is to show Star Meyer that he can’t slap me and—and get away with it!”
“Sure! But it’ll do you a lot of good if you lick him, don’t you see? Fellows will call you a plucky kid and all that. Oh, there’s nothing to it, Dud! Here’s where we make good, old son!”
“I’m not likely to lick him,” replied the other quietly. “I dare say he will beat me to a pulp, but he won’t do it before I’ve got in a few,” he added grimly.
“That’s all right, too, but it’s going to make a lot bigger hit if you get the decision,” responded Jimmy. “No, you’d better make up your mind to lick him, Dud.”
“Make up my mind!” replied the other impatiently as they traveled together down the corridor. “How’s making up my mind going to help? He can lick me, and you know it. And I know it. What’s the good of talking rot like that?”
“How do you know he can?” asked Jimmy eagerly. “I’ll bet you anything Star’s got a yellow streak in him somewhere. And you’ve been learning right along, haven’t you? Why, say, I call you a mighty clever boxer right this minute, Dud! Yes, I do, honest! And—I say, what time is it? Fine! We’ve just got time to put on the gloves for a few minutes. I was reading in that book——”
“I’m not going to put on the gloves,” answered Dud decidedly. “I’ll fight him just as I am. All that scientific stuff isn’t much good, anyway. It didn’t keep him from almost knocking me flat on the floor this afternoon, did it?”
“But you weren’t looking for it! If you’d known——”