“What! You mean Varley?”
“Course I do!”
There was another pause before anybody made answer to the charge. Two or three of the boys glanced inquiringly at Sam, as if they felt that here was a matter concerning which it behooved him to speak. So Sam it was who broke the silence.
“Shark, what ails you, anyway? Varley’s all right.”
“Huh! So’s his money and the big dinners it buys!”
“What’s that?”
“You heard well enough. You and Step and Poke haven’t been talking about anything for a week but that feed he gave you.”
Step’s long arm shot out. He shook a finger under the Shark’s nose.
“You mean we’re toadying to him because he treated us to lunch? Say that, straight out, and I’ll smash you!”
The Shark was a head shorter than the tall Step, but he was in no mood to shrink from controversy, vocal or physical. He bristled belligerently.