Dick slipped on his coat and walked away. “Of all the beastly luck I ever saw!” growled the Texan, joining him. “Why didn’t you challenge him to bowl again?” “Because our agreement at the start was that we were to roll only one string. That settled it.” “But you should have won! You would have won only for that rolling deadwood!” “Forget it!” smiled Dick. “It is of no consequence.” “What? No consequence? No consequence to have that fellow beat you? Why, pard, he is not in your class at anything!” “He is a clever fellow, Brad; you can’t deny that.” “All the same, he can’t beat you again once out of ten times.” “I don’t know about that. In fact, I am inclined to think your statement altogether extravagant.” Ten minutes later Dick had changed his clothes for a gymnasium suit and came forth to engage in a fencing bout with Darrell. Both boys were clever with the foils, and soon a number of cadets were watching them. Arlington and Fraser joined the spectators. It was a beautiful spectacle to watch the graceful movements of the two lads, and the clever work of both was applauded. Dick was beyond question the superior of Darrell, who accepted the situation with good grace. Arlington, however, did not hesitate to comment on Merriwell’s style and work. These comments were not wholly complimentary. “Look at that lunge!” he exclaimed derisively. “Why, any one could parry that! His wrist is stiff. He loses half his opportunities to counter.” “Still,” observed Fraser, “he is called the best fencer in the school.” At this Chet laughed derisively. “Wait,” he said. “If he dares I will try him a go. Come on, and I will get into a suit.” Arlington hastened to the dressing room, returning as soon as possible in a gymnasium suit. Dick was resting, and Chet walked straight up to him. “I’d like to tackle you,” he declared. “What do you say?” “All right,” nodded Dick. Professor Broad, instructor in gymnastics, was near at hand, and was selected to act as referee. Once more an eager and excited throng of boys assembled to witness a contest between Arlington and Merriwell. In Dick’s eyes there was a slight gleam of fire as the two boys faced each other. Chester was smiling in that supremely confident manner of his. “On guard!” called Professor Broad. At this the two lads made the graceful movement of coming on guard. “Engage!” The foils met with a steely, hissing sound. “Here’s where a rolling deadwood doesn’t spoil the match,” observed Buckhart. Chester entered into the bout in earnest, forcing the attack from the start. His movements were quick, and he was catlike on his feet. Repeatedly he lunged and recovered in time to prevent a counter. Dick watched Arlington’s style and movements closely, seeking to discover his capabilities. “Why, Chester is playing with him!” declared Fraser. “He is keeping him busy, too.” “Juj-juj-juj-just you wait a bit,” stuttered Jolliby. “Merriwell hasn’t bub-bub-bub-begun yet.”