“It’s quite evident that you’re not fitted to pass on athletes, my friend,” he broke in ironically. “I’ve always found that the fellow who goes around with a coffin nail sticking in his face is the one who sticks in the bleachers. He doesn’t get out and toss the ball very much.” For some reason, this speech seemed to infuriate the bully. He whirled on Merry with a snarl of anger. “Smart guy, ain’t you? I suppose you’re that Merriwell kid that Billy’s been blowin’ about so much?” “It seems that you have some brain left, in spite of cigarettes,” returned Merry dryly. “You’re supposing a lot of things, my friend. It might strike you to suppose that your absence is better than your company.” “Oh, is that so?” The big fellow clenched his fists, glaring. “Say, fer about two cents I’d take you down a peg, Slim-shanks!” Billy Mac turned quickly. “Look here, Chip, you butt out of this!” he demanded. “Chub Newton’s a friend of mine, and this isn’t your quarrel.” “All right, old man,” said Merriwell, waving his hand. “I’ll gladly turn over our genial friend to you. He looks as if a dose of McQuade compound would improve his health a good deal.” “Yah!” shrieked Chub Newton, in wild delight. “That’s the way to talk! L-l-listen to that, Bul-l-ly! You’re goin’ to hear things, al-l-l right!” Bully favored Chub with a black look. “I’ve give you one lesson about closin’ that jaw of yours, Chub,” he grated. “You’d better lay mighty low, mind my words!” There was something in the tone and aspect of the fellow that struck a responsive chord in Merriwell’s memory. What the familiarity was, he could not fathom. However, he was sure that there was a familiarity. “L-l-light into him, Bil-l-ly!” pleaded Chub, his shrill voice appearing to irritate Bully like the buzzing of a mosquito. The latter shook his fist threateningly. “You heard what I said!” he roared. “Shut that jaw, or I’ll show you what a real lambastin’ is, you tow-headed little rat!” “I don’t think you will, Bully,” said McQuade. Merriwell had thrown him a warning look, and he had curbed his temper. “Hey? Why not?” The big fellow turned on Billy, seeming to comprehend for the first time that he was being actually interfered with. “I suppose you’ll stop me, hey?” “Well, I’ve been thinking it over quite a while,” admitted Billy, with a grin. “Try a fresh cigarette, Bully. It might help you to get ideas faster.” Chub Newton waved his arms in delight. A few passers-by were pausing to listen to the altercation, and the little fellow turned to them eagerly. “Watch Bul-l-ly catch it!” he sang out shrilly. “He’s going to get a fal-l-len on harder than the Sprucetown batters fel-l-l on him l-l-l-last Saturday!” At this the big fellow’s face went positively black with rage. It was clear that he could think of no taunts to fling back at his diminutive foe, so he did the next best thing that occurred to him. He took a swift step toward Chub, his fists clenched. “No you don’t!”