“Why, you didn’t dare go against Cleaves, so you pushed Hodge into it. You have the reputation of being a great all-round champion, but I’ve noticed that much of your glory comes from the accomplishment of your friends. If any one wishes to know your secret method, that is it.” “Evidently you’re something of a sorehead,” said Merriwell. “It’s a remarkable thing that a club of this sort always has at least one sorehead among its members. I wish to remind you that neither Hodge nor I came here with the idea of butting into your club and showing what we could do. We were invited as guests. You have attempted to show us up. Blame yourselves if things have not gone to suit you.” “That’s plain talk,” said Bert Fuller. “I regret to see you exhibit such a spirit, Manton. At the suggestion of the social committee, I invited Mr. Merriwell and Mr. Hodge to visit us. They should be treated with proper courtesy while here.” It was a proper calldown for Manton. At first the fellow seemed ready to fly into a burst of uncontrollable passion. His face grew crimson and then turned ashen. He dared not make an insulting retort to the president. “You’re taking me in a literal sense,” he finally managed to say. “Can’t you let me chaff Merriwell a bit? It seems to be the only satisfaction we can get out of him.” “Unless he enters for some of the special events at the meet,” put in Frost. “The broad jump and the high jump, for instance.” “And the pole vault,” said Manton. “But I presume he’ll put some of his friends in for these things.” “That will save him,” nodded Frost. Frank laughed. “I’m not here to kick up trouble. Do you think your best men will engage in the events named?” “Sure.” “Well, I had not thought of participating; but, just to please you, I’ll agree to enter for the jumping and the pole vaulting.” “Good enough!” cried Manton. “I see your finish!” Hodge had been washing up inside. He came out now, looking fresh as a daisy. “Cleaves is a better man than they had in the St. Andrew’s Club, Merry,” he said. “I won by a lucky drive.” “I told you it was luck!” exclaimed Manton triumphantly. “I knew it!” But now Cleaves spoke up like a man and declared there was not much luck in the persistent manner in which Hodge had kept him at his best all round the course. He confessed that he had done his level best to get a lead on his opponent, but had found it impossible to draw away from him. “I expect he’ll give me another opportunity,” he concluded. “I shall then try to square the score.” “You shall have the opportunity,” promised Bart. Suddenly Manton assumed a different air. Laughingly he walked over to Frank, observing: