Walter Burrage accompanied Merry, and they had entered the car and approached while Inza was talking with Swift. “As you have been expressing your mind so very freely concerning me,” said Frank, in a calm, restrained tone, “let me tell you that there are persons in this world who have not sufficient judgment to discern between conceit and self-esteem, and the man who does not possess a certain amount of self-esteem never can win the regard and esteem of his fellow men. Others are not liable to judge you higher than you judge yourself.” “Which is wisdom straight from the shoulder,” put in Walter Burrage; “And I’ve found the people with the greatest amount of conceit are forever jeering at others for being conceited.” Swift had straightened up, flinging his shoulders back and assuming a military attitude, everything about him proclaiming self-consciousness and pride in his fine appearance, for he truly was a well-built young man. “I beg your pardon,” he said, looking at Frank. “I did not know you were within hearing. But it is an old and true saying that ‘listeners seldom hear good of themselves.’” “Which is an insinuation that I was intentionally eavesdropping, and is on a par with your recent slurring observations concerning me.” Now Inza was showing her satisfaction, which, however, was not unmingled with apprehension and dread as she glanced from Swift to her brother. “I’m sure I have a right to my opinion,” said the young soldier, trying to return Merry’s steady, searching look, but finding it no easy task to meet those penetrating eyes. “But you may find, sir, that it will be better for you not to express your opinions with too much freedom.” “My tongue is my own, and I shall use it as I choose.” “Then do not blame it if it gets you into trouble.” “And many a man has found himself in a peck of trouble by talking too much,” put in Walter Burrage, thinking at the moment of himself and his own misfortune. Roy Swift seemed to recognize something familiar about Walter’s voice, for he turned and looked searchingly at Inza’s brother. After a moment a light dawned upon him and he showed astonishment. “Can it be you, Burrage?” he exclaimed. “By Jove! it is. I’m glad to see you, old man! You haven’t forgotten me—Swift?” He held out his hand to Walter. “No, I haven’t forgotten you, Swift,” was the reply; “but I don’t care to shake hands with you unless you are ready to take back your words about my friend Frank Merriwell.” The soldier frowned and looked angry. His first impulse was to tell Burrage to go to a warm climate, but the presence of Inza held him in check. Inza also led him to quickly decide to be conciliatory, and, forcing a laugh, he said: “Oh, all right, my dear boy! I’m ready to do anything to promote peace and harmony. Perhaps I was hasty, and I’ll swallow the words—just to get a grip on your hand.”