I shall not argue the matter with
you. Badger is going to pitch for me Saturday forenoon. Good day!"
Hodge stopped and looked after him, all white and shaky, as Merriwell
walked away.
Then the hot blood rushed in a tide into his dark face, and he, too,
turned and walked off, filled with smothered exclamations and raging
like a volcano.
CHAPTER III.
PIKE'S LITTLE PLAN.
Donald Pike was in a nagging mood. He walked up and down the room a few
times, finally stopping in front of his chum, Buck Badger. They had been
talking about the Saturday ball-game, and both were in bad humor.
"I don't know what's the matter with you, Badger! I'm disgusted with
you!"
The Westerner shifted his feet nervously, but said nothing.
"Perhaps you consider it an honor to receive that invitation from
Merriwell? I don't! I am surprised that he sent it."
Badger shifted his feet again, and shrugged his thick shoulders. His
face was flushed and his eyes looked troubled.
"I am, too!"
"He had a motive, of course!"
Badger tossed a leg over the arm of his chair, and looked out of the
window.
"It has been his boast all along that he would have you in his flock by
and by! You have always sworn by all that's good and bad that you would
never become a friend of his!"
"I'm not a friend of his!"
Pike laughed sneeringly.
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