"They're not worth talking about--none of Merriwell's crowd!" snarled
Gene Skelding, as if anxious to change the drift of the unpleasant
conversation, for he had been given cause to fear and hate Merriwell and
his friends quite as much as any other individual who claimed the
companionship and friendship of the immaculate Rupert. "Let me see your
gun, Willis!"
He took the Greener, snapped it open to see if it was loaded, then
winked at Chickering.
The members of the Yale Gun Club were rapidly coming on the ground,
together with a number of noted New Haven shots and others interested in
trap shooting. Browning and Rattleton appeared, and Diamond, Dismal, and
several others of Merry's set were seen approaching.
"I thought Bart Hodge was sick?" said Tilton Hull. "But I see he is out
again."
"When I heard he wath thick I hoped he would never get well. He ith a
howwid cwecher! Whenever I go near him he thnapth at me like a bulldog."
"As if you were a bulldog?" queried Skelding, who at times seemed to
delight in teasing certain members of this delectable set.
"The idea!" exclaimed Ollie Lord indignantly, putting a hand caressingly
on Veazie's shoulder. "A bulldog! If Veazie is anything, he is like the
cunning little dog I had once. It was the darlingest little poodle! and
I simply loved it!"
"Just fawncy!" sniffed Willis Paulding.
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