"Feeling right up to the fighting pitch ?" "I hate fighting," Dick answered, simply, speaking so that only his second could hear him.
"Of course it's necessary sometimes, but I can never quite help feeling that, at best, it's low-down business." "So it is," assented Bed Badger, heartily enough.

"But what about it in the case of a sneak like Ripley?
If he didn't have other fellows' fists to fear he'd be unbearable." "He is, anyway," muttered Dick, just before his head was covered by the sweater that Badger was helping him remove.
"You've been doing a lot of running this afternoon, gentlemen," declared Thompson, as the two combatants came toward him.

"Do you each feel as though you had fighting wind left ?" "I've got as much as the other fellow," replied Dick.
"Don't you dare refer to me as a 'fellow'!" ordered Ripley, scowling.
"I'll call you a girl, then, if you prefer," proposed Dick, with a tantalizing grin.
"You don't know how to talk to gentlemen," retorted Fred, harshly.
"Be silent, both of you," ordered Thompson, sternly.

"You can do your talking in another way.
"Can't begin too soon for me," uttered Ripley.
"One minute rounds for you, gentlemen," continued Thompson, then turned to another upper classman, requesting him to hold the watch.
"Now are you ready ?" Ripley grunted, Dick nodded.
"Ready, then! Shake hands!" "I won't," replied Dick, sturdily, ere Fred could speak.

The latter, though he, too, would have refused, went white with rage.
"Take your places, then," directed Thompson, briskly.