Phin Drayne, lounging about purposely, with the shambling gait,
often saw these happy chums, and scowled after them.
"Everything seems to come to them!" growled Phin. "What rot it
is to say that this is a square world, and that everyone has the
same chance! Why doesn't something good come my way?"
The oftener Phin looked in the direction of the chums, and more
particularly of Dick, the blacker did Drayne's thoughts become.
"Prescott has had everything come his way ever since he entered
High School," growled Phin. "And now the mucker is going off
to West Point, and the government is going to stamp him 'gentleman.'
A gentleman? Pooh! I'd like to show him up, as a bumptious upstart.
Phin scowled fiercely for a moment, before he added:
"And, by glory, I will do something to him! I'll take the conceit
out of Dick Prescott!"
At first it was only the purpose that formed in Drayne's dark
mind. But, by dint of much thinking, he began to feel that he
saw the way of working to Prescott's complete disgrace.
Dick, in the meantime, was still writing occasionally for "The
Blade."
"I'm afraid you've slipped away from us, Dick," declared Mr. Pollock,
with a wry smile. "If you go to West Point and pass the exams.
there, then newspaper work is going to lose one of its bright,
promising young men."
"But I always told you that my plans would undoubtedly take me
away from 'The Blade' when my High School life was done with,"
Prescott answered.
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