Mason had proved himself a regular bruiser on more than one occasion, and he was such a thoroughly "bad man," that some of the boys grew afraid of him.
One night there was a crowd gathered in Frank's room, and it was not long before the conversation turned upon the "bad man," who was hardly known to our hero.
It was plain Halliday thought so. The manner in which he uttered the words showed that he was fully satisfied on that point.
"No; but he is a bulldog," answered Halliday.
"And a brute!" exclaimed Harry Rattleton.
"That's right," nodded Danny Griswold. "Look at my eye. I hadn't an idea that he thought of hitting me till he let me have it. Knocked me flat. Felt as if I'd been kicked by a mule."
"What did you do to cause him to strike you?" asked Frank.
"If he keeps this up," grunted Bruce Browning, who was stretched on the couch, puffing away at a cigarette, "his career at Yale will be short."
"That's right!" cried Jack Diamond, showing his teeth. "Some one will kill him. If he struck me, I'd shoot him in a minute--in a minute!"
Diamond meant it. There was hot blood in his veins. Frank's example had taught him to control his fiery temper to a certain extent, but there were times when it would blaze forth and get the best of him for all of anything he could do.
"It's a pity some fellow can't get at him and lick the stuffing out of him," said Bandy Robinson. "That's what he needs."
"Well, who is there that can do it?" cried Griswold. "He's a perfect giant, over six feet tall, and must weigh nearly two hundred pounds, though there's not an ounce of fat on him. He's all bone and muscle. He strikes a regular prize-fighter blow, and he can't be hurt. I tell you, he is a good man to let alone."
"That's right," agreed Halliday. "I saw him do up those coppers the other night, four of them, and they all had their clubs out."
"Hit him! Well, I should guess yes. They cracked him eight or ten times over the head and shoulders."
"Somebody said it didn't have any effect on him," observed "Uncle" Blossom, who was chewing gum as if his life depended on it.
"Not a bit more than it would if they had hammered a block of wood," declared Halliday. "It made me sick the first time they cracked him on the head, and it sounded exactly as if they struck a piece of hard wood. I expected it would lay him out stiff."