Like a flash Merriwell's hand darted down over the top of the screen and s.n.a.t.c.hed the bottle from Roll's grasp.

A moment later Frank went around the screen and confronted the two lads, still holding the bottle in his hand.

"I saved you from having a cracked head that time, Gordon," he said as he collared Ditson. "And I have found out who the traitor is. I am glad you are not the man. As for this thing"--he gave Ditson a shake that caused the fellow's teeth to click together--"he has shown to-night that he is a most contemptible cur! I hated to think him as dirty as he has shown himself to be."

Frank's face was full of unutterable disgust for Ditson.

Other freshmen came crowding into the corner, and Ditson saw himself regarded with scorn and contempt by everybody. He cowed like a whipped cur and whined:

"I was simply fooling; it was all a jolly. I never did anything of the sort. I was simply trying to get Gordon on the string by telling him so."

"Well, you got yourself on a string, and pretty well tangled up.

Gentlemen"--turning to the freshmen present--"here is the traitor who has been giving our secrets away to the sophs. Both Rattleton and myself heard him acknowledge it. Take a good look at him, so you will know him in the future."

"Oh, we'll know him!" cried many voices.

"It's a mistake--" Roll began.

"That's right," agreed Frank. "The worst mistake you ever made. At last you have shown just what you are, and everybody is dead onto you. Get out of this!"

"Tar and feather him!" shouted a voice.

"Let him go," advised Merriwell. "He is covered with a coating of disgrace that will not come off as easily as tar and feathers."

Ditson sneaked away, the hisses of his cla.s.smates sounding in his ears.

The look on his face as he rolled his eyes toward Merriwell before leaving the room was malicious in the extreme.

Frank turned to Walter, who did not seem to know what to do.

"Gordon, you have found that fellow out, which is a lucky thing for you," he said. "He would have ruined you. At the same time, I have found out that you had no hand in the sneaking work that has been going on of late. You were simply an unconscious and unwilling tool, and it did me good to see you resent it when you found out what Ditson had been doing."

Walter tried to say something, but he choked and stammered. Then he muttered something about having a drink all around, but Frank a.s.sured him that he had taken quite enough.

Rattleton and Robinson led the crowd away from the corner, and Merriwell had a brief talk with Gordon, Then Harry and Frank took Gordon out and did not leave him till he was safely in his room. As they were going away Walter thickly said:

"Merriwell!"

"What is it?"

"I want to 'pologize."

"What for?"

"Things I've said 'bout you."

"I don't know about them."

"'Cause I've said 'em behind your back. Sneakin' thing to do! Merriwell, I'm 'shamed--I am, by thunder! I guess you're all right. Don't b'lieve you ever done me dirt. Is it all right, old man?"

"Yes, it's all right."

"Say, that makes me feel better. It does, by thunder! You're a good fellow, Merriwell, and I'm--I'm a fool! I talk too much! Drink too much, too. You don't talk and you don't drink. You're all right. Good-night, Merriwell."

"Good-night, Gordon."

When Frank retired the second time that night it was with a feeling of intense relief, for the perplexing problem as to the ident.i.ty of the traitor had been settled, and he felt that he had done Gordon a good turn by getting him away from Ditson.

And Ditson? Well, he deserved to pa.s.s a wretched night, and he did. He felt that he was forever disgraced at Yale, but he did not seem to consider it his own fault. He blamed Merriwell for it all, and his heart was hot with almost murderous rage. Over and over he swore that he would get square some way--any way.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE RACE.

The day for the race came at last--a sunny day, with the air clear and cold. Just the right sort of a day for the best of work.

Everybody seemed bound for Lake Saltonstall. They were going out in carriages, hacks, coaches, on foot, by train, and in many other ways.

The road to the lake was lined with people. The students were shouting, singing and blowing horns. One crowd of freshmen had a big banner, on which was lettered:

"'Umpty-eight, she is great, She will win sure as fate."

Evidently the soph.o.m.ores had been informed about this banner in advance, for they carried one which declared:

"'Umpty-eight isn't in it, She'll be beaten in a minute."

How they shouted and taunted each other! How they raced along the road!

How sure everybody was that he could pick the winner!

The scene at the lake was beautiful and inspiring, for the sh.o.r.e was lined with people and there were flags and bright colors everywhere. On the point there was a great mob, composed mostly of students, who were yelling and cheering and flaunting their flags. The boats on the lake were well filled and gay with colors. New Haven swell society was fairly represented, and it certainly was an occasion to stir youthful blood.

The freshman-soph.o.m.ore-junior race came fourth on the list, and it was to be the event of the day. Strangely enough, the juniors were not reckoned as dangerous by either freshmen or soph.o.m.ores. Between the last two cla.s.ses was to come the real tug of war.

In the boathouse the great Bob Collingwood, of the 'Varsity crew, gave the freshmen some advice, and they listened to him with positive awe. He had heard of Merriwell's attempt to introduce the English stroke, and he did not approve of it.

After he had got through Merriwell took his men aside into another part of the boathouse and warned them against thinking of anything Collingwood had said.

"He is all right when he is talking to men who use his style of oar and the regular American stroke, but you will be broke up sure as fate if you think of what he has said that disagrees with my instructions. It is too late now to make any change, and we must win or lose as we have practiced."

"That's right," agreed every man.

"We'll win," said Rattleton, resolutely.

They could hear the cheering as the other races took place, and at last it came their turn. How their hearts thumped! And it was Merriwell that quieted their unsteady nerves with a few low, calm words, which seemed to give them the bracer which they needed before going into the race.

'Umpty-eight yelled like a whole tribe of Indians, wildly waving flags, hats and handkerchiefs, as the freshman boat shot out upon the lake, with Merriwell at the stroke. They did not row in the buff, as the weather was too cold, but all wore thin white shirts, with "'Umpty-eight" lettered in blue on the breast.