BURT L. STANDISH Ultimate Collection: 24 Action Thrillers in One Volume (Illustrated) - Burt L. Standish

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that Jones was really serious, and he felt that there must be some cause for it.

      Harry, strangely sobered and silent, sat listening. He could not understand Jones, and he was on his guard, knowing how often the fellow turned into a farce what seemed a serious matter.

      Dismal locked his fingers and twiddled his thumbs. He cleared his throat and then said:

      "Merry, what would you say if I were to tell everything I could find out about our crew to the sophs?"

      "I should say you were a confounded sneak!"

      "Hum! I kinder thought you'd say something like that."

      "But you do not know too much about the crew."

      "I know something, and I could know more if I had a mind to. All I would have to do would be to play the spy a little."

      "Well, I suppose that is right. What about it?"

      "Somebody is playing the spy."

      "How do you know?"

      "I've got it straight enough, for the sophs know all about what our crew is doing. They are laughing over the Oxford stroke and the English oars."

      "How do you know this?"

      "Heard 'em."

      "When?"

      "To-night."

      "Where?"

      "On the street. Browning and a party were going down to Morey's, and they were having a high old time with Hartwick, who was explaining the advantages of the stroke and the oars our crew has adopted."

      "That's not proof that somebody has played the spy. It may have slipped out through the carelessness of some of our men."

      "It may. But I don't think so. I heard Emery ask Hartwick how he knew so much about us."

      "What did Hartwick say?" Frank eagerly asked.

      "He said he had a nice fresh flat who thought it a fine thing to play the spy and blab all he found out."

      "Blay bluses—I mean blue blazes!" cried Harry, banging his fist down on the table. "That's what makes me cot under the hollar! A man who would do a thing like that will steal a sheep! I'd like to have the pleasure of thumping him a few times—just a few!"

      Merriwell was silent, a dark look on his face.

      "It will not be healthy for the spy if I catch him," he finally declared. "I'll make it pretty hot for him around here!"

      "Which would be a highly commendable action," bowed Dismal.

      "Have you any idea who would do such a low-down thing?" asked Harry.

      "Sometimes we have ideas which we do not care to express."

      "That's right; but in a case like this—confidentially—to us, you know—"

      "Well, if I say anything, it is to be strictly confidential."

      "Sure!" cried Frank and Harry in a breath.

      "You both give me your word for it?"

      "We do."

      "If I knew, I would not hesitate to come out openly and accuse the fellow," said Dismal; "but this is merely a case of suspicion, and I will tell you who I suspect."

      "Go ahead."

      "Well, there is a certain fellow who has not been above playing into the hands of the sophs in the past, and it is natural for me to suspect him. His name is—"

      The door opened, and Roland Ditson came in without knocking.

      CHAPTER XIX.

       WHO IS THE TRAITOR?

       Table of Contents

      "Hello, fellows!" cried Ditson. "How are yer, Jones! I am surprised to see you here. Is it possible you have let up cramming long enough to make a call? Why, I have even heard that you had your eye on some classical scholarship prize as soon as this. Everybody who knows you says you're a regular hard-working old dig."

      "There are fools who know other people's business a great deal better than their own," said Dismal stiffly.

      "That's right," nodded Ditson, who made a great effort to be rakish in his appearance, but always appeared rather foxy instead. "But I tell you this matter of burning the midnight oil and grinding is not what it's cracked up to be. It makes a man old before his time, and it doesn't amount to much after he has been all through it. Goodness knows we freshmen have to cram hard enough to get through! I am tired of it already. And then we have to live outside the pale, as it were. When we become sophs we'll be able to give up boarding houses and live in the dormitories. That's what I am anxious for."

      "It strikes me that you are very partial to sophs," said Dismal, giving Roll a piercing look.

      Ditson was not fazed.

      "They're a rather clever gang of fellows," he said. "Freshmen are very new, as a rule. Of course there are exceptions, and—"

      "I suppose you consider yourself one?"

      "Oh, I can't tell about that. But supposing I am; by the time I become a soph some of the newness will have worn off."

      "I am not particularly impressed with any freshman who seems to think so much of sophomores. You ought to stay with them all the time."

      "Oh, I don't know. They have treated me rather well, and I have found the most of them easy people."

      "They seem to have found some freshman easy fruit. Somebody has been blowing to them about our crew."

      "I know it," was Ditson's surprising confession, "and that's why I dropped in here. I wanted to tell Merriwell about it."

      Jones gasped for breath. He was too surprised to speak for some minutes.

      Ditson took out a package of cigarettes, offering them first to Harry, who shook his head.

      "What?" cried Roll, amazed. "You won't smoke?"

      "No."

      "What's that mean?"

      "I have left off," said Harry, with an effort.

      "Left off? Oh, say! that's too good! You leave off!"

      A bit of color came to Rattleton's face, and he gave Ditson a look that was not exactly pleasant; but Roll was too occupied with his merriment to observe it.

      Frank was studying Ditson. He watched the fellow's every movement and expression.

      Roll knew it was useless to offer cigarettes to Merriwell or Jones, so he selected one from the package, kneaded it daintily, pulled a little tobacco from the ends, moistened the paper with his lips, and then lighted it with a wax match.

      "Say, Harry, old man, I pity you," he said, with a taunting laugh, looking at Harry. "I've tried it. It's no use. You'll break over before two days are up—yes, before one day is up. It's no use."

      Rattleton bit his lips.

      "Why, you are dying for a whiff now!" chuckled Ditson. "I know you are. I got along a whole day, but it was a day of the most intense torture."

      "There may be others with more stamina than you, Ditson," snapped Rattleton. "Just because you couldn't leave off a bad habit, it's no sign that nobody can."

      "Oh, I suppose not. But what's the use? Don't get hot, old man. You ought to know my way by this time."

      "I do."

      "What is it that you came to tell me?" asked Frank.

      "Eh? Oh, about the sophs. Those fellows seem to know more about our crew than I do."

      "What do they know?"

      "Why, they know our men are using English oars, have adopted

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