LITMIR.BIZ

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have done several other things. Now, those are matters on which I was not informed myself."

      "How do you know the sophs know so much?"

      "I've just come from Morey's. Went in there with Cressy. Fine fellow, he is. While I was in there Browning and his crowd wandered in. They were drinking ale and discussing the race. I heard what they were saying. Couldn't help hearing, you know. They were talking about our crew and the new methods you had introduced. It was mighty interesting to me, as I didn't know about those new methods myself."

      "How innocent!" muttered Jones.

      Ditson elevated his eyebrows.

      "What's that?" he demanded. "Why shouldn't I be innocent? I am not on the crew, and the men are training and practicing secretly. I have had no way of finding out what they were doing."

      "But some sneak has!" cried Rattleton, fiercely, "and he's been and blowed all he found out!"

      "Unless somebody on the crew has done the blowing," suggested Roll, exhaling a great puff of smoke. "That is barely possible, you understand."

      "Possible! No!" cried Frank. "There's not a man on the crew who would do such a thing!"

      "Oh, well, I suppose you know. But I understand there are two who are kept in form as substitutes. One of them thinks he should be on the crew. He is rather jealous of somebody who fills his place. He might be the one who has talked too much."

      "You don't mean—"

      "Rattleton ought to be able to guess who I mean," craftily said Ditson as he arose. "I'm not calling names, for I don't know anything certain. If I had proof—but I haven't. Never mind. You ought to know enough to watch a certain fellow who thinks his place is filled by a person not his equal. He says there is favoritism in the matter. I rather think I have spoken plainly enough. Wish you success, Merry, old man. Evening, fellows."

      Ditson departed.

      Our hero, Rattleton and Jones sat and looked at each other in grim silence for several minutes.

      "Well?"

      Frank broke the spell, looking keenly at Jones as he spoke.

      "I dunno," mumbled Dismal, falling into the manner of speaking that had been habitual with him from his childhood. "I dunno—hanged if I do!"

      "You thought you knew when you came in, my boy."

      "That's right; but I dunno but I was off my trolley. And still—"

      "Still what?"

      "I don't like the man I suspected, but I never thought the fellow shrewd enough to play a double game."

      "Perhaps it is because you do not like him that you suspected him."

      "Oh, it may be—it may be. And I don't suppose that is a square deal. I didn't have absolute proof."

      "You were going to name him when Ditson came in."

      "I was, but I will not call any names now. I propose to look into this matter somewhat. Likely it's too late to prevent the traitor from completing the damage, but he can be exposed. It will be some satisfaction to see him held up to public scorn."

      "That is true, Dismal, and I want you to do your best to find out who the man is. Make a sure thing of it. Get positive proof, if possible."

      "Whoever he is his sin is sure to find him out."

      There were footsteps on the stairs and the sound of laughing voices. The door burst open and several freshmen came trooping in, as if they felt quite at home there. Lucy Little was at their head, and his face showed excitement.

      "I say, Merriwell!" he cried, "are you out for a little sport to-night?"

      "That depends on what sort of sport it is."

      "'Sh!" said Little, mysteriously. "Close the door, uncle."

      A fellow by the name of Silas Blossom, who was familiarly called "uncle," obeyed.

      Little looked at Rattleton and then stared hard at Jones, who had the face of a parson.

      "I don't know about you," he said, "but I think you are all right. Even if you have scruples I don't believe you will blow."

      "Very kind!" grunted Dismal.

      "The rest of the gang is all right," said Little.

      "Then give us your scheme," spluttered Harry, whose curiosity was thoroughly aroused. "Don't bush around the beat—I mean beat around the bush."

      "What do you fellows say to a turkey chase?" asked Little.

      "A turkey chase?"

      "Yes. Out around West Rock way. There are plenty of old farmers who have good fat turkeys out that way. It is a good cool night, and we can capture two turkeys without trouble. Then we'll take 'em in here and have a roast. Are you wid us?"

      "Those who are not wid us are agin' us!" fiercely declared Bandy Robinson.

      "And that is dead right, me b'hoys," nodded Arthur Street, who was known at Yale as Easy Street, on account of his free-and-easy way.

      Merriwell hesitated. He was in for any kind of honest sport, but he did not quite fancy the idea of stealing turkeys.

      "Why don't we buy our turkeys at the markets?" he asked.

      The other lads stared at him in astonishment.

      "Buy them!" they shouted. "Say, are you dafty, man? Where would the fun come in? You know better than to propose such a thing."

      "Stolen fruit is ever the sweetest," quoth Uncle Blossom. "It's not many fellows we would take into such a scheme, but you were just the man we wanted, Merriwell. If we bought a turkey we wouldn't have any appetite for it. Now, the run out into the country and back will give us an appetite. One fellow will have to stay here and get the fire ready, while the rest of us chase turks. Come on, man—it's what you need to start your blood circulating."

      Merriwell seemed to suddenly make up his mind.

      "I am with you," he said as he arose. "Who stays and looks after the fire? We don't want anybody along that can't run."

      "Well, I'm no sprinter," confessed Dismal. "I'd like to go along, but I'm afraid I'd peg out. I'll have things ready when you show up. But what time will you be back?"

      Frank looked at his watch and then made a mental calculation.

      "It will be about eleven," he said.

      "All right."

      "Say, Jones," said Street, "just go down to Billy's and get a few bottles of beer. We'll need it to wash the turk down."

      "And cigars," cried Blossom. "Don't forget cigars. What would a turkey feast be without a smoke afterward?"

      Matters were soon arranged, and it was not long before five freshmen left Mrs. Harrington's "quiet house" for freshmen, and started along York Street at a brisk, steady jog.

      Merriwell took the lead, and the others came after him at regular distances. The night air was rather sharp, and there was a bright moon.

      Along the streets of New Haven the five freshmen ran, and those who observed them supposed they were some crew in training.

      Merriwell set a moderate pace, for he knew it was likely they would need all their wind on the return. There was no telling what sort of a scrape they might get into.

      Rattleton was behind, taking things as easy as possible. He filled his lungs with the crisp, clear air, and it made him feel like a young race horse, but he held himself in check.

      Street actually loafed along, although he managed to keep his place.

      "If one of us is caught, he'll be like the gangplank of a steamer," called Harry as they left the main part of the city and entered the suburbs.

      "How's that?" asked Blossom.

      "Pulled in," chirped Rattleton. "Don't stop

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