“Have I?  How?”

Harry looked around and saw Merriwell preparing to go into the corner behind the screen.  Then Rattleton made a few violent gestures, which plainly told his roommate to refrain.

Frank looked astonished.  What could Harry be up to that he appeared so excited?  He was motioning for Frank to come forward cautiously and join him.

Now, Merriwell did not believe in playing the eavesdropper on any one, but he fancied Harry saw something he wished to show him, so he went forward lightly, placed another chair, got upon it, and looked over the screen.

In the meantime Ditson was saying: 

“Yes, you’ve helped me.  You know Merriwell is coaching the freshman crew—­or has been—­for the race to-morrow.  Well, I don’t let any chance go to get a jab at him.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with my helping you,” mumbled Gordon, vainly trying to light a cigarette with a broken match on which no brimstone was left.

“Course yer don’t,” laughed Ditson, who was almost as full as his companion.  “This isn’t the first time we have been out together, eh, old boy?”

“No.”

“Only we had to be quiet about it when you were on the crew—­or when you thought you were on it.”

“That’s right.”

“We have been pretty full once or twice.”

“I thought so when we got up the next morning.”

“Well, you have told me lots of things about Merriwell and what he was doing with the crew.  You’re a great talker when you’re loaded.”

Gordon stiffened up a bit and tried to give his companion a sober stare, but the effort was a ludicrous failure.

“Wazzyer mean?” he asked. “’Fi told you anything it was in strictest confidence.”

“Cert; but then, you know, anything to knife Merriwell.”

Gordon braced off, his hands on the table before him.  Ditson laughed and went on: 

“Now, if we make a combine against him we can do him bad.”

“Wazzyer mean?” Gordon again demanded.  “Mean that you repeated anything I tol’ you in confidence when I was full?”

“Not publicly,” grinned Ditson.  “I may have used it to injure Merriwell, but I was careful how I used it.”

Walter thumped the table with his fist, growing angry suddenly.

“You’re a hanged two-faced fraud!” he huskily cried.  “That’s jusht what you are, Ditson!  Somebody’s been telling things to the sophs.  They found out everything.  It was you!  And you pumped your points out of me when I was full.”

“That didn’t hurt you,” Ditson hastened to declare.  “It was entirely to hurt Merriwell, and he is our common enemy.”

“Don’t care a continental if he is!” cried Walter.  “I don’t like him, but you have hurt me.  Bet anything Merriwell and Old Put thought I had blowed!  I didn’t have any confidence in Merriwell’s methods, but I didn’t blow to the sophs!  Still I was to blame for lettin’ you get me full and pump me.  And the fellows think I’m a tattler!  Well, I’ll be hanged if I don’t even up with you by hammering the face off you right now!”