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 identity 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 pass 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 sophomores 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 shore 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-sophomore-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 sophomores.  Between the last two classes was to come the real tug of war.