“Why, what-----”

“Quiet, now, old fellow,” murmured Dick.  “You’ll have a big enough surprise in a few moments.”

They got away together before their other chums had a chance to catch up.

“From the look in your face, I’d say that there was something queer in the air,” guessed Dave.

“There is, Darrin.  But wait until the moment comes to talk about it.”

Walking rapidly, the two chums came to “The Blade” office.  Jarvis, who had been sitting at the back of the office, rose as the two Gridley boys entered.  Dick quietly introduced Dave to the young man from Tottenville who greeted him cordially.

“Now, we’re waiting for one more before we talk,” smiled Dick anxiously.

At that moment the door opened again, and Mr. Morton entered briskly.

“Now, Captain, what is your news?” called coach, as he came forward.

“Why, this is one of the Tottenville team, isn’t it?”

“Mr. Morton, Captain Jarvis, of the Tottenville High School team,” replied Dick, and the two shook hands.

Then Dick drew the typewritten document from his pocket.  They could talk here, for Mr. Pollock had been the only other occupant of the room, and that editor has just stepped out to the composing room.

“Captain Jarvis received this in the mail this morning, sir,” announced Prescott, in a voice that quivered with emotion.

Coach glanced through the paper, his face showing plainly what he felt.  Then Dick took the paper and passed it to Dave Darrin, who sat consumed by curiosity.

“The abominable traitor—–­whoever he is!” cried Dave, rising as though he found his chair red hot.  “And I think I can come pretty near putting the tag on the sneak!”

CHAPTER IV

The Traitor Gets His Deserts

Mr. Morton hesitated a moment, ere he trusted himself to speak.

“Yes,” he murmured.  “I fear we all suspect the same young man.”

“Phin Drayne!” cried Dave, in a voice quivering with anger.

“I didn’t intend to name him,” resumed the coach.  “It’s a serious thing to do.”

“To sell out one’s school—–­I should say ’yes’!” choked Darrin.

“No; I meant that it is a fearful thing to accuse anyone until we have proof that can’t be disputed,” added Mr. Morton gravely, though his muscles were twitching as though he had been stricken by palsy.

“Listen,” begged Dick, “while Mr. Jarvis tells you all he knows of this dastardly business.”

The Tottenville captain repeated his short tale.  Then Coach Morton asked several rapid questions.  But there was no more to be told than Dick Prescott already knew.

“I’m tremendously sorry about that envelope,” protested Jarvis.  “I’d give anything to be able to hand that envelope over to you, but I’m afraid I’ll never see it again.”

“We appreciate your anxiety to help, Mr. Jarvis, as deeply as we appreciate your manliness in coming to us without an instant’s delay,” replied Mr. Morton, earnestly.