not have the nerve to chuck him off."

"Collingwood must be soft!"

"Oh, I don't know. I think that cad Merriwell must be a hypnotist by the
way he gets around some fellows."

"I don't want to have anything further to do with him."

"Oh, you've lost your nerve since Merriwell and Griswold put up that
girl job on you, and Diamond drew you into a bogus duel."

"That was enough to make any fellow lose his nerve."

"Rats!"

"You may say 'rats,' but you don't know how you would have felt if you
had been in my place. Just as the word was given to fire and I pulled
trigger, Griswold, dressed as a girl, rushed between us. I fired, and,
with a frightful shriek, he fell. Then I ran forward and looked at him.
The moonlight made him look deathly white, and I felt sure I had shot
him. I'll never forget the sickening sensation that came over me at that
moment! The hangman's noose seemed to dangle before my eyes. I dropped
the pistol and rushed away to my room. I think I was stunned, for Horner
found me sitting on a chair and staring blankly at the wall about an
hour afterward. Then he said the girl had not been shot at all, but had
fainted. Say, Flem, my boy, it is utterly impossible for me to tell the
feeling of thankfulness and relief that rushed over me. I felt just like
getting right down on my knees and thanking Providence, but I didn't,
for Tad Horner was watching me all the time, and I saw the laughing
devil in his eyes. Then, within two days, I found myself the guy of the
whole college, and, finally, it all came out that 'Grace Darling' was
Danny Griswold in his theatrical rig, and I had been played for a
blooming guy by Merriwell and Diamond, assisted to a certain extent by
Horner, my own roommate."

"And the only decent thing you ever did about it was to quit Horner
cold. You've never seemed to have sand enough to make an effort to get
back at Merriwell."

"I decided that Merriwell is a bad man to monkey with."

"That's rot! It's his reputation that frightens you. I'm going to watch
my chance to get even with him."

"So am I, young man!" whispered a voice in Flemming's ear.

Fred whirled swiftly, and saw close at his shoulder a rather
rough-appearing, smooth-faced man, who wore a wide-brimmed hat, and was
weather-tanned, as if by much exposure.

"Eh?" exclaimed the college lad. "Who are you?"

"One who has a good reason to dislike that fly chap, Mr. Frank
Merriwell," was his answer.

Flemming was suspici