“Too bad we didn’t drink that toast!” murmured Merriwell, as the echoing steps of the orderly and Randall died away down the corridor. “Still, I’m mighty glad that Bob saw fit to come around. It’ll clear things up wonderfully.” He crossed the room and sank into a chair. Picking up a magazine, he began to turn over its pages. As he did so, his hand went out to the nearer of the two glasses, and he brought it to his lips, sipping slowly.
With a sigh, he emptied the glass and replaced it on the table. Five minutes passed, and Merry flung the magazine back to its place, rising.
“Wonder what kind of a row Randall has got himself into now?” he mused, going to the window and looking down on the campus, with a frown.
Colonel Gunn was the principal of Fardale, and if Randall had been in some kind of a scrape, it might injure his chances on the diamond. However, there was a chance that the Southerner had been guilty of some infraction of the military routine of the school which would merely get him a “call-down” and a few black marks.
Suddenly Chip turned, as a sharp knock sounded at the door.
[253]
“Come in!”
The door opened. Merry gave a gasp of astonishment, for framed in the doorway, stood Bully Carson. The latter turned and shut the door, not observing him.
“You came over to see the game?” Merry asked pleasantly.
Bully whirled with a swift cry, his face black.
“You! Why—why—where’s Bob Randall? Isn’t this his room?”
The startled surprise of Colonel Carson’s son was quite evident. In fact, he was wildly disconcerted. He had expected to see his cousin, and instead he found Merriwell.
“Don’t get scared out, Bully,” said Chip. “Bob will be right back. I was waiting for him myself, so I hope you won’t mind my company.”
Merry thoroughly enjoyed the confusion of the other. He bore Carson no malice, for he knew that the other had been thoroughly punished for his wrongdoings. He fancied that Bully’s confusion sprang from fear at being found in Fardale—fear of new retribution for the past.
“Sit down,” he urged pleasantly. “Sit down and rest your eye, Bully. One of ’em looks pretty tired. Hot day, isn’t it?”
Bully growled out something inarticulate and sank into a chair with a scowl at Merry. Since he had blundered into it, he was determined to stick.
[254]
As Chip remarked, it was a warm day for that time of year, and no mistake. Bully Carson was heated by his walk from the village, and he was perspiring profusely. He pulled out a handkerchief of purple silk with red bars, and mopped at his face, eying Merry furtively. Seeming to conclude that he was safe for the present, he regained his composure slowly.
Chip knew that Carson was a thorough bully and coward. In fact, he had himself presented Bully with that black eye, when the other had attempted to “beat him up” in Carsonville the previous Saturday. He scanned Bully’s attire with a humorous twinkle in his eyes.
“You ought to be more careful, Bully,” he remarked, with mock solicitude. “If you were seen on the Fardale streets in those duds, you’d be in danger of arrest.”
“Huh? What for?” Bully growled suspiciously. He looked down at himself.
“For disturbing the peace,” said Chip, with a laugh, dropping on the window seat.
“Think you’re cussed smart, don’t you?”
“Not a bit of it,” Chip gravely assured him. He found Bully capital amusement. “I only wonder at your nerve in coming here!”
“You should worry,” retorted Bully, with a scowl. “Ain’t I got a right to visit my cousin?”
“Sure. Only, if you had another cousin in jail,[255] you’d have a better right to visit him, seems to me.”
“Huh?” Carson turned pale and mopped at his face again. “What you goin’ to do about it?”
Chip knew that he could have both Bully and his father arrested for what had taken place at Carsonville. This, however, was far from his thoughts.
“Nothing. Make yourself right at home, old man. Only I wouldn’t advise you to light up that cigarette in here.”
Bully had started to roll a cigarette. He paused, looking up quickly.
“Why not?”
“It’s not allowed. Go ahead and suck it all you want to, but don’t light it. We don’t approve of coffin nails at Fardale, and if the guards smelled smoke they’d throw you out of here in a hurry.”
Carson grunted. Nevertheless, he apparently decided to take Chip’s warning in good part. There was an undernote to Merry’s voice that told him the other was not joking this time.
He finished rolling the cigarette, licked it, and carefully inserted it into one corner of his mouth. Then he lolled back in his chair, glanced around, and favored Chip with a black look.
“You fellers are goin’ to get the hide licked off you to-day,” he announced. His confidence was returning, as Merry made no hostile move.
............