Hang it all, man! do you think I want to
hurt your feelings without cause! I shouldn't have said it, for I see
you are not yourself."

"No, I am not," confessed Frank. "You know every fellow has a secret.
I did not intend to tell mine. I believe I was born with an intense
passion for gambling."

"And you cannot govern it?"

"Well, I have been able to do so during the past year."

"Oh, you are all right; you have a strong mind and----"

"Every strong mind has a weak spot. I began gaming by playing marbles,
and the passion grew on me. When I had money, I gambled for cents and
nickels. As I grew older, I learned to play cards, and I gambled for
larger sums. If I knew that a game was going on I would leave
everything to get into it. Once I 'appropriated' money from my
mother's purse to gamble with."

Frank stopped. His face crimsoned as he uttered the words, and he
showed his deep shame and humiliation. But he quickly added:

"That was my first and last theft. The shame and disgrace of exposure
by my mother was nearly more than I could endure. But she did not know
I played cards for money. Thank God! she never knew! She died when I
was twelve years old.

"I never knew much about my father's business. He was much away from
home, and I saw him but little. After mother's death, I went to live
with my uncle. Still I played cards for money, and the passion grew
upon me. A little more than a year ago I was rapidly developing into a
young gambler. Then came news of my father's sudden death in
California, and I swore I would never play cards again. Last night I
broke my oath."

"What was the cause of your father's death?" asked Bart, by way of
saying something.

"He was shot over a game of cards in a gambling-house," replied Frank,
hoarsely.

CHAPTER VI.

THE PLOT.

Wat Snell and Leslie Gage were roommates, and they certainly made a
delectable pair.

Gage was naturally the leader, being the worse of the two. He was a
daring and reckless sort of fellow--one who would not stop at anything,
and who would have recourse to almost any measure to gain his ends.

This revengeful fellow had never forgiven Merriwell for what he
considered a great injury. Gage had been the pitcher on the regular
ball team, but, by superior skill, Merriwell had supplanted him. That
was enough to produce in Gage's heart a feeling of undying hatred for
the successful plebe.

It made no difference that Frank had