, in all probability, saved him
from death after he had twice attempted to kill Merriwell. Gage had
been shrewd enough to see that he must dissemble if he would remain in
the academy, and so he pretended to be repentant and to think Frank one
of the finest fellows in the world, while his hatred and longing for
"revenge" still lay hidden, black and hideous, in a secret corner of
his heart.

Snell was quite a different sort of bad boy. He regarded Gage as his
superior, and he was ready to do almost anything for the fellow, but he
could not imitate Leslie's daring, and he kept his own vileness so much
concealed that many square, honest lads believed he was a really good
fellow. Bart Hodge had begun to think Snell was a sneak and bad, but
he had no proof of it, and so he kept still.

Wat was in anything but a pleasant mood the day after the game of
cards. He flung things round the room in a way that caused Gage to
regard him with wonder, as it was so much unlike the usual quiet,
crafty roommate he knew.

"What's the matter with you, Wat?" he asked, in surprise. "You must be
ill. Go directly and place those things where they belong, for we
never know when one of those blooming inspectors will pop in. I am
room orderly this week, and am going to have things kept straight, for
I can't afford to take any more demerit. My record is bad enough as it
stands."

So, with a little grumbling, Wat went about and restored to order the
things he had disarranged, but he could not help thinking how often,
when he was room orderly, he had been obliged to follow Gage about, and
gather up things he had displaced.

"What's the matter?" repeated Leslie, who suspected the truth. "You
don't seem to feel well, old boy."

"Oh, it's nothing," replied Wat. "I was thinking of last night."

"And raising all this row because you happened to drop a dollar. Why,
that's the run of the cards."

"Oh, it wasn't what I lost that made me mad."

"Then what was it?"

"Why, I was thinking that that fellow Merriwell won."

"And I presume you were thinking how he won the last pot, eh?"

"Yes"--sullenly.

"You don't love Merriwell a great deal?"

"I should say not! I despise the fellow!"

"And you'd like to get square?"

"Wouldn't I!"

"I suppose you mean to do so?"

"If I ever get the chance--yes."

"I fancy you are aware that I am not dead stuck on Merriwell myself?"

"Yes, I know."

"I have an old score to settle with him,