not take much. Yates, however, continued to "hit the bottle hard." His
face became flushed, and his eyes glowed as Flemming continued to tell
him of Merriwell's "underhand work."

"That fellow did me dirt," declared Flemming. "In this same sneaking
way, he had me dropped from the crew this spring, and got on in my
place."

"That's right," agreed Emery. "He has a way of influencing such men as
he can get at, and he is using his influence to get the committee to
throw you over."

"And he can't run with you, anyway," said Flemming. "It is possible that
he can lead you in a short dash, like the race to the station to-day,
but he would not be in it in a long run."

"That race was one of his tricks," asserted Emery. "I believe the job
was put up by him."

"How?" asked Yates, huskily.

"Why, he saw you in company with the rest of us, and he thought he stood
a good show of outrunning you for a short spurt, so he had Diamond and
Rattleton make the talk that they did to bring the race about."

"If that was not crooked, I don't know what you could call it," nodded
Flemming. "He sprung it on you when you were not suspecting, and he led
you to go against him for a short run, in which he is at his best. All
the time, he knew he was not your match for a long race. That doesn't
make a bit of difference to him."

"Not a bit," said Andy. "He is not looking for the good of Old Yale, but
he is looking to get into the big race at the tournament. He has been
lucky in everything he has tried, and he is depending on his luck to
win the race and acquire further glory for himself."

"Let's have another drink all round," suggested Flemming, as he produced
Thornton's flask once more.

Yates took several swallows. Emery and Flemming pretended to drink in a
hearty manner, but they allowed very little whiskey to go down their
throats.

This drink seemed to be the one that aroused Yates to action. He
suddenly jumped to his feet, and there was a fierce look on his face as
he cried:

"Come on!"

"What are you going to do?" asked Flemming, quickly thrusting the flask
into his pocket.

"I am going to find Frank Merriwell!" came hoarsely from Yates' lips.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

BASEBALL.

There was a crush in the rear end of the smoker. A crowd had gathered
there, and the lads were singing, shouting, laughing and making merry in
various ways.

Some fellows were sitting on the backs of the seats. The trainmen could
not drive the