go," advised Merriwell. "He is covered with a coating of
disgrace that will not come off as easily as tar and feathers."

Ditson sneaked away, the hisses of his classmates sounding in his ears.
The look on his face as he rolled his eyes toward Merriwell before
leaving the room was malicious in the extreme.

Frank turned to Walter, who did not seem to know what to do.

"Gordon, you have found that fellow out, which is a lucky thing for
you," he said. "He would have ruined you. At the same time, I have found
out that you had no hand in the sneaking work that has been going on of
late. You were simply an unconscious and unwilling tool, and it did me
good to see you resent it when you found out what Ditson had been
doing."

Walter tried to say something, but he choked and stammered. Then he
muttered something about having a drink all around, but Frank assured
him that he had taken quite enough.

Rattleton and Robinson led the crowd away from the corner, and Merriwell
had a brief talk with Gordon, Then Harry and Frank took Gordon out and
did not leave him till he was safely in his room. As they were going
away Walter thickly said:

"Merriwell!"

"What is it?"

"I want to 'pologize."

"What for?"

"Things I've said 'bout you."

"I don't know about them."

"'Cause I've said 'em behind your back. Sneakin' thing to do! Merriwell,
I'm 'shamed--I am, by thunder! I guess you're all right. Don't b'lieve
you ever done me dirt. Is it all right, old man?"

"Yes, it's all right."

"Say, that makes me feel better. It does, by thunder! You're a good
fellow, Merriwell, and I'm--I'm a fool! I talk too much! Drink too much,
too. You don't talk and you don't drink. You're all right. Good-night,
Merriwell."

"Good-night, Gordon."

When Frank retired the second time that night it was with a feeling of
intense relief, for the perplexing problem as to the identity of the
traitor had been settled, and he felt that he had done Gordon a good
turn by getting him away from Ditson.

And Ditson? Well, he deserved to pass a wretched night, and he did. He
felt that he was forever disgraced at Yale, but he did not seem to
consider it his own fault. He blamed Merriwell for it all, and his heart
was hot with almost murderous rage. Over and over he swore that he would
get square some way--any way.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE RACE.

The day for the race came at last--a sunny day, with the air clear and
cold. Just the right sort of