“How does it happen that you are here, Wiley?” Dick asked. “The tale is one too long to unfold under such agitating circumstances. Suffice it to say that men with evil ways have looked with covetous eyes on my friend Abe, and your brother decided that it was expedient that we should waft ourselves thitherward to a region of safety. He will follow. It’s possible that he may arrive to-morrow, or even to-night.” “Indeed!” exclaimed Dick delightedly. “Frank coming so soon?” “Do you doubt my veracity? The mere thought that any one could suspect me of a falsehood pains me keenly. Truth—I love it! Truth—I adore it! This is easily understood, for you know familiarity breeds contempt.” “What did you mean a few moments ago when you spoke of the signs of the times?” asked Dick. “By chance this day I took passage on the craft by which your opponents made this port. I heard them discussing, among themselves, certain things. I heard them talking over the fact that you habitually gave your signals from the box when pitching. It seems that here at Fardale you have a traitor whose name is Arlington. This chap has betrayed you to Franklin. He has given away your signals. That was why those first batters hit you so expertly. They knew exactly what was coming, and, therefore, they placed the stick against the sphere with firmness and precision. Had you continued to use those signs there is no telling how many runs they would have made.” “Did you hear them say Arlington was the traitor?” asked Dick. “I heard his name mentioned.” “That’s enough, pard!” growled Buckhart savagely. “You can see what sort of a reformer he is. There’s not a decent bone in his whole onery body! You hear me warble!” “I’m afraid you’re right,” admitted Dick. Although Fardale made a strong bid for a run in the first inning, Darrell leading off with a hit, and finally reaching third, the pitching of Westcott was of such a puzzling nature that the following batters could not drive Hal home. Bradley was the third man out, being retired on an easy pop fly to the infield. While this was taking place Dick had informed his players that he would continue to signal from the box, but that his signals would mean nothing, as it was his intention to follow the signs made by Buckhart. This plan proved most baffling to Franklin in the second inning, for when a batter expected a drop he was certain to get a rise, an outcurve, or something entirely different than he anticipated. Only one man of the three who faced Merriwell touched the ball at all. This was Dickson, who fouled by accident. As Merriwell easily struck out Westcott, the cadets rose and cheered. Chester Arlington was with them, and he seemed to join heartily in this cheering. Apparently no one was more delighted than he. In case he was the traitor, he was playing the hypocrite well. “What’s the matter, captain?” asked Westcott, as Franklin took the field. “We’re not touching Merriwell now.”