Chet’s face grew crimson as he moved into line with his companions. He was destined to suffer still further annoyance, for the inspecting officer, on looking his rifle over, reprimanded him sharply for not having it in perfect order. “What does he think!” Arlington mentally exclaimed. “Does he fancy I am going to spend my time rubbing at a useless old gun with a greased rag? That’s a fine occupation for a gentleman’s son!” When drill was over, and he could get away, Arlington hastened toward the ball ground, arriving there to find the boys on the point of leaving. In vain he looked around for Merriwell. “Hello, Arlington!” said Jack Harwood. “Why, you look ugly enough to chew nails!” “I am! I am sick of a school where a lot of fellows can get excused from drill in order to put in baseball practice. I believe in using every one alike.” “Do you?” smiled Jack. “Why, it has been hinted here that you fancy you should be used better than any one else.” “Well, I haven’t been! I have been used worse! Merriwell is the only fellow who can do just as he pleases around here. Where is he?” “Why, I saw him a while ago,” said Jack. “I saw him strike off to the south.” “Alone?” “Yes.” “With a ball suit on?” “Yes.” “Wonder where he was going?” “I don’t know.” “I’ll bet I do!” muttered Chet. Five minutes later Arlington was also hurrying away. “Let me catch him!” he growled. “I know where he has gone! He is playing a double game.” Coming to the woods, he hurried along the path that led to the rustic bridge over Ripple Brook. As he approached the vicinity of the bridge he moved with great caution, coming at last to a point where he could look down along the path and see the bridge. There he suddenly halted. Leaning on the rail of the bridge, he saw Zona Desmond. Beyond Zona, at the opposite end of the bridge, partly hidden from view, he beheld another girl in company with Dick, who was talking to her. The foliage prevented him from obtaining more than a glimpse of them, and immediately he hissed: “I knew it! He came here to meet Doris. If ever there was a two-faced duffer, it is Merriwell; but I will fix him—I will fix him!” Backing away a short distance, he turned and fled along the path, retracing his course. He did not stop running until he was within sight of the academy. There were some boys on the parade ground, and he hastened toward them. “Seen anything of Darrell?” he asked. “Why, yes,” answered one. “There he is over yonder.” Reaching Hal, Chet touched him on the shoulder. “I have something to tell you,” he said. Darrell frowned. “All right; tell away.” “It’s private.” “Private?” “Yes. It will interest you, and you won’t care to have everybody hear it.” Chet drew aside and, after a moment’s hesitation, Hal followed him. He did not trust Arlington, whom he regarded with the greatest aversion, yet something led him to listen to the fellow’s words.