Presently there was a momentary pause, and then came the deep, thunderous, blood-stirring roar of marshaled cheering, from a thousand throats: “Demarest! Demarest! Demarest!” As he stood in the centre of the stage, with Marion Gray at his side, Dick felt an odd lump in his throat, and something like a mist came before his eyes. He had never known such a sensation before. “Aren’t you happy?” whispered the girl. Dick looked down into her eyes, which were bright with tears. “Yes,” he said simply. And he was. He had won out for his friend. He had also done a piece of good work which Demarest would find it hard to equal, but the Yale man did not realize that at the time. He had simply done his best, and had succeeded. At last, after Merriwell had appeared alone before the curtain eight or ten times, the enthusiastic audience seemed to be content, and, leaving their seats, began to file slowly out of the theatre. But throughout the college buildings that night, and in a good many other parts of New Haven, “Jarvis of Yale,” and the superb acting of Austin Demarest, were the sole topics of conversation. * * * * * About eleven o’clock next morning Merriwell sat alone in his room, waiting for Demarest. A wire had come two hours before, saying that he was at liberty, and would take the next train to New Haven, so that Dick momentarily expected to see him. He was feeling a little of the mental strain which he had undergone, but otherwise was in splendid shape. His one reply to the inquiries as to where he had been last night was to tell the fellows that he had had a chance to go behind the scenes, and had stayed there throughout the play. One and all, his friends had commented on the amazing resemblance between himself and the author of the play, and he had agreed with them that it was most extraordinary. He was a little annoyed to find out that Buckhart knew the truth, but, after all, it mattered very little now, especially when he knew that the Texan would never divulge the secret. Brad’s utter astonishment when he found that Dick really had played the part of _Jarvis_ was very funny. He pronounced the performance as the very “corkingest” thing he had ever seen. Suddenly Dick’s quick ear caught the sound of hurried feet on the stairs, a moment later the door was burst open, and Demarest, his face aglow with joyous enthusiasm, dashed into the room. With a sweep of his arms, he caught Dick about the shoulders, and gave him a great hug. “Oh, you brick!” he cried. “I didn’t know there was such a bully fellow alive! As long as I live I’ll never forget what you did for me last night. It was splendid! But what an old bluffer you are.” He took a step backward, and gazed at the Yale man affectionately. Dick looked a little puzzled. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Why, pretending you couldn’t act, of course.” “But I can’t,” Dick objected. “At least, I didn’t think I could.”