Dick’s face wore a grim expression as he called for Captain Hickman. Hickman and two other Franklin fellows were found in a room. The captain of the team rose and held out his hand to Dick, crying: “How are you, Merriwell, old man! Glad to see you again! Of course, we’ll have to trounce you this afternoon, but that is no reason why we shouldn’t be friends before the game—and afterward.” “No, that is no reason,” admitted Dick. “As for trouncing us, that remains to be seen; but I am sure you ought to do it with the kind of team you have brought!” “Oh, yes! we’ve got a corker this year,” laughed Hickman. “But aren’t you out of your class a bit?” asked Dick, while Brad stood by the door, grimly waiting the clash of words he expected would come and eying the two chaps with Hickman, to have their measure in case there was an encounter. “Do you fancy your team so very weak?” asked Hickman jokingly. “Why, you seem to be doing very well.” “We are strong enough for a school team made up of amateurs, but we may not be able to cope with professionals.” “And ‘ringers,’” put in Brad. Hickman pretended to be surprised and astonished. “Professionals?” he exclaimed. “Ringers? Why, what do you mean? It can’t be that you accuse us of having such men on our team?” “I have information that leads me to believe you have,” said Dick grimly. “It’s not true!” retorted the captain of the Franklin team hotly. “It’s a lie!” said a yellow-haired chap, rising behind Hickman, and stepping forward. “That’s exactly what it is!” agreed the third fellow, as he also rose and joined the others. “Here’s where we get into a scrimmage!” thought Buckhart, with a glow of genuine satisfaction. “Here is where we wipe the floor with three young gents from Franklin!” But Dick was not there to get into a row. “Such information reached me a few days ago,” said Dick, “and I wrote at once to Mr. Rankin, your manager.” “Well, you heard from him, didn’t you?” “Yes; he answered that the report was untrue.” “Well, that should have satisfied you,” said Hickman. “What more do you want?” “To-day,” said Dick calmly, “I have been told that on your team there is a regular professional by the name of Plover.” “Plover?” “Yes.” “There is no man by that name on the team,” said Hickman. “So you see that you have been led astray in this matter.” “Of course it is possible,” admitted Dick, “But we have not forgotten last year, Mr. Hickman.” “Last year?” said Hickman uneasily. “What do you mean by that?” “You should remember very well.” “Why not——” “Yes, your little trick you played on us. I believe a fellow by the name of Jabez Lynch played with you, and he was a Fardale man at the time. He wore a nose-guard and head-harness that so disguised him he was not recognized; but he did a piece of dirty work that exposed him before the game was over. You remember, Captain Hickman.” Hickman forced a short laugh. “That was a joke, Merriwell.”