All along Merriwell had refused to say anything about his plans, and he would not talk baseball. He had been drawn into the football game with Harvard through force of circumstances, and against his inclination, so it was not strange that the general belief was that he might refuse to become the leading “twirler” for Yale that season. It was generally conceded by Merriwell’s friends and foes alike that his refusal to play would be a great blow to Yale. Hugh Heffiner and Dad Hicks, the old timers, were gone, and Merriwell was the only man left who had been tried by Yale and not found wanting. True, there was some new material. Walbert, an Andover man, was a promising candidate; and Haggerty, who had come to Yale after being dropped at straight-laced little Williams for some thoughtless prank, was said to be a great “southpaw” twirler. But what Yale wanted was steady, reliable material in which confidence could be placed. The new men might show up all right when the time came, but what if they did not? The “if” was in the way. So baseball was the theme on this bright April day, and the enthusiasm which the game always arouses among the “cranks” was beginning to make itself manifest. While they were talking of him, Frank Merriwell appeared. He looked trim and well-groomed. It was one of his peculiarities that he always looked as if he had just emerged from a bath. Barely was Frank upon the campus before Harry Rattleton, his old-time chum, rushed up and caught him by the arm. “Looking for you, old man--looking for you!” he excitedly sputtered. “There’s tomething on sap--I mean something on tap.” “You know I never drink beer,” smiled Frank. “Never mind--t’ain’t beer,” Harry rattled on. “This is just the day, isn’t it?” “Just the day for what?” “Cruise.” “What sort of a cruise?” “On the sound. I’ve got a cat.” “A cat? Well, what has a cat to do with a cruise on the sound?” “I mean a batcoat--no, no, a catboat! Bought her yesterday.” “Oh! I must say you are starting early.” “None too early. And this is just the day for a sail. We can have a glorious afternoon on the sound. What do you say to it, old man?” “Who is going?” “Anybody you want. We’ll take along Browning and Diamond.” “I don’t think I ought to spend the time.” “Oh, come off! You have been cramming like a fiend all winter, and an afternoon’s outing is just what you need. You can’t say no. Think of the sport.” Frank did think of it. He knew it was true he had become a “dig,” and he felt that a sail on the sound would do him good. It would serve as a relaxation for half a day, and he could return to his studies with fresh energy on the morrow. All at once he turned on Harry, exclaiming: “I am with you, old fellow!” “You will go?” “Dead sure. I’ll be able to study all the better for it afterward.” “That’s the talk, Merry! Who’ll we take?” “Name your own crew.” “Diamond and Browning.” “They’re all right. What say if I get Hodge and take him along?”