It was about this time that Andy Emery, on the way to his room, saw Rattleton standing all alone in a dejected attitude beneath one of the big elms. “Hey, there, Rattles!” called Emery, coming close enough to recognize Harry in the twilight. “What are you sulking here for? Why aren’t you making merry along with Merriwell’s other friends?” Harry looked at Andy and scowled. The scowl was wasted in the gloom, for Emery did not see it. “What’s the matter with you?” asked Emery, coming closer. “You should be happy to know Merriwell is captain, even if Yale does not stand a show of winning.” “Now, you want to be careful!” growled Harry, fiercely. “I’m in no mood for your jokes! I’ll bet you something Yale does win! They can’t beat Frank Merriwell!” “Come off!” laughed Emery. “He’s made a chump of himself this time, and everybody knows it.” “That’s a lie!” snarled Rattleton. “And I won’t stand to have anybody call Frank Merriwell a chump before me!” Then he let fly his right hand, struck Emery on the chin with his fist, and knocked the fellow down. The moment Rattleton did this he was sorry. It seemed he did it without thinking. Emery was dazed and astounded. He had always regarded Rattleton as a peaceable sort of fellow, but now---- “What in blazes do you mean?” he gasped, lifting himself upon his elbow. In a moment Harry was kneeling beside the fellow he had struck. “Forgive me, Emery, old man!” he cried, his voice quivering with shame and regret. “I didn’t know I was going to do it--honest, I didn’t! I did it before I thought! I’m half crazy, anyway! You know I wouldn’t do such a thing purposely! Let me help you up!” “Get out!” said Emery, sharply. “I can get up myself. You are not to be trusted! It must be you have been drinking!” “Not a drop. But I think I am dind of kaffy--I mean, kind of daffy! If I hadn’t been----Say, old man, hit me! I’ll take it all right. Soak me a good one! Knock me down!” Emery was on his feet, and Harry was begging to be struck in turn. Andy looked at him in amazement, and then turned away, gently rubbing the spot where Rattleton’s knuckles had struck. “You are daffy!” Emery flung over his shoulder. “You ought to be in an asylum.” Harry stood still and stared after Emery till he was gone. Then an almost irresistible desire to shed tears assailed the excited fellow, who was completely unstrung. He hurried to his room and locked himself in, feeling that he never wanted to see anybody again. Deep down in his heart Harry Rattleton was one of the truest of Frank Merriwell’s friends. His affection for Frank was of the most intense nature, and, being somewhat excitable, he had become hysterical over the misfortune he believed had befallen Merry. He would have done anything to keep Frank from walking into the trap. He was proud of Frank’s record at Yale, and he felt sure this meant the ruin of the proud reputation Merry had won.