“You know that’s not the case. If there’s any one who hates to be truckled to and toadied to, I’m the one. I didn’t go after the captaincy, in this particular instance, and it was handed to me before I knew it. As to toadying, you ought to know the fellows too well to lay that charge, Bob.” “Haven’t you everything your own way?” demanded Randall. His eyes still held to that folded scrap of paper, and his face looked troubled. “You run everything around here, and nobody else gets a look-in----” “Old man, for Heaven’s sake get your brain untangled!” Chip leaned forward earnestly, setting aside his own irritation. “I don’t want to run anything. Whatever I have done has been done for Fardale, and I’ve had nothing further in view than the best good of the school. Let me prove this by something which I ought not to tell you.” He found Randall staring at him with a peculiar look, and fancied that his words were bearing fruit. “I was just talking to Coach Trayne about who will be elected captain if I have to leave school--which may be at any minute now. I urged you for the place, since I honestly believe that you’re the man for it. He could not understand why I overlooked the way you have acted lately, until I explained that I hoped to talk it over with you and straighten things out for the good of Fardale. I don’t care a whoop about myself, Randall. I’m only thinking of the school, and I want you to do the same. Now, slip into your things and come over to the gym with me. The fellows will know that the hatchet’s been buried, and you will leap up at a bound in their estimation, and everybody will be happy. Will you do it, old fellow?” Randall had turned, and was gazing out of the window. Merriwell could not see the dark flush of anger that flitted across his face, but after a moment he heard the low and tense voice of Randall. “I’ll do it, Chip. I’m sorry.” Randall turned quickly to the closet and pulled out his shoes, for he had been at work in bath robe and slippers. “Good!” Frank cried, in delight. “Get on your duds, and we’ll forget it all!” He walked over to the window, looking out on the campus, and stood watching the flitting crowd below. Randall had come around all right, he thought, and, with a little careful handling, would soon be his old self. Meantime, however, Randall had given a quick glance at his back. A crafty smile leaped to his face, and, while still watching Merriwell’s motionless figure, he reached out and seized the folded paper. Tearing off one end with a quick motion, he emptied a flickering white powder into the glass that stood beside the pitcher. Still covertly eying Chip, he deftly obtained a second glass from the closet shelf and placed it on the opposite side of the pitcher. Then he poured water into both glasses. The white powder dissolved instantly. At the sound of the pouring water, Merry turned, and Randall straightened up with a smile that set queerly on his features.