“I reckon that’s right,” he said. “He fooled us. But he must be a tank, for he drank as many as seven big slugs of Old Tom gin.” “So did Hodge.” “Yes.” “Well?” “Well, Merriwell may have braced up after getting into the scrap. Perhaps that was what sobered him.” “What sobered Hodge?” Again they looked at each other blankly. “It’s too much for me,” admitted Hackett. “I give it up. But I never dreamed Merriwell could fight like that, even if he didn’t take a drink. Why, why, Fred, he knocked out the champion of the Pimlico Road and a man who might easily be the champion of Baltimore!” “Don’t I know it? You don’t have to tell me! I’d bet my life Husker could hammer the head off him—before I saw this. I can’t believe Merriwell did it!” “Well, let’s drink up. Here’s to drown our disappointment.” They tossed off the drinks. “I haven’t taken a drink before this term,” said Fillmore dolefully, “and I did so to-day to pull those dubs into the trap. If any one peaches on me, I’ll get a raking over.” “You can’t get much of a raking, for wasn’t Branch in the bunch? He’s the one who will get the raking. He’ll lose his job.” “He doesn’t care, for the season is pretty nearly over, and he graduates, so he doesn’t want the position again. That’s how I induced him to get onto the band wagon to-day. We’re not going to take Merriwell and Hodge back to their ladies in the shape we expected.” “Unless we get them into a mess with the whole bunch and all jump on them.” “Can’t do that. The boys won’t stand for it. Some of them are gone on Merriwell now. They thought it would be a joke to get the great athlete out here and put him up against Galway; but they’ll see no joke in mobbing him. It won’t work. We’re baffled to-day, old man, and we may as well throw up the sponge.” “But there’s another time coming,” muttered Hackett. “We’ll have to give Merriwell that game. I hate him! I thought I hated Herb Onslaw, but I hate Merriwell worse. I’d like to get a rap at him.” “You might be able to in the game.” “That’s right,” nodded Fillmore. “More than one fellow has been knocked out with a lacrosse stick while playing. No one could prove I did it intentionally. It would give me lots of satisfaction. It’s the very chance I’ve been praying for with Onslaw.” “Onslaw will be in the game, too.” “So Merriwell says, but we’re not sure of it. I hope he is! It would delight me to get even with both chaps in one day. Yes, we’ll have to give Merriwell the game.” “Let’s drink another and get back before we’re missed.” Their faces were flushed and their tongues thick. Already they had taken as much as they could stand, but the time had passed when they could gauge their capacity. Once more they drank whisky, and both staggered a little as they left the bar. They met the students, accompanied by Merriwell, Hodge, and Galway, coming from the shed. To their surprise, Galway showed no resentment toward his conqueror.