"Steady, young colt! Don't be in too much of a hurry. It doesn't pay to be in a hurry--none whatever." Frank's impatience increased. He did not like the stranger's manner, for there was something crafty and insinuating about it. "If any one were watching us, he'd be sure to think we were putting up some sort of a crooked game," thought Merriwell. "My time is valuable," he said aloud. "Then you can't make more out of it than you can by spending it gabbling with the crowd." The man's manner was offensive, but Frank's curiosity caused him to hold himself in check and listen to what the stranger should say. "You are interested in other sports besides rowing, I reckon?" said the unknown, inquiringly. "Yes." "Baseball?" "Yes." "I have heard that you pitch on the 'varsity nine." "That is right." The man assumed a more cautious air than ever, and lowered his voice still more. "I allow that the man who pitches can throw a game, if he wants to?" Frank's dislike for the stranger increased rapidly. "He can throw a game if he is crooked and dirty enough to do such a mean thing!" came with spirit from the lad. "That is putting it a heap rough," deprecatingly declared the man. "Every galoot is out for the dust. It is the way of the old world, as you will find before you have hoofed it much farther along the trail of life." "Well, what are you driving at?" "Yale won the race to-day, and I reckon she's got glory enough to last her a while." "Go on." "The last ball game of the series between Yale and Harvard comes off next week?" "It does." "Yale has won one, and Harvard one." "That is right." "Yale stands a right good chance of winning the deciding game?" "She is pretty sure of winning." "And I have a pot of dust on Harvard. I can get odds that Yale will win, so I can stake more money." Frank fancied that he saw the stranger's game, and he felt his anger rising rapidly; but, with a great effort, he held himself in control, and pretended that he did not understand. The boy looked the man over from head to heels. He was making a study of the unknown. Already he had decided by the man's appearance and language that he was a Westerner, or wished to be considered such. Frank was not absolutely certain that the fellow was not masquerading as a man from the West. As Merriwell remained silent after the stranger's last statement, he went on: "If there is any way of knowing as how Harvard will win, I can stake my rocks on her, and pull off a good thing." Still Frank was silent. "You can see that plain enough, can't you, youngster?" demanded the man, seeming to grow impatient and restless before the lad's steady, piercing gaze. "Any one should be able to see that," was the cold answer. "Then all I've got to do in order to make a stake is to fix it so that Harvard is dead sure of winning." "How can you fix it?" "I don't see but one way." "How is that?"