“What is it?” cried Phil. “Has anything happened to Martin?”
“No, but something has happened to us. Read it and see.”
And Phil read this:—
“Dear old Dick: Just a word to tell you of some kind of a scheme on foot to protest Dickinson. I got it from a junior who rooms in my entry, who got it from an old Hillbury man. They say that Dickinson ran in a race in Indiana last Fourth of July for a money prize, and they have posters to show that he was advertised to take part in the race. Is it so? If it is, he has buried himself for school and college athletics as deep as China. If it isn’t, you’ll have to disprove the charge fair and square, beyond the point where a doubt can be imagined, or they’ll shut him out. Bestir yourself!
“Yours and Seaton’s forever,
“L. M. M.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Phil, as Dick put on his hat.
“I’m going to have it out with Dickinson first,” replied the senior, bitterly. “Then we’ll see what’s to be done.”