“Wait a minute, Tucker—you’ll get all that’s coming to you if you don’t get humble. I say you betrayed the team. I’m not the only one who believes it. Merriwell saved your pelt by hiring a disreputable character to take the blame on his own shoulders. Every one knows that man Smith lied when he said he was the one who stole the signals and gave them to the manager of the Hudson team.”
“I think he lied myself,” said Tommy. “I’m satisfied that some one on the team gave Smith the signals and paid him to have them copied.”
“And you’re that some one,” declared the Turk.
“I’ll hand you out the same remark I just applied to old Sate,” flashed the captive.
“You’ll have to sign this paper,” asserted the wearer of the crimson.
“If I sign it,” said Tommy, “I’ll lose no time in telling every one under what circumstances I was forced into it.”
“And if you tell any one that,” threatened Satan, “you’ll get it again, and next time we’ll blister you from your heels to the nape of your neck. We don’t propose to make this confession public, but we’re going to use it to force Merriwell and his friends to give certain fellows of the freshman class a square deal at baseball.”
“And a sillier scheme I never heard of!” derided Tucker. “You can’t force Dick Merriwell’s hand in such a manner, and you ought to know it. Of course I know you’re Merriwell’s classmates and enemies. I think I could name you all. I’m dead sure I can name four or five of you. It seems astonishing to me that by this time you have not learned that Dick Merriwell cannot be forced or browbeaten into anything.”
“Will you sign this paper?”
“Sure.”