"Oh, you'll have to excuse me to-night. I don't believe I'll go out."
Ditson urged, but Frank persisted in refusing. Roll stopped near a table and picked up a stick of grease paint.
"Hello! what's this?" he exclaimed. "Aren't going into amateur theatricals, are you, Merry?"
"Oh, I don't know," smiled Frank. "I may do a turn."
Ditson looked at Merriwell curiously, as if in doubt concerning his sincerity, but Frank simply continued to smile.
"Indian red," said Roll, reading the lettering on the stick. "You don't mean to become a big chief, do you?"
"Perhaps so."
"Well, you are pretty sure to become a big chief here at Yale, old man," said Ditson, with apparent earnestness. "You will be a leader here some day."
"Think so?"
"Oh, I am dead sure of it."