Ballard and Bradlaugh were feverishly eager to have a few words in private with Merriwell. The opportunity did not offer until some time after Merriwell had had his swim and had got into his clothes; then, as he walked toward the camp, Ballard and Bradlaugh and Clancy joined him. Already Ballard had confided to Clancy, Merriwell’s real reason for getting actively into the football game.
“Did you win out, Chip?” asked Bradlaugh.
Merriwell nodded, and slapped his pocket.
“What’s the evidence?” queried Ballard. “Does it clear Darrel?”
“Haven’t looked at it yet,” was the reply.
Astonished exclamations came from the other three.
“Don’t mean to say you haven’t had time?” Clancy asked.
“I’ve had the time, Clan, but not the inclination. We’ll let Darrel look at the note first. Maybe,” and Merry grew thoughtful, “I jumped into this thing too quick. Suppose Hotchkiss was wrong? Suppose there’s no evidence in the note about the forgery? If that’s the case, I’ve done a measly trick.”
“You were justified in getting that note, Chip,” declared Ballard, “just on the strength of what I told you.”
“I hope so,” said Frank, “but that’s a thing we’ll leave to Darrel. Shall we ride down the cañon this afternoon?”