“Then give it to me!”
“Come take it.”
Although thus invited, Rolf did not hasten to obey, for the muzzle of the weapon was looking straight at him.
“I thought you would wait a while,” nodded Frank. “You shall have the gun directly.”
Then he continued his story:
“From what we overheard, we learned that your coach and the spy in the bushes were in league with each other. Evidently, the spy belongs to a rival crew, and he was watching to get points from your work.”
Exclamations of anger broke from the rowers, and it was plain they were greatly incensed.
Harlow fidgeted uneasily. A short time before, he had been very popular among these fellows, but now they regarded him with distrust and positive contempt.
All through Frank Merriwell! How he hated Merriwell!
“It was one of the A. A. C. fellows!” cried a red-headed fellow, whose name was Fred Dobbs. “I thought I recognized him from the river.”