"Were you speaking of me, young gentlemen?" chirped a familiar voice, and down the bank came the man in gray, calmly walking up to the astonished lads. "I hope you were not saying anything behind my back that you do not care to repeat before my face."
"No!" rang out the clear voice of the Virginian. "I called you a treacherous little devil, and I repeat it!"
"That's complimentary, to say the least," grinned the man in gray, in his provokingly careless manner. "But I'd like to know what I have done to lead you to speak thus disparagingly of me. Wouldst tell me?"
Browning reached out and collared the queer old fellow, lifting him off his feet and swinging him around so he was in the midst of them.
"There!" grunted the big Yale man, with satisfaction. "Now we have you! You can't run, so don't try it!"
"If you try it, by the Lord Harry! I'll fill you full of lead!" came hoarsely from Hodge, who was fingering the gun in his hands as if he longed to shoot Cooler anyhow.
"Ah, me!" sighed the little man. "How rude you are, young gentlemen! Is it possible you are in your right minds?—or have I fallen in with a lot of lunatics? Why, I wouldn't run for anything! It's not necessary to threaten me. I wish you would tell me what I have done to arouse your ire."
"Where is Frank Merriwell?"
"Hey?"