“Wait for me, Merry,” he said hastily. “I’ll probably be right back!”
“I’ll be here, old man,” Chip assured him, and Randall left hurriedly with the orderly.
CHAPTER XXXII.
WHO GOT IT?
“Too bad we didn’t drink that toast!” murmured Merriwell, as the echoing steps of the orderly and Randall died away down the corridor. “Still, I’m mighty glad that Bob saw fit to come around. It’ll clear things up wonderfully.”
He crossed the room and sank into a chair. Picking up a magazine, he began to turn over its pages. As he did so, his hand went out to the nearer of the two glasses, and he brought it to his lips, sipping slowly.
With a sigh, he emptied the glass and replaced it on the table. Five minutes passed, and Merry flung the magazine back to its place, rising.
“Wonder what kind of a row Randall has got himself into now?” he mused, going to the window and looking down on the campus, with a frown.
Colonel Gunn was the principal of Fardale, and if Randall had been in some kind of a scrape, it might injure his chances on the diamond. However, there was a chance that the Southerner had been guilty of some infraction of the military routine of the school which would merely get him a “call-down” and a few black marks.
Suddenly Chip turned, as a sharp knock sounded at the door.