“Come in!”
The door opened. Merry gave a gasp of astonishment, for framed in the doorway, stood Bully Carson. The latter turned and shut the door, not observing him.
“You came over to see the game?” Merry asked pleasantly.
Bully whirled with a swift cry, his face black.
“You! Why—why—where’s Bob Randall? Isn’t this his room?”
The startled surprise of Colonel Carson’s son was quite evident. In fact, he was wildly disconcerted. He had expected to see his cousin, and instead he found Merriwell.
“Don’t get scared out, Bully,” said Chip. “Bob will be right back. I was waiting for him myself, so I hope you won’t mind my company.”
Merry thoroughly enjoyed the confusion of the other. He bore Carson no malice, for he knew that the other had been thoroughly punished for his wrongdoings. He fancied that Bully’s confusion sprang from fear at being found in Fardale—fear of new retribution for the past.
“Sit down,” he urged pleasantly. “Sit down and rest your eye, Bully. One of ’em looks pretty tired. Hot day, isn’t it?”
Bully growled out something inarticulate and sank into a chair with a scowl at Merry. Since he had blundered into it, he was determined to stick.