As he examined it feverishly, Bully once more came to life. He clapped a hand to his pocket, then staggered up.
“Where’s my wallet!” he growled, clutching for support.
“Your wallet!” cried Merry. “You mean Hostetter’s wallet. Where’d you get it, eh? Are you the one that stole it?”
Bully seemed to shrink suddenly into himself, muttering and mumbling.
“Who says I stole it?” he grunted defiantly, only half conscious yet. He gave a lurch and caught at Merriwell for support. “Hostetter—durned little fool——”
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Merriwell sharply. Bully tried to rouse himself. “Here, one of you fellows get a bucket of water, will you?”
“Lemme go,” grunted Bully, trying to reel away. “I got to place bet—thousand-dollar bet—little fool Hostetter handed me his money——”
“That’s a lie!” snapped Hostetter suddenly. “I believe you stole that money, Carson!”
“I believe so, too,” said Merry dryly. “Constable, you’d better get ready to take charge of him when—ah, here’s the water now!”
One of the grinning cadets arrived with a pail of water. Bully had already relapsed into slumber, and Merry took the water and soused it over his head.