Merry looked after him, then turned to Randall with a smile, his hand out.
“It’s all right, old man!” he said. “Come along over to the gym while I get into my clothes, will you? I’ve got something I want to say.”
Randall gave him a half-frightened look, but merely nodded assent. The two walked to the gym together, and more than one cadet looked after them significantly, with the remark that Randall had been fetched around, after all.
“What do you suppose was the trouble with Bully?” queried Chip, as they entered the gymnasium building. “It looked to me rather as if he had been drugged, Bob!”
Randall flushed.
“Maybe he had,” he said bitterly. “I knew that he was pretty bad, but I never suspected that he could stoop to being a thief.”
“I guess there are a whole lot of things about your cousin that you never suspected,” returned Merry dryly.
They found the dressing room almost deserted, the members of the team having disappeared long since. Merry had his shower and rubdown, and returned to his locker where Randall was waiting.
“That was a great finish to-day, Chip,” said the Southerner, rather awkwardly. “And your pitching showed me a whole lot I had never even guessed. If I had been in your place, they’d have pounded me off the mound in two innings, Chip.”
“Not much,” said Chip. “Luck broke with us, that was all. By the way, their pitcher was Southpaw Diggs, Bob. Some credit in beating him, eh? I was almost gone in the seventh, for a fact.”