Dunton saw them and came up.
"Look here, Merriwell," he said, in a manner that was intended to be very candid, "I want you to know that I am glad you're back. I believe you and I had some trouble once, but you treated me white, and I was ready to acknowledge I was in the wrong. You never blowed on me."
"I had nothing to blow."
"Some fellows might have thought they had, though, to be sure, you could not have proved that I tried to do you up in that stage duel. Of course I didn't mean to kill you."
"Oh, of course not!" smiled Frank, and there was a bit of sarcasm in both words and voice.
"I thought I might just wound you a little, but you were too much for me. Where did you learn to handle a sword?"
"I took lessons at Fardale Military Academy when I was a mere boy, and then I received some instructions abroad. When I entered Yale, I placed myself under the best fencing instructor to be found in New Haven. I kept in form up to the time of leaving college."
"That explains it. Your wrist is all right, and you are like a cat on your feet. You made a holy show of me that night, though the audience thought it all in the piece. I hope you'll stay with us. We really need a man like you."
"I fancy you think you need my money far more than you need me, but that's all right. I shall not play the angel and lie dead afterward, be sure of that. If my money goes behind this show, I go at the head of it."
That was plain enough, and Frank had nothing more to say.