“Why—why, I don’t understand why you are doing that.”
“I suppose not,” admitted Frank, as he finished loading and snapped the weapon back into shape. “I didn’t think you would understand.”
“A weapon that is loaded with anything but blank cartridges is not a very safe thing to squabble over.”
“That is true, and, for that reason, we must be very careful in our squabble over it to-night, Mr. Garland.”
“Really, I—I don’t like this. What if something happened!”
“Something is liable to happen. That is why I have loaded this weapon. If I should call for it suddenly, you are to pass it to me; but I do not think I shall need it till after the struggle takes place. It will be in my possession from that time on.”
“Won’t you explain, Mr. Merriwell?”
“No. It is sufficient that I have a reason for wishing this revolver loaded with something besides blanks. Here, take it, Garland, and be careful with it. When you pull it on me, point it in the air and begin to pull down with it. I will spring forward and grasp it before it covers me. Keep your finger off the trigger. Do not hang to it quite as tight as usual in the struggle.”
“All right,” said Garland, in a puzzled way; “but I’d give something to know what is going on.”
Ephraim Gallup was as much puzzled as Garland, but he asked no questions, for he knew there were times when it was utterly useless to question Merry.