Frank smiled. He saw that it would be an opportunity for any amount of sport he was sure, and the mere thought of it made him eager to go.
But he remembered the warning. It was most remarkable that the invitation to the theatre had followed so closely after the receipt of the note from the unknown.
"Of course you'll go, old fellow?" cried Creighton, who saw that Merriwell was hesitating.
"Of course he will!" cried Rattleton. "Merry is always in for a little racket of this sort."
"He is always foremost in anything of the kind," said Diamond.
"That is why I want him in my box," smiled Creighton. "Oh, we won't do a thing in that box—not a thing! I have ordered plenty of fizz on ice, and—oh, but you do not drink fizz, do you, Merriwell?"
"No," said Frank; "but I am no temperance crank, and I do not make myself offensive by trying to convince everybody else that men who do drink are fools. College lads should have brains enough to know what they want and what they do not want, and it is impertinent for any fellow to go around trying to make Good Templars of men who enjoy a glass of beer or wine now and then."
Creighton impulsively grasped Frank's hand.
"Merriwell," he cried, "by example you are the best possible temperance lecture, and you will make more converts by keeping still than by preaching."