"Flem seldom makes a mistake," murmured Tom Thornton.
"But Merriwell is not in his rig," said Andy Emery, the fourth one of the group.
"That doesn't make any difference," declared Flemming. "He is taking a run with Pierson, and that proves what I told Yates. You all know how that chap undermined me on the crew. I don't say that he can't row, mind you—I do not claim that I could have done any better than he did; but I do claim that he is full of such sneaking underhand tricks, and I knew he was trying for something when I saw him stop Pierson on the campus to-day."
Yates was silent, staring along the street, down which the two runners had disappeared.
"Come, old man!" cried Flemming, slapping Yates on the back, "let's go into Morey's and sit down, where we can have a drink and talk this matter over."
Duncan shook his head.
"I won't go in there," he said.
"Why not?"
"I am in training, you know, and somebody would see me drinking there. That would kick up some talk."