"We're glad to see you, Sport," one of the drinkers declared.
"Well, I am glad to see you, Harlow, old man, and you, too, Hartwick, although we were never friendly before you left Yale so suddenly."
"That was my fault," admitted Hartwick, huskily. "I didn't know enough to pick out the right sort of pals. I trusted too much to Ditson. He's no good!"
"Now there is where you make a mistake," asserted Sport Harris, quickly. "I know Ditson has no nerve, but he hates the same fellow we hate, and he is good to do the dirty work. We can make use of him, Hartwick."
"I don't know anything about him," confessed Harlow.
"No, he hasn't the nerve to play poker, and so you did not get acquainted with him when you were here."
"I don't know that he hates Merriwell so much," growled Hartwick. "You remember that Ditson blowed everything to Merriwell, and that is why I was forced to skip. Oh, I'd like the satisfaction of punching the face off the dirty little traitor!"
"But what caused Ditson to blow? He says you misused him."
"I choked the cad a little, that is all."