"And there is no chance that Frank Merriwell will be run in?"
"Bah!" exclaimed Harris, disdainfully. "Merriwell is a dead duck at Yale. He'll never count in anything more. He is an outcast now. What do you think?—he's universally rated as a coward."
"Oh, say!" exclaimed Harlow; "that's too much! You don't expect me to believe that about Frank Merriwell?"
"Believe it or not, it's true."
"I don't understand how it could come about, for you and I know there is not a drop of cowardly blood in Merriwell. Confound him! If there had been, some things that have happened would not have taken place."
"Circumstances have conspired to put him where he is, and he'll never dig out. He has a few enemies who will take care to keep him down, now he is down."
"Well, I'm glad he's not on the team. We'll make a fat thing out of this, old man."
"Yes, I gave you every dollar I could raise, so you must know I am dead sure Harvard will win. If, by any fluke, Yale should happen to pull off this game I shall be busted."
"Same here."
"In that case, we'd have to stand in together and catch some suckers. We've done it before."