No matter what Rob Marline's faults might be, and he had many of them, there was not a dishonest streak in him.
Harris seemed to see the change come over the other, and regretted that he had told the truth, for he knew Marline was "encumbered" by a fine sense of honor. He tried to set himself right by fiercely declaring he had been unjustly accused by Merriwell.
"That's what makes me hate the fellow so," he said. "He has injured me by leading some fellows to think I was crooked, and that is the worst injury he could do anybody."
"I agree with you on that point," nodded Marline.
"Some time I'll square it up with him," grated Harris. "We both hate him, and I see no reason why we shouldn't pull together."
Marline hesitated a moment, then shook his head.
"No," he said, "I'll not make a compact with any one against him. I hate him, and I am willing he should know it. I'll meet him face to face and man to man, and I'll make him crawl, or I'll fix him so he won't play football for a long time to come!"