"You're about the only one, except Merriwell, who knew how the chimney in my room communicated with Babbitt's, and I remember you were coming away from my room at one time when we were coming from dinner. You had been up there then to steal the papers. You managed to work one of them off on Merriwell's desk to-day. Rattleton there has got a part of the other."
"Well, see here," said Ford. "What does it all mean? Ever since there were colleges, students have done their best to get ahead of the faculty, and if I've succeeded, what's the harm? It isn't hurting you fellows, and no student ever tells on another."
He said this with a haughty air, as if to imply that they would be beneath contempt if they should report his doings to the faculty.
"We're not going to do any tell-taleing—I mean tale-telling," blustered Rattleton. "We're here to make you do that."
"What do you mean?"
"I tell you," said Browning, slowly, and there was a dangerous glitter in his eyes, "I'm not above telling tales in a case like this, and if you don't go straight to the dean and tell him the truth, I'll go and lay the matter before him, and what's more, Master Ford, I'll give you such a thumping that you'll carry the marks as long as you live."
Browning spoke quietly, but there was a businesslike ring in his tone that Ford could not misunderstand.
The others were very quiet, and they looked at Ford, awaiting his answer.
"You take a mighty high attitude," he muttered.
"Shut up," muttered Browning, savagely. "I for one won't hear any argument about it; you've got to do what we say, or take the consequences. And to make certain of those consequences, I'm going to give you a licking now!"