"I am sure that all the shells in the box were just alike," said Merry. "Those were slipped in there. Keep them safe."
"But what if they blow me up?" Rattleton gasped. "I'm afraid of the things. Some of the fellows are saying there was dynamite in the shell that tore up the gun!"
"There is no danger, I think. Take care of them, and see that the other boxes are not tampered with. Watch Morton Agnew."
"Let your bife I'll watch him! And he has been watching me! I caught him at it awhile ago!"
"I think Agnew fixed up some shells to kill or maim me," said Frank. "No doubt he would give a great deal to get the unused ones away. Look out for him."
Then Merriwell went back to the crowd, where Badger was exhibiting his benumbed arm and hand, and explaining how it felt to have a gun burst in one's fingers.
"Are you ready?" he asked. "I am."
"Yes," Frank answered.
It was strange how the fellows on the shooting-grounds ranged themselves into two companies—the supporters of Merriwell in one knot and the supporters of the Kansan in the other. It was as if an invisible hand had gone through the crowd and separated Merriwell's friends from his foes. About Badger gathered Walter Gordan, Bertrand Defarge, Morton Agnew, Gil Cowles, Mat Mullen, Lib Benson, Newt Billings, Chan Webb, and more of the same sort, a number of them now Merriwell's pretended friends, but all at heart his enemies. While about Merriwell swarmed his friends tried and true, with Hodge, Browning, Diamond, Rattleton, Gamp, Bink, and Dismal close to his person.
"Don't monkey with him," urged Bart, as Merriwell sent Danny and Bink away for some shells and began to wipe out Bart's gun in readiness for the shooting-contest. "Don't throw away any shots. Show those cads what you can do. A lot of them are beginning to think that Badger is really a better man than you are. If he defeats you——"