Frank’s mind was much relieved that the coolness had been caused by this rather than anything else. He had felt all day that Cunningham was poisoning the girl’s mind against him by implicating him in some manner in the Parsons case. But now that the coolness had been produced by Cunningham’s very sly connection of this brunette, whoever he meant, with himself—that was another thing.
Minnie asked again what it was that Frank had done to be implicated in any manner, but Frank merely asked her to await developments.
“This much is certain, Minnie: I don’t know a thing about that robbery, but I certainly propose to know something. And I am not going to be long about it, either.”
Paul, Lanky and Ralph heard the statement of their friend, and they saw in his tense expression, his firmness of manner, the same determination to win which they had seen often enough on the athletic field to recognize at a glance.
“Trust Frank to get to the bottom of the affair,” remarked Ralph.
“I sure hope so,” came from Paul.
They reached Columbia at dusk, warped easily into the boat-house, and made for home, Frank walking out with Minnie.
“Gee, I’m glad Minnie and Frank have made up,” said Lanky, as the three boys walked up to town ahead of the young couple. “Not that they’ve had a fuss, but that Cunningham fellow has been throwing sand on the track. I wish I could find a first-class reason for punching his eye for him.”
“Why not on general principles?” laughed Ralph.
“No—I want something very specific, so that I can feel that I have a job to finish well.”