“Maybe you’ll believe me now, fellows—maybe you’ll listen when I quote my favorite authority. This day has seen my complete revenge, and I’m satisfied!”
“By the way, do we pass the post-office, George?” asked Coach Willoughby; “for you see I forgot to tell them at the office to address me here in care of your father, and there might be an important letter waiting for me.”
“We can stop in and see, sir,” remarked Frank, eagerly; but Buster did not notice that he was more than ordinarily interested.
“Then let’s do so, please, for here is the building. Wait for me boys, or will you come in?” and with Buster and Frank at his heels the old Princeton player pushed through the doors.
He stepped up to the window where Harvey Brooks waited upon the patrons of the general delivery department.
And then Frank heard him say in a matter of fact tone of voice:
“Anything here for Mr. Pliny Evans Smith?”
“Yes, sir, one letter for you!” came the answer.
The gentleman athlete received it, tore the end off and was speedily devouring the contents. Frank looked at Buster, who turned as red as a turkey gobbler, and then gave a hysterical little gurgle.
The evidence seemed plain that this wonderful Coach Willoughby had been stamped a fraud of the first water!