"Say, what are you hinting at?" demanded Don quietly. "What have you got up your sleeve?"
"Plenty, Gilbert. I've got enough up my sleeve to get you fired from school."
There was a moment of silence. Then Don nodded thoughtfully. "So that's it, is it?" he murmured.
"That's it, old man." Harry grinned. "Think it over now."
"What do you think you've got on me?" asked Don.
"I don't think. I know that you and three other fellows helped put out that fire that night and that you didn't get back to hall until long after ten-thirty." Harry dropped his knee, thrust his hands into his pockets, leaned back in his chair and viewed Don triumphantly. "I don't want to go to faculty with it, Gilbert, although it's really my duty and I certainly shall if you force me."
"Hm," mused Don. "But wouldn't faculty wonder why you'd been so long about it?"
"Probably. I'd have to tell the truth and——"
"I guess that would hurt," interpolated the other drily.
"And explain that I'd tried to shield you fellows, but that my conscience had finally prevailed." And Harry grinned broadly. "Josh wouldn't like it, but he wouldn't do anything to me. What he'd do to you, though, would be a plenty, Gilbert. It would be expulsion, and you know that as well as I do."