"Perhaps not," said Gage, with a significant smile, "but I think I can."
"How has Frank Merriwell ever injured you that you should be slandering him behind his back?"
For an instant this staggered Leslie, like a blow in the face, but he swiftly recovered.
"Oh, Merriwell has never injured me, and I haven't the least thing in the world against him," he said, smoothly; "but I do take an interest in you, and it makes me sorry to see you so absorbed in a fellow utterly unworthy of your friendship—utterly unworthy to be spoken to or even noticed by you."
Gage spoke rapidly, for he saw she was eager to interrupt him. Her face grew pale, and she stamped one small foot angrily on the ground, as she flung back:
"This is not the first time you have tried to injure him, and you should be ashamed! Why, he saved you from the Eagle's Ledge, after you had fallen over Black Bluff."
"Which was exactly what any fellow would have done for another under similar circumstances. That is not to his credit. I beg you to listen. It has taken me some time to make up my mind to tell you the truth—to warn you, and now I must. To begin with, Merriwell comes of an uncertain family, although, I believe, he has an uncle who has some money, and that uncle is paying the fellow's way through Fardale Academy."
"What do I care about his family, so long as I know him to be a noble fellow! You forget, sir, that he has twice saved my life!"
"No, I have not forgotten. I do not blame you for being grateful, but you must know the whole truth about him. Frank Merriwell is a gambler—he plays cards for money."
"I don't believe it!" were the words that came from Inza's lips, and sent a thrill of shame through the lad behind the tree.
"But it is true, and I can prove it. I will prove it, too! If I prove it to your satisfaction, Miss Burrage, will you cut the fellow, and have nothing to do with him in the future?"
Frank leaned forward, holding his breath, eager to hear the answer.
It came promptly and decisively:
"No!"
Gage caught his breath.
"Do you mean to say you will still be friends with a regular gambler like Merriwell?" he asked.
"I do not believe Frank Merriwell is a gambler—you can never make me believe it!"
"But I will bring proof."
"Even then I will believe your proof is hatched up against him."
This made Gage lose his head.
"Why, you are awfully stuck on that cad!" he cried. "You are altogether too fine a girl for him!"
He suddenly caught her in his arms, and tried to embrace her. She struggled, and cried out for help.
Like a panther, Frank Merriwell bounded from behind the tree. He caught Gage by the collar, and tore Inza from his grasp. Then Frank's fist shot out, landing with a sharp spat right between Leslie's eyes. A second later Gage came in violent contact with the ground.
"Frank!" exclaimed Inza, as he supported her.
Wat Snell and the two girls with whom he had been talking had witnessed the entire affair. They now came hurrying toward the spot.
"The miserable cur!" cried Frank. "I will——"
"Don't touch him again!" urged Inza. "Oh, you struck him an awful blow!"
In truth Frank had given Gage a heavy blow, and it was some seconds before the fellow made a move. Snell helped him sit up. Leslie put his hand to his head, and stared in a dazed way at Frank.
"Are you hurt much, old man?" asked Wat, sympathizingly.
"I guess not," mumbled Gage. "What did he strike me with?"
"His fist."
"Why, it seemed like a rock!"
Wat helped him to his feet, and the two stood glaring at Frank, who regarded them with supreme scorn.
"Shall we sail in and do him up?" asked Wat, excitedly.
"Yes," said Leslie; "we will give him a good drubbing."
Instantly Frank placed Inza to one side, and boldly faced the two young rascals.
"I don't believe you both can whip me, the way I feel just now," he cried. "I think I can give you more fight than you want, so just sail right in."
They hesitated. There was something about Merriwell's look and bearing that seemed to warn them against attacking him. To Wat Snell it suddenly seemed quite probable that Frank would prove more than a match for both of them.
"There are ladies present," he said, hastily. "We cannot fight in the presence of ladies."
"Very thoughtful!" came scornfully from Frank's lips. "Possibly the ladies will step aside long enough for us to settle this little matter."
"Oh, don't fight with them, Frank!" pleaded Inza. "There are two of them, and——"
"That is not enough. I am good for two such sneaking scoundrels as they are! Don't worry about me."
"Hear the blowhard!" sneered Snell.
Frank seemed on the point of springing toward him, and Wat hastily dodged behind Leslie, saying:
"Give it to him, Les, if he wants to fight!"
This showed how much Gage could depend on Snell in a scrimmage, and the former instantly decided that it was not best to try to get revenge on Merriwell just then.
"There will be no fighting here," he said, loftily, "but I shall not forget Merriwell's blow, and he shall pay dearly for it. I will make him wish he had not been so free with his fist."
"As for you, Miss Spitfire," turning to Inza, "you must feel proud to have a friend in a fellow of his class! Do not forget what I told you about him and——"
"Silence, sir!" cried Inza, contemptuously. "You had better go away at once. I wouldn't believe such a contemptible creature as you under any circumstances!"
"All right, all right," growled Gage, scowling blackly. "You will find out in time that I told the truth. This is not the end of this matter. Come, Wat, let's go. If I stay any longer, I'll have to whip Merriwell before all of the present company."
So the delectable pair moved away together, and Gage's revengeful heart was made still more bitter by the ringing laugh of scorn Inza Burrage sent after them.
CHAPTER XII.
THE SNARE IS BROKEN.
When Frank parted from Inza that afternoon, he had made a free and full confession of his fault. She had listened with pained surprise, almost with incredulity, but she had not shown the scorn that Frank felt he fully deserved. However, she had exacted a pledge, which he had freely given, and, returning to the academy, he felt that he was himself once more. His step was elastic, his heart was light, and he whistled a lively strain.
That evening he had a long talk with Bart.
"Come, Bartley," urged Frank, "drop this card-playing, and give attention to your studies."
Bart was in a bad mood, as he had been much of the time lately, and he laughed harshly.
"You're a fine fellow to give that sort of advice when you cannot keep away from the game yourself!" he said.
"But I can keep away," came quietly and decidedly from Frank's lips.
"Prove it."
"I will. I am not going to play any more. I have