And so, when Frank came up, Paul said:
"That was a beautiful jump, Merriwell. You beat me fairly and squarely. I can't deny that."
"You are satisfied, then."
"Perfectly."
"Then we will try the high jump next."
"Not much!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I am satisfied for the present. If you can beat me nearly a foot and a half at the running broad jump, you ought to be able to beat me at the high jump. But I am going to try you another whirl by and by."
"You do not hold a grudge?"
"What do you take me for?"
"Shake hands?"
"Of course."
Their hands met, but Frank did not fail to note that Rains shook in a manner that was very cold and insincere.
"I reckon Merriwell has come pretty near showing what he is made of," said Hodge; "and those fellows who have been claiming that he has won his popularity by luck had better keep still in the future."
"That's so!" shouted the crowd, and several who did so had been saying the most disagreeable things about Frank a short time before.
There is nothing in the world so ephemeral as popularity. The individual who is to-day a hero may be an outcast to-morrow. There is nothing harder to hold than the esteem of a set of school-boys. He who is regarded as an idol in the fall may be supplanted by a rival in the spring, and may find himself unnoticed and neglected. Having once become a leader in a school, the fellow who has obtained the position must prove his superiority to all comers in order to hold it. Even then his success will produce jealous enemies, who will seek his overthrow by some means, no matter how unfair.
Frank had not sought popularity; it had come unbidden. Having found himself a leader, however, he had pride enough to hold the position just as long as he was capable of doing so fairly and honestly. But he had already discovered that he would be assailed openly and secretly, and his foes would try to drag him down by any means, fair or foul.
Had Rains been a little more cordial, had he shaken hands with Frank as if he really held no grudge, Merriwell would have been more than glad to hail him as a good fellow and a friend. But the touch of his fingers was enough to reveal the bitterness in his heart. Having disliked and envied Merriwell before, Rains would now dislike and envy him still more.
As soon as he could do so without attracting too much attention, Rains left the excited throng of boys, and hurried away to one of the dressing-rooms.
Hugh Bascomb quickly followed, being the only one among Rains' late friends to note his departure.
Bascomb found Rains rubbing down. Paul did not say a word as the big plebe entered.
"Well," said Bascomb, as he sat down on a stool, "what do you think of Merriwell?"
"I think he is a mighty hard fellow to beat at anything," growled Paul.
"But he can be beaten—eh?"
"How?"
"There are ways."
"What do you mean? Speak plainly."
"You ought to know what I mean," said Bascomb, doggedly, keeping his eyes on the floor. "It isn't always the best trotter that wins a race."
"It will not be easy to beat Merriwell fairly."
"That's right; but you are a fellow of nerve and brains, and you ought to be able to devise some scheme to get the best of him unfairly."
Rains stopped and stared at Bascomb, his face showing that he was angrier than ever.
"Now your meaning is pretty plain," he said, slowly. "I will confess that I dislike Merriwell—that I would give almost anything to get the best of him; but I want you to understand, Hugh Bascomb, that I am no sneak!"
Bascomb still kept his eyes on the floor.
"Oh, what's the use to get on your high horse, Rains!" he said, in his sullen way. "If you dislike Merriwell, as you pretend, and if you hope to down him at anything, you cannot be too much of a stickler for little things. Once get him to going down hill, and we can keep him going. I can help you start him."
Had Bascomb taken more than a fleeting glance at Rains' face, he must have seen that the latter was regarding him with contempt.
"I suppose you have a scheme of your own?" Paul finally observed, in a questioning way.
"Sure."
"What is it?"
"Well, to begin with, I have pretty good proof that Merriwell was the originator and perpetrator of that crawfish joke on Mulloy and Dunnerwust."
"What of that?"
"I think that Lieutenant Gordan would be able to fasten it on Merriwell, if he knew what I know."
"That would mean certain expulsion for Merriwell."
"Of course. All three of the professors were so tangled up in that affair that the fellow would surely be fired, if the blame could be fastened upon him."
"What do you want of me?"
Bascomb cleared his throat, twisted on, the stool, and hesitated. Finally, he said:
"You may be able to devise some other means to get the best of the fellow; but, if you can't, and you are ready to take hold of this, you may see him fired out of the academy, so he will no longer be in your way."
"What do you want of me?" repeated Rains, coldly and quietly.
"Well, you see—you understand—you know I came near getting into trouble once by trying to help Gage do Merriwell up. After that Gage was caught cheating at cards, and had to run away. Everybody knows I hate Merriwell, and they'd all think I blowed if anything came to Lieutenant Gordan's ears. That's why I don't dare make a move. With you it is different."
"What do you want of me?" demanded Rains, the third time.
"I will give you the proofs, and you can carry them to Lieutenant Gordan, who will follow it up, and see that Merriwell is expelled. In that way, I will not get entangled, and no one will suspect you."
With one wide stride, Rains reached Bascomb, caught him by the shoulders, and thrust him backward, thus forcing him to look up.
"You have insulted me!" came fiercely from Paul's lips. "I am no sneak and informer! Did you think I would do the dirty trick you are too much of a coward to try? Well, you made a big mistake! I dislike Merriwell, but I am not ready to make myself contemptible in my own eyes by blowing on him."
Bascomb put up his big hands and thrust Rains off.
"Whom are you calling a coward!" he snarled, as he got upon his feet.
"You!" shot back Paul. "You are a coward and a sneak!"
"Why, I'll thrash you well!"
"No, you won't!" cried Rains, flinging up one hand to stop the advance of the big plebe. "If you lay a hand on me, I will make known to the entire school the scheme you just proposed to me. The boys would tar and feather you."
Bascomb stopped and showed his yellow teeth, while he trembled slightly with anger.
"So that's your trick!" he said, growlingly.
"Yes, that's my trick; and if you blow on Merriwell, I will play the card. You made a big mistake in taking me for a sneak just because I didn't happen to like a fellow who is popular. Get out now, and don't come round me again! I don't belong to your class, and I don't want to have anything to do with you. Get!"
Bascomb hesitated, longing to strike Rains, but not daring to do so. Slowly he moved toward the door, where he paused to growl:
"This is all