"No," replied Frank, "but I will see your five dollars, and put in another."

This created a stir, but Snell seemed delighted.

"I admire your blood," he said, "but the bluff won't go with me.

Here's the five, and I will raise ten."

Now there was excitement.

Frank's cards lay face downward on the table, and every one was wondering what he could have found to go up against Snell's pat hand.

He was wonderfully calm, as he turned to Bart, and asked:

"Will you loan me something?"

"Every cent I have," was the instant reply, as Hodge took out a roll of bills and threw it on the table. "Use what you want."

There were thirty-five dollars in the roll. Frank counted it over carefully, and then put it all into the pot, raising Snell twenty-five dollars!

When he saw this, Snell's nerve suddenly left him. His face paled and his hands shook.

"Whoever heard of such infernal luck as that fellow has!" he grated.

"Held up a pair, and must have fours now!"

Frank said not a word. His face was quiet, and he seemed waiting for Snell to do something.

"If you haven't the money to call him----" began Harris.

"I have," declared Snell; "but what's the use. A man can't beat fool-luck! Here's my hand, and I'll allow I played it for all it is worth."

He threw the cards face upward on the table, and smothered exclamations of astonishment came from the boys.

His hand contained no more than a single pair of four-spots!

"Then you do not mean to call me?" asked Prank.

"Of course not! Think I'm a blooming idiot!"

"The pot is mine?"

"Yes."

"Well, I will allow I played this hand for all it is worth," said the winner, as he turned his cards over so all could see what they were.

Wat Snell nearly fainted.

Merriwell's hand was made up of a king, eight spot, five spot, and one pair of deuces!

It had been a game of bluff, and Frank Merriwell had won.

CHAPTER V.

FRANK'S REVELATION.

"Great Caesar!" gasped Harvey Dare. "Will you look at that! That is what I call nerve for you! That is playing, my boys!"

Wat Snell rose slowly to his feet, his face very white.

"It's robbery!" came hoa.r.s.ely from his lips.

"Steady, Snell!" warned Harvey Dare. "You were beaten at your own game--that's all."

Snell knew this, but it simply served to make his rage and chagrin all the deeper.

"I am not a professional card player," he said, bitterly, "and I am no match for a professional."

He was more deeply cut by the manner in which he had been beaten than by the loss of his money.

"Nor am I a professional," came quietly from Frank Merriwell's lips, as he quickly sorted from the pot the money he had placed therein. "I simply sized you up as on the bluff, and I was right. I don't want your money, Snell; take it. I set into this game for amus.e.m.e.nt, and not with the idea of beating anybody to any such extent as this."

Snell hesitated, and then the hot blood mounted quickly to his face, which had been so pale a few moments before.

"No, I will not take the money!" he grated. "I take the offer as an insult, Merriwell."

"No insult is intended, I a.s.sure you."

Snell was shrewd enough to know he would stand little chance of getting into another game of poker with that company if he accepted the money, and so he made a desperate effort to control his rage and play the hypocrite.

"I don't suppose you did mean the offer as an insult, Merriwell; and I presume I was too hasty. I am rather quick at times, and, as Dare says, I was beaten at my own game, which made me hot. You had nerve, Merriwell; take the money--keep it."

The words almost choked him, but he pretended to be quite sincere, although his heart was full of bitterness and a longing to "get even."

It was some time before Frank could be persuaded to accept his winnings, and, when he did finally take it, he was resolved to return it quietly and secretly to Snell, at such a time that no one else could know anything of it.

This matter was scarcely settled when there came a peculiar rap on the door.

"Who's that?" asked Frank, in some alarm.

"It's our sentinel," a.s.sured Harris. "His time on post is up."

The door opened, and Leslie Gage entered the room. Gage had been Merriwell's bitter enemy at one time during the summer encampment, having made two dastardly attacks on Frank, who had been generous enough to rescue him from death after that, and had saved him from expulsion by refusing to give any testimony against him.

For all of this generosity on Merriwell's part, Gage still bore deep down in his heart a hatred for the plebe who had become so popular at the academy. This he tried to keep concealed, pretending that he had changed into a friend and admirer.

"h.e.l.lo, Merriwell," he saluted. "Been having a little whirl with the boys?"

"I should say he has!" replied Snell. "He has whirled me wrong end up, and I feel as if I am still twisted."