CHAPTER XI.KING JIMMY THE FIRST.
“Mind yoah business, suh! The youngster climbed all over me, an’ I’m goin’ to——”
“I wouldn’t hurt him, if I were you. He didn’t mean any harm.”
Frank spoke quietly, softly, smoothly, looking into the fierce eyes of the ruffian.
“That settles it!” breathed the delighted boy. “Now I reckon you’ll let me go! If you don’t, Frank Merriwell will do something to you!”
“Frank Merriwell?”
Cunningham repeated the name, his manner changing.
“Are you Frank Merriwell?”
“Yes.”“Yes.”
“An’ he can wallop the stuffing out of two of you, if you are big and do chew tobacco!” instantly declared the boy. “If you don’t think he can, just give him a chance. Hit me a good cuff side of the head, and I’ll bet a hundred dollars he’ll throw you clean over the train!”
Frank could not resist his laughter at this declaration of the freckle-faced fellow. Cunningham laughed, also.
“Haw! haw!” he roared. “’Pears to me the youngster is mightily stuck on yo’, mister.”
“Stuck on him!” burst from Jimmy. “You can bet your life I am! He’s made himself what he is, the boss athlete of the United States, and I’m going to be just as much like him as I can. I know some other fellows that feel the same way about it, too.”
“Why, yo’ don’t s’pose he could wallop me, do yo’, boy?”
“Don’t I! Say, he can do it with one hand tied behind him, for he’s Frank Merriwell.”
“But he ain’t got any whiskers.”
“He don’t need ’em; he’s got muscle, and he knows just how to use it.”
“Haw! haw!” roared Cunningham again. “It sure makes me laff at the idea, an’ feelin’ tickled so I can’t hit yo’, so I’ll let yo’ go.”
The boy seemed disappointed.
“I’d just like to see what Frank Merriwell would done to you if you had basted me again,” he sighed. “Won’t you please hit me a good one?”
At this Cunningham roared once more, slapping his thigh.
“Why, yo’re a queer little staver!” he said, with a great show of good nature. “Yo’ want to get me inter trouble, but I refuse to be caught.”
“Well, it’s a mighty good thing for you that you had sense enough to refuse,” nodded Jimmy.
The crowd all about was laughing, and somebody cried:
“Those are the kind of admirers you have, Merriwell.”
Then Frank reached down, grasped the boy, and swung him lightly up to his shoulder.
“And I am proud to have such admirers,” he gravely declared, a look of earnestness on his face. “I had rather have the love and admiration of the boys of this nation than all the wealth of the Klondike! This boy says he wants to grow up and be like me and that there are others who have the same desire. Those words will serve to make me still more careful in regard to my actions, for more than ever I realize that the example of every man affects others.”
The crowd was suddenly silent. From some other these words might have made no impression, or might have sounded stilted and egotistical; from the lips of this splendid specimen of perfect manhood they made a deep and lasting impression on many who heard them.
“My boy,” said Merry, “what is your name?”
“James Lee, sir; usually called Jimmy for short.”
“Well, James Lee, I thank you for your great faith in my prowess, but I’m glad you did not involve me in a fight, for I dislike fighting more than anything else—unless it is lying and cheating, and things of that sort. I prefer a fighter to a liar any day.”
“I don’t s’pose you ever told a lie in your life?”
Frank laughed again.
“I fear I have,” he confessed. “I am not a second George Washington in that respect, but I hope I havenever told a malicious or harmful lie, and I hope I may never again tell a lie of any sort. I see you are wearing our colors to-day. Do you live here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you are for Yale?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
“Because you are captain of the Yale team, and I know U. V. can’t beat you!”
“Hooray for Jimmy Lee!” roared Bruce Browning, aroused by the words of the boy.
Then from those Yale men rose a cheer, to the end of which was tacked the name of Jimmy Lee.
And Jimmy—well, you should have seen him! He was the happiest youngster in all Virginia. He tingled from his head to his heels. His eyes shone and his freckled face gleamed. These Yale men, these handsome, athletic fellows, these followers of Frank Merriwell, were cheering for him! Why shouldn’t he be happy? Why shouldn’t he thrill with unspeakable delight?
And back at a distance stood Scrubby Watson and his followers, looking on in unspeakable envy. Was this little Jimmy Lee, whom they had often bullied? They had been astounded when he dared hit Watson, the king-pin of their set, for that showed a great change had come over Jimmy. He had been following in the footsteps of Frank Merriwell, and the result was a shock to them. But now—well, now he would be a god among them for some time to come! Watsonwas deposed; the mighty had fallen; the idol of the past was dust. Up with the new king! All hail King Jimmy, the “man” who had sat upon Frank Merriwell’s shoulder while the Yale team cheered for him!
Jimmy looked about and saw them and smiled upon them. Forgotten was his shabby clothes, his ragged jacket, and patched trousers. He was clothed in robes of royal dignity now. Oh, never would he forget that day as long as he lived. It would always remain the proudest day of his life. He would tell his children and his grandchildren how, when he was a little boy, he had sat upon the shoulder of the great Frank Merriwell while the Yale ball-team had cheered for him! That was glory enough to last a lifetime!
And certain it is that this little event of that day was to have an influence on Jimmy’s entire life. It was to make him a more self-respecting man; it was to give him new and greater ambitions; it was to urge him onward and upward.
Yes, King Jimmy had risen, and it was not likely that he would be deposed. He had been working for some time to develop himself and emulate Frank Merriwell; he would work harder now. He would become a leader among the smaller boys in athletic sports and games, for the man who had sat upon Frank Merriwell’s shoulder must know how to tell them the proper way to develop their muscles! And they would follow in his lead, all of them taking new interest in the work of developing their bodies—the work that is the greatest and happiest play for a boy.
Thus the little event there at the station-platform had wrought a vast amount of good in that handsome Virginia town. Thus it was that the influence of Frank Merriwell spread and broadened so that in after-years it must astound Frank himself.
“Well, well, well!” cried Jack Cunningham. “I judge it ain’t often a kid like you gets cheered in that way.”
Jack Ready, with apple cheeks aglow, pranced forward and posed before Jimmy.
“Ah-ha!” cried the queer fellow, “I salute you, James the First of Charlottesville. May your power never wane, and may your subjects be as numerous as your freckles. James, you have a level head on your youthful shoulders, and I will give you the great and exceeding honor of gently touching my lily-white hand.”
Then he grasped Jimmy’s hand and shook it vigorously.
Other Yale men followed Jack’s example, so that Jimmy received a grand greeting as he sat there upon the shoulder of the young American he admired more than any other living human being. As they pressed forward to shake Jimmy’s hand the Yale men made jolly remarks and the crowd in the background began to cheer.
Why, these Yale chaps were all right! Nothing rowdyish about them! Were they fair samples of what physical training made young men? Then great was physical training. They had life and spirit; their eyeswere bright and their cheeks glowed. There could be no mistaking that clear eye and healthy cheek; alcoholic drink had nothing whatever to do with that. The color of the cheek was not the congested flesh of false stimulation; it was the true tint of health which every youth should have.
“See Jimmy!” gasped the former followers of Watson.
“They’re shakin’ hands with him!”
“My goodness, fellers, don’t you wish you was him!”
“Settin’ up there on Frank Merriwell’s shoulder——”
“And shakin’ hands with the Yale ball-team!”
“O-o-o-oh!”
And “O-o-o-oh!” groaned Watson himself, fairly green with envy.
“I’d like to lick him!” thought Watson. Then he put his hand to his jaw and mentally added: “But he can hit like thunder! I never s’posed he could slug that way. Don’t know as I could lick him if I tried.”
You couldn’t, Watson; you’ve lost confidence in yourself, and your day has passed, the sun of your glory has set to rise no more. You are deposed, Watson, and all your feeble struggles will make no difference now. King Jimmy the First is on the throne!
“Say, this is a right good lot of fun,” put in Jack Cunningham; “but if you’re Frank Merriwell, you’re the very feller I’m lookin’ for.”
“Looking for me?” asked Frank.
“Yes.”
“All right; I’ll give you my attention in a minute. Jimmy, I want that knot of blue ribbon. I believe it will be a mascot for me if I wear it to-day, and I’ll give it back to you to-night.”
Off came the knot of ribbon and Jimmy handed it over to Frank.
“I don’t want it back,” he declared. “Keep it, won’t you, sir?”
Frank put him down.
“Yes,” he said, “I’ll keep it; but how can I pay you for it? If there is anything——”
“I don’t want pay; but I’d like to have something to remember you by—anything you’ll give me.”
Frank pinned Jimmy’s ribbon to his breast, while Jimmy looked on with mist-dimmed eyes, feeling so proud that it did not seem that there was room enough in his breast for his swelling heart.
Then Merry felt in his pockets for something. He paused and thought a moment. All at once it came to him, and he quickly found a small ribbon badge, having crossed batsticks at the top, a bit of blue with a white Y upon it, and a silver baseball dangling at the bottom.
How Jimmy’s eyes danced when he saw that! He almost shouted for joy. Then came the apprehension that Frank did not really and truly mean to give it to him, and his heart stood still in anxious dread.
“Will that do?” Merry asked.
“Will it?” gasped Jimmy. “Will it do! Just ask me! Oh, say! I’ll keep it just as long as I live!”
Then Frank stooped and pinned it over the heart of the happiest and proudest boy south of Mason and Dixon’s line.