CHAPTER XXVI.FRANK TURNS THE TABLES.
Frank Merriwell’s “athletic spread” at the New Haven House was a great success. Probably never before had there been given such a supper in the “College City,” for meat or fish in any form was not served. The hearty food consisted of eggs and nuts prepared in the most tempting manner, so that it was sometimes impossible to tell what a dish consisted of before tasting it.
Fruits of all sorts abounded, there being great heaps of bananas, grapes, oranges, and things tempting to the eye as well as the palate. There were no pies, cakes, nor pastry of any sort on the table. Fresh strawberries in abundance were supplied. Whole wheat bread, corn bread, and rye bread might be had to any amount. The liquid refreshments consisted of pure water, milk, or “coffee” made from browned barley. In fact, it was a “vegetarian” banquet, but never had any one present relished a feast more than they did that one.
“So help me,” said Jack Ready blandly, “I never supposed vegetarian cranks had so many good, hearty things to live on. I always imagined them as blue-nosed, pinched, and nearly starved to death. A man couldn’t starve on this variety of stuff if he tried.Anyhow, if he could, I’d be willing to starve on it a while.”
“Mum-mum-me, too, b’gosh,” agreed Joe Gamp. “I ain’t never had such a sus-sus-slappin’ good time eatin’ sence I came down here to cuc-cuc-college.”
“Out on a ranch,” said Berlin Carson, “we can’t get all these things to eat, and we have to live on beef.”
“I believe,” put in Greg Carker solemnly, “that along with the coming social revolution will come a revolution in eating.”
“Oh, don’t you hear the earthquakes?” shouted a dozen fellows, in chorus, and Carker’s jaws came together with a snap.
“That’s too bad!” said Jim Hooker sympathetically. “A fellow ought to have a right to air his views occasionally.”
“But not to air his earthquake at a social function like this,” said Ready. “I have no use for earthquakes at a dinner. Give me grub, instead!”
“Good Lord!” muttered Browning to his nearest neighbor on the right, who happened to be Hock Mason. “If I eat any more, I shall explode, and still this stuff don’t seem to give me that stuffed feeling I get when I fill up on roast beef, or meat of any kind.”
“That’s right, sah,” nodded the youth from South Carolina. “This supper has been a revelation to me, for I never knew before how many good things there were outside meat diet.”
“If a fellow could lose flesh on such feed, it might be a good thing for me,” put in Ralph Bingham.
“Where are the smokes to follow it?” inquired Bert Dashleigh, looking round. “A banquet is never complete without cigars and cigarettes to follow, while the speeches are being made.”
“Gentlemen,” said Frank, “I think we will dispense with tobacco to-night, just as we have dispensed with its twin poison, alcohol. If we do so, I think none of us will feel the worse, and to-morrow we’ll all feel better.”
“But I need a smoke to help me digest my food,” murmured Dashleigh.
“That is where you make a great error,” declared Frank smilingly. “Smoking does not help you digest your food. The soothing influence of the narcotic on your nerves gives you the impression that it has helped you, but it is a false impression, and it has done harm instead of good. You all know I am not a crank, for I do not go round prating about my beliefs to everybody I meet and annoying them. I know better, for I realize that such a course will work more harm than good. Still, when the right opportunity comes, I am never afraid to speak out and defend my convictions.”
“Do you believe a strict vegetarian diet is more beneficial than a meat diet?” asked Mat Mullen.
“I believe we are prone to eat too much meat in these days,” Frank unhesitatingly replied. “Vegetarians put up a strong argument, and they often show that abstainers from meat have greater endurance than meat-eaters. Still, I am not prepared to say that man should abstain entirely from meat-eating. He haseaten meat since the days when primeval man hunted the reindeer with his stone spear and flint-headed arrows. Such being the case, even though nature may not have intended that he should eat meat, man has become so accustomed to a meat diet that an abrupt change to vegetarianism might not prove entirely beneficial.”
“Those are words of wisdom,” said the youth with a hideously scarred face, who, with Roland Packard at his side, sat at a distance from Frank.
This was the first time the stranger had seemed to address Merry directly. Bart Hodge looked at Frank, and he saw a singular smile play about the corners of Merry’s mouth.
“Friends,” said Merry, rising, “my original plan was to follow this feast with music and song, but certain things caused me to change my plans. We have with us to-night a wonderful athlete, who has come here for the sole purpose of pitting himself against me and bringing about my downfall.”
Roland Packard gave a gasp of astonishment, while the scar-faced stranger straightened up rigidly, his eyes fastened on the cool, handsome youth who was speaking.
“The plan was,” Merry went on, “to take me by surprise, to challenge me across this table, to force me into tests of strength and skill, and to show before this assembled party of my select friends that I am in many ways an impostor—that I am not the athlete I pretend to be. Now, gentlemen, I have never madeany false pretensions. I do not go about displaying my ability for the sake of winning applause. I never lift heavy weights in the presence of great crowds. In fact, as far as possible, I shun all dime-museum tricks. But I have been examined to-day by an expert, who has pronounced me in perfect form, and, therefore, I shall meet this wonderful athlete in the presence of you all, if he wishes to force the test. I have made full preparations for such a meeting, and I, like the athlete to whom I refer, have not eaten heartily at this meal. Gentlemen, I think you will not need to leave your seats to witness this little affair.”
Merry touched a bell, and at the signal a pair of folding doors at one side of the room rolled back, showing another room, which had been cleared of furniture. On the floor of that room a huge mat was spread. Against the farther wall hung a pair of foils, masks, and a set of boxing-gloves.
There was a buzz of excitement around the table. Truly, this was a sensation.
“Who the dickens is the great athlete?” gasped Dick Starbright, staring round.
“Is it a joke?” questioned Bert Dashleigh.
“Bet he has a lot of chorus-girls trip into that room and dance for us!” grunted Browning.
“Behold!” said Jack Ready. “No man knoweth the things Frank Merriwell may do! And I’ll guarantee he’ll do any old athlete that bucks up against him. He’s the real stuff. Trot out your blooming athlete!”
Frank now stepped from the table.
“In a room just off the one adjoining,” he said, “are suits for wrestling, fencing, or boxing. It will not take us long to dress to carry out the remainder of this program. Mr. Hawkins, are you ready, sir?”
His eyes were fastened on the scar-faced youth.
Roland Packard, who was strangely pale, whispered in Hawkins’ ear:
“Remember that you are to injure him some way, so that he will be unable to pitch any more. He has taken you by surprise, so that you cannot run him through the shoulder with your own trick rapier, but you ought to be able to twist that arm or shoulder somehow in wrestling. Don’t underrate him.”
“You, Roland Packard,” said Frank, “may act as the second of your friend.”
“Roland Packard?” exclaimed several, in surprise. “Why I thought he was Oliver!”
Brian Hawkins rose to his feet, his scarred face contorted by a strange smile, while his bright eyes glittered.
“To a certain extent, Mr. Merriwell,” he said, “you have turned the tables on me; but the final result will be unaltered. How you tumbled to the game is something I cannot understand. As you have tumbled to it, I confess that I am here to defeat you. I did mean to challenge you across this table, but you got ahead of me. Do you remember me?”
“No.”
“I am Brian Hawkins, and I was at Fardale with you.”
“Hawkins—good Lord!”
Bart Hodge was on his feet, staring at the youth with the scarred face.
“Yes, Hawkins,” nodded the strange athlete. “You remember me, Hodge. We had some trouble at Fardale, and I believe you came out the victor; but to-night I will show you that you are no longer in my class by defeating your friend and superior. I have worked steadily to put myself in condition to accomplish this design, and the time has come.”
“Oh, say!” cried Jack Ready, “just wait till the little affair is over! I’ll bet my enormous fortune that you sneak away, with your tail between your legs, like a whipped dog! Yea, verily! So mote it be, for it’s bound to ’mote’ so.”
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE FENCING-BOUT.
There was a buzzing hum of excitement round that table when Merriwell and the strange athlete with the scarred face had disappeared into the dressing-room.
All had seemed to feel that something unusual was to take place at this feast, but not one of them seemed to have suspected anything like this.
Merriwell had a way of doing remarkable things, but the termination of this “athletic dinner” was an event to be long talked of at Yale.
And the fact that Roland Packard had been permitted to sit at that table was also very surprising, for Merriwell had permitted it, knowing all the time the fellow was Roland, while others had supposed him Oliver, with the exceptions of the youth with the scarred face and Bart Hodge.
But a short time elapsed before Frank and the stranger both appeared, attired in light suits fit for almost any athletic task.
Hodge and Packard were the seconds, and, for the time, Bart put aside his intense hatred for the medical student who hated Frank—that is, he put it aside enough to confer with Packard and come to an understanding about what was to take place.
It had been the intention of the plotters to makethe fencing-bout the last thing to take place between Merriwell and the stranger, and preparations had been made for the use of a special foil, from which the button could be snatched when the time came for Hawkins to puncture Frank through the right shoulder; but this discovery of the plot by Merry upset all these plans, and Packard was compelled to agree to Bart’s demand that the fencing-bout should be first and the boxing-contest last, with a wrestling-match between.
The students gathered about the table moved their seats so that all could look into the adjoining room with ease.
As the principals and their respective seconds drew aside for a moment before the fencing-bout, Packard said to Hawkins in a low tone:
“It’s infernally strange that Merriwell should have found out about our trap!”
“That’s right,” nodded Hawkins, looking searchingly at Roland. “But three persons knew of it. Two of us are here.”
“Good gracious! You can’t suspect that I told anything about it, man?”
“Somebody must have told.”
“But I hate this fellow Merriwell. Don’t think I’d let him get onto anything like that!”
“You drink too much whisky at times, Mr. Packard.”
“But I have not since this plot was formed—I have not been under the influence of drink for a moment!I swear to you that no hint of this has escaped my lips!”
“Then there was but one other way for it to reach Merriwell. Defarge has said that Merriwell had the power to force him to anything. He must have blabbed!”
“That’s right!” grated Packard. “It has put us in a mighty awkward place, for it gave Merriwell the chance to turn the tables on us.”
“Yes; but I shall defeat him at everything, just the same, so we will be triumphant in the end.”
“I pray you do!” muttered Roland. “I shall be guyed to death if you don’t.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll soon show you that I can count on him at will in fencing; I will throw him twice out of three times when we wrestle, and I’ll wind up by putting him out in the boxing-match.”
“Do it!” panted Packard, “and this will be the happiest day I’ve seen in a year!”
“Are you ready?” called the voice of Hodge.
“We are,” answered Packard.
The foils were offered for Hawkins to make his selection, which he quickly did. Then the masks were adjusted, and the two young athletes stood face to face, with Merriwell’s breathless friends looking on.
“Gentlemen, salute!” sounded the clear voice of Hodge, to whom had fallen the privilege of giving the signal.
The contestants responded with a sweep of their foils.
“On guard!”
The proper positions were assumed.
“Engage!”
Click! The foils touched and slid along each other lightly.
Then followed such a display of light-footedness, agility, and skill as those present had never before witnessed. In a very few seconds it became evident to all that the stranger with the scarred face was wonderfully clever, but, with all his cleverness, he failed in his first four attempts to count on Merriwell. A backward leap, a quick side-step, or a simple turn of the wrist sufficed to enable Frank to escape in each instance.
But in the meantime Merry had made two attempts, and each had been balked with equal ease.
“Ye gods!” breathed Jack Ready. “Here is where we get the real article, and no discount!”
Then, of a sudden, to the astonishment of every spectator, the stranger tried Frank Merriwell’s own particular and peculiar thrust. With shortened guard, he dropped like a flash, his body straightening out and the fingers of his left hand resting on the floor, while his foil flashed straight out in a long thrust.
It counted!
The first point had been made by Hawkins.
It was with difficulty that Bart Hodge choked back an expression of rage and dismay.
Packard smiled. So did Frank Merriwell! Thescarred face of the strange youth remained hideously expressionless.
They were at it again instantly, but both seemed more on the alert, more skilful, more determined.
Franks turned two lightning thrusts, and with the second one he countered so swiftly that the eye could hardly follow his movement.
And he counted fairly!
“Honors are even,” said the stranger. “Now look out for yourself.”
He became a perfect whirlwind. Round and round Frank he worked, striving to find an opening, but obtaining none, for all of his great skill. The work of Merriwell was quite as amazing as that of Hawkins.
Then came the moment when Hawkins dropped to the floor again and made that thrust.
Merriwell had seemed waiting for that very moment. With a long leap to the left he was out of the way. The moment his feet touched the floor he flung himself forward. Hawkins was recovering with an upward and backward spring as Merriwell dropped, using the same thrust, and counted beautifully.
Frank’s friends could not keep still, and there was a volley of hand-clapping.
“Try Merry’s tricks, will you?” muttered Hodge, his eyes glittering. “Well, he’ll show you how he meets his own style of fighting. How do you like it?”
These words were not intended for the ears of Hawkins, but Packard heard them and cursed inwardly.
Merriwell now had the advantage, and that seemed to anger the stranger somewhat. The youth with the scarred face became fiercer than ever in his assaults, and Frank’s skill in escaping every form of attack did not serve to soothe his wounded vanity.
Was it possible that Merriwell was his equal with the foils? The thought that this might be true enraged Hawkins, who exposed himself somewhat in his next reckless attempt to push Frank.
Merriwell had been waiting for the time when his antagonist should become impatient and anxious. In fact, in certain ways he had been seeking to provoke Hawkins somewhat. Now he took advantage of the fellow’s carelessness, and, almost before the youth with the scarred face realized it, Frank had counted on him three times in succession.
Roland Packard was pale and angry. He had reckoned on a great triumph, but everything was going against his man.
Hodge was beginning to look intensely satisfied, and Jack Ready chirped up cheerfully:
“I’m afraid Mr. Hawkins has bitten off more than he can masticate. Merriwell is simply making a holy show of the gentleman.”
Hawkins heard, and his heart seethed with bitter disappointment. Was it for this he had worked all these years? He had fancied himself perfected in the arts required to defeat Merriwell, but he found himself vulnerable where he had believed he was the strongest. For a moment he was seized with a fear that Merriwellmight defeat him, and in that moment his downfall came. It seemed that Frank read his thoughts, for he seized the occasion to make such an attack on Hawkins that the youth with the scarred face was placed entirely on the defensive.
In vain Hawkins tried to hold his own. Merriwell had several original and peculiar tricks, all of which were new to Hawkins and proved effective. Had they been tried by an ordinary fencer, they might have failed, but Merriwell made them count.
The time of the bout passed swiftly, but Hawkins was kept on the defensive from the turning-point to the end. When the end came, Merriwell had scored three times the number of points of Hawkins, and was easily the victor.
Hawkins threw down his foil.
“This is merely the beginning,” he said, though there was a trace of bitter disappointment in his voice and manner. “I shall defeat you, Merriwell, in the next two matches. I have no doubt of it.”
“La, la!” said Jack Ready. “How nice a fellow must feel when he owns such a large stock of conceit! But let’s possess our souls in patience, and see how he will feel when the little circus is over.”