CHAPTERXV.

CHAPTERXV.WHAT THE COLLEGE THOUGHT.Rattleton and Diamond came up and joined the crowd. They had heard of Frank being dropped from the team, but neither of them would take any stock in it till they heard it from Merry’s lips. Rattleton was wildly excited.“Who’s been telling this lundering barn about you?” he cried. “No, I mean who has been telling this blundering yarn? Of course, it is a wretched lie! They say Lorrimer has laid you off.”“Well, it strikes me that the yarn is true,” said Frank.“True?” gasped Jack.“Whee jiz!” spluttered Harry.Then they were speechless.“Lorrimer is daffy,” declared Puss Parker.“He must have a grudge against Yale,” said Phil Porter.“Merriwell,” hissed Diamond, his cheeks flushed and his eyes flashing, “are you going to stand it?”“I’ll have to,” said Frank.“Not by a blame sight! We’ll get up an indignation meeting. We can make it mighty hot for Lorrimer. We’ll show him that he can’t carry things with such a high hand.”“Don’t!” exclaimed Frank. “I wouldn’t have you do that.”“Why not?”“It would be raising a rumpus at the wrong time.”“How?”“Everything must go peaceably till the game with Harvard is over, or Yale gets it in the neck again this year. We can’t have that.”“Are you willing to be a sacrifice just——”“I am willing—for the good of Old Eli.”“But it’s not for the good of Old Eli! It means our defeat, and anybody knows that!”“Oh, come off! Somebody else who can play football just as well as I will fill my place.”“Lot on your knife—I mean not on your life!” exploded Harry. “They don’t grow!”“That’s all foolishness,” said Frank. “There are plenty of men just as good.”“Well, why don’t they make the record?” put in Diamond, his indignation making him look handsomer than ever. “Tell us just how it came about, Frank.”“Well, I suppose Lorrimer will say I was talking too much. What I said was for the good of the eleven.”“What did you say?”“I said that the men were being overtrained, and it was making them heavy and slow, which is the absolute truth, but a fellow on the eleven is supposed to keep his mouth shut and play ball. That’s why I was jumped on.”“There is something behind this. There was another reason for it.”“I don’t think so.”“I do!”“Well,” said Merry, “if it will open the eyes of Lorrimer so that he’ll treat the men with more judgment, Yale will stand a better chance of winning, even though I am not on the team. It is ruin to put a lot of overworked men into a game like the one coming.”“If Yale wins, there will be some chumps who will swear that it was because you were put off the team,” said Harry. “That will be a splendid thing, now, won’t it?”“There always are men to say nasty things, no matter what happens,” observed Frank.“Well,” said the Virginian, “if you are not on the team, I’m going to hedge my bets.”“Have you been making bets?”“Yes.”“Put up much?”“Well, I’ve staked something, and I got odds, too. I considered it like finding money; but now I have changed my mind.”“Wait!” Merriwell advised. “There will be plenty of time to hedge before the game.”“Don’t fool yourself! By the time it gets abroad that you’re not going to play, the odds will be five to one on Harvard. And it will be known all over the country to-morrow.”While they were talking a poorly dressed old woman came along the slippery sidewalk. As soon as they noticed her, some of the students cried:“Here is Mother Muggs, fellows.”Instantly the body of the group shifted their attention to the old woman. They began making observations about her, and she gave them a look of rage.“You are a pack of young reprobates!” she cried shrilly. “You are learning the ways of criminals and ruffians!”“Mother Muggs loves us—not!” laughed Parker.The old woman was well known to the students. She had taken a strong aversion to them, and she did not hesitate to express herself on any convenient occasion. Her flow of language was sharp and stinging, and she had brought the college men to the point of guying her unmercifully whenever occasion offered. Frank Merriwell said nothing. He did not believe in taking part in the guying of the old woman, even though he knew of her hatred for the students and the manner in which she sometimes seemed to go out of her way in order to snarl at them.“Are you promenading for your health, Mother Muggs?” asked one laughing fellow.“Or are you displaying the latest style in Parisian clothes?” said another.“Dogs! vipers! whelps!” cried the old woman, shaking her fist at them.Then her feet flew from beneath her on the slippery walk, and she fell with a thud that must have sorely shaken her old bones. The thoughtless fellows laughed at the unfortunate woman, with the exception of Merriwell. He did not laugh. Instead of that, he hurried from the crowd to the side of Mother Muggs, who seemed to be in pain.“I am sorry, madam,” he said, with the utmost politeness, as he aided her to rise, fairly lifting her to her feet, doing it as tenderly as if she had been his own mother. “I hope you are not hurt?”The poor woman groaned and seemed unable to stand. She would have fallen, but Frank Merriwell placed his arm about her and supported her.“Oh, my hip!” she gasped.“I’m afraid you are hurt!” he cried, genuine concern in his voice.“What do you care?” she faintly said.“I do care! I’m sorry! What can I do for you?”“Let me alone!”“But you cannot stand. I must assist you. Please permit me to, madam.”Never before had one of those saucy college men spoken to her in such a manner, and she was filled with wonder.“Arc you one of them college scamps?” she asked.“I am a college man,” answered Frank, “but I hope I am not a scamp.”“They’re all scamps! Oh, my hip!”“I’m afraid you cannot walk. I will call a cab to take you home.”“A cab! I can’t pay for a cab! I can’t ride in a cab!”“I will attend to the paying for it. Here, Rattleton.”Harry came out from the group of students, who were not laughing now, but were looking on in wonder, which was not unmixed with shame.“Call a cab, Rattleton,” directed Frank. “This poor woman has hurt herself, and she cannot walk.”Harry hastened away to procure a cab, with which he quickly returned. Then Frank Merriwell actually lifted the withered old woman in his strong arms and placed her inside the cab. She seemed almost as light as a feather to him, and he felt his heart throb with pity for her.“Don’t put me in there and leave me to pay!” pleaded the woman. “I ain’t got no money, and the driver would have me arrested.”“Don’t worry about that,” said Frank. “I will attend to it. Where do you live?”She told him, and he gave the driver directions, after which he turned to Rattleton, saying:“Come, let’s see her home, old man. Get in.”They both got into the cab with Mother Muggs, the door slammed, and the cab rolled away, leaving a dozen college men staring after it, silent, shamefaced, awed.They had been given a glimpse of Frank Merriwell’s heart!There was excitement on the campus late that frosty November afternoon. At the fence a great crowd of men had gathered, and the topic they were discussing was the dropping of Frank Merriwell from the eleven. Of course, Rupert Chickering’s set was delighted. Chickering himself, with his usual double-faced hypocrisy, pretended to be grieved.“I know Merriwell does not like me,” he said; “but I am very sorry for him, just the same. He has worked hard to get onto the eleven, and it does seem too bad for him to be put off just before the great game of the season, even though there may be better men.”“Rats!” exclaimed Gene Skelding, who did not hesitate to show his dislike for Merry. “You know you are satisfied over it.”“Indeed, now!” protested Rupert, posing with his cane. “Why should I be? If Merriwell is a good man to have on the eleven, if he could materially assist us in defeating Harvard, I should like to see him play, regardless of any personal spite he may hold against me.”“Well, I’m glad he’s got it in the neck!” laughed Julian Ives, pushing his hat back in order to more fully expose his flowing bang.“And I am not breaking my heart over it,” said Tilton Hull, who seemed to have found a collar that was even higher than the wonderfully high ones he wore habitually.“He is a big, wude cwecher,” lisped Lew Veazie, “and he hath met with hith jutht reward.”“It came just when we least expected it,” put in Ollie Lord, rising on his toes, so that he might be observed. “Everything seemed going Merriwell’s way.”“I wonder who will be given Merriwell’s place?” speculated Hull.“I have heard,” said Skelding, “that Birch will take that position, while that freshman Ready will be taken onto the team.”“He’s little better than Merriwell,” declared Ives. “He has a swelled head.”“That’s because he fooled Merriwell and made him the butt of a joke, you know,” said Hull. “It was a pretty clever thing. It was lucky for us that we were not invited to take part in the hazing of the freshman.”“I should think,” said Chickering, “that they would try Badger at full-back. He’s a great man.”“Don’t speak of that fellow!” snarled Skelding. “What ails you? Have you forgotten that he has repudiated us? He won’t have a thing to do with us now! I don’t think much more of him than I do of Frank Merriwell!”“Well, I’m right glad of that!” said a voice that made them jump, and they saw Badger standing near, regarding them with an expression of contempt. “You’re a rank lot, and I haven’t any use for you whatever.”“You were glad enough to be friends with us once,” said Chickering, with a show of resentment. “You have even borrowed money of me.”Badger took two steps that brought him face to face with Rupert.“Did I pay it?” he demanded fiercely.“Why—yes, of course!” exclaimed Chickering hastily.“Well, if you ever mention it again, I reckon I’ll have to soak you!” came from the Westerner. “I’d hate to hit a thing like you, but there is a limit. Keep your mouth shut!”“Don’t let him bully you!” cried Skelding. “He’s the kind of fellow to pretend to hate Merriwell, but, now Merriwell has got the best of him a few times, he’s ready to crawl round and bow down before his conqueror.”“You’re a prevaricator, by the clock!” said the Kansas man promptly. “Because I cut clear of you does not make it that I’m ready to pick up with Merriwell. We are enemies still.”“You’re the one who is still,” chuckled Ollie Lord, dodging behind Skelding. “You don’t dare open your mouth to Merriwell any more.”“You’re not worth noticing, you imitation of a man!” broke from Badger. “If there is anything in the world that can make me cease to hate Merriwell it will be because you chaps hate him so much.”Badger’s words had been spoken rather loudly, and now Chickering noted that a crowd was gathering, and he began to feel that it was time to close up. He gave the others the tip to do so, and backed out of the crowd himself.Somebody asked Badger what he thought about Merriwell being dropped.“Say,” cried the Westerner, “whatever do you take me for? I reckon it’s pretty generally known that I’m no friend of his. That being the case, my opinion would not amount to shucks.”“He knows enough not to talk as much as Merriwell,” said somebody.“Who says Merriwell talks too much?” roared Bruce Browning. “He’s one of the closest-mouthed fellows living.”“Well, he talked so much to-day that he got it in the neck.”“That’s all right. Somebody had to talk. The team is being worked to death. Anybody that knows anything about football knows that. The men know it, but Merriwell was the first and only one who has dared say so.”“Hurrah! hurrah!” cried the students. “What’s the matter with Frank Merriwell?”“He’s all right!” thundered a great chorus of voices.Somebody, wishing to arouse another expression of sentiment, cried:“What’s the matter with Steve Lorrimer?”Quick as a flash, Danny Griswold squealed:“He’s got bugs in his garret!”This aroused laughter and applause. All kinds of talk was made on the campus that night. Merriwell was discussed from a hundred different standpoints. The great majority of the students were friendly toward him, and they were highly indignant over the manner in which he had been treated.A knot of Frank’s admirers gathered and told anecdotes about him. One of them related how, that very day, after being dropped from the eleven, he had lifted old Mother Muggs from the slippery sidewalk and carried her home in a cab.“That’s not all he did, fellows,” said a voice.Harry Rattleton was there. He pushed into the center of the crowd.“I went with him,” said Harry. “He took the old woman home and carried her into her house in his arms, for she could not walk. He sent me for a doctor. When I got back, he was doing his best to cheer up the old lady and her dying daughter.”“Has Mother Muggs a daughter?” some one asked.“Yes, and it’s plain she was a stunning-looking girl once. She’s sick in bed, and there was not a spark of fire in the house nor a bit of food.”“Tough lines!”“You bet! But all that’s fixed now. Merriwell fixed it. He went out and ordered coal and wood and groceries, and had them sent round in a hurry. Then we went to another store, and he bought blankets and quilts to put on the bed to keep the poor dying girl warm. We carried back an armful of stuff. When we got there we found the doctor. Merry told him to care for Mother Muggs and her daughter and forked over a tenner in advance to pay.”“Well, what’s the matter with Merriwell?” cried somebody, and again the crowd shouted:“He’s all right!”“You can bet your life he is!” said Harry proudly. “You should have seen him building a fire in the old stove, heating a can of broth, and then feeding the sick girl himself. Fellows, I’ve known Frank Merriwell a long time, and I always knew he was all right; but I tell you I watched him with amazement down in that wretched hovel. I saw him fixing things round and making everything cheerful. I saw him jollying up the poor girl till she laughed. He was as tender as a woman down there, and everybody here knows that he’s strong as a lion on the football-field. And old Mother Muggs was so astonished that all she could say was, “Land, land, who’d ‘a’ thought it!’ He made that old woman and her dying girl happy to-night, and he told them he’d come again and see that they were comfortable. He’ll do it, too. They kicked him off the eleven to-day, but I’ll bet that to-night he’s happier than any of those who remain.”Harry spoke earnestly, and his words impressed the listeners. If a single enemy of Frank Merriwell was present, he was silenced.“Fellows,” said Parker, “there’s a light in Merriwell’s window. He must be in his room. Let’s go over and whoop her up under his window. Let’s show the blockheads who are against him what we think of him!”“Come on!” was the cry.Across the campus they swept. Word was passed around about what was going to happen, and it was a great crowd of college men that gathered beneath Merry’s window. Then somebody roared out a proposal for three cheers for Frank Merriwell, “the best man who ever made a touch-down.” And what a mighty cheer it was! They thundered their applause till the bare branches of the old elms quivered with the sound. Again and again they cheered.At last the window was thrown open, and Frank appeared. What a greeting he received! It must have made his heart thrill! It must have made his eyes moist!After a time, the crowd became quiet, and Frank spoke:“Thank you,” he said, with a husky sound in his voice. “I don’t know just why you are cheering like that, but——”“We’re cheering for the whitest man in college and the best football-player living!” shouted somebody.“That’s putting it pretty strong,” laughed Frank.“But not a bit too strong,” came back instantly. “They’ve put up a job on you, Merriwell, but we won’t stand for it!”“No,” said Frank, “I do not think it was a job, boys. Steve Lorrimer is a true-blue Yale man, and he wouldn’t stoop to anything like that. Whatever he has done, I am sure he did because he believes it is for the best interest of Old Eli.”“Then he’s such a chump that he isn’t fit to manage a tennis tournament!” squealed Bink Stubbs.“No matter what may happen to me,” said Merry, “I shall pray for the success of Yale, and nothing can hurt me worse than her defeat on Thanksgiving day. If she wins, fellows, we’ll have a glorious Thanksgiving. Good night, my friends—good night!”He pulled down the window and was gone, but they lingered to give him another rousing cheer, and long after that groups of men could be seen on the campus, discussing and denouncing the action of Lorrimer.

Rattleton and Diamond came up and joined the crowd. They had heard of Frank being dropped from the team, but neither of them would take any stock in it till they heard it from Merry’s lips. Rattleton was wildly excited.

“Who’s been telling this lundering barn about you?” he cried. “No, I mean who has been telling this blundering yarn? Of course, it is a wretched lie! They say Lorrimer has laid you off.”

“Well, it strikes me that the yarn is true,” said Frank.

“True?” gasped Jack.

“Whee jiz!” spluttered Harry.

Then they were speechless.

“Lorrimer is daffy,” declared Puss Parker.

“He must have a grudge against Yale,” said Phil Porter.

“Merriwell,” hissed Diamond, his cheeks flushed and his eyes flashing, “are you going to stand it?”

“I’ll have to,” said Frank.

“Not by a blame sight! We’ll get up an indignation meeting. We can make it mighty hot for Lorrimer. We’ll show him that he can’t carry things with such a high hand.”

“Don’t!” exclaimed Frank. “I wouldn’t have you do that.”

“Why not?”

“It would be raising a rumpus at the wrong time.”

“How?”

“Everything must go peaceably till the game with Harvard is over, or Yale gets it in the neck again this year. We can’t have that.”

“Are you willing to be a sacrifice just——”

“I am willing—for the good of Old Eli.”

“But it’s not for the good of Old Eli! It means our defeat, and anybody knows that!”

“Oh, come off! Somebody else who can play football just as well as I will fill my place.”

“Lot on your knife—I mean not on your life!” exploded Harry. “They don’t grow!”

“That’s all foolishness,” said Frank. “There are plenty of men just as good.”

“Well, why don’t they make the record?” put in Diamond, his indignation making him look handsomer than ever. “Tell us just how it came about, Frank.”

“Well, I suppose Lorrimer will say I was talking too much. What I said was for the good of the eleven.”

“What did you say?”

“I said that the men were being overtrained, and it was making them heavy and slow, which is the absolute truth, but a fellow on the eleven is supposed to keep his mouth shut and play ball. That’s why I was jumped on.”

“There is something behind this. There was another reason for it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I do!”

“Well,” said Merry, “if it will open the eyes of Lorrimer so that he’ll treat the men with more judgment, Yale will stand a better chance of winning, even though I am not on the team. It is ruin to put a lot of overworked men into a game like the one coming.”

“If Yale wins, there will be some chumps who will swear that it was because you were put off the team,” said Harry. “That will be a splendid thing, now, won’t it?”

“There always are men to say nasty things, no matter what happens,” observed Frank.

“Well,” said the Virginian, “if you are not on the team, I’m going to hedge my bets.”

“Have you been making bets?”

“Yes.”

“Put up much?”

“Well, I’ve staked something, and I got odds, too. I considered it like finding money; but now I have changed my mind.”

“Wait!” Merriwell advised. “There will be plenty of time to hedge before the game.”

“Don’t fool yourself! By the time it gets abroad that you’re not going to play, the odds will be five to one on Harvard. And it will be known all over the country to-morrow.”

While they were talking a poorly dressed old woman came along the slippery sidewalk. As soon as they noticed her, some of the students cried:

“Here is Mother Muggs, fellows.”

Instantly the body of the group shifted their attention to the old woman. They began making observations about her, and she gave them a look of rage.

“You are a pack of young reprobates!” she cried shrilly. “You are learning the ways of criminals and ruffians!”

“Mother Muggs loves us—not!” laughed Parker.

The old woman was well known to the students. She had taken a strong aversion to them, and she did not hesitate to express herself on any convenient occasion. Her flow of language was sharp and stinging, and she had brought the college men to the point of guying her unmercifully whenever occasion offered. Frank Merriwell said nothing. He did not believe in taking part in the guying of the old woman, even though he knew of her hatred for the students and the manner in which she sometimes seemed to go out of her way in order to snarl at them.

“Are you promenading for your health, Mother Muggs?” asked one laughing fellow.

“Or are you displaying the latest style in Parisian clothes?” said another.

“Dogs! vipers! whelps!” cried the old woman, shaking her fist at them.

Then her feet flew from beneath her on the slippery walk, and she fell with a thud that must have sorely shaken her old bones. The thoughtless fellows laughed at the unfortunate woman, with the exception of Merriwell. He did not laugh. Instead of that, he hurried from the crowd to the side of Mother Muggs, who seemed to be in pain.

“I am sorry, madam,” he said, with the utmost politeness, as he aided her to rise, fairly lifting her to her feet, doing it as tenderly as if she had been his own mother. “I hope you are not hurt?”

The poor woman groaned and seemed unable to stand. She would have fallen, but Frank Merriwell placed his arm about her and supported her.

“Oh, my hip!” she gasped.

“I’m afraid you are hurt!” he cried, genuine concern in his voice.

“What do you care?” she faintly said.

“I do care! I’m sorry! What can I do for you?”

“Let me alone!”

“But you cannot stand. I must assist you. Please permit me to, madam.”

Never before had one of those saucy college men spoken to her in such a manner, and she was filled with wonder.

“Arc you one of them college scamps?” she asked.

“I am a college man,” answered Frank, “but I hope I am not a scamp.”

“They’re all scamps! Oh, my hip!”

“I’m afraid you cannot walk. I will call a cab to take you home.”

“A cab! I can’t pay for a cab! I can’t ride in a cab!”

“I will attend to the paying for it. Here, Rattleton.”

Harry came out from the group of students, who were not laughing now, but were looking on in wonder, which was not unmixed with shame.

“Call a cab, Rattleton,” directed Frank. “This poor woman has hurt herself, and she cannot walk.”

Harry hastened away to procure a cab, with which he quickly returned. Then Frank Merriwell actually lifted the withered old woman in his strong arms and placed her inside the cab. She seemed almost as light as a feather to him, and he felt his heart throb with pity for her.

“Don’t put me in there and leave me to pay!” pleaded the woman. “I ain’t got no money, and the driver would have me arrested.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Frank. “I will attend to it. Where do you live?”

She told him, and he gave the driver directions, after which he turned to Rattleton, saying:

“Come, let’s see her home, old man. Get in.”

They both got into the cab with Mother Muggs, the door slammed, and the cab rolled away, leaving a dozen college men staring after it, silent, shamefaced, awed.

They had been given a glimpse of Frank Merriwell’s heart!

There was excitement on the campus late that frosty November afternoon. At the fence a great crowd of men had gathered, and the topic they were discussing was the dropping of Frank Merriwell from the eleven. Of course, Rupert Chickering’s set was delighted. Chickering himself, with his usual double-faced hypocrisy, pretended to be grieved.

“I know Merriwell does not like me,” he said; “but I am very sorry for him, just the same. He has worked hard to get onto the eleven, and it does seem too bad for him to be put off just before the great game of the season, even though there may be better men.”

“Rats!” exclaimed Gene Skelding, who did not hesitate to show his dislike for Merry. “You know you are satisfied over it.”

“Indeed, now!” protested Rupert, posing with his cane. “Why should I be? If Merriwell is a good man to have on the eleven, if he could materially assist us in defeating Harvard, I should like to see him play, regardless of any personal spite he may hold against me.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s got it in the neck!” laughed Julian Ives, pushing his hat back in order to more fully expose his flowing bang.

“And I am not breaking my heart over it,” said Tilton Hull, who seemed to have found a collar that was even higher than the wonderfully high ones he wore habitually.

“He is a big, wude cwecher,” lisped Lew Veazie, “and he hath met with hith jutht reward.”

“It came just when we least expected it,” put in Ollie Lord, rising on his toes, so that he might be observed. “Everything seemed going Merriwell’s way.”

“I wonder who will be given Merriwell’s place?” speculated Hull.

“I have heard,” said Skelding, “that Birch will take that position, while that freshman Ready will be taken onto the team.”

“He’s little better than Merriwell,” declared Ives. “He has a swelled head.”

“That’s because he fooled Merriwell and made him the butt of a joke, you know,” said Hull. “It was a pretty clever thing. It was lucky for us that we were not invited to take part in the hazing of the freshman.”

“I should think,” said Chickering, “that they would try Badger at full-back. He’s a great man.”

“Don’t speak of that fellow!” snarled Skelding. “What ails you? Have you forgotten that he has repudiated us? He won’t have a thing to do with us now! I don’t think much more of him than I do of Frank Merriwell!”

“Well, I’m right glad of that!” said a voice that made them jump, and they saw Badger standing near, regarding them with an expression of contempt. “You’re a rank lot, and I haven’t any use for you whatever.”

“You were glad enough to be friends with us once,” said Chickering, with a show of resentment. “You have even borrowed money of me.”

Badger took two steps that brought him face to face with Rupert.

“Did I pay it?” he demanded fiercely.

“Why—yes, of course!” exclaimed Chickering hastily.

“Well, if you ever mention it again, I reckon I’ll have to soak you!” came from the Westerner. “I’d hate to hit a thing like you, but there is a limit. Keep your mouth shut!”

“Don’t let him bully you!” cried Skelding. “He’s the kind of fellow to pretend to hate Merriwell, but, now Merriwell has got the best of him a few times, he’s ready to crawl round and bow down before his conqueror.”

“You’re a prevaricator, by the clock!” said the Kansas man promptly. “Because I cut clear of you does not make it that I’m ready to pick up with Merriwell. We are enemies still.”

“You’re the one who is still,” chuckled Ollie Lord, dodging behind Skelding. “You don’t dare open your mouth to Merriwell any more.”

“You’re not worth noticing, you imitation of a man!” broke from Badger. “If there is anything in the world that can make me cease to hate Merriwell it will be because you chaps hate him so much.”

Badger’s words had been spoken rather loudly, and now Chickering noted that a crowd was gathering, and he began to feel that it was time to close up. He gave the others the tip to do so, and backed out of the crowd himself.

Somebody asked Badger what he thought about Merriwell being dropped.

“Say,” cried the Westerner, “whatever do you take me for? I reckon it’s pretty generally known that I’m no friend of his. That being the case, my opinion would not amount to shucks.”

“He knows enough not to talk as much as Merriwell,” said somebody.

“Who says Merriwell talks too much?” roared Bruce Browning. “He’s one of the closest-mouthed fellows living.”

“Well, he talked so much to-day that he got it in the neck.”

“That’s all right. Somebody had to talk. The team is being worked to death. Anybody that knows anything about football knows that. The men know it, but Merriwell was the first and only one who has dared say so.”

“Hurrah! hurrah!” cried the students. “What’s the matter with Frank Merriwell?”

“He’s all right!” thundered a great chorus of voices.

Somebody, wishing to arouse another expression of sentiment, cried:

“What’s the matter with Steve Lorrimer?”

Quick as a flash, Danny Griswold squealed:

“He’s got bugs in his garret!”

This aroused laughter and applause. All kinds of talk was made on the campus that night. Merriwell was discussed from a hundred different standpoints. The great majority of the students were friendly toward him, and they were highly indignant over the manner in which he had been treated.

A knot of Frank’s admirers gathered and told anecdotes about him. One of them related how, that very day, after being dropped from the eleven, he had lifted old Mother Muggs from the slippery sidewalk and carried her home in a cab.

“That’s not all he did, fellows,” said a voice.

Harry Rattleton was there. He pushed into the center of the crowd.

“I went with him,” said Harry. “He took the old woman home and carried her into her house in his arms, for she could not walk. He sent me for a doctor. When I got back, he was doing his best to cheer up the old lady and her dying daughter.”

“Has Mother Muggs a daughter?” some one asked.

“Yes, and it’s plain she was a stunning-looking girl once. She’s sick in bed, and there was not a spark of fire in the house nor a bit of food.”

“Tough lines!”

“You bet! But all that’s fixed now. Merriwell fixed it. He went out and ordered coal and wood and groceries, and had them sent round in a hurry. Then we went to another store, and he bought blankets and quilts to put on the bed to keep the poor dying girl warm. We carried back an armful of stuff. When we got there we found the doctor. Merry told him to care for Mother Muggs and her daughter and forked over a tenner in advance to pay.”

“Well, what’s the matter with Merriwell?” cried somebody, and again the crowd shouted:

“He’s all right!”

“You can bet your life he is!” said Harry proudly. “You should have seen him building a fire in the old stove, heating a can of broth, and then feeding the sick girl himself. Fellows, I’ve known Frank Merriwell a long time, and I always knew he was all right; but I tell you I watched him with amazement down in that wretched hovel. I saw him fixing things round and making everything cheerful. I saw him jollying up the poor girl till she laughed. He was as tender as a woman down there, and everybody here knows that he’s strong as a lion on the football-field. And old Mother Muggs was so astonished that all she could say was, “Land, land, who’d ‘a’ thought it!’ He made that old woman and her dying girl happy to-night, and he told them he’d come again and see that they were comfortable. He’ll do it, too. They kicked him off the eleven to-day, but I’ll bet that to-night he’s happier than any of those who remain.”

Harry spoke earnestly, and his words impressed the listeners. If a single enemy of Frank Merriwell was present, he was silenced.

“Fellows,” said Parker, “there’s a light in Merriwell’s window. He must be in his room. Let’s go over and whoop her up under his window. Let’s show the blockheads who are against him what we think of him!”

“Come on!” was the cry.

Across the campus they swept. Word was passed around about what was going to happen, and it was a great crowd of college men that gathered beneath Merry’s window. Then somebody roared out a proposal for three cheers for Frank Merriwell, “the best man who ever made a touch-down.” And what a mighty cheer it was! They thundered their applause till the bare branches of the old elms quivered with the sound. Again and again they cheered.

At last the window was thrown open, and Frank appeared. What a greeting he received! It must have made his heart thrill! It must have made his eyes moist!

After a time, the crowd became quiet, and Frank spoke:

“Thank you,” he said, with a husky sound in his voice. “I don’t know just why you are cheering like that, but——”

“We’re cheering for the whitest man in college and the best football-player living!” shouted somebody.

“That’s putting it pretty strong,” laughed Frank.

“But not a bit too strong,” came back instantly. “They’ve put up a job on you, Merriwell, but we won’t stand for it!”

“No,” said Frank, “I do not think it was a job, boys. Steve Lorrimer is a true-blue Yale man, and he wouldn’t stoop to anything like that. Whatever he has done, I am sure he did because he believes it is for the best interest of Old Eli.”

“Then he’s such a chump that he isn’t fit to manage a tennis tournament!” squealed Bink Stubbs.

“No matter what may happen to me,” said Merry, “I shall pray for the success of Yale, and nothing can hurt me worse than her defeat on Thanksgiving day. If she wins, fellows, we’ll have a glorious Thanksgiving. Good night, my friends—good night!”

He pulled down the window and was gone, but they lingered to give him another rousing cheer, and long after that groups of men could be seen on the campus, discussing and denouncing the action of Lorrimer.

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