"Breka Co ax Co ax Co ax!Breka Co ax Co ax Co ax!O—up! O—up!Paraboleau!Yale! Yale! Yale!'Rah! 'rah! 'rah!Yale!!!"
"Breka Co ax Co ax Co ax!Breka Co ax Co ax Co ax!O—up! O—up!Paraboleau!Yale! Yale! Yale!'Rah! 'rah! 'rah!Yale!!!"
Imagine a thousand, full-lunged, hearty, healthy American lads shouting this cry in unison! It was a sound never to be forgotten by those who heard it. The victorious blue fluttered everywhere.
Harvard had made a gallant fight, and it had been "nobody's race" almost to the finish. The Yale crew proved superior, but it won purely by brawn and stamina. Old oars confessed that up to the last half mile Harvard had shown better coaching and had seemed to establish the superiority of the Oxford oar and stroke over American methods.
But "Old Eli" had seemed to feel that it would be a lasting disgrace to be vanquished by anything aboutwhich there was an English flavor. The spirit of Bunker Hill and '76 was aroused, and the defenders of the blue were willing to die in the struggle if such a sacrifice could bring victory.
It was not the first time that pure grit had won against odds.
As the Yale boat crossed the line Frank lay, deaf to all the tumult of applause, his eyes closed, but still with his pale face set in a look of mingled pain and unyielding determination.
"It's Merriwell!" exclaimed Bob Collingwood. "I had forgotten him."
His words were drowned by the roaring of the excited thousands and the shrieking of the whistles.
The prow of the Yale boat was turned toward the bank. It was necessary to avoid the craft that came rushing about on every side, but the shore was soon reached.
"Hold her steady!" cried Collingwood. "Somebody dash water into Merriwell's face."
The command was obeyed, and in a moment Frank opened his eyes. It was at the moment when the Yale cheer was pealing from a thousand throats, and thelook of pain on Merriwell's face changed to one of satisfaction and joy.
"Did we win?" he huskily asked.
Collingwood nodded, his flushed face beaming, pride in his big blue eyes.
"You bet!" he answered. "It's hard to beat Old Eli!"
"I am satisfied!" gasped Merriwell.
His eyes drooped, and he seemed on the verge of going off into another swoon.
"Throw more water on him," pitilessly directed Collingwood.
It was done, and Frank started up, gasping.
"Here—here!" exclaimed a man on the bank; "give him a pull at this. It will fix him all right."
He stooped down and held out a flask.
"What is it?" asked Frank.
"It's the best brandy money can buy," was the answer.
It was passed to Frank, but he pushed it away, shaking his head.
"I never touch liquor," he declared. "I do not want it."
"But it will not hurt you now—it will do you good," declared the man who owned the flask.
"I can get along without it."
"But I shall be offended if you do not take it."
Frank looked sharply at the man. He saw a suntanned individual, who wore a wide-brimmed hat and was dressed in clothes which were worn and appeared to have been made for service rather than for fit and elegance. There was something piercing about the man's dark eyes, and something about the beardless face that impressed it upon the boy's memory. There was a small purple scar on the man's chin, and Frank noted this, although he might have overlooked it easily in that hasty glance.
"Then you will have to be offended, sir," said Frank, firmly. "I do not wish to appear rude, but I never drink under any circumstances, and I will not begin now."
The man drew back after the flask was returned to him. The last look he gave the boy was peculiar, as Frank could not tell whether it was one of satisfaction or anger.
In a moment this man was forgotten. The boatslipped out to theClyde, the little steam yacht that was to take the victorious crew back to quarters. The exhausted rowers were lifted on board amid renewed cheering, and the trip up the river began.
It was a triumphant procession. All along the line theClyde, which was decorated with blue, was received with cheers and shrieking whistles. Men waved hats and flags, pretty girls fluttered handkerchiefs and pennants, squads of students gave the Yale cheer at intervals, and two scores of boats, crowded with students and friends, accompanied the boat that carried the victorious crew. The jubilant Yale men sang songs of victory and cheered till their throats ached and they were hoarse.
On board theClydewere Jack Diamond and Harry Rattleton. When Merriwell was lifted to the deck he found himself clasped in Harry's arms, and the dear fellow laughed and cried as he hugged his roommate to his breast.
"I never dought you'd threw it—I mean I never thought you'd do it!" cried Harry, brokenly. "I thought that hand would knock you out sure. How could you do it, Merry, old boy? It must have beenawful! I saw you keel over when the line was crossed, but you never havered a ware—wavered a hair till the race was over."
Frank smiled a bit.
"A fellow can do almost anything if he sets his determination on it," he said. "But I came near not having the opportunity to try."
"How was that?"
"Collingwood found out about my hand. I am afraid you said something about it, Harry."
"Not a word, save to Diamond, and not to him till after the race began."
"Well, Coll found it out some way, and he came near laying me off for Flemming, who was on hand."
"And now I understand a few things I heard this morning," broke in Diamond. "Emery and Parker were offering to bet that Flemming would row to-day."
"How much did you fake 'em tor—I mean take 'em for?" cried Harry.
"I didn't know but some of the men had given out or something, so I did not take them at all. I did notimagine for a moment that they thought Flemming was going to row in Merry's place."
Collingwood came up. He was bundled from his ears to his heels. Merriwell was in a sweater and coat.
"How's your hand, old man?" asked Bob, his eyes gleaming.
"Oh, it is giving me a jolly time!" grinned Frank, grimly. "It isn't doing a thing."
"Mr. Merriwell," said Collingwood, earnestly, "I want to tell you frankly that to-day you made the greatest display of pure grit that it has ever been my fortune to witness. I did not believe it possible you could hold out through the race with that hand, and I meant to lay you off for Flemming, although I regretted doing so, as he has not been working with us of late, and I felt that the change would weaken the crew. When you told me square and straight that it would be no fault of yours if the race were lost, I decided to keep you. After that I felt that I was making an error, but it was too late to change. Now I know it was no error, and I wish to say that I am sure you aided materially by your splendid work to win."
Others of the crew came up. Merriwell was surrounded by friends and admirers. Diamond whispered in his ear:
"You should be happy, old man, for you have triumphed over your enemies, and the story of your heroic work will be known to all Yale by Monday."
Then Collingwood led Frank below for a rub down.
At the boathouse there was a scene of riotous jollification. It was impossible to exclude the overjoyed friends of the crew. They crowded in and expressed their unbounded delight in almost every imaginable manner.
There was a popping of corks, and "fizz" began to flow freely. Now that the great race was over, the crew were no longer in training, and they were allowed to drink as much of the wine as they liked. It was forced upon them from all sides.
Merriwell was almost mobbed by the fellows who were determined that he should drink champagne with them.
"You can't refuse now, old man!" shouted Charlie Creighton. "I saw it all, and no one suspected there was anything the matter with you. Just to think that you rowed the race with a felon on your hand! It is marvelous! And I won a cool five hundred on OldEli! Whoop! If you refuse to take a drink of champagne with me I'll call you out and shoot you through the liver pad!"
He was wildly waving a bottle of Mumm's about his head as he made this excited speech.
But Merriwell did refuse, and he did it with a firmness that showed them all that he could not be induced to drink.
"Queer chap, that Merriwell," commented Charlie Creighton, addressing his chum, Paul Hamilton. "Never knew him very well, but I've seen enough of him to know he's the clean white stuff even if he is a temperance crank."
"In the year and a half that he has been here," said Hamilton, "he has made a greater record in athletics than any other man ever made in twice that time. And think of his rowing the race to-day with that hand, and then fainting the moment he knew the line was crossed and Yale had won! I tell you, Creighton, that fellow is all sand—every bit of him."
"That's what he is," nodded Creighton. "He is running over with the true Yale spirit. I tell you, myboy, Old Yale bears mighty men! Come, let's kill this bottle of fizz, which I got off the ice expressly for Merriwell, confound him!"
Then they lost little time in opening the bottle and swallowing its sparkling contents.
Bob Collingwood was overwhelmed with congratulations. He said very little before the crowd, but to a particular friend he declared:
"It is one of the marvels of the year that we won to-day. Harvard outrowed us for fully three-quarters of the course, and she would have finished in the lead if her crew had been as stocky as ours. Their stroke is easier on a man than ours."
"Then you acknowledge at last that the Oxford stroke is superior to the American?" eagerly questioned the friend.
"I have acknowledged nothing yet, but I fear I'll be forced to."
The jubilant fellows were making the boathouse ring with songs of victory. About twenty flushed lads were roaring:
"How can they ever beat us—How can they beat Old Yale?We down 'em when they meet us,You bet we never fail!We've got 'em so they fear usIn every contest fair;And soon they'll not come near us,Because they will not dare.Chorus:"Then give us a cheer for Old Eli—A cheer for our gallant crew;She has won, and she wins forever,With her noble boys in blue."Poor Harvard falls before us,She is not in the game;So swell the merry chorus,Old Eli's won again!It was a gallant battle,My boys who wear the blue;But you they cannot rattle,No matter what they do."
"How can they ever beat us—How can they beat Old Yale?We down 'em when they meet us,You bet we never fail!We've got 'em so they fear usIn every contest fair;And soon they'll not come near us,Because they will not dare.
Chorus:"Then give us a cheer for Old Eli—A cheer for our gallant crew;She has won, and she wins forever,With her noble boys in blue.
"Poor Harvard falls before us,She is not in the game;So swell the merry chorus,Old Eli's won again!It was a gallant battle,My boys who wear the blue;But you they cannot rattle,No matter what they do."
There were other songs, and in the midst of all this rejoicing a crowd of pretty girls, accompanied by chaperons, came into the boathouse.
Among them was Winnie Lee, who lost no time in finding Frank and congratulating him.
"I knew you would win, Frank—I knew you would!" she exclaimed, her bright eyes sparkling.
"Why, you are talking as if I rowed the whole race!" he said, laughing and blushing.
"Well, I'm sure they'd never won without you," she declared.
"That's like a girl! Of course Yale would have won anyhow! How can they beat us?"
At this moment Collingwood came up, accompanied by a gentleman who carried a case in his hand.
"Here, Merry, old boy," cried the captain of the crew, "I've brought a doctor to look after that hand of yours."
"What is the matter with your hand?" asked Winnie, anxiously.
"Oh, nothing much," assured Frank, carelessly.
"Nothing much, only there is a bad felon on it," said Collingwood.
"A felon? And you rowed with a felon on your hand? Oh, Frank!"
Winnie looked at him with added admiration showing in her eyes.
"That's what he did," nodded Collingwood. "It was the greatest display of grit I've ever seen. Do you wonder he flopped over in a dead faint when we crossed the line at the finish?"
The doctor looked at Frank's hand, which was nowbadly inflamed. After a thorough examination the physician glanced up at Frank and observed:
"If you were able to row with this hand, I rather think you'd endure burning at the stake by a band of Indians without uttering a murmur!"
"You dear fellow!" cried Winnie, with girlish enthusiasm; "I feel just like giving you a good hug!"
Then Frank blushed more than ever.
The doctor opened his case and proceeded to dress Merriwell's hand.
While the physician was thus employed Frank was somewhat surprised to observe at a little distance the same man who had offered him a drink of brandy as he was recovering from his swoon at the close of the race.
This man was watching the boy in a strange manner, but the moment he saw he was observed he quickly turned away.
Frank's curiosity was aroused.
"I wonder who he is and what he wants here?" thought the boy. "How did he get in here, anyway? He seems to take a remarkable interest in me, and I can't say that I like it."
The man walked away and mingled with the throng.
In a short time Frank's hand was cared for, and the doctor gave directions for future treatment of the felon.
"It is bound to trouble you for some time, and you will find it very painful," he said. "After what you have done to-day, I doubt if you sleep much to-night."
"I don't care if I do not sleep for a week so long as Yale won!" declared the boy.
"You have the true Yale spirit," said the doctor, approvingly. "Yale men carry that unconquerable spirit out into the world, and that is why Old Eli turns out so many successful men in all walks of life. I think there is no fear as to your future, my boy."
"Thank you, sir," said Merriwell, simply.
"I would like to speak with you."
Frank felt a touch on his shoulder, and the words sounded in his ear. He turned quickly and found himself face to face with the mysterious stranger.
It happened that at that moment they were alone, nearly all the throng having gathered about three fellows who, with banjo, mandolin and zither, were making some lively music.
"What do you want?" asked Frank, rather suspiciously.
The man beckoned for him to come aside.
"I have something I wish to say to you, and I do not care to be overheard by others," he declared.
"Well, I wonder what sort of a snap this is?" thought Merriwell.
He hesitated a moment, and then curiosity to know what the stranger had to say overcame him, and he followed the man to a corner of the room.
The stranger was very mysterious in his manner.
"You are a likely sort of youngster," he said, in a rather noncommittal way.
"Is that what you wish to tell me?" asked Frank, sharply.
"Steady, young colt! Don't be in too much of a hurry. It doesn't pay to be in a hurry—none whatever."
Frank's impatience increased. He did not like the stranger's manner, for there was something crafty and insinuating about it.
"If any one were watching us, he'd be sure to think we were putting up some sort of a crooked game," thought Merriwell.
"My time is valuable," he said aloud.
"Then you can't make more out of it than you can by spending it gabbling with the crowd."
The man's manner was offensive, but Frank's curiosity caused him to hold himself in check and listen to what the stranger should say.
"You are interested in other sports besides rowing, I reckon?" said the unknown, inquiringly.
"Yes."
"Baseball?"
"Yes."
"I have heard that you pitch on the 'varsity nine."
"That is right."
The man assumed a more cautious air than ever, and lowered his voice still more.
"I allow that the man who pitches can throw a game, if he wants to?"
Frank's dislike for the stranger increased rapidly.
"He can throw a game if he is crooked and dirty enough to do such a mean thing!" came with spirit from the lad.
"That is putting it a heap rough," deprecatingly declared the man. "Every galoot is out for the dust. It is the way of the old world, as you will find before you have hoofed it much farther along the trail of life."
"Well, what are you driving at?"
"Yale won the race to-day, and I reckon she's got glory enough to last her a while."
"Go on."
"The last ball game of the series between Yale and Harvard comes off next week?"
"It does."
"Yale has won one, and Harvard one."
"That is right."
"Yale stands a right good chance of winning the deciding game?"
"She is pretty sure of winning."
"And I have a pot of dust on Harvard. I can get odds that Yale will win, so I can stake more money."
Frank fancied that he saw the stranger's game, and he felt his anger rising rapidly; but, with a great effort, he held himself in control, and pretended that he did not understand.
The boy looked the man over from head to heels. He was making a study of the unknown. Already he had decided by the man's appearance and language that he was a Westerner, or wished to be considered such. Frank was not absolutely certain that the fellow was not masquerading as a man from the West.
As Merriwell remained silent after the stranger's last statement, he went on:
"If there is any way of knowing as how Harvard will win, I can stake my rocks on her, and pull off a good thing."
Still Frank was silent.
"You can see that plain enough, can't you, youngster?" demanded the man, seeming to grow impatient and restless before the lad's steady, piercing gaze.
"Any one should be able to see that," was the cold answer.
"Then all I've got to do in order to make a stake is to fix it so that Harvard is dead sure of winning."
"How can you fix it?"
"I don't see but one way."
"How is that?"
"Make it worth something to the Yale team to throw the game to Harvard. I can afford to do that, I reckon; but I've got to find the right man to do the trick."
Frank's jaws seemed to grow square and hard, and there was a dangerous fire in his eyes. The stranger did not appear to discern this, however, for he went on:
"It rather strikes me that the pitcher has the best chance to do the little turn I want done, and that's why I've come to you. Now, don't go off half-cocked! Hold hard, and hear me chirp. Every young fellow at college needs money, and they need a right good bitof it, too. I don't allow that you are any exception. Now, I reckon I can show you how you can make a smart bit of a pile and do it dead easy. Nobody but you and me will ever know you did it at all, and there isn't any danger that we'll preach about it—none whatever."
"Make a square statement as to what you want," commanded Frank, finding it difficult to keep his voice from quivering, and feeling that his cheeks were burning with the angry blood that had surged into them.
"That's what I'll do, youngster. If you will pitch that game so Harvard will win, I'll give you a thousand dollars in cold cash. Now I reckon you understand me."
"I think I do," came icily from Frank. "You want me to sell the game for a thousand dollars! You put a small price on my honor, sir!"
"A small price! You talk as if a thousand were nothing! Hang me if I ever saw a youngster of your caliber! Perhaps you think I'm fooling? Perhaps you think I won't pay? Look here! I'll make it two thousand dollars, and I'll give you a thousand in advance. That is a square deal, as you must allow."
Then he took a huge roll of bank notes from his pocket. Some were new bills, while some were worn and soiled. He rapidly counted off a thousand dollars in ten, twenty, fifty and one hundred dollar bills. This money he thrust into Merriwell's hands, saying:
"There you have it, and that binds the bargain between us. I'll give you the other thousand directly Harvard wins and I collect my wagers. I'm a man of my word. I reckon it is settled?"
Frank looked at the money, making sure it was genuine. He quickly satisfied himself on that point. It was all right.
Never before had such a bribe been offered Merriwell, and, for some seconds, he stood with the money in his unbandaged hand, feeling somewhat dazed and doubtful.
"Put it out of sight!" whispered the stranger. "Don't let 'em see you have it. Give me your promise that you will throw the game to Harvard."
"I shall not pitch that game," said Frank.
"No?"
"No, sir."
"Why not?"
"My hand will not be in condition, as you should know. True it is my left hand, but I'll not be able to bat with it, even if I could pitch."
"But you would throw the game if you could pitch?"
"No!" cried Merriwell, fiercely, letting his outraged indignation flame forth. "What do you take me for? I am no sneak and traitor, and not for ten thousand dollars—not for a hundred thousand dollars—not to save my very life would I do such a dastardly thing! You have made a mistake in your man! Take back your dirty money! I would not touch a dollar of it for the world! It would contaminate me!"
Then he flung the roll of bills straight into the face of the astonished man.
As the man stooped to pick up the money, which had fallen at his feet, Frank caught him by the collar with his well hand, yanked him up, and started him on a run for an open window.
Clinging to the money, the stranger uttered a protest at such rude treatment, but he was unable to turn about or break away, although he tried to do so.
Headlong through the window Frank pitched the fellow, giving him a powerful kick to help him along.
There was a cry of pain and rage, and the man disappeared.
This act of Frank's had been noted by the others within the boathouse, and it created no little wonder and excitement.
Harry Rattleton came running up, spluttering:
"Hello, Frank! mut's the whatter—I mean what's the matter?"
"Oh, nothing in particular," answered Merriwell, quietly. "I simply fired a scoundrel, that's all."
"What was he up to, old man?" demanded Bob Collingwood, in a tone that indicated that he was sorry not to have taken a hand in the little fracas. "Did he try to do you?"
"No; but he is trying to do Yale."
"How is that?"
Frank explained, briefly telling of the bribe offered by the mysterious stranger.
A circle of lads had gathered about Merriwell, and they listened with rising anger to his words. Cries of astonishment and rage broke from their lips when Frank told of the truly astonishing bribe which the unknown had offered.
"My only regret," concluded Frank, "was that I did not have two good hands with which to handle the rascal."
"And my regret is that I was not there to handle him for you!" cried Jack Diamond.
"I wonder how the fellow got in here?" exclaimed Collingwood. "I'll have to inquire into that."
"He can't be far away," cried one of the angry lads. "Let's get out and nab him!"
"Come on! come on!" was the general cry, and there was a rush for the door.
But the unknown had not lingered in the vicinity of the boathouse. He was not found, which made it plain that he had taken to his heels as soon as he landed outside the window.
"Too bad!" growled Collingwood. "A good soak in the river is what he'd got, if we'd caught him."
Some of the lads felt like staying in New London and making a night of it, but this was strictly against rules, and those who did so took a desperate chance of getting into trouble by it.
After the race there was a general rush for the trains, and those bound west over the N. Y., N. H. & H. were crowded.
Later on there was a special train for the Yale crew and their friends. As this train was not exclusive and it was generally known that it would be run, large numbers of students waited for it, and it was quite as crowded as the trains which had preceded it.
The car containing the victorious crew was a scene of wild merrymaking. The eight muscular lads who had pulled off another victory for Old Eli were gathered in the middle of the car and surrounded by admiring friends, who cheered and sang and smashedone another's hats, and played the very Old Nick with one another.
Beer, wine and whiskey had been brought on board the train, and it was urged upon the crew. Danny Griswold was in his glory. About half the time he was perched upon the shoulders of the crowd, and it was observable that he did not refuse anything that was offered him in the way of a liquid. Still, for all that he drank so much and mixed his drinks, he did not seem to get any worse off than he had been when the train started from New London.
Charlie Creighton climbed upon the backs of two seats and made a speech.
"Hark, ye noble sons of Old Eli!" he began, with a spread-eagle gesture that came near causing him to lose his balance and fall off headlong. "This is the great day when we can get up on our hind legs and make the welkin ring with war whoops of victory. To-day we stand with one foot on Princeton's neck and the heel of the other foot gouging into Harvard's back. They have bitten the dust before us, oh, mighty warriors in blue! They have fallen like autumn leaves before a gale. We have carried our colors on to victory in many a mad scrimmage, but never have we done a better job than we did this day. During the greater part of the race it looked as if Harvard would take our scalps. We who watched the awful struggle felt our blood turn cold with fear. Then, when we looked upon the calm face of our captain [cheers], we took heart and hoped. Like clockwork he was handling his men, and his calm confidence gave them heart. They saw he did not fear the result, and when he began to drive them for the final spurt every one of that noble band responded like the greatest of heroes. [More cheers.] Then it was that Yale began to crowd Harvard. Then it was that the Harvard crew showed how the pressure was telling on them. Then it was that the backers of Old Eli who were watching the struggle became confident that we were still in it and would pull off the race after all. Then Old Yale crept into the lead, the spurt being admirably timed, so that our boat crossed the line just in time to make Old Eli again the winner. And to whom is honor due for this? You know!"
"Collingwood! Collingwood!" roared the jubilant crowd in the car. "Hurrah for dear old Bob!"
Then they cheered and cheered, and then they called for a speech from "dear old Bob."
Collingwood was lifted to his feet. He protested that he could not make a speech, but they would not be satisfied till he had said something, and so he cried:
"Well, boys, we did them—and we did them good!"
This was better than a long speech, and it produced the most unbounded enthusiasm.
When the excitement had abated somewhat, Collingwood arose again, and motioned for silence. In a moment he was receiving the full attention of every one.
"Every man on the crew deserves praise," began Bob.
"Hooray for the croll hew—I mean the whole crew!" shouted Harry Rattleton, smashing his new straw hat over Bandy Robinson's head.
"But there is one who deserves especial commendation," Collingwood added.
There was a breathless silence, and all eyes were turned on Frank Merriwell, who flushed beneath this sudden attention.
"There was one man on the crew who was not in condition to row in the race to-day, and I came verynear letting him out. Now I am glad I did not, for, although he had a bad felon on his left hand, there was no man of the crew who pulled a stiffer stroke or showed more lasting powers till the finish was reached. He fainted then, it is true, but it was because of the frightful pain in his hand and arm, and I wish you to remember that he did not faint till the victory was won."
"Merriwell! 'Rah! 'rah! 'rah!"
Not even Bob Collingwood himself received a greater ovation. Frank was seized, he was lifted aloft, he was perched on the shoulders of his friends, and then there was a general howl for a speech.
Frank felt himself thrill from his hair to his toes; his eyes were dimmed with moisture, even though he laughed. In his bosom there was a choking sensation of gratitude and love for his comrades and the admiring throng around him. He forgot that he had a single foe at Yale—that he had a foe in all the wide world.
"Boys," he said, somewhat brokenly, "I did my best for dear old Yale—that is all."
That was all he said. It was enough. It seemedto touch a chord in every breast, and there was a ring of patriotism in the cheering that followed.
"Here's to good Old Yale—drink it down!Here's to good Old Yale—drink it down!Here's to good Old Yale,She's so hearty and so hale—Drink it down! drink it down! down! down!"
"Here's to good Old Yale—drink it down!Here's to good Old Yale—drink it down!Here's to good Old Yale,She's so hearty and so hale—Drink it down! drink it down! down! down!"
It seemed that every person in the car joined in singing this song. The enthusiasm was running higher and higher. In every heart the Yale spirit grew deeper and stronger during that ride from New London to New Haven. The students who were there never forgot that scene—never forgot how they thrilled with love for Old Yale. The hardships and struggles of college days were forgotten; the triumphs and joys alone were remembered.
But with it all it is certain that the result of the race had disappointed no Harvard man more than it did Fred Flemming.
At the last moment he had been overjoyed to learn that Merriwell had a bad felon on one of his hands, which, it seemed, must debar him from rowing in the great race.
Flemming had kept himself in condition as far aspossible, and he lost no time to let Collingwood know that he could be called on in case of emergency.
That he would be called on seemed almost certain, for he was notified to be on hand at Yale's quarters before the time set for the race to begin.
He had been on hand, ready to strip off in a moment, and had seen Collingwood talking earnestly with Merriwell. Then, to his inexpressible astonishment, he had been told that Merriwell would row after all.
From that moment Flemming hoped and prayed that Yale would lose the race. He would have given almost anything in his power to give had Frank Merriwell been unable to row to the finish.
But Merriwell had finished the race, and Yale had won. Flemming's friends, who had bet that he would row in the race, had lost money, and they were sore also.
It was bitter gall for Flemming and Tom Thornton to pretend to rejoice over Yale's victory, but they dared not do otherwise. It happened that they waited till the special train left for New Haven, and they were on that train and in the car which carried the victorious crew.
Occasionally they cheered with the others, to keep up appearances; but, for the most part, they remained seated in a corner at one end of the car and talked in low tones.
"How was it that Collingwood happened to retain the fellow for all of his hand?" asked Thornton, referring to Merriwell.
"Ask me something easy!" exclaimed Flemming. "I am sure he intended to fire the fellow, but I think Merriwell begged to be given a show, and Collingwood did not have the nerve to chuck him off."
"Collingwood must be soft!"
"Oh, I don't know. I think that cad Merriwell must be a hypnotist by the way he gets around some fellows."
"I don't want to have anything further to do with him."
"Oh, you've lost your nerve since Merriwell and Griswold put up that girl job on you, and Diamond drew you into a bogus duel."
"That was enough to make any fellow lose his nerve."
"Rats!"
"You may say 'rats,' but you don't know how you would have felt if you had been in my place. Just as the word was given to fire and I pulled trigger, Griswold, dressed as a girl, rushed between us. I fired, and, with a frightful shriek, he fell. Then I ran forward and looked at him. The moonlight made him look deathly white, and I felt sure I had shot him. I'll never forget the sickening sensation that came over me at that moment! The hangman's noose seemed to dangle before my eyes. I dropped the pistol and rushed away to my room. I think I was stunned, for Horner found me sitting on a chair and staring blankly at the wall about an hour afterward. Then he said the girl had not been shot at all, but had fainted. Say, Flem, my boy, it is utterly impossible for me to tell the feeling of thankfulness and relief that rushed over me. I felt just like getting right down on my knees and thanking Providence, but I didn't, for Tad Horner was watching me all the time, and I saw the laughing devil in his eyes. Then, within two days, I found myself the guy of the whole college, and, finally, it all came out that 'Grace Darling' was Danny Griswold in his theatrical rig, and I had been played fora blooming guy by Merriwell and Diamond, assisted to a certain extent by Horner, my own roommate."
"And the only decent thing you ever did about it was to quit Horner cold. You've never seemed to have sand enough to make an effort to get back at Merriwell."
"I decided that Merriwell is a bad man to monkey with."
"That's rot! It's his reputation that frightens you. I'm going to watch my chance to get even with him."
"So am I, young man!" whispered a voice in Flemming's ear.
Fred whirled swiftly, and saw close at his shoulder a rather rough-appearing, smooth-faced man, who wore a wide-brimmed hat, and was weather-tanned, as if by much exposure.
"Eh?" exclaimed the college lad. "Who are you?"
"One who has a good reason to dislike that fly chap, Mr. Frank Merriwell," was his answer.
Flemming was suspicious.
"Why should you hate Merriwell?" he asked.
"Because he kicked me," was the fierce reply.
"He kicked you? Then you are the man he fired out of the boathouse? I heard about that little affair."
"I am the man."
"You should have known better than to try to bribe Merriwell to throw any sort of game or race to Harvard. That chap is so honest that he has wings sprouting under his clothes. He said you pushed a thousand dollars at him?"
"I did—I put it into his hand."
"And he flung it into your face?"
"Yes, curse him! Then he threw me out of the window!"
"Well, you do seem to have a reason for disliking him. What would you do to him if you got a good chance?"
"Ask me what I wouldn't do! All I want is the chance!"
"Can you keep your mouth closed?"
"You bet your dust! I never peach!"
"Then you may be just the kind of a man I am looking for. I want somebody with nerve. The trouble with the fellows in college who hate Merriwell isthat they do not dare butt up against him. They are afraid of him."
"Well, I'm not afraid of any man living, let alone a mere boy. He's nothing but a tenderfoot! Waugh!"
"Hear them shouting over him!" muttered Thornton. "See! They have lifted him on their shoulders! One would think he alone won the race to-day!"
Then Frank was heard to make the brief speech which elicited such hearty applause.
"It is sickening!" growled Flemming, pale with jealous rage.
"It is," nodded the stranger. "It makes me want to give him back the kick he gave me!"
"If you stick to me, I promise you that you shall have a good opportunity," said Flemming.
"You may bet your rocks that I'll tie to you, pard," assured the unknown. "I'll help you to get square, and you can help me. Frank Merriwell will have to keep his eyes open if he dodges us both."
It happened that, as he was perched on the shoulders of his friends and admirers, Frank Merriwell saw Flemming and Thornton in the further end of the car.
Merriwell would not have given his enemies more than a passing glance, but it occurred that he saw and recognized the man who was talking to Flemming.
"It is the scoundrel who tried to bribe me!" muttered Frank, angrily. "And he is with Flemming and Thornton! I fancy I smell a mouse."
Then he forced his friends to put him down, and, the moment he was on his feet, he hastened along the aisle toward the end of the car, having called Diamond to follow him.
The plotters saw Frank coming, and the expression on his face told them that there was a storm brewing.
"By Jove!" fluttered Thornton, in alarm; "he looks as if he means to thump somebody!"
Although he did not show it, Flemming was not a little alarmed by Merriwell's angry appearance.
Several of the students gathered about the crew saw there was something in the wind, and they followed Merriwell and Diamond down the crowded aisle.
Halting within a short distance of his enemies, Frank pointed straight at the stranger and cried:
"There he is! Take a good look at him, boys! That is the creature who tried to bribe me to throw the ball game to Harvard!"
His words rang through the car, and were heard by every one. The uproar and excitement that followed was quite unexpected by Frank.
A wild shout of anger broke from the college lads, and there was a scramble for that end of the car.
"Mob the wretch!"
"Thump him!"
"Choke him!"
"Don't let him get away!"
These cries broke from the crowd of lads, who strove in mad haste to get at the stranger.
"Great Christopher!" gasped Tom Thornton, in terror. "I'm going to get out of this! It's altogether too hot for me!"
Then he tried to slip away.
Flemming did not know what to do. The manner of the angry lads was alarming, and he saw no reason why he should defend a man who was quite unknown to him.
But the stranger did not wait to be defended. With a wild shout, that was like the war whoop of an Indian, he leaped up and lunged straight into the crowd, striking out right and left.
In less than ten seconds a general fight was taking place in that end of the car. Jack Diamond, who had a grudge against Tom Thornton, collared Tom as he was trying to slip away.
"Hold on!" cried the Virginian. "You can't play the sneak in that way! I saw you talking with that scoundrel! Did you and Flemming set him on to bribe Merriwell?"
"I don't know anything about it!" protested Tom, struggling. "Let go, Diamond!"
"Well, not in a hurry!" returned Jack. "I don't know where the money came from, but I believe youand Flemming tried to ruin Merriwell by bribing him to throw a game and then exposing him. If that was the trick, you fooled yourselves. Frank Merriwell is not that kind of a fellow!"
With a fierce exclamation, Thornton struck savagely at Jack's face, but Diamond dodged the blow.
"Oh, you will, will you!" he cried, and then he gave Thornton a terrible thump between the eyes.
In another moment they were at it fiercely.
Although Flemming was a big fellow with a reputation as a bully, Harry Rattleton had not hesitated to lay hands on him.
"You're a chine fap—I mean a fine chap!" shouted Harry. "So you are concerned in this attempted bribery!"
"Get out!" snarled Flemming. "I'll break your nose!"
"Break it!" invited Rattleton. "I'll try to do a little something while you are about it!"
Flemming waited to say not another word, but, quick as a flash, he did strike Harry a heavy blow on the jaw. Rattleton was staggered, but he held on toFlemming. A moment later both were swept down by the rush of the crowd.
It was something of a blind fight, and it waged with great fierceness, although in an aimless manner, for some moments. Several of the windows in the car were broken.
Bob Collingwood waded into the midst of the struggling mass of human beings, scattering them with his powerful arms, and crying:
"Here, stop this senseless scrapping! Where is the fellow who tried to bribe Merriwell?"
Where, indeed? All looked around for him, but he was gone. In some manner he had made his escape in the midst of the tumult.
"He must be on the train!" cried Frank. "He can't escape from the train till it stops! Here—I have his coat! He left it in my hands when the crowd tore us apart."
Merriwell held up the garment.
"He must be in the car back of this!" declared Collingwood. "I want to see him—I want to get a fair look at his face."
"I'd like to do something else to his face!" shoutedanother student. "Think of any one offering a Yale pitcher money to throw a game to Harvard!"
This brought a mad howl from the angry students.
Rattleton and Flemming had been torn apart during the struggle, and Thornton and Diamond were separated, but not until Jack had thumped the fellow he disliked, and done it several times.
Both Flemming and Thornton were forgotten. The excited students rushed out by the open door, and crowded into the rear car, which was the only one on the train to which the unknown man could have escaped.
"Where is he?" was the hoarse shout that went up, as the angry boys packed into the car.
They looked desperate and dangerous, as if they were thirsting for human blood.
At the farther end of the car a man in his shirt-sleeves crouched and muttered:
"Well, derned if I expected to kick up this sort of a rumpus! I've seen all kinds of mobs, but I will allow that this reminds me of a regular Judge Lynch crowd, and no mistake. Never judged a lot of youngsterswould get stirred up this way any whatever. They're on a regular rampage."
He kept out of sight as far as possible, feeling that it was the most "healthy" thing to do.
"Where is he?" demanded Collingwood, who was just ahead of Merriwell—"where is the man who belongs to this coat? He must have come in here! Did a man in his shirt sleeves come in here?"
"Yes, yes!" replied several. "What has he been doing?"
"Doing!" roared "Dear Old Bob," flushed with anger. "Why, he is the creature that tried to bribe Merriwell!"
It seemed that this piece of business was generally known, for Collingwood's words produced a roar of indignation.
Down at the rear end of the car a young man stood up and shouted:
"This way! Here he is! He can't get away!"
Then it seemed that the students all spotted their game at the same moment, and there was a fierce scramble for that end of the car.
The hunted man saw them coming, and a desperate look settled on his face.
"I'd as lief fall into the clutches of a whole tribe of Apache Indians!" he gasped. "They're after my scalp for sure!"
He leaped to the door, and tore it open.
"Stop!" rang out the voice of Frank Merriwell. "You cannot escape, for you will be killed if you leap from the train!"
The man hesitated one moment. He saw the college lads rushing down the aisle, and then, although the train was making a speed of at least forty miles an hour, he descended the steps.
Collingwood and Merriwell came out through the open door. As they reached the platform, they saw the man clinging in the darkness at the foot of the steps. He was in a crouching position, his hands clasping the iron holds. In the gloom his face seemed fully as white as the sleeves of his shirt, which fluttered in the breeze.
"For Heaven's sake, don't jump!" cried Frank.
Collingwood tried to grasp the man by the arm. Ashe did so, the mysterious man dropped from the steps, instantly disappearing in the darkness.
"He's gone!" gasped Frank, horrified.
"Yes, he is gone!" said Collingwood, hoarsely. "That's the end of him, for surely he was killed when he struck the ground!"
For two days Frank scanned all the newspapers for an account of the finding of the body of an unknown man somewhere on the line of the N. Y., N. H. & H. R. R., but he looked in vain.
"Well, that is remarkable!" Merriwell decided. "I can't understand it. If that fellow escaped, it is a miracle. And if he escaped, I believe I shall hear from him again," he finished.
The spring term was drawing to a close. But two more events were to transpire before the coming of the long summer vacation. There was the final ball game with Harvard, and then the great intercollegiate athletic tournament at Madison Square Garden in New York—the latter affair to be the great college event of the year.
Frank was entered for several of the contests in New York, but his hand, although improving, would not be in condition to allow him to play ball again that season.
As for the coming vacation, his plans were not perfected as yet. Some of his friends were going to Bar Harbor, some contemplated spending the summer quietly at home, some were going abroad for a flying trip, and many had expressed themselves as quite undecided as to the manner in which they would pass the summer months.
Frank had boldly proposed a bicycle journey across the continent, but all his friends, with the exception of Diamond, had considered the proposition a joke.
Diamond grew enthusiastic over it, urging Merriwell to carry out the plan, even though but two of them should make the jaunt.
Frank's plan embraced a party of at least four—possibly more. What made Rattleton believe that Merriwell was joking was that Frank had soberly asked Bruce Browning, the reputedly laziest man at Yale, to make one of the party.
Bruce came near fainting with horror at the mere mention of such a thing.
"My dear Merriwell!" he gasped, "is it possible that you take me for a candidate for a lunatic asylum? Do you think that I am on the verge of lapsing into complete idiocy? Or are you simply trying to have a little sport at my expense?"
"Nothing of the sort, my dear fellow, I assure you," said Frank. "I am in sober earnest about getting up a party to make the trip across the continent, and I think it would be a fine thing for you if you were to make one of the company."
Bruce was reclining on a couch in Merriwell's room at the time, lazily puffing away at a cigarette. He languidly reached out his hand and felt for Frank's wrist.
"Permit me to examine your pulse, old fellow," he murmured. "If you are not trying to work some kind of a horse on me you must be in a bad way. Ah!" he said, knowingly, with his thumb and finger on Frank's wrist, "I thought so! Pulse irregular—flutters like an old rag in the wind—flesh hot and dry, eye changing and unsteady, dryness in your throat and general vacancy in your stomach. What you need is a tonic—and you need it bad. You should take whiskey, it may be the only thing that will save you from an utter breaking up of the nervous system or premature death. The premature death will happen if you try to jolly me any more. I shall carry a gun with me constantly hereafter, and it will not cost too much of an effort to point it in your direction and pull the trigger."
Frank laughed.
"I know you are almost too lazy to draw your breath," he said, "and I also know that the best thing that could happen to you would be just such an expedition as I have proposed. However, I suppose it is useless to waste my breath talking to you, and so I will drop it."
But for all of Browning's refusal to be one of the party, Frank did not give up the project of a trip across the continent from ocean to ocean during the summer vacation.
But almost immediately other matters occupied his attention.
One night he was spending an evening in town with a jolly party of students. The others were drinking beer and ale, while Merriwell took nothing but ginger ale or bottled soda.
As they were leaving Traeger's, Frank caught a glimpse of the face of a man who seemed to be waiting for them to come out.
For one moment Merriwell stopped as if turned tostone, and then, with a hoarse shout of recognition, he leaped after the man, who had slipped away.
The others followed Frank, and they soon pursued him around a corner, where they found him standing still and staring about in a disappointed manner.
"What is it, old man?" asked Paul Hamilton. "Why did you give that whoop and then chase yourself around here in such a lively fashion?"
"It was not myself I chased," declared Frank. "It was quite another party, I assure you; but he has given me the slip, for I can see nothing of him."
"Who was it?"
"The man who tried to bribe me to throw the last ball game to Harvard!"
"That fellow?" exclaimed all the lads, excitedly. "Are you sure?"
"Dead sure," asserted Frank, confidently. "I saw his face fairly in the light in front of Traeger's when we came out."
"Then he was not killed in the leap from the train!" cried Diamond. "How did he escape?"
"Ask me something easy!" exclaimed Frank. "Inever expected to look on that man's face again, unless I looked on it as a corpse."
"Confound him!" exploded Harry Rattleton. "I'd like to hake his break—I mean break his head! What does he want around here?"
Frank was silent. There was a grim look on his face, and it was plain that he had been not a little disturbed by the sight of the mysterious stranger.
The boys turned toward college, discussing the queer actions of the unknown as they walked along. One or two of them fully believed the man must be a lunatic.
That night, as Frank and Harry were preparing for bed, the former declared:
"That strange man is about as large a mystery as I ever ran across. He is beginning to be a decided nuisance."
"What do you make of him, anyway?"
"That he is a Westerner, or wishes to be thought such. His language betrays that. And he is the last man I could dream would be staking enough money on a game of college baseball to be able to offer a bribe of two thousand dollars to make sure that the game would result in his favor."
"By Jove!" cried Rattleton; "if any other fellow but yourself had told me that a stranger had made them such an offer and had forked over one-half cash in advance I should have considered him a looming byer—no, a blooming liar!"
"And you would not be to blame for thinking so. To me it seems like a dream, but I know it actually happened."
"Well, what is he hanging around New Haven for?"
"I'll give it up, unless he hopes to get at Heffiner or Dad Hicks, one of whom must pitch the game at Springfield."
"He'll get used rough if he pushes his dirty dough at either Heffiner or Hicks!" cried Rattleton.
"I think so," nodded Frank. "I believe they are loyal to dear old Yale, and nothing can buy their honor."
"Most Yale men are. There may be one or two sneaks who would sell out, as there are black sheep in every flock. I don't believe Flemming would be above such a trick."
"Oh, I don't know! I do not wish to think that bad of Flemming. I know he is my enemy, and I believehe hates me so he would do almost anything to injure me but I do not wish to think that a fellow like him even would stoop to such a dastardly trick as to betray old Yale."
"You always think every fellow is white till you are convinced to the contrary beyond the shadow of a doubt."
"I had rather believe all men honest and deceive myself in that manner than to suspect everybody and thus think that one honest man was a rogue."
Harry regarded Frank in a queer manner, slowly shaking his head, but saying nothing more. For all that they had been friends and roommates for a year and a half, Rattleton was forced to confess to himself that there still remained many things about Merriwell that he could not understand.
That Frank was shrewd Harry knew, and yet Merriwell sometimes seemed to deliberately deceive himself by thinking that certain fellows were honest when he should have known better. It seemed the hardest thing in the world for Frank to be convinced that any fellow was thoroughly bad, even though thatperson might be an enemy who had endeavored in numerous ways to do him an injury.
"Merriwell seems to come out all right in everything," thought Rattleton; "but it would not be the luck of any other fellow who dared take the chances he does."