The morning after the evening when Frank saw the mysterious stranger in front of Traeger's he received a warning note through the mail. It read as follows:
"Be constantly on your guard. Your enemies are plotting to do you serious injury. I shall do what I can to foil them, but you had better watch out."
It was unsigned, and the handwriting was cramped and awkward, as if the person who wrote it was not accustomed to handle a pen.
"Well, I wonder what sort of a game this is!" cried Frank, in disgust. "It is a fake, pure and simple!"
Rattleton was at his side.
"What is it?" asked Harry.
"Read that!" invited Frank, thrusting the anonymous warning into the ready hands of his friend.
Harry glanced it over and then whistled softly.
"Rot!" he cried. "Anybody can see that's lot on the nevel—I mean not on the level."
"But what sort of a game is it?" questioned Frank, in perplexity. "If it was an appointment to meet somebody somewhere, or even a warning to stay away from some place, I could see something in it; but the mere statement that enemies are plotting to injure me doesn't indicate much in this case."
"It seems to indicate that somebody fakes you for a tool—no, takes you for a fool!" spluttered Rattleton.
Frank's face grew scornful.
"That somebody may find out that it is not entirely healthy to try crooked games with me," he grimly said. "I believe I see through the trick."
"What is it, then?"
"This bogus warning will be followed by another. The other will go a little further than this. Then will come the third, which will be the one intended to draw me into some sort of a trap. Oh, the game is too thin!"
Harry looked into his roommate's face, and saw that Frank Merriwell was aroused at last.
"What are you going to do?" asked Rattleton.
"I am going to have a few words with Fred Flemming at the first opportunity. I have been easy with Flemming, for I could not believe the fellow all bad, even though he had tried to injure me, but, if he is going to hire a ruffian like this unknown man to try to work my ruin, I shall draw the lines on Mr. Flemming. He is rich, but that will not save him."
"They say he has money to burn."
"I don't care if he is a Monte Cristo. He cannot ride over me with all his money, and I do not believe that a scoundrel will be tolerated at Yale after his villainy is exposed, even though he may be rich and have influential parents and connections."
"What do you think the game is?"
"As to that I am more or less at sea; but I believe that the bribe which was offered me to throw the ball game to Harvard was a trap meant to work my undoing."
"Flemming must have known your hand would not permit you to play in that game, so he could not have been in that piece of business."
"My dear boy, I do not fancy I was expected topitch that game. It was thought that I would keep the money. That money was marked. This man would have gone forth and blowed that he had bribed me. He would have told what marked money he had given me. I should have been cornered—perhaps arrested—then searched. You see what that would have meant. The marked money would have been found on my person. It would have been exactly as the stranger had described it. It is certain that somebody was watching and saw him give me the money. That person would have testified against me. Then Frank Merriwell's college career would have come to a sudden termination. In some ways it was a bungling plot, and in others it was crafty enough."
"But a cool thousand—that was an awful roll to push at a fellow!"
"It was a bold and desperate stroke, and the fact that such a sum was offered shows that the one who put up the job knew I could not be bought with a petty amount. He did not know that it made no difference whether it was one dollar or one million—Iwould not sell my honor and betray dear old Yale for any sum!"
"You have other enemies besides Flemming."
"Yes—Thornton."
"He doesn't count, for he lacks nerve."
"Whom do you mean?"
"Harris does not love you."
"It will be a long time before Sport Harris will venture to lift a hand against me again, for the memory of the fate of his comrade, Hartwick, is too vivid before him. Hartwick brought disgrace and ruin on himself by trying to injure me. He was forced to leave college, and then, when he came back to New Haven and put up that race-track job on me, he finished his own downfall by robbing his father in order that he might have a sum of money to stake against me, feeling sure I must lose. Directly after that race he was arrested."
"What was done about that matter? Was he sent to prison?"
"No; his father would not press the case; but I have heard that the old man's heart is broken by Hartwick's actions. The worthless rascal was the appleof the old man's eye. His father had expected to see him go through college and graduate with flying colors. The disgrace has bowed the father with grief, and it is said he cannot live long."
"Then Hartwick will get all his money."
"No. The old man has made a will that cuts Evan off with a very small sum. The rest of the money and estate goes to other relatives and to charity."
"And Evan Hartwick brought all this on himself by his dastardly attempts to injure you. It should be a warning to others."
"It is an old saying that 'the way of the transgressor is hard,' but it seems to take human beings a long time to become convinced that it is absolutely true."
Frank kept his eyes open, and waited for the second warning, which he felt sure would come.
He was not mistaken, for it came near night.
A boy appeared at Frank's door, and handed over a sealed envelope, which he explained he had received from a man with a heavy beard. He said he had been paid a quarter of a dollar to deliver it.
Frank tore it open and read:
"You will be invited to go to the theatre to-night.Do not go. Your enemies will be on the watch for you."
"Oh. I knew it was coming!" cried Frank, scornfully. "It is a flimsy trick! It actually disgusts me!"
Harry was out, and Merriwell was alone.
Later Harry came in, accompanied by Diamond, Browning, Griswold and Creighton.
"I say, old man," cried Charlie Creighton, addressing Frank, "we have something on for to-night, and we want you to take a hand."
"You may take a few rotten eggs or decayed vegetables with that hand, if you like," grinned Griswold.
Frank remembered the second warning. Of the party Creighton was the only fellow he did not know very well, and, if there was an enemy among them, Creighton must be the man.
Frank resolved to show no suspicion.
"What's up?" he asked.
"To-night," cried Griswold, dramatically, "the curtain will go up on one of the greatest tragedies ever enacted on any stage—nit!"
"Hush!" whispered Creighton, mysteriously. "Whisper it softly. 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' is in town, withtwoLittle Evas, twoMarks, three real Siberian bloodhounds, bred in New Jersey, and a jackass."
"The jackass is the manager of the company," grinned Griswold.
"I presume you have heard of that immortal play, 'Uncle Tom's Cabin,' Mr. Merriwell?" questioned Creighton.
"Methinks I have," assured Frank.
"'Methinks' is good," nodded Creighton. "It has a fat sound."
"Eh?" grunted Browning, who already had deposited his corpulent body on the couch. "Did anybody speak to me?"
"Ah, Mr. Browning," said Creighton, "I think you said as we were coming along that you have had the pleasure of seeing 'Uncle Tom's Cabin'?"
"Yes, I said so."
"Then permit me to inquire if you have ever seen 'Ten Nights in a Barroom'?"
"No," grunted Bruce; "but I have seen ten barrooms in a night."
"Here, hold up!" cried Griswold, promptly. "Thatbelongs to me, and I have used it on everybody I could hit with it."
"Never mind," murmured Browning. "It is a good thing, so we'll have to move it along."
"Seriously," said Diamond, "there is a crummy 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' company at a cheap theatre in town, and Creighton has purchased a box. He wants us to go along."
"That's the idea," acknowledged Charlie. "All the fellows are onto it, and there will be two or three hundred Yale boys there. We won't do a thing to the hamfatters!"
Frank smiled. He saw that it would be an opportunity for any amount of sport he was sure, and the mere thought of it made him eager to go.
But he remembered the warning. It was most remarkable that the invitation to the theatre had followed so closely after the receipt of the note from the unknown.
"Of course you'll go, old fellow?" cried Creighton, who saw that Merriwell was hesitating.
"Of course he will!" cried Rattleton. "Merry is always in for a little racket of this sort."
"He is always foremost in anything of the kind," said Diamond.
"That is why I want him in my box," smiled Creighton. "Oh, we won't do a thing in that box—not a thing! I have ordered plenty of fizz on ice, and—oh, but you do not drink fizz, do you, Merriwell?"
"No," said Frank; "but I am no temperance crank, and I do not make myself offensive by trying to convince everybody else that men who do drink are fools. College lads should have brains enough to know what they want and what they do not want, and it is impertinent for any fellow to go around trying to make Good Templars of men who enjoy a glass of beer or wine now and then."
Creighton impulsively grasped Frank's hand.
"Merriwell," he cried, "by example you are the best possible temperance lecture, and you will make more converts by keeping still than by preaching."
"There may be something in that," admitted Frank. "I knew a parson once on a time who never mentioned religion unless some one broached the subject, except when he was in the pulpit. His name was Lamfear. He did not go around with his facedrawn down, asking everybody if they had received salvation and loved the Lord. I admired him more than any parson I ever knew, and I used to go to his church Sundays to hear him preach. He was a good man, although he seemed to enjoy seeing boys play baseball and skate and coast and fly kites. I remember that one time he put on skates himself, and took a spin on the river with the boys and girls. Now I know that man did more good by keeping still about religion than he could have done had he dinned it into the ears of everybody he met. Every one saw he was a good man, for his daily life told that. All the young folks admired him as much as they disliked another old parson who was forever talking about the wickedness of the world and the goodness of the Lord, and collaring persons everywhere to ask them why they did not attend church oftener. Good old Parson Lamfear! May his tribe increase!"
"Well," said Griswold, "we'll let Parson Lamfear rest. What we want to know is if you are with us to-night."
"To go, or not to go? that is the burning question,"murmured Browning, as, still stretched on his back, he struck a match, lighted a cigarette, dropped part of the match on his chin, and gave a howl of pain.
Frank suddenly made up his mind.
"I'll go," he said.
It was a gay party that left South Middle that evening and started for the theatre. Merriwell had not said a word to Rattleton concerning the receipt of the second warning. A spirit of sheer reckless defiance led him to accept the invitation to the theatre, even though he had not wished to spend his time that evening in such a manner.
"This may be a jolly," he told himself; "if I were to stay away the fellows would have a horse on me sure."
Creighton had a beautiful tenor voice, and as they started out beneath the elms, he sang:
"I shot an arrow into the air,It fell to earth—I know not where——"
"I shot an arrow into the air,It fell to earth—I know not where——"
Danny Griswold seemed to take a fiendish delight in giving a humorous twist to anything sentimental, and so he interrupted with:
"The next day a man came aroundAnd sold me dead dog at a dollar a pound."
"The next day a man came aroundAnd sold me dead dog at a dollar a pound."
"If that were original I wouldn't mind," said Creighton; "but you got it from some star vaudeville performance, you little runt."
"That's where I get all my gags," frankly confessed Griswold. "I store them up for use, and they come in handy some time."
"Some time, when you spring a stale joke, I shall be led to assassinate you," declared Bruce Browning.
"Impossible!" cried Griswold. "That would be a crime."
"Well, what's the odds?"
"You are too fat to commit a crime."
"How is that?"
"It is difficult for fat persons to stoop to anything low, you know."
"You seem to find considerable amusement because I am somewhat overweight," said Bruce, with attempted severity.
"Not at all," chirped Danny. "Some men are well enough in their weight, but this doesn't apply to coal dealers."
"Say, Griswold," called Rattleton, "what's the average fate for a wool—no, I mean the average weight for a fool?"
"A simple ton," replied the little fellow, quick as a flash.
Frank clapped Danny on the back.
"Good boy!" he exclaimed, laughing. "Rattleton didn't get ahead of you that time."
"It is hard for anybody to get ahead of me," declared Griswold. "I am really a lively man in a footrace, for my father is a watchmaker, and he has given me instructions in the business."
"I fuf-fuf-fuf, fail to see huh-huh-how that applies," said Joe Gamp, a lad with a serious impediment in his speech.
"Why, you see I have learned how to make good time," chuckled Danny.
Gamp roared with laughter. He was a big, raw-boned, hulking fellow from New Hampshire, and his laugh was like the braying of a mule. Creighton had invited Gamp to the theatre for the amusement the country lad would provide.
"He'll break the performers all up if he ever getsstarted laughing," said Charlie to Merriwell. "When he gets going in good style nothing will stop him."
There was something about the country boy that Merriwell liked. Frank quickly decided that Joe was a big-hearted, honest fellow, such a blunder-heels that he was certain to provoke ridicule, and yet thoroughly worthy and deserving.
In laughing, Gamp opened his mouth to the widest extent. He suddenly closed it, and clapped his hand to his jaw.
"Jee-ru-sa-lem!" he gasped; "there gug-gug-gug-goes that old aching tut-tut-tooth of mine! I was careless to let the night air gug-gug-get into it."
"Why don't you have it pulled out?" asked Diamond.
"I'm going to have it pup-pup-pup-pulled and all the rest of my 'tut-'tut-'tarnel teeth just as soon as I can afford the money to bub-buy a new set," declared Gamp, honestly.
"Why spend your money in such a foolish way?" said Griswold, with apparent seriousness. "Save the dentist's bill. I know a dog that will insert a full set of teeth free of charge."
Open flew Gamp's mouth again, and his braying laugh caused a passing pedestrian to dodge so suddenly that he jumped from under his own hat.
"Say!" exclaimed Charlie Creighton, getting hold of Griswold; "save those till we get to the theatre. Then you can set him going, and we'll have sport."
"Can't save them," declared Danny. "They have to come when the opportunity offers."
And so they went on their way to the theatre, laughing and joking, singing snatches of college songs, and having a jolly time generally.
Creighton had made no mistake in saying a large number of college lads would be present. It seemed that there were at least two hundred in the theatre, and it was apparent that they were there for "a racket."
The moment Creighton's party entered the box a tall young man in the first row of orchestra seats arose and faced the house, soberly saying:
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a most auspicious, not to say suspicious, occasion. It is probable that many of you were not aware that we were to be honored to-night by having the privilege of witnessingthe performance in company with royal personages, but such is the fact. The party that has just entered the box on the right is the Prince of Chow-chow, who is accompanied by the Duke of Dublinstout, the Earl of Easytogetajag, the Emperor of Buginhishead, the High Mogul of Whooperup, the Chief Pusher of Whangdoodleland and the Great Muckamuck of Hogansalley. Gentlemen, it is your privilege to salute them."
Then every college boy in the house arose and bowed with great gravity toward the box.
"Well, this is sure to be a hot time!" laughed Merriwell, delighted.
"You bet it is!" assured Charlie Creighton. "We'll makeSimon Legreeregret that he is living."
An usher came down the aisle and remonstrated with the tall student. The tall student replied to the usher with exaggerated politeness, declaring that he meant no harm, but that he had felt it his duty to inform the audience that such distinguished personages were in the box.
Then when the tall young man sat down, as if by a prearranged signal, there was a wild outburst of applause, stamping of feet, whistling catcalls, and so forth.
The musicians came out and began to put their instruments in tune. They composed an orchestra carried with the troupe, and were, as Rattleton forcibly expressed it, "decidedly on the bum."
Some of the musicians seemed to dread what was coming, for they looked pale and agitated.
"They know that some of the over-ripe vegetables and stale hen-fruit which the audience may toss at the performers is liable to fall short," smiled Merriwell.
Having tuned up after a fashion, the orchestra began to file away at some sort of a medley.
Griswold rolled his eyes and said:
"I am carried away with the music, as the monkey who was perched on the hand-organ remarked."
It was with the utmost difficulty that the assembled students repressed a desire to uplift their voices and drown the sounds which came from the wretched orchestra; but they felt that it would not do to alarm the players by too great a demonstration, and so the only interruptions to the overture were a few catcalls.
At last the curtain rolled up, and the play began.An ominous silence seemed to hang over the audience. The actors were nervous at first, but as the silence continued and offensive demonstrations were not immediately made, they gained courage and swung into their parts with as much enthusiasm and ability as possible.
It is possible that the sight of two or three policemen at the back of the house gave the performers courage. The officers had been called in to overawe the college lads in case they became too demonstrative.
At length, in a very pathetic part of the first act, Griswold leaned over to Joe Gamp, and whispered:
"It is very touching, isn't it?"
"Yes," said the country boy, chokingly, "it mum-mum-mum-makes me fuf-fuf-fuf-feel like th-th-thunder!"
He nearly blubbered outright, for he had never seen many plays, having found it necessary to spend his money with the greatest care, as he was confined to a certain allowance to take him through college.
"And Uncle Tom's Bible," said Danny—"it reminds me of a conundrum. How was the ark propelled?"
"Dud-dud-darned if I know."
"By a Noah, of course," explained Griswold.
Gamp caught his breath, and then he lay back and roared:
"Haw! haw! haw! A-haw! a-haw! a-haw!"
This roar of laughter, coming as it did at a solemn and pathetic point in the play, was most startling.Uncle Tomcame near collapsing on the stage, and the other actors were so disturbed that they got tangled in their lines.
The students caught on, and there was an immediate burst of applause that swelled louder and louder. This died away most suddenly and unexpectedly, and Joe Gamp was heard to shout in his endeavor to make Griswold hear:
"By jiminy! that was a good one! A-haw! a-haw! a-haw! a-haw!"
The lad from the country went off into another paroxysm of laughter, pressing his hands to his sides, and shutting his eyes, utterly unconscious for the moment of his surroundings.
Of a sudden Joe remembered that he was at the theatre. His mouth came together with a snap, his eyesflew open, and he ceased to laugh and stiffened up, with a frightened look on his face.
The change was so ludicrous that the entire audience was convulsed, and the actors could not help laughing.
From that moment the play progressed under difficulties. In the scene where the slaves were being sold at auction some of the students began to pepper the actors with pea-shooters, doing it cautiously, so that they would not be spotted in the act. Every timeMarkswould open his mouth to say "seventy-five" he would be struck by one or more peas, which were fired with force sufficient to make them sting like hornets.
"Seventy——Wow! Whoop!" yelledMarks, clapping a hand to the side of his face, and suddenly dancing an original can-can.
"Five hundred," criedLegree.
"Seventy-fi—— We-e-e-ow! Stop it! Somebody is shooting things at me!"
Markshad been spotted on the end of his long nose, to which he was wildly clinging with both hands, as he pranced around the stage.
"What's the matter?" growledLegree, in a guardedtone, unable to understand what had happened. "Have you gone crazy, you fool? Stand up and bid!"
Then he cried: "Six hundred!"
"Seventy-five—— Hornets and blisters!" finishedMarks, as he was nailed by three or four peas. "I can't stand this! It's too much!"
He bolted off the stage.
Legreelooked dismayed, and then he advanced to the footlights and addressed the audience.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I trust you will excuse the gentleman who is playing the part ofMarks. He has not been well for several days, and he is somewhat troubled with hallucinations. Of course we know his troubles are all imaginary, and—— Ye-e-e-ow! I'm shot!"
A pea had struck him squarely between the eyes, and he started back so suddenly that he sat down on the stage as if he had been knocked off his feet.
"A-haw! a-haw! a-haw!" roared the voice of Joe Gamp, and the audience joined in the shout of laughter.
There was an uproar in the theatre, which the ushers and the police were unable to quell for some time.
The curtain was rung down, and then, after a short wait, the manager came out and said the show would go on, if the audience would behave. He threatened to have the persons who were using the pea-shooters arrested, and this threat was greeted by hisses and catcalls.
After a while, however, the curtain went up once more, and the play proceeded in a tangle of "real Siberian bloodhounds,"Gumption Cutes,Marks,Topsies,Little Evas, escaping slaves, slave hunters and general excitement and confusion.
It was plain that the actors feared further trouble, and they were rushing through their lines, eager to get off the stage as soon as possible.
The bloodhounds were cheered by the students and peppered with peas. WhenTopsydeclared she "nebber was born, but jes' growed," some one inquired the name of the fertilizer used in her rearing. When the jackass appeared, a solemn voice from some uncertain part of the theatre called the attention of the audience to the "leading actor of the colossal aggregation."Little Evawas invited to exhibit her wings.
The college boys were irrepressible, and yet they did not do anything to absolutely break up the show, although Joe Gamp's haw-haws came near proving disastrous several times.
A policeman came down to the box and threatened to arrest Joe, but he was pacified by Creighton, who had a decidedly smooth way of "fixing things."
Frank Merriwell remained quiet until near the end of the play, enjoying the sport the other fellows were making. At last, however, he decided to produce some amusement himself.
Frank was a very good amateur ventriloquist, although he seldom practiced the art. Now, however, he saw his opportunity.
Little Evawas on her deathbed, and the mourners were assembled about. All at once one of the mourners seemed to say:
"This business is on the bum."
Every one started and stared. The actors were astounded, and the audience amused. Then the death agony went on until another of the watchers byEva'sside observed:
"It makes me sick!"
The manager was heard to hiss from the shelter of the wings:
"I'll make you sick when you come off!"
"Oh, go fall on yourself, you old cheat!" the actor seemed to fling back.
ThenLittle Eva, in her death agony, apparently remarked:
"Give it to the old duffer! He owes me six weeks' salary, and I'll quit dying right now if the ghost doesn't walk immediately!"
This brought laughter and hearty applause from the college lads.
When the applause had subsidedUncle Tomapparently observed:
"He can't get ahead of me. I've put an attachment on the jackass."
This was more than the excitable manager couldstand, and he rushed onto the stage, shaking his fist atUncle Tomand crying:
"Confound you! I don't owe you a cent! You obliged me to pay up before you would go on to-night!"
And then he nearly collapsed when he realized what his anger had led him to do and say.
The college lads arose from their seats and cheered.
Standing in the front of the box, Charlie Creighton shouted:
"This is the best part of the show, fellows. Let's give 'em one! Now—all together!"
Then the Yale yell pealed forth, andLittle Evacame near dying in reality from heart failure.
This broke up the show entirely, and the curtain came down with a rush, while the frightened orchestra made haste to disappear. From behind the curtain the manager shouted that the show was over, and the laughing, tumultuous students hurried out of theatre.
"Well, Merriwell," said Charlie Creighton, "how have you enjoyed the evening?"
"Immensely," laughed Frank.
"It was a regular sus-sus-sus-circus," declared JoeGamp. "Never had so much fuf-fuf-fuf-fuf-fun in all my bub-born days!"
"We had them on a string, like a kite," murmured Bruce Browning.
"And that's what made them soar," chuckled Griswold.
Just as the street was reached, Frank gave a slight exclamation, and quickly forced his way through the crowd toward a man who was near at hand.
That man was the mysterious stranger.
The unknown seemed to be watching Merriwell, for he whirled about and hastened away the moment Frank started in his direction.
"Oh, I want to get my hands on that fellow!" grated Frank.
The man did his best to escape, but Merriwell was close after him. The stranger hurried along a street, and Frank broke into a run. Then the unknown glanced over his shoulder, and started to run himself.
"Hold on!" commanded Frank.
That made the stranger run the faster.
Frank followed, but could see nothing of the person he was pursuing.
"He must have dodged into a doorway," decided the lad. "No—here is where he went, down this alley."
The mouth of a dark alley was before him, and he plunged into it. He did not go far before he decided that further pursuit was folly, and he turned back.
"He's slippery," muttered the boy; "but I'll catch him some time, if he continues to shadow me."
Dark forms appeared at the mouth of the alley, and a hoarse whisper came to Merriwell's ears:
"He went in here, and the alley is blind, so he can't get out. Do him—and do him dirty!"
For all that Frank had been often in desperate peril, something about this situation chilled him to the heart. The uncanny darkness, the unknown alley, his creeping foes coming down upon him, possibly with deadly intent, all served to make him feel weak and helpless for the moment.
There are times when the bravest heart shrinks with dread, and, for all that Frank was a lad with remarkable nerve, it is not strange that he felt a thrill of fear at that moment.
It is claimed that men have lived who "never knewthe meaning of the word fear," and it is possible that this may be true; but in case they ever were placed in situations of extreme peril, such persons must have been lacking in some of the essential elements that compose a human being. We think of them as deficient in certain ways, wanting in the finer qualities, and naturally coarse and brutish.
It is the person who experiences fear and conquers it by his own determination to do so who is the greatest hero.
One of the bravest generals America has produced, a man who had the reputation of being utterly fearless, once was asked if he ever had been afraid while in battle. "No, sir," was his reply, "never in battle; but sometimes just before going into an engagement, I have felt it necessary to keep my teeth clinched to prevent my heart from jumping out of my mouth."
Still the men whom he commanded never knew that he experienced a single thrill of fear. He conquered his trepidation by his wonderful will power, and always in battle he appeared perfectly unaware that there was the least danger. Indeed, he was sometimes criticised for his apparent recklessness in exposing himself to deadly peril.
Frank Merriwell never courted peril, and he avoided danger when he could do so in a manly way and without lowering his own sense of dignity.
Once engaged in a dangerous encounter, or forced into a position of peril, Frank's blood arose, and he seemed to be seized by a reckless disregard of his personal safety. Then it was that he laughed in a singular manner, and his enemies had learned that he was the most dangerous when that laugh sounded from his lips.
As he heard those unknown foes creeping down upon him in the darkness of the alley, Frank crouched close to the ground, and felt about with his hand for some weapon of defense.
Fear suddenly gave place to anger, and he longed to retaliate on his enemies. He knew well enough that the men creeping down upon him were hired tools, chosen by his foes to do him severe bodily injury.
"Oh, for a club—a stone—anything!" he thought.
But his hand found nothing that suited his need at that moment.
The cautiously advancing men came nearer and nearer. He could hear them whispering to each other, and they seemed to block the entire width of the narrow alley. He could not make out their number, but he was sure there must be several of them.
"Can yer see him, Jake?"
"No, an' I can't hear him neither."
"But he's here somewhere, and they say he'll fight. Look out fer him."
Frank heard these whispered words, and then, without realizing that he was about to do so, he laughed!
There were hoarse cries, curses and blows. A savage struggle suddenly was begun in the dark alley.
Frank had hoped to break through the line of his foes by his sudden rush, but he was not successful, although his hard right fist knocked a man down with his first blow.
Then he received a shock that seemed to cause a thousand bright lights to flash before his eyes, and he knew he had been struck on the head with some sort of weapon.
The boy staggered. Uttering hoarse exclamations, his assailants, like beasts of prey, sprang upon him.
"Give it to him!" cried a voice.
With new strength, Frank twisted and squirmed. In doing so, he threw his head from side to side, and it chanced that he succeeded in saving it from the blows which were intended to render him helpless.
Those blows, many of them, at least, fell on his shoulders and his back with benumbing force.
He forgot that his left hand was not yet well, but he used it as freely and as vigorously as his right.
And, once more, something like a laugh came from his lips.
"Hear him!" hissed one of the ruffians. "Why, he's a perfect young fiend!"
But Frank could not long hold his own against such odds. Some of the blows aimed at his head fell glancingly, but they were enough to rob him in a measure of his strength. He tried to tear away, and then he was felled to the ground.
Merriwell felt that "the jig was up" with him. They had him at their mercy, at last.
Then it was that a surprising thing happened. With encouraging cries, two men came through the darkness and attacked the boy's assailants.
That the new arrivals on the battlefield were armed with heavy clubs was apparent, and they used them mercilessly on the ruffians.
This attack was unexpected by Frank's assailants, and they could not meet it. Immediately they turned and fled, pursued by one of the men who had set upon them.
Just then, apparently disturbed by the sounds of the fight, some person came to a nearby window with a lighted lamp.
The light shone out into the alley, and fell on Frank Merriwell and one of the men who had saved him.
"Plug Kirby!" gasped Frank, sitting up.
"Dat's wot, me boy!" cried the bruiser, cheerfully. "An' I kinder t'ink we didn't git round any too quick neider."
"You came just in time."
"Be yer hurt much, youngster?" asked Kirby, anxiously, assisting Frank to arise.
"I think not. Got a few cracks and was upset, but that is all. Where is the man who was with you?"
"He whooped it along after der gang. Kinder t'inkhe wanted ter ketch one of der blokes an' hold him fer der perlice ter pinch."
"Who was he?"
"Dunno."
"What?" cried Frank, astonished—"don't know who was with you when you came to my aid?"
"Well, I dunno his name, youngster, and that's on der level."
Frank was eager to ask more questions, but Plug said:
"We'd best push outer dis. Dunno wot'll happen if we stays here too long. Der gang might come back."
So they hurried out of the alley, Frank receiving some assistance from Kirby, as he was rather dizzy when he tried to walk.
When the street was reached no one seemed to be in the immediate vicinity.
"Shall we wait for your friend?" asked Merriwell.
"Naw," answered Plug. "He ain't likely ter come back."
A short time later they were seated at a table in a nearby resort, and Frank was treating Kirby.
Frank had examined his own injuries, and discovered they were not serious, although it was likely that he would be sore about the head and shoulders from the bruises he had received.
"Now tell me," urged Frank, "who was with you when you came to my assistance? I am eager to know."
"I tole yer dat I don't know der cove's name, but I do know dat he is all right an' on der level."
"Well, how is that you do not know his name?"
"Never asked him."
"How do you happen to know him?"
"Well, yer see, it was dis way: I was inter Jackson's der odder evenin' takin' me nightcap. Dere was some fellers in dere wot was college chaps, and dey was talkin' about races and t'ings. Pretty soon dey said somet'ing about you. Some of 'em was hard on you, an' dat got me mad up. I jes' waded inter der gang an' offered ter lick anybody wot didn't t'ink you was der clean stuff."
Frank smiled a bit, realizing that he had, indeed, made a firm friend of this bruiser who had once triedto whip him, but had received a severe drubbing, instead.
"Dey didn't want ter shove up against me," Kirby went on, "an' dey got out right away. Den a man walks up ter me, and he says I was all right, an' he blows me. He continues ter blow me, an' ask me questions about you. Arter a while, he asks me if I would fight fer you if I had der chance. 'Would I!' says I, jes' like dat. 'Well, old sport, show me der chance!' Den he says dat you has some enemies wot is plannin' ter do yer, an' he might be able ter give me a chance ter put in a few licks fer yer.
"Well, dis evenin', as I was inter Jackson's, who should come in an' call me aside but dis same cove. He says ter me, 'Kirby'—he had found out me name—'Kirby,' says he, jes' like dat, 'I'm goin' ter give yer dat chance ter put in some licks fer Frank Merriwell.'
"Den he tells me dat he were in a place an' heard a scheme ter put some toughs onter yer ter-night w'en yer was goin' home from der t'eeter. Dey had heard some feller say dat he was goin' ter invite yer ter be in er box wid him at der t'eeter, an' so dey knew yer was goin'.
"Dat's all, 'cept dat me an' der bloke wot was wid me went ter der t'eeter, him payin' all expenses, an' we kept watch of yer. W'en we came out, you started fer him, an' he hooked it. I was s'prised, but I follered. Den I found dere was odders follerin', an der gang run yer in here. Der feller I was wid, as was in a doorway nigh der alley all der time, skipped back fer me, an' we jumped right down inter der alley, takin' some heavy canes, wot we had wid us all der time. You know wot happened arter dat."
Frank was puzzled and mystified. He asked Plug to describe the mysterious man, and Kirby did so. This added to Frank's wonderment, for the description tallied with that of the stranger who had tried to bribe him to throw a ball game to Harvard; but that it could be the same man, even though everything indicated that it must be, Frank could not believe.
That night, after going to bed, Frank lay awake for hours, thinking of the stranger and the mystery which surrounded him.
Frank was determined to solve the mystery of the unknown man. He did not tell Rattleton everything concerning his adventure of the previous night, although he was forced to explain that he had been in an encounter, and that he did not know who his assailants were.
The theatre party had wondered greatly at Frank's sudden disappearance, and Frank confessed that he had followed the mysterious unknown, who had given him the slip.
"That fellow is playing the shadow on you, Frank," cried Harry, indignantly. "He's up to some sort of crookedness."
"He must bear a charmed life, or he would have been killed the night he jumped from the New London special," said Frank.
"He decided it was best to take chances by jumping rather than to fall into the hands of Old Eli's sons, and I think he was right."
Creighton came around to inquire how it happened that Merriwell disappeared so suddenly the previous evening.
Since the boat race Creighton had sought Merriwell's company, although he had scarcely given Frank any attention before that.
Creighton was a prominent society man and had considerable influence at Yale; his friendship was of value to any fellow on whom he saw fit to bestow it.
His father was rich, and Charlie spent money freely, as his whims dictated. Not even those with whom he was not on friendly terms, however, could justly accuse him of being a cad.
"Awfully jolly time last night," yawned Creighton. "It was rather kiddish, but it is a relief to play the boy once in a while. It capped the whole business when the actors themselves finished the fun by giving the manager away in the last act."
Frank smiled, but did not explain his connection with the crowning event of the evening.
"Jove! I'm hungry," Charlie declared. "Come on,Merriwell and Rattleton, we'll go down to Bob's, and have a chop."
He would not take no for an answer, and so, a few minutes later, the trio crossed the campus, Creighton in the middle, his arms locked with those of the other lads. All were laughing and joking in a light-hearted manner.
Creighton took them directly to a restaurant that was famous for its chops. They ordered, Charlie and Harry taking ale with their food.
Just as the chops were brought on, a man came in and took a seat at a table nearby. This man was dressed in a new suit of "store clothes," and wore a full beard. He gave his order to the waiter in a low tone, and then began perusing a paper, behind which his face was almost entirely hidden.
Rattleton happened to sit so that he naturally looked toward the man, and, several times, he caught that individual peering over the top of the paper. It did not take Harry long to note that the person with the paper seemed to be watching Frank Merriwell.
Suddenly Frank's roommate arose, and, with two swift steps, he was at the man's side. Without a word,Harry caught the gentleman by the beard, which he gave a sharp jerk.
The beard came off in Harry's hand!
It was false!
"Look, Frank!" cried Rattleton, pointing at the smooth-shaven face exposed; "it is the mysterious man who has been following you about!"
It was in truth the mysterious unknown, and Frank was on his feet in a twinkling, resolved not to let the man escape till he had given a full explanation of his remarkable conduct.
To Merriwell's surprise, the stranger showed no desire to run away, but sat smiling serenely up at him, calmly observing:
"Do not excite yourself, Mr. Merriwell; there is no reason for it. I have completed my business in a most satisfactory manner, and I am now ready to explain everything to you."
"It is an explanation which I expect and demand," said Frank, coldly. "It is no more than fair that I should have one, as you have shown yourself my persistent enemy, and that without any just cause that I know of."
"You are mistaken," returned the man; "instead of your enemy, I have been your firm friend from the very first."
"I fail to see how you can make that out."
"I will call at your rooms this evening and give you a full explanation."
"No!" cried Frank, promptly, "you will give me an explanation here and immediately."
"I do not think you will press me to that," was the calm assertion. "I might speak of affairs of a personal and family nature."
"You—you speak of such affairs—to me? Now it strikes me that you are attempting a bluff, sir; but it will not work."
The stranger reached into his pocket and took out something, which he held up before Frank's eyes.
"This," he said, with confidence, "will convince you that I speak nothing but the truth."
"My father's ring!" gasped Frank.
"Yes," bowed the man; "it is the ring that led him to one of the richest mines in the Southwest. He said that it would simply be necessary for me to show it toyou, and you would know that he sent me. Shall I call this evening, Mr. Merriwell?"
"If you please, sir," said Frank, bowing respectfully.
The boys were surprised, but Frank said he would explain some time later.
That evening the stranger called, as he had said he would. Frank had taken pains to run Harry out of the room, so they were quite alone. The boy locked the door, as a precaution against unwelcome interruptions.
The mysterious man introduced himself as David Scott, the confidential agent of Charles Merriwell, Frank's unfortunate father, who had spent the best years of his life and separated himself from his family and friends in the mad search after "phantom fortune."
At last Charles Merriwell had "struck it rich," and he was now a very wealthy man; but he was broken in health, and he often feared for his reason. As Charles Merriwell had been eccentric and unfathomable all his life while poor, thus he remained now that he was rich. Of late he had been seized by a conviction that he could not live long, and it was his desire to make a will thatwould give almost his entire wealth to his son. But before he made such a will, Mr. Merriwell decided to know just what sort of a young man his son had become. As he did not feel like leaving his mine and going East to investigate, he sent his confidential clerk, David Scott.
In his instructions to Scott, Charles Merriwell showed the peculiarities of his character. He provided the agent with plenty of money, and instructed him to thoroughly probe the inward character of the youth about which he was to acquire information. Scott was instructed to discover all of Frank's bad habits, and to determine if the lad could be led astray by evil influence, or in any other manner. The agent had carried out his instructions to his complete satisfaction, and he complimented the blushing boy on his integrity of character and sterling manhood.
Scott explained how he had pretended to ally himself with Frank's foes, and thus had heard the plots against the boy. He had sent Frank the warnings, and he had secured the aid of Plug Kirby to aid him in beating off Merriwell's ruffianly assailants.
"I scarcely think you will be troubled any more byyour enemies," declared Scott. "I had a session with them last night, after the failure of their attempt on you, and I sent the varmints scurrying for tall timber in a hurry. I told them that I was your friend, and not your enemy, and that I would come up as a witness against them if you saw fit to prosecute them. Then they begged me to keep still, and agreed to let up on you for good and all if I wouldn't chirp. I made the galoots no promises."
For hours Frank and Scott sat and talked of Charles Merriwell, his health, his mine and his plans. And when the man departed, it was with a letter from Frank Merriwell to Charles Merriwell in his possession.
The next evening Frank received a call which surprised him greatly. What it was the next chapter will tell.
Thump—bang! thump—bang!
"Open this door!"
Thumpety—thump—bang! bang; bang!
"Open this door, or I will dake it brown—I mean I will break it down!"
Harry was excited.
"Hold on a moment, can't you?" cried the laughing voice of Frank from within the room.
Harry was pressing against the door with one hand, having rained the heavy blows upon it with the other hand, which was clinched in a most threatening manner.
The door flew open with a suddenness that precipitated Rattleton into the room with a headlong rush and plunged him plump into the stomach of a young man who happened to be in the way.
"Ugh!"
"Wow!"
Bump! bump!—both went down, clasped in each other's arms.
Two other lads stood staring at the fallen ones. They were Frank Merriwell and Fred Flemming.
Tom Thornton was the unfortunate who stood in the way of Rattleton's headlong rush.
And Harry, quite unintentionally, had struck Thornton a smart blow with his clinched fist.
At that moment it did look as if the excited lad had rushed into the room with the premeditated purpose of hitting Tom.
"Here! here!—break away!" cried Merriwell, sharply.
"Not much!" panted Tom, in excitement and anger. "Think I'm going to let him go, so he can hit me again?"
"Catch hold, Flemming," ordered Frank—"catch hold of your friend, and we'll part them."
He grasped Rattleton by the collar as he spoke, but Fred made no move to pull Thornton away.
Seeing this, Merriwell obtained a firm hold on the collars of both Harry and Tom, and, with a surprisingdisplay of strength, wrenched them apart, yanked them to their feet, and held them at arm's length.
"Steady, now!" he cried, as they seemed to betray a desire to get at each other. "Quit it!"
"He struck me!" cried Thornton.
"It was antirely excidental—no, entirely accidental," declared Harry, flourishing his arms.
Tom dodged.
"Well, you act as if you are trying to bring about another accident," he said. "I know you hit me intentionally, and I'll make you pay for it, too!"
"Bah! you can't make me pay for anything!" flung back Harry, his anger aroused by Thornton's words.
"Do you think you can run around punching fellows in this way without getting it back? You'll find you are mistaken!"
"You were in my way when I came in."
"I didn't have time to get out of your way."
"Well, what's all this about anyway?" demanded Frank. "Are you fellows trying to settle some sort of a score?"
"It looks to me," said Flemming, stiffly, "as if Mr.Rattleton took advantage of our presence in this room to strike Thornton."
"Well, what are you chaps here for, anyway?" demanded Harry. "That is what I would like to know. We don't run in your class, and so——"
"Hold up, old man," interrupted Merriwell, promptly. "Mr. Flemming and Mr. Thornton called to see me about a personal matter."
"I thought so," declared Rattleton, "and I decided you would get the worst end of it, as they were two to your one—and the door was locked. If they are here to do you, count me into it. I'll take care of this fellow Thornton while you polish off Flemming."
"We did not come here to fight," said Fred, haughtily.
"Didn't?" exclaimed Harry, in surprise. "Then what sort of a game are you up to, for I know it is something crooked?"
Flemming tossed his head.
"Mr. Rattleton," he said, "your language is very offensive to me."
"Had to glear it—I mean glad to hear it," shot backRattleton, rudely. "I didn't want you to misunderstand me."
"Mr. Merriwell," said Fred, turning to Frank, "I think we had better go. Our business was with you, and Mr. Rattleton seems determined to raise a quarrel with us. As you know, we did not come here to quarrel, and, regarding Mr. Rattleton as your friend, we will endeavor to overlook his behavior and insulting language."
"But we cannot forget it," added Thornton, giving Harry a fierce look. "It will be remembered."
"I am sure I don't want you to forget it," flung back Rattleton.
"Come, Tom," urged Flemming, "we will go. Good-day, Mr. Merriwell."
Frank released Thornton, who followed Flemming from the room, simply pausing at the door to say:
"Good-by, Mr. Merriwell."
"Good-by," smiled Frank.
And then, when the door had closed behind them, Frank dropped into a chair and laughed softly but heartily.
"Well, I fail to fee anything sunny about it—I meanI fail to see anything funny about it," growled Rattleton, prancing fiercely up and down the room. "If you'll tell me where the laugh comes in, I'll snicker, just to keep you company."
"The whole thing is very funny," laughed Merriwell. "Why, you were eager to hammer Thornton, and the fellow was afraid you would, for all the bluff he put up."
"It would have given me great satisfaction to thump him," confessed Harry; "for I know it is exactly what he deserves. What were they up to, anyway? That's what puzzles me. I expected to find that they had done you up."
"Oh, nothing of the sort!"
"But they were up to some crooked game—I know it. I thought they had fastened the door, so that they could do the job without being interrupted."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Frank. "That explains why you looked as if you were literally thirsting for gore when you lunged into the room and grappled with Thornton."
"Did I hit him?"
"You had your fist clinched, and you may have given him a slight rap in your excitement."
"Well, I did not give him that rap intentionally; if I had, he'd found something entirely different. By jingoes! I may get the chance to show him the difference some time!"
"You'd better drop it, old man."
"Eh? Drop it?"
"That's what I said, Harry, and that is what I meant, my boy."
"But why? I don't think I understand you. Those fellows are your enemies, and that makes them mine."
"They have been my enemies, but we have had a peace conference."
"The dickens!"
"And we buried the hatchet."
"Well, I didn't suppose you could be fooled so easy! I knew they were up to some sort of a game—I knew it."
"Well, what sort of a game do you think it was?"
"They're trying to fool you—trying to make you think they are ready to bury the hatchet, while they arestill waiting to hit you behind your back whenever they can. That's the kind of chaps they are. They can't fool me, if they can you. If they can lull you into carelessness till their opportunity comes, they will drive the knife into you, and sink it deep. Don't mink I'm thisted—I mean don't think I'm twisted. I am dead certain of the sort of cattle I'm talking about. You will be playing right into their hands if you get the idea that they have let up on you in the least. When they get a good chance, you'll get it in the neck."
"Well, Harry, you may be right; but I have reasons to believe that Flemming is anxious to call a truce just at present. He made a serious mistake when he tried to enlist David Scott against me. Scott found out all of Flemming's plots and secured enough evidence of the fellow's rascality to cause his expulsion from Yale if it were made public."
"Well, it should be made public immediately."
"Oh, I don't know about that! Expulsion from college might mean the ruin of Flemming's future."
"If he keeps on, he'll do that, whether he is expelled or not."
"If he does it himself, I shall not have it on my conscience. If I were to bring about his expulsion, and he went to the dogs, I might blame myself for it, thinking he would have done differently had he remained here. Do you catch on?"
"I catch on that you are dead easy with your enemies till they force you to down them for good."
"But when they do compel me to down them——"
"I will acknowledge that you always do a good job," said Rattleton, with an approving grin.
"Mr. Scott believed that I should be severe with Flemming and Thornton," admitted Frank; "but I knew that Thornton was dragged into the business by Flemming, without having any real heart for what he was doing. If I were to expose Flemming, it would implicate Thornton, and that seemed too much of a retaliation. I thought the whole matter over carefully, and decided to give the fellows a chance. Then Mr. Scott went to them and nearly frightened the life out of them by saying he meant to expose them to the faculty. That brought them to their knees immediately."
Rattleton expressed his satisfaction by a vigorous pantomime.
"Finally," continued Frank, "when they had begged and promised, Mr. Scott agreed to let up on them if they would come to me, offer apologies, and give me their pledge to let me alone in the future."
"And that is how they happened to be here to-day?"
"Yes."
"Why was the door locked?"
"I locked it to prevent any of the fellows from dropping in on us while we were talking the matter over."
"Well, Jones told me he had seen those chaps come in here, and I decided they were looking for bother, so I made a hustle to get here. When I found the door locked, I was sure they had you in a corner, and so I threatened to break it down if it was not opened without delay."
"And, when it was opened, you came in like a raging lion."
"Well, I was ready for any scrim of a shortage—I mean any sort of a scrimmage."
"You showed your readiness," laughed Frank. "Ihave the word of those fellows that they will let me quite alone if I drop the past."
"I wouldn't believe either of them under oath!"
"You are a doubter anyway. We'll wait and see what will occur."