Hull did not pause to make any kind of a bluff, but he turned out with remarkable alacrity, for Merriwell’s eyes were fastened upon him and seemed to go through him like knives. Those eyes seemed quite enough to turn any one aside.
Seeing Tilton make that abrupt swerve, Veazie and Lord looked for the cause, and beheld Merry within two strides of them. They nearly fell over each other in their haste to get away, and they went clean off the sidewalk into the gutter.
Chickering pretended not to see Merry, although he could not help swerving aside the least bit. Ives suddenly became busy with his bang, and Skelding was the only man of the whole lot who ventured to give Frank one savage glance. But Merry paid no heed to Skelding, who was not in his path at all, and walked on. Gene was mad.
“Well, I swear, you are like a lot of frightened sheep!” he snarled, regarding the rest with scorn. “You make me sick, the whole of you!”
“What is the matter?” asked Rupert, with pretended surprise. “What made everybody dodge aside so?”Then he looked back and saw Frank. “Can it be?” he said, in great disgust. “Really, it’s too bad!”
In disgust Skelding left the sidewalk and started to cross the street. The others flocked after him stragglingly.
Then there was a great rumpus and uproar down the street. Men shouted and ran for the sidewalks, teams got out of the way in a hurry, and the electric car at the crossing slid over barely in time.
And right down on the Chickering set bore two runaway horses attached to a bounding, rocking, reeling carriage. The driver was gone from his seat, the reins were flying loose, and the two ladies in the carriage were quite helpless. At any moment they might be thrown out and killed. At any moment the mad horses might crash into another carriage, a car, a stone post, the curbing, or something that would cap the catastrophe.
Men looked on helplessly, or ran after the reeling carriage, shouting and waving their arms. Women shuddered, screamed, and turned pale.
Was there no one to stop the runaway? Yes, there was the famous strong policeman of that beat! Everybody knew him. He would stop the horses. He ran out before them.
Then the crowd watched the officer perform the wonderful feat. He was a giant in stature, and he had Hercules-like arms and legs. He hurled himself fearlesslyat the heads of the frightened beasts, caught with one hand, clung, and was dragged.
“He’s down!”
Women covered their eyes to shut out the spectacle. He had failed to obtain a good hold on the bridles of the horses, his hands slipped, he hung desperately, and then——
It seemed that those terrible hoofs beat him down and went over him, leaving him lying there.
At first the Chickering set had seemed dazed by the commotion. Their brains were fuddled, and they hesitated fairly in the track of peril.
“Run, you fools!” shouted somebody. “Get out of the way, or you’ll be killed!”
As the others take to their heels and scamper for a place of safety, it is seen that one remains behind.
It is Skelding.
On came the terrified horses, and Gene braced himself for the effort that was to land him in the halls of fame—or in a cemetery.
The latter thought came upon him with appalling force as he saw those mad horses almost within reach. Their eyes were glaring, their teeth were set on the bits, their lips flung great flecks of foam, and the muscular play of their thrashing legs, bounding bodies, and shod hoofs, beating fire from the flinty stones, was enough to shake the nerve of a would-be hero.The power of their mad rush was something against which it seemed that no frail human arm could avail.
The thought of fame had led Gene to halt there; but now the thought of something quite different got hold of him. He saw himself hurled to the stones with broken bones, maimed for life, perhaps. If he lived, he would hobble through life a miserable cripple. But he might be killed! It would be a glorious thing to die the death of a hero, but even that was not quite enough inducement.
Thus it happened that, at the last minute, Skelding made a backward spring and a scramble to get out of the way, not even lifting his hand to try to stop the horses.
At another time his haste might have seemed comical and caused the spectators to roar with laughter; but just now the peril of the helpless women in the carriage prevented any one from laughing.
But another Yale man has rushed out into the street and prepared to make an attempt to check those horses. As they approach, he runs in the same direction they are going. They come up beside him, and he swerves in toward them at exactly the right moment, having watched their approach over his shoulder. Then he leaps at their heads, gets them firmly by the bridles, and holds fast with a grip that nothing can break.
The crowd looks on in breathless anxiety and admiration.All had expected to see this beardless youth flung down and trampled as the policeman had been trampled, but nothing of the kind occurs.
What wonderful strength he must have, for he has checked the mad rush of the horses at once! Though they plunge and rear, he holds them fast and sets them back with a surge of his arm, which seems to have muscles of steel. They do not carry him half a block before he had brought them to a stand and holds them there, his jaw squared, his cheeks flushed a bit, but his broad chest scarcely seeming to rise and fall with more than usual rapidity. It is the deed of a man of wonderful nerve, skill, and strength.
“Who is he?” some ask.
“Why, it’s Merriwell!” others reply, as if all should know him.
Yes, it was Merriwell who had stopped the horses. He gave them his entire attention till he had them quite under subjection. Then other men came to his assistance, and he could leave them for a moment.
Frank stepped back to the carriage, politely lifting his hat, and saying:
“I trust neither of you is harmed, ladies? Your driver——”
He stopped, staring, astonished, wondering. The golden-haired girl was gazing at him in unspeakable admiration.
“Elsie!” he gasped.
For it was Elsie Bellwood! Then he glanced at the lady at Elsie’s side.
“Mrs. Parker! Well, this is a surprise!”
Mrs. Parker had been ready to faint, but now she recovered enough to say:
“How can we ever thank you, Mr. Merriwell? You saved our lives! There is no doubt of it!”
“When they ran away,” said Elsie, “when the driver fell off, I felt that somehow, somewhere, Frank would turn up and stop them. He did it!”
Her face was full of triumph. Although she still shook with the excitement of the adventure through which she had passed, there was happiness in that look she gave him.
Somehow that look stabbed him to the heart. Was it a look of love? Why had she not fancied that Hodge might be the one to stop the horses? In that moment, when he might have been well satisfied with himself for what he had done, Frank Merriwell felt miserable.
“Elsie,” he said, “I did not know you were in the city.”
“We came to-day,” said Mrs. Parker. “I have a brother who lives in Hamden.”
They had not let him know they were coming. He did not believe Hodge had known it.
Mrs. Parker refused to ride farther in the carriage. She declared the horses could not be managed. Andso, as the dirt-covered driver came panting up, angry, ashamed, and humble, Frank was helping them from the carriage. He had offered to take the driver’s place himself, but Mrs. Parker would not even trust one who had shown his power to check the mad runaways.
“I shall return in a car,” she added. “Brother George shall not induce me to come out behind those terrible creatures again.”
Elsie had given Frank’s hand a gentle pressure as he helped her to alight.
“I was awfully frightened,” she whispered; “but I knew you would stop the horses the moment I saw you.”
She trusted him—she trusted him still! And she did not know the truth.
He was engaged to Inza!