CHAPTER XXXV.
FRANK’S ENEMIES.
Rattleton’s blood was boiling.
“I am not much of a fighter,” he muttered; “but I am going down there and punch the faces off those dirty dogs!”
As he started to resume the descent of the stairs, Gooch and Billings left the building. Harry went down on the leap. When he reached the door the two rascals were walking away.
Rattleton saw Browning passing at a little distance. Immediately he made a rush for Bruce, and told him all he had heard.
Then the big fellow was aroused.
“Let’s have a little talk with Mr. Gooch and Mr. Billings,” said Bruce, grimly. “It is possible we may be able to persuade them to keep their mouths shut.”
They hastened after Gooch and the freshman, Browning actually hurrying for once in his life.
“Hold on, you chaps!” called Bruce.
The cry was heard. Gooch and Billings turned and looked about. Then they seemed on the point of taking to their heels, but did not do so.
Browning and Rattleton came up.
“We want to talk to you,” said Bruce, surlily.
For some reason neither of the fellows seemed to care about talking, but they could not get away, and in a very few minutes they heard some straight talk from Bruce.
“If either of you blow on Merriwell,” said the big fellow, with such fierceness that both were astounded and appalled, “I’ll take particular pains to see that you are tarred and feathered and ridden on a rail. You will notbe tolerated in Yale. I swear to hound you out of college in less than two weeks, and I’ll be aided by a hundred others. That is business, and it is straight from the shoulder.”
Both Gooch and Billings protested that they had not the least idea of exposing Merriwell.
“That’s all right,” said Browning, grimly. “Rattleton heard enough to know you might do it. If Merry is exposed, I shall know you did it, no matter how well you cover your tracks, and that will mean the end of your college life in this city. I’m not going to say any more. I have said enough. If you are not fools, you will go slow.”
Then Bruce and Harry walked away, and Gooch and his freshman chum were left to their thoughts, which were anything but pleasant.
“Confound him!” muttered Billings. “He would keep his word!”
“Sure,” nodded Gooch, with something like a whimper in his voice. “I wouldn’t dare tell anything about Merriwell now, even if I knew I would be protected by the faculty.”
“Oh, this Merriwell has such beastly luck!” snarled Billings. “Now, if the fool of a proctor had drowned in the river——”
“That would have been great!” chuckled Gooch, fiendishly. “Then we would have been forced to tell, and Merriwell and his gang of pals would have gone to prison. Why didn’t the proctor drown!”
“Well, I guess we may as well drop it. There is a charmed circle about Frank Merriwell, and no harm can come to him.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” said Sidney, showing his white teeth. “There may be a way to cover him with disgrace.”
“The fellows seem to have forgotten the watch incident.”
“They have not. When something else in the same line comes up, they will remember it. Poor Harris was a good fellow, but Merriwell hounded him from college. The tables will turn at last. Before summer vacation you will see Frank Merriwell driven in disgrace from Yale.”
“You may think so, but I doubt it.”
“Wait,” said Sidney. “I am not going to blow on Merriwell, but there may be another way to pull him down from his lofty position.”
As Browning and Rattleton were walking away, the latter looked back and saw Gooch and Billings talking excitedly.
“I reckon we have settled them,” said the big fellow.
“Hope so,” nodded Harry. “Say, old man, I have an idea.”
“Name it.”
“I have thought of something since I saw those chaps together and heard them talking.”
“What?”
“You remember how Gooch lost his watch the other night?”
“Yes.”
“And Billings, who seemed to be pretty full, took it out of Frank Merriwell’s pocket?”
“Yes.”
“Both of those fellows hate Merry. They are somewhat chummy, and they are mean enough for anything. So I think——”
“That it was a put-up job between Gooch and Billings. That Billings made believe to take the lost watch from Merriwell’s pocket. That it was an attempt to make the fellows suspect that Frank stole the watch.”
“Exactly.”
Bruce stopped.
“Bet you are right!” he growled. “I’m going back and say a few more things to those chaps. If we were somewhere else, I’d knock them both down.”
Harry urged Browning not to go back, for he saw Bruce was fearfully angry, and he realized that the big fellow might forget he was on the campus and strike Gooch or Billings.
They went to see Frank, and told him what Rattleton had heard. Merry looked grave and concerned, but he did not display the least anger.
“Hang it!” growled the big student. “Why don’t you get mad?”
“What’s the use?” said Merriwell. “I pity those chaps.”
“What?” shouted Browning and Rattleton, together.
“Yes,” said Frank, “I pity them. They hate me, and they suffer tortures because I have many friends and am popular. Since the adventure of the other night I have learned to be more tolerant with everybody, for I see how easy it is to get on the wrong track and go to the bad. To a certain extent, Gooch and Billings are not responsible for their nature. They make themselves wretched. I am glad you silenced them, and all I ask is that they keep still. If they will let me alone, I’ll not trouble them.”
“And you will be soft with them if they do not let you alone,” growled Bruce. “I hope your experience of the other night is not going to make you worse than ever that way.”
As the days passed, Frank felt safer and safer. He saw the proctor sometimes, but, as a rule, Rudge pretended not to notice Merriwell.
One day they came face to face. For a single instant something like a smile came across Merry’s face. Theproctor saw it, and it seemed to arouse his anger, for he exclaimed:
“I know what you are laughing about! It came near being no laughing affair! Some day, Frank Merriwell, I will get even with you for that!”
“Sorry to know you hold a grudge against me,” said Frank; “but I am glad to have one of my enemies come out boldly and declare himself.”
The proctor passed on without another word.