An hour later the starter's flag had fallen and the "free for all" at Mystic Park had begun.

Among the spectators were three lads who were excitedly watching the beginning of the race.

They were Hartwick, Harlow and Harris.

"If that horse is doctored I'm a fool!" declared Harlow, his eyes fastened on Frank Merriwell's Nemo.

"He must be—he must be!" palpitated Hartwick, whose eyes were bloodshot and whose face was flushed so that it betrayed he had been drinking heavily.

"Nemo starts all right," said Harris, in an agitated voice. "I should not wonder if Harlow were right, Hartwick, my boy."

"Then Hogan has betrayed me!" came gratingly from Hartwick. "If he has I'll have his life!"

"Where is the fellow?" asked Harlow. "He should be on hand."

"That's right, where is he?" echoed Harris. "He has not reported."

"But he was sure he would not fail," said Hartwick. "He had everything fixed with one of the stablemen, and he said he knew he could get into Nemo's stall."

"All the same I'll wager that Frank Merriwell will come out on top again," fluttered Harris. "It is just his luck. Perhaps he has outwitted us in some way."

"No! no!" exclaimed Hartwick, with sudden satisfaction. "See—see there! Already Nemo is dropping behind Black Boy. Pawnee is in the lead, Fanny D. is second, Lightfoot is third, and now Black Boy has pushed ahead of Nemo! Ha! ha! ha! Everything is all right! Hogan has done his work, and the stuff is beginning to tell on Merriwell's racer at just the right time. We'll send the fellow back to Yale penniless, and then I will jump on him with his paper. I'll expose him as a race-track gambler, a fraud, a swindler! I'll ruin his college career, as he ruined mine! But I'll not be satisfied then. I'll hound him till he is weary of his life! I'll make him remember the day he dared lift his hand against Evan Hartwick! I can feel his blow now! It left a mark on my cheek. That mark is not there now, but the scar is on my heart! Nothing can cure it but full and absolute reprisal! This is my first triumph!"

Hartwick almost frothed at the mouth, and his reddish eyes glared as if there were a glowing furnace within his passionate soul.

Evan's companions looked at him with awe, and Harris shivered a bit, drawing a little away.

The passions of the revengeful lad had been wonderfully aroused by the liquor he had taken, and he showed at his very worst just then.

"Toots does not seem to be pushing Nemo as he might," muttered Harlow. "The boy is taking it easy. If I did not know the attempt had failed I should think he had been bought off."

"Pawnee can't hold the lead," declared Harris. "I am willing to bet all I have that he will not take the race."

"Hang Pawnee!" snarled Hartwick. "I do not care which horses secure the purses, if Merriwell's animal is not one of them."

"Well, it begins to look as if you were safe," came with some satisfaction from Harlow. "Black Boy is the favorite and he is crawling now. Already he is neck and neck with Lightfoot."

Hartwick's hand shook as he adjusted the field glasses he held and brought them to bear on the racing horses.

"It's all right. I know it's all right!" he muttered, hoarsely. "Lightfoot is holding the lead on Nemo. Frank Merriwell's horse is fifth, and the animal will not hold out to get around the track. I believe Nemo is swaying now. The horses behind are gaining! Ha! ha! How it will wring Merriwell's heart to see his beauty come in last!"

"This is early," cautioned Harris. "They have just reached the quarter now. Wait till they pass us before you begin to count your chickens, old man."

The spectators grew excited as the racing horses swung around the half-mile track and came flying down toward the judges' stand on their first round. Men waved their hats and cheered, the white handkerchiefs of women were fluttering.

"Black Boy! Black Boy! He is the winner for a thousand!" roared a big man in the grand stand.

"Fanny D.! Fanny D.!" shouted another. "She is taking the lead!"

This was true. Pawnee, as Harris had declared, proved unequal to the task of holding the lead. In the second quarter Fanny D. crept alongside and gradually forged ahead, for all that Black Boy's rider used whip and voice.

Poor old Lightfoot was steadily losing ground, and Hartwick ground his teeth as he saw Nemo come into fourth place. Still it did not seem that Merriwell's horse had made a spurt.

And then, as the horses came thundering down the track, a sudden change seemed to come over the black boy on Nemo's back. He leaned far forward, and appeared to be talking into Nemo's ears, which were laid almost straight back. He cut the air with his whip, but the lash did not fall on the glossy coat of the handsome animal.

"Look!" palpitated Harlow. "See Nemo! The creature has awakened! That horse is all right! Hartwick, I believe Merriwell will secure third money, after all."

"Not on your life!" ground forth Evan, his eyes glaring. "The creature is doing his best now."

As the foremost racers shot past the judges' stand at the expiration of the first half, it was seen that Fanny D. had taken the lead away from Pawnee, while Black Boy was steadily gaining. Although Nemo had shown a streak of speed he had not grown dangerous.

But now came the time when the mettle of the racers was to be tested. Black Boy responded nobly to whip and voice. He went ahead in a marvelous manner. He was soon nose and nose with Pawnee, and then he took second place, with his nose at Fanny D.'s flank.

But there was another change. Again the black boy on the back of Frank Merriwell's racer leaned forward and talked into the ears of the horse, and then came a spurt that caused hundreds of spectators to gasp with amazement.

Pawnee struggled nobly to hold third place, but Nemo passed him, and Evan Hartwick nearly choked with fury. Then it was seen that Nemo was gaining on the others. He crept up beside Black Boy till they were nearly even, and thus the two animals passed Fanny D. at the end of the third quarter.

When the home stretch was reached Black Boy was leading by a neck, with Nemo second and Fanny D. third.

Evan Hartwick was nearly beside himself with rage. The language that came from his lips cannot be printed here. In vain his companions tried to calm him. He cursed them both, and struck at them.

Then the voice of another person was heard.

"I slipped on the trick, boss. They caught me, and they didn't do a thing to me—not a thing! My head was near broke and they made me take a bite outer ther apple I was tryin' to feed ther horse. It'd killed me if they'd made me eat ther whole of the apple. I'm sorry, but——"

It was Mike Hogan, his brutal face pale and drawn, if he were, indeed, ill, and a bloody handkerchief tied about his head.

"Your head was near broken!" snarled Hartwick. "You bungling fool! I'll finish the job!"

And then he hit Mike in the face with his fist. They grappled and fell, and, as the other lads were trying to pull them apart, there came a great shout that announced the race was over. The crowd was heard cheering.

"Which won?" was the question Harlow paused to ask.

"Nemo came in first by a full length," replied a spectator.

Then Hogan was dragged off Hartwick, who lay pallid and still on his back, looking as if the end had come for him.

Two nights later a jolly party gathered in Frank Merriwell's room to offer him congratulations. There were speeches, songs, toasts and jests.

"How much will you take for Nemo now, Merriwell?" asked Jack Diamond. "I want to buy him and send him South to my father."

"You can't," laughed Frank. "Your father hasn't money enough to buy the dear old boy."

"But what are you going to do with him?" asked Rattleton. "You must think of the future."

"Not now," smiled Merriwell. "To-morrow is my queen's birthday, and I am thinking of the present."

Bruce Browning loafed into the room.

"Heard the news, fellows?" he asked.

"No; what is it?" cried several voices.

"Hartwick's been arrested."

"Arrested? What for?"

"For robbing his own father of seven thousand dollars. He knew how to get at the old gentleman's dough, and he swiped it several days ago. He's been burning money since then."

"Was the robbery committed before the Mystic Park races?" asked Frank.

"Sure, my boy."

"Then that explains why the mysterious man in black followed me up and drove me into so many bets. He had Hartwick's money, and Hartwick was behind the entire game. Well, all his plots miscarried and he got it in the neck at last."

"Which served him right," declared Jack Diamond, with satisfaction.



CHAPTER IX.

A STRONG ACCUSATION.

After the great horse race matters moved along smoothly for some time.

Frank worked hard over his studies and made fine progress.

He did not dare race Nemo again, for the college authorities would not permit it, in the face of what had been said about betting.

Frank had gotten rid of some of his enemies for the time being, but there were others, those who could not stand it to see him become such a general hero.

One evening a crowd of these gathered in a resort known as Jackson's. All had been drinking freely, and it was not long before every tongue was loosened.

In the crowd were several students that my old readers have met before. They included a hot-headed lad named Tom Thornton, a fussy fellow called Puss Parker, and Fred Flemming, Willis Paulding, Andy Emery and Tad Horner.

Earlier in the evening they had met at Morey's, but found they could not talk privately there, as the place was filled with students.

Then Thornton had given them the tip to go down to Jackson's, a place sometimes patronized by the students, although it did not exclude the general public.

Jackson's was known as a "joint," and very few of the college lads cared to have it known that they ever went there; but it was a place where a private room could be obtained in which to drink, gamble, or carouse, and for this reason it appealed to a certain class of students.

It was in this place that Frank had exposed the gambler, Rolf Harlow, and broken up the game by which Harlow and Harris were bleeding a certain number of "lambs."

In getting together his party, Thornton had chosen the ones who seemed to have sympathy with himself and Fred Flemming, or held a grudge against Frank Merriwell.

Merriwell's name had not been mentioned until all had indulged very freely in wine, Thornton being the most generous in "blowing off."

Then came a discussion about college sports, over which all had grown more or less heated. At length Merriwell's name was mentioned, and then Thornton declared Frank a cad.

"By Jawve!" drawled Willis Paulding, allowing cigarette smoke to escape from his mouth as he spoke, "I agree with you, Thornton, don't yer 'now. I nevah could bear that fellaw Merriwell."

Tad Horner gave a sniff.

"Merriwell would feel bad if he knew it," observed Tad, sarcastically. "It would break him all up."

"That would not make the least difference to me, my dear fellaw," declared Willis, who was too dense to catch the sarcasm. "I have nevah twaveled awound with him."

"I have noticed that," grinned Tad. "You have permitted him to avoid you in a most astonishing manner."

"What have you against Merriwell, Thornton?" asked Parker. "I didn't know you were so down on him. You both played on the football team last fall."

"And Merriwell made a record for himself by winning the game for Yale," said Andy Emery.

Thornton laughed sneeringly, showing his perfect white teeth.

"Merriwell is always making a record for himself at something," he returned. "I'd rather have his luck than be born rich. If any other fellow on the team had obtained the ball at that particular moment, he could have gone through Princeton's line as well as Merriwell did, for Yale's interference was simply marvelous, and a clear road was given the runner."

Emery shook his head.

"I think your memory is slightly at fault, old man," he said. "I am sure Merriwell bowled over at least one man, and dodged one or two others, besides going down the field like a wild engine, with Princeton's fastest runner at his heels and unable to tackle him. Oh, it is not all luck with Merriwell, Thornton, as you would acknowledge, if you were not prejudiced."

"You talk as if you are stuck on the fellow!" snarled Tom, in his most cutting manner.

"But you know I am not. I have held away—have had nothing to do with him."

"And that is the reason why I invited you down here to-night."

"So? Well, I thought there was something more in the wind than a simple discussion of athletics. What's up?"

"Don't be in a hurry. We'll come to that presently. Have another drink all around. This is on me. Push the button, Horner. I want to order more fizz."

"This is too much!" sighed Tad, as he pressed the button that communicated with an electric bell at the bar. "If we do not let up, we'll be in rocky shape in the morning."

The waiter appeared, and the wine was ordered. When the waiter went out, after serving the order, he left the door communicating with the next room standing open.

"Gentlemen," cried Thornton, lifting his glass of sparkling "fizz," "here's to a break in Merriwell's luck. May it come soon."

All drank.

"I can't quite agree with Thornton that it is all luck," said Puss Parker, lowering his half-emptied glass. "It is not luck that enables Merriwell to pitch on the ball team."

"Oh, I don't know!" exclaimed Tom. "If Heffiner's arm had not been in bad condition, Merriwell would not have obtained the opportunity when he did. If he had not obtained it then, he might not have obtained it at all, for there are several other fellows who can twirl quite as well as he."

"They think they can, but I have my doubts."

This kind of talk did not satisfy Thornton, and he snapped:

"I must say I didn't suppose you were one of that cad's sycophants, Parker! I fancied you had more stamina than that. Next thing you'll be saying that when his horse won the 'free for all' at Mystic Park it was something more than luck."

"From what I have heard, I presume there was a great deal of luck connected with that affair, but that is outside college sports. I did not see the race, but I have heard that all sorts of tricks were tried to put Merriwell's horse out of the race."

"So his friends have reported; but I take no stock in it. If he ever enters that horse in another race he will lose his socks betting on the beast."

"We were talking of rowing a short time ago," said Emery. "Let's return to our mutton. Thornton was kicking because Merriwell has made a try for the eight, and seems to stand a good show of getting there. I don't see where Thornton's growl comes in. He can't pull an oar."

"But Flemming can," came quickly from Tom; "and he was sure of a position on the eight till Merriwell went for a place. Like Pierson, who captained the ball team last season, Collingwood seems to be stuck on Merriwell. That's why he has thrown Flemming down."

"But I thought Merriwell's ideas about rowing did not correspond at all with Collingwood's ideas?" said Tad Horner, with unusual gravity. "When Merriwell was captain of the freshman crew, he introduced the Oxford oar and the Oxford stroke. He actually drilled a lot of dummies into the use of the oar and into something like the genuine English stroke. Everybody acknowledged it was something marvelous, and one newspaper reporter had the nerve to say that the freshmen had given the 'varsity crew a pointer."

"Oh, yes," grated Thornton, bitterly. "The newspapers have advertised Merriwell at every opportunity. Remember what a howl they made when he stopped that runaway horse and rescued Fairfax Lee's daughter. Any one would have thought the fellow had done a most marvelous thing, and since then he has been taken into the very swellest New Haven society, and he is lionized as if he were something more than a mere snob. It makes me sick!"

"There is still some mystery about the fellow," said Parker. "How did he happen to know so much about the Oxford stroke?"

"I've heard that he was at Oxford long enough to thoroughly acquaint himself with the English methods," answered Emery.

"And it has been reported that the fellow has traveled all over the world," said Horner. "His rooms are decorated with all sorts of strange weapons, trophies and skins of wild animals, which it is said he gathered in his travels."

"Bah!" sneered Thornton. "I have my doubts about his ever being at Oxford, and I take no stock at all in the rest of that guff. It is barely possible that he may have been over to England, but the yarn about his having traveled in South America, Africa and Europe, is the biggest sort of rot."

"Well, let it go as rot," said Horner; "you must acknowledge that he did something most astonishing with that freshman crew. We did not have the least idea in the world that they could beat us, but we were not in the race on the home stretch."

"Oh, we thought we had a soft thing, that's all. If we'd dreamed we had a hard race coming, we'd won all right."

"That may be, but I am not so sure. Still, if Merriwell could do so much with a lot of freshmen, what might not be done if the same methods were used with the 'varsity crew?"

"Bah!" cried Thornton again. "That sort of rot makes me sick! Bob Collingwood has his own ideas, and he will not accept suggestions from any one, although I think he was a fool to throw down Flemming for Merriwell. Flem did great work on the football team, and he is in condition to make a special effort at rowing this spring, while Merriwell is obliged to play ball as well."

"I don't see how Merriwell does so many things and does them so well," confessed Tad Horner.

"Oh, he is one of the chaps who has the nerve to try anything, and will stumble through anything after a fashion. Nine times out of ten those fellows are never heard from after they leave college. The fellow who takes some branch of athletics at college and sticks to it is likely to select some line of business when he has graduated, and stick to that. He is not diving into everything, and making a success of nothing."

"But Merriwell seemed to be diving into everything, and making a success of everything. He is put up differently than most fellows."

"He showed his caddishness in introducing the English oar and stroke when he was captain of the freshman crew. He would ape things English, and in that line he makes a failure, at least."

"By Jawve! that is wight, don't yer 'now," drawled Willis Paulding, who had visited London once on a time and endeavored to be "awfully English" ever since. "He has not cawt the English air and expression, don't yer understand. He—aw—makes a wegular failyaw of that, deah boys."

"Oh, say!" cried Tad Horner, "don't pile on the agony quite so thickly, Paulding. It is nauseating!"

"Merriwell may not try to ape English manners and speech," said Thornton, "but he is a cad, just the same, and the friends he has made here at Yale are a lot of thin-blooded, white-livered creatures. Look at them! There is Bruce Browning, once called 'King of the Sophomores,' but cowed and bested by Merriwell, to be afterward dropped a class. There is Jack Diamond, a boastful Southerner. He forced Merriwell to fight, but fawned about Merriwell's feet like a cur when whipped."

"You lie, sir!"

By the open door a supple, well-built, dark-faced lad sprang into the room. His eyes were flashing, and his teeth came together over his words with a click.

It was Jack Diamond himself!



CHAPTER X.

A FIGHT AGAINST ODDS.

"Diamond!"

"Great Scott!"

"Here's trouble!"

The lads about the table sprang to their feet, giving utterance to these exclamations. Willis Paulding was the only one who did not say anything, and he failed to speak because the sound seemed to stick in his throat.

Diamond's manner showed that he was fully aroused by what he had overheard, and that he meant "fight" was evident. The hot blood of the Old South was pulsating in his veins and flaming darkly, like a danger signal, in his face.

Pointing straight at Tom Thornton, Jack slowly and distinctly said, his manner showing the struggle he was making to hold himself in check:

"Mr. Thornton, you are a liar! More than that, Mr. Thornton, you know you are a liar!"

Thornton quailed a bit, and then, in sudden fury, he flung back:

"And you are an eavesdropper, Jack Diamond. Eavesdroppers seldom hear good of themselves!"

The muscles of the Virginian's face twitched, and his clinched hands were quivering.

"By accident I overheard what you were saying," he declared. "I was looking for a friend, and so came into this place, which I seldom visit. I was told a party of students had gathered here, and as I entered the room adjoining, I heard my name spoken by you—I heard you declare that, like a cur, I fawned about Merriwell when he had whipped me."

"And I say it again!" cried Thornton, hotly. "It is the truth. Your boasted Southern courage is a sham. You have shown that."

Diamond walked forward to the table.

"Mr. Thornton," he said, "you are among friends, and I am alone, but I brand you as a liar!"

As he uttered the words he picked up a partly emptied glass of wine and dashed the contents in Thornton's face.

"There!" he cried, dashing the glass to the floor; "I have expressed myself! You cannot mistake my meaning, sir!"

Thornton whipped out a handkerchief and wiped the liquid from his eyes. Then he dropped the handkerchief, and caught up a wine-bottle, with which weapon he leaped at Jack.

Parker caught Thornton's uplifted arm just in time to keep him from trying to break the bottle over Diamond's head.

"Do you want to kill him?" exclaimed Puss, excitedly.

"Yes," snarled Thornton, "I will kill him!"

"Pray do not interfere with the fellow, Mr. Parker," urged Jack, his voice shaking with passion. "I will take care of myself."

"You'd better get out of here!" came fiercely from Parker. "You have no business here!"

"I have business in any place where I am lied about and insulted, sir! Let him alone, and I will agree to give him all the fight he desires!"

Now, for the first time, Fred Flemming stepped forward. He was a big fellow, and was known to be a fierce fighter, with the inclinations of a bully.

"I think we'll give you a thumping before we let you go, Diamond, just to teach you a lesson," he said, in a most insolent manner. "I've wanted to get at you or your friend Merriwell for some time."

"You—you get at Merriwell!" flung back Jack. "Why, he'd do you up with his right hand tied behind him!"

"You think so because he did you. Well, I am going to break your face, and then Merriwell may pick it up, if he dares."

He threw off his coat in a moment, and then came at Jack, crying to the others:

"Close the door! Don't let anybody in here till I have fixed this sneak as I will fix Merriwell when I get at him! Close the door!"

Willis Paulding started to obey, but before he could swing the door shut it was flung open with such violence that Willis was sent tumbling to the floor.

Into the room leaped Frank Merriwell, and he placed himself between Diamond and his would-be assailant.

"Wait a moment, Flemming," he said, with the utmost self-possession. "It is not necessary for you to waste your energies on Mr. Diamond."

It was a most dramatic tableau, as every lad stood motionless and staring for some seconds.

There was a strong contrast between Diamond and Merriwell.

Jack was literally quivering with passion, while Frank actually smiled serenely into Flemming's face, as if he thoroughly enjoyed the situation.

But those who knew Merriwell best said that in times of trouble he was the most dangerous when he smiled.

"So you are around!" Flemming finally growled. "How did you happen in here? Were you playing the eavesdropper also?"

"I happened to be passing the saloon, and I thought I saw my friend Diamond come in here," explained Frank, calmly. "I wondered what could bring him into such a place, and so I entered likewise. They said he had come back here. I came also. That is how I happened to arrive at precisely the right moment."

"You'll find it was precisely the wrong moment!" cried Flemming. "Close and fasten the door, boys! We'll jump on these two cads, and do them up now and at once! Come on!"

"I don't know but it will be a good time to settle a few old scores with them," said Emery, becoming aroused. "It will do them good to show them they can be licked!"

"That goes!" shouted Puss Parker.

"Six to two—three to one!" laughed Frank. "Oh, well, that's not so bad. Come on, my brave fellows! We'll do our best to make it interesting, eh, Jack?"

"Oh, all I want is a chance at Thornton!" panted the Virginian.

Willis Paulding was quivering with excitement. He thought he saw his opportunity, and he lost no time in improving it. He had hated Merriwell from the first, but never had he dared do anything to injure Frank. Now, grasping his heavy cane, he slipped forward and came up behind Merriwell.

Swish—crack!

The cane cut through the air and fell on Merriwell's head, dropping the lad in a senseless heap to the floor.

It was a cowardly blow, but it put Merriwell out of the fight in a twinkling, for he was stunned.

"So this is the way you fight!" cried Diamond, wheeling about and leaping at Willis, who gave a scream and vainly tried to escape.

Jack caught the fellow, grasped him by the ears, and flung him back against the wall. Thump! thump! thump!—Jack banged the head of the helpless wretch against the wall till it seemed that Paulding's skull would crack.

Willis tried to scream for help, but with the very first thump his tongue was caught between his teeth, and he nearly bit it in two. Blood gushed from his mouth, and he sunk in a limp heap to the floor as Jack released him.

Diamond turned quickly, but not in time to escape Flemming, whose heavy fist caught the Virginian behind the ear.

Down Jack went. As he tried to get up Flemming kicked him over.

The sound of the fight had aroused those in the front of the saloon, and several came hurrying in.

The door had not been closed, as Flemming had directed, and the curious ones gained easy admission to the room.

Among the foremost was Plug Kirby, a tough of the town, whom Frank had once whipped. He saw Frank stretched on the floor, and he hoarsely demanded:

"Who done that job? Who hit me friend Merriwell? Show me der blokie, an' I'll punch der face offen him instanter!"

Thrusting out his chin, Kirby glared around at the boys. At best, he was an ugly-looking scoundrel, with a bullet head and a bulldog neck.

"So you are one of Merriwell's friends!" sneered Flemming. "That speaks well for Merriwell!"

"W'at's dat?" snarled Plug, advancing on Fred. "Dat Merriwell is white ter ther bone, an' I sticks by him—see! Dis gang has done him dirt, an' I'm goin' ter punch der mugs offen der whole of yer!"

"Merriwell should be proud of his friends!" cried Flemming, scornfully. "It is plain that he has been very careful in his selection!"

"An' it's plain ter me dat Merriwell has been took foul, else yer never'd knocked him out dis way. I've been up ag'inst him, an' he could lick dis whole gang if he had a square deal."

Then Kirby pointed straight at Flemming, and fiercely exclaimed:

"I t'ink you're der bloke w'at done him dirt! I'm goin' ter knock der packin' outer youse, me fine chap!"

He rushed at Fred, who caught up a chair and struck at Kirby's head. Plug dodged, caught hold of the chair, and wrenched it from Flemming's grasp.

"Right here is where I cleans out der place!" he shouted.

He swung the chair aloft, and the boys made a rush to get out of the room.

Whiz!—the chair flew through the air, striking Fred Flemming between the shoulders, knocking him down instantly.

Then the police came in suddenly, and clubbed Kirby into a helpless condition, while all the others, with the exception of Merriwell and Diamond, escaped from the place.

Jack was examining Frank's wound when they were both placed under arrest.

"What is this for?" demanded the young Virginian. "What have we done to merit arrest? Why didn't you take those fellows who got the better of us in such cowardly ways?"

"Don't ask questions!" growled one of the officers. "You'll have a chance to answer a few when yer come before the judge in the morning."

Those words filled Diamond with a feeling of terror. He knew what it would mean if they were brought up before a magistrate in the morning. It would become known that they had been arrested in a place like Jackson's, and in company with a ruffian of Plug Kirby's stamp. Kirby would claim that Frank Merriwell was his friend, and that would settle everything. Jack saw that it meant disgrace and expulsion for himself and Merriwell. Flemming and Thornton would be triumphant.

Jack was very proud, and it made him writhe with anguish when he thought how heavily such a blow would fall upon his parents. For a moment he was quite overcome.

Jackson came into the room. He was greatly excited, and he begged the officers to let the prisoners go, for he knew unpleasant attention would be attracted toward his place if it became publicly known that two students had been arrested there.

"It's time we pinched somebody in this joint," said one of the policemen. "There's been more crooked jobs put up here than anywhere else in the city. You oughter lose yer license, Jackson, and I rather think yer will this time."

Jackson had ordered the door closed to keep out the curious crowd that had been attracted by sounds of the conflict. One of the bartenders was standing guard over the door.

The saloon-keeper drew one of the policemen aside, and spoke earnestly and excitedly to him. The officer shook his head, and replied:

"We've overlooked things that went on here till it won't do no longer, Jackson. There has been complaints against this joint, and ye're lucky that we don't pull the whole shooting-match."

The other officer now took a fair look at Merriwell, who was sitting up and feeling tenderly of his head.

"Why, hello!" exclaimed the policeman. "I t'ink I knows you!"

"Hello, Magoon!" returned Frank, rather faintly. "I hope you didn't hit me that crack over the head with your stick?"

"I do know yer!" cried the officer. "Ye're ther boy what stopped ther horse and saved Fairfax Lee's girl! You're all right!"

"My friend there says we're arrested, Magoon. How about it?"

"We didn't know it was you, but ther job is done now," said the policeman, apologetically.

"Well, can't this matter be fixed up?" asked Frank, anxiously. "You know what it will mean to me if I am pulled up before a magistrate in the morning. Everything will come out, and then I'll be expelled from college."

"That's rocky," admitted Magoon; "but what can I do? I can't let you off without lettin' the others go."

"Well, why shouldn't you let my friend Diamond go? We were up against six fellows, and it seems that we got the worst of it. Those chaps are the ones who should be arrested."

"But we didn't catch 'em."

"You caught us because we had been foully knocked out by the crowd," declared Jack. "We were taken at an advantage, and did not have any kind of a show. Now are we to suffer while the ones who were to blame go free?"

"You made a big mistake in coming into this kind of a joint," declared the officer, severely. "And you were arrested at the same time with Plug Kirby, a tough of the lowest order. That's what gits you in a hole. If we lets you go, we've got to let him go."

Then Diamond explained how Kirby happened to be in the room, and Frank added light to the matter by telling how he came to know the thug, who had been hired to whip him once on a time, but who had received a severe thumping instead.

"And that is how it happens that he claims you for his friend?" asked Magoon, grinning. "You hammered friendship into him?"

"That's right," said Frank. "He has been ready to do anything for me ever since that night."

"Well, I must say that's the first thing I ever knowed about Plug Kirby that made me feel like goin' easy with him! And he was fighting for you against the crowd? I'll have a word with Murphy."

Two of the officers drew aside, while the third stood guard at the door. After a few moments, Jackson was called up by Magoon, and the trio spoke in low tones.

Frank was keeping watch of all that passed, and he saw Jackson take something out of his pocket and slip it into Murphy's hand.

"That lets us out, Jack," said Merriwell, guardedly. "Jackson has fixed it with the officers."

"If you're right, we are dead lucky," muttered Diamond. "It began to look as if we were booked for our walking-papers."

"Which would have pleased certain young gentlemen who do not admire us very much."

"They would have held a jubilee over it. With you out of the way, Flemming would have gone on the crew. He has suddenly come to hate you because he thinks you have shut him out from that position."

"Scarcely do I settle with one set of enemies before another rises up to make it interesting for me," said Frank. "I believe I have more enemies than any other fellow at Yale."

"And you have more friends. Any man who is as popular as you is certain to have enemies. You arouse the envy of the weak and shallow, and the jealousy of those who would become your rivals, but are incompetent to become your equals. At the same time, you are able to command a larger following than any fellow at Yale. You are a leader in everything, and it is certain that you will be able to make your choice of the junior societies next year. It is no more than natural that you should have bitter foes who desire your downfall."

"Well, my enemies have not succeeded very well with their plots thus far. If we get out of this scrape all right, I'll give my attention to this new gang who have rallied around Fred Flemming, for he is evidently the leader."

"Yes, he is the leader, and Tom Thornton is his first officer. If you give your attention to Flemming, I will look after Mr. Thornton. Is that settled?"

"It is settled."

"Good! Now we'll see if Jackson has fixed matters."

One of the policemen was having a talk with Plug Kirby. Kirby seemed rather sullen and obstinate.

"I weren't doin' notting to git me head t'umped like dis," he muttered, sulkily. "Me frien' Merriwell was bein' jumped by a gang, an' I went in fer ter back him up. You cops lets der gang git off, an' den yer pinches us. I don't care wot yer do wid me, an' I don't make no promises. Go on wid yer deal."

Here Frank Merriwell stepped in.

"You profess to be a friend of mine, Kirby," he said.

"Dat's wot I am, pal," nodded the tough.

"Then show it. If I am pulled up before a magistrate, it is pretty sure that I'll be expelled from college, which will be rough on me. If you are my friend, you will agree to keep your mouth shut about this affair. If you are my enemy, you will refuse."

"Well, pal, if yer puts it dat way, I can't refuse yer. I did kinder reckon you'd stan' by me when I was hauled up, an' I t'ought your influence might fix t'ings; but, if it's der way you say, I'll take me medicine, an' never open me trap. Is dat satisfactory?"

"You have not been placed under arrest at all—understand that?" demanded Officer Murphy.

"Sure."

"And you know nothing about a row in this place. Catch on?"

"Sure."

"You're doing this for your friend Merriwell. See?"

"Sure."

"That's all. We'll have a drink all around on Jackson, and I'll club the head off you, Kirby, if you blow anything."

Frank took seltzer, while the others drank beer or whiskey, according to their fancy.

Ten minutes later, Merriwell, Diamond and Kirby were let out of Jackson's by the back door.

When they were at some distance from the saloon, Frank turned to the bruiser and said:

"Diamond tells me that you got into this trouble by attempting to defend me, Kirby. I am sure I appreciate it, but I had rather you would drop calling me your friend. You can do me more harm that way than any other."

"All right," nodded Plug, gloomily. "Dat goes. I know I ain't in your class, an' I don't want ter do yer no hurt. All der same, if I git a chance ter fight fer yer any time, I'll do dat."

Frank appreciated the kindness of the big bruiser, whose admiration he had won by giving him a severe thrashing.

"All right, Kirby," he laughed. "I certainly can't object if you want to fight for me. There have been times when I could have found you quite useful in pitting you against ruffians who had tried to injure me. Are you down on your luck nowadays?"

"Well, rudder!"

"Well, here's a V. Go play you are a millionaire."

Kirby eagerly grasped the five-dollar bill which Frank passed him, earnestly exclaiming:

"If youse ain't der whites' young cove what I ever seen, I'm a liar! If yer wants me ter do up der whole gang as was ag'inst yer ter-night, jest you say so! I'd like der job."

"If I need you, I'll let you know," assured Frank. "Good-night."

Plug doffed his battered hat.

"Good-night, young gent. May ye alwus prosper, an' may Old Nick take yer enemies."

As Frank and Jack walked toward their rooms in South Middle, the Virginian observed:

"You are the strangest fellow I ever saw, Merriwell. When you do make a friend he is ready to go through fire for you, and you make friends of all sorts and conditions of persons. Your friends are as firm and unwavering as your enemies are virulent and dangerous."

"And still I seldom seek the friendship of any one," declared Merriwell. "If they wish to be my friends, I accept them for what they show themselves to be. If they choose to be my enemies, well and good; let them look out for themselves. To-night I have found that a new combine of enemies has risen against me. I know them all, and I shall treat them as they deserve."



CHAPTER XI.

A MATTER OF SPECULATION.

Frank spent an hour every afternoon in the gymnasium, where he took such exercise as he considered best, always spending at least a few minutes of the time on one of the rowing machines.

A great deal of speculation had been aroused by Bob Collingwood's determination to take Merriwell upon the 'varsity crew.

It was known that Collingwood was a thorough believer in the American oar and American stroke as opposed to the shorter-bladed Oxford oar and the longer English stroke.

Collingwood had ever seemed thoroughly satisfied with Yale methods, and he had expressed his scorn of the Oxford method of placing the seats on alternate sides of the boat.

It was generally presumed that Frank Merriwell was thoroughly English in his ideas and beliefs, and it was thought that he was altogether too set to give up what he fancied was right, even though he might get on the crew by so doing.

Still some one had been forced to give in, and there was much speculation about it. Then came the rumor that Yale was to have an English coach, and the tongues of the gossips began to wag furiously.

"It's a great triumph for Frank Merriwell!" cried Danny Griswold to a party of friends gathered in the gym.

Danny was flushed and perspiring from recent violent exertions on the bars. Some of the group about him were in training suits, and some were in street dress.

"Also a triumph for good old 'Umpty-eight," declared Ben Halliday, with satisfaction.

"How is that?" asked Bandy Robinson.

"Why," answered Halliday, "it was the freshman crew of 'Umpty-eight that, under Merriwell's instructions, adopted the Oxford oar and stroke and defeated 'Umpty-seven at Saltonstall. Do you see?"

"Vanity, vanity," quoth Dismal Jones, with the air of a Methodist preacher of old times. "They who exalt themselves in high places shall be cast down. Beware of false pride and the swelled head."

"Oh, you are always croaking!" exclaimed Lewis Little.

"I think it is a mistake to run off onto English methods," said Burn Putnam. "Harvard has done that, and they'll say we are following Harvard's example."

"What if they do say so?" yawned Bruce Browning, lazily. "What do we care, so long as we win the race at New London?"

"But we can't win this year," declared Walter Gordan, who had been swinging the clubs, and was flushed from the exertion. "It strikes me it is a crazy scheme to attempt to change the oars and the stroke at this late day. Harvard has been hammering away at her crew since last fall, and it will be in perfect trim when the New London race comes off, while Yale's crew will be all broken up if this change of methods occurs."

This seemed logical, and not a few were ready to agree with Gordan. Harry Rattleton came up, and the lads appealed to him at once.

"You are Merriwell's roommate," said Robinson, "and you should know if it is true that Yale is going to change her oars and stroke for the Oxford oar and stroke."

Harry grinned mysteriously.

"Why should I know all this just because I am Merriwell's roommate?" he asked. "Do you think he knows everything he tells me—I mean do you think he tells me everything he knows?"

"Of course not, but he'd be sure to tell you this, for you know he introduced English methods with 'Umpty-eight last year, and he must be rather proud if Collingwood has given in that those methods are preferable to the old Yale ways."

"If Merry were proud of anything, you'd never know it by his words or manner," said Harry. "He is not given to boasting."

"Oh, of course not!" cried Little, impatiently. "We all swear by Frank Merriwell, but what we wish to know is if he has induced Collingwood to adopt the Oxford oar and stroke."

"Well, you'll have to ask Merriwell, for I will tell you frankly that I don't know. The longer I room with him the less I pry into his affairs, and, if he knows Collingwood's plans, he has not seen fit to reveal them to me. That is all, gentlemen."

That was anything but satisfactory, as the faces of the assembled lads plainly indicated.

"Well, it can't be long before we find out!" cried Robinson, in disgust. "If Yale has whiffled about at this late hour it will show reprehensible weakness and lack of policy. Harvard is bound to win. Then she will crow. They have won the annual debate right along, so that my old fogy uncle declares all the brains are in Harvard. If they win the spring race he'll decide that brawn is going to Harvard, as well as brain, and Yale is in the decline."

"They never won anything fair," declared Halliday. "Why, I've heard they have men out West all the while searching for new debaters. They claim that Harvard don't care to go in for athletics, but takes a leading stand in all intellectual pursuits, such as debating and chess."

"Chess is certainly a highly intellectual pursuit," drawled Browning. "If I had entered Harvard I should take an interest in it. Debating is too trying. The exertion of standing on one's feet and talking is very severe."

"If you would take a little more exertion you might get some of the flesh off you," said Putnam. "How did you happen to get fat so suddenly, Browning, old man?"

"Oh, he fell off the roof one day and came down plump," chuckled Griswold, mischievously.

"Here! here! here!" exclaimed Rattleton, making a grab at Danny, who dodged and slipped out of the way. "You want to let up on that, young fellow."

"I have tried to reduce my weight by dieting," said Bruce, with apparent seriousness. "I've been in the habit of eating a juicy tenderloin steak twice a day, but I gave that up and tried cheap fifteen-cent steaks instead."

"How did you find it?" asked Little.

"Oh, pretty tough," answered Browning, with a sly wink.

"This isn't what we were talking about," broke in Walter Gordan, impatiently. "If those Harvard Willies win from us this spring, it will be a frightful blow for Old Eli."

"If they win it will come from Collingwood's shallying about," asserted "Deacon" Dunning, who had just joined the group. "Merriwell's ideas may be all right, but it is too late to adopt them this season. I am Merriwell's friend, but I believe Fred Flemming should have been retained on the crew. By taking in Merriwell it may upset everything. Flemming is a good man, and Merriwell already has more than he can properly attend to."

"Now you are getting me cot under the hollar—I mean hot under the collar!" exclaimed Rattleton, his eyes snapping. "I want to ask you a question, Mr. Dunning. When have you known Frank Merriwell to make a failure of anything he has attempted?"

"Oh, he has been wonderfully successful, I grant that; and I do not doubt but he would have made a good man had he been taken on the crew last fall."

"He will make a good man anyway, and you can bet on that!" cried Harry. "It is not necessary that there shall be a change of methods because Merry has been taken on the crew. Although he believes in the superiority of the Oxford oar and stroke, he may not think it good policy to attempt to make a change now. But that is not all. Merry makes a good leader, but he is also a good follower, and it is his theory that utter obedience is due superiors. I'll wager that he will not intrude his ideas on Collingwood. If he does not regulate his stroke with that of the rest of the crew he will soon be dropped, and Flemming or some other fellow will have his oar. All this talk you are making is mere speculation, and I advise you to wait a while till you know what you are talking about."

Having thus delivered himself, Rattleton turned away.

At this moment Frank entered the gymnasium to take his regular exercise. He was accompanied by Jack Diamond, who had been seen with Merriwell very often of late.

Immediately the group of sophomores decided that one of their number should ask Merriwell point-blank if a change to the English methods was contemplated. The choice fell on Bandy Robinson, who did not relish his job much.

Robinson approached Frank with no little hesitation, and something about his manner seemed to betray his object, for Merriwell read his thoughts.

"Go back," directed Frank, grimly—"go back and tell them that they will find out all they want to know by waiting."

Then he entered one of the dressing-rooms, and Robinson retreated, muttering:

"It's no use—Merriwell seems to know just what a person is thinking about. He is one of the jolliest fellows in the world, and, at the same time, when he takes a fancy, one of the most unapproachable."



CHAPTER XII.

THE CHALLENGE.

Merriwell and Diamond entered a dressing-room together. The moment the door closed behind them, Frank laughed shortly.

"I'll wager that I hit the nail on the head that time," he said. "The moment I saw that knot of fellows talking so excitedly I decided they were speculating concerning the change on the crew, and my eyes told me they had deputized Robinson to question me, so I did not give him the chance."

"The dropping of Flemming and your acceptance in his place has created a stir," said Jack. "It is generally thought that you will ruin everything with your English ideas."

"That shows how little they know me," smiled Merriwell, as he threw off his coat. "I almost fancy it is generally believed that I go in for English methods simply because they are English."

"You fancy rightly, Merry. The majority of the fellows believe that."

A cloud came to Frank's face.

"I do not care to be misunderstood to such an extent," he said. "I am no Anglomaniac; I am American to the bone. I have traveled some, and I prefer this country above all other countries on the face of the earth. I was at Oxford long enough to witness the races and make an investigation of their methods. I believe that in the matter of rowing the English are more advanced than the Americans. This is not strange, for they have been at it longer. Now, although I claim to be thoroughly American, I try not to be narrow and pig-headed. Simply because a thing is American, I do not believe it must therefore be superior to everything else in the world; but I am bound to defend it till I find something by which it is excelled. If Americans will adopt the English oar and the English stroke, I am confident that, in a very few years, they will so improve upon them that they will be able to give points to our cousins across the 'pond.'"

"You are, indeed, broad-minded and liberal, Merriwell," said Diamond, with admiration. "It was you who first convinced me that Northerners no longer hold a feeling of enmity against Southerners. Till I met you the word 'Yankee' seemed to me to be a stigma—a name to be applied in derision to the people of the North. To my astonishment, I found you were proud to be called a Yankee, and then you explained to me that foreigners applied the name to all native-born Americans. You explained to me that in the early days of this country, when Northerner and Southerner fought for one common cause, freedom and independence, all who opposed the tyranny of our oppressors were termed Yankees. I remember the night when we sat up till two in the morning talking of these things. You did not tell me anything I had not considered before, but you revealed things to me in a new light. You showed me the North and South bound by ties of blood, and I think you aroused in me a broader feeling of patriotism than I had ever before known."

The cloud passed from Merriwell's face as his companion spoke, and, as Diamond finished, Frank reached out and took his hand.

"You are from the South, I from the North," he said, in his most charming manner; "yet we are brothers. In the North and in the South there are those who still entertain sectional feelings and prejudices, but the time will come when all this will pass away."

"I think it is fast passing," declared Jack.

"It is," nodded Frank. "So far as sectional feelings go, there should be no North, no South, no East, no West. We are all united under one flag, the most beautiful of all flags—the Star Spangled Banner! We are all citizens of one country, the greatest and grandest the sun ever shone upon! We should be ready at any time to lay down our lives for our flag and our country."

Diamond's eyes flashed, and it seemed that the noble look on Frank Merriwell's face was reflected in Jack's. His blood was stirred by the grandest of all emotions—patriotism. Looking at the Virginian at that moment, no one could for an instant doubt his courage and his loyalty.

"I believe we should pay more attention to the early history of our country, when North and South were united against a common foe," continued Frank. "That is what will arouse true patriotism. Massachusetts had her Tea Party, but Virginia had her—Washington!"

Jack Diamond bared his head.

"Merriwell," he said, with great earnestness, "the greatest enemies of our country are those who try to arouse sectional feeling. I am sure of that."

"Quite right," said Frank. "In the North and in the South there are cheap fellows and cads who pose as gentlemen. You and I have had a few experiences with some of them, and it seems that there are others."

"I presume you mean Flemming, Thornton and their crowd?"

"Flemming is the leader, and his enmity against me has been aroused because I have been taken on the crew in his place. I did not seek the position, and I was surprised when Collingwood called on me to take it."

"You were no less surprised than others, for Collingwood has always maintained that Yale's methods are superior to those of Oxford, and he knows you believe quite the opposite. It is a matter of speculation if he intends to change to the English methods at this late hour."

Frank smiled.

"Collingwood is not a fool. There will be no change. Already I am in training to perfectly acquire the Yale stroke."

This was both a surprise and a relief to Jack, who had feared that Collingwood had decided on the change, and that in case Harvard won Merriwell would be blamed to a certain extent.

"I am glad, Merry!" exclaimed Diamond, his eyes gleaming. "If Yale wins and we square matters with Flemming and Thornton, I shall be perfectly satisfied."

"I am hoping to get at Mr. Flemming this afternoon," said Frank, grimly.

"How is that?"

"He spends some time in the gym every day, and I timed my visit to-day in order to catch him here."

"But what can you do here?" asked the Virginian, wonderingly. "You can't fight him in the gym."

"I do not want to fight him."

"No?" cried Jack, in astonishment. "Then what do you mean to do?"

"Flemming considers himself the champion wrestler at Yale. I hope to wrestle with him."

"Hope to wrestle?" exclaimed Diamond, still more astonished. "Why, even if you were to throw him, it could give you very little satisfaction."

Frank smiled mysteriously.

"Do you think so?" he inquired. "Well, we shall see. When you are ready, we shall go out. I will wrestle with you, and you shall throw me. We'll be near Flemming at the time. That will give him an opportunity to pass some remarks, if he so desires. If he does so, you may be sure I will lose no time in picking them up. I am tired of fighting, and I hope to finish this chap in another way."

"If you finish him by wrestling with him, I shall consider it a marvel. I am afraid you have misjudged your man, Merry; he'll not be finished so easily."

"We shall see. Are you ready? Then come on."

They left the dressing-room, Frank in advance. As they came out they were regarded with some interest by the knot of sophomores, who were still talking of the surprising change that had been made on the crew.

As he passed the lads, Frank called pleasantly to them, and they greeted him in return, and the manner in which this was done would have betrayed to a keen-eyed stranger that Merriwell was something more than an ordinary man at college.

Frank's keen eyes detected Flemming at the ladders.

"That is first rate," he muttered. "The turf is nearby."

A few moments later Frank was engaged in casting the shot near where Fred Flemming was exercising on the ladders.

At about the time Frank fancied Flemming would finish, Frank gave Jack the signal, and they were soon struggling in what seemed to be a good-natured wrestling match.

Diamond was really supple and catlike on his feet, and he possessed more than common strength; but he was not Frank Merriwell's match, for, besides being a natural athlete, Frank had developed himself in every way, so that he was really a wonder for a youth of his years.

The struggle between Frank and Jack quickly attracted a number of spectators to the spot, and Merriwell was well pleased to see Flemming come down from the ladders and approach, accompanied by Tom Thornton.

It seemed that the battle between the wrestling lads became fiercer and fiercer, but at last Jack secured a sudden advantage, and Merriwell went down heavily.

"Bah!" Fred Flemming was heard to say. "Those fellows remind me of two awkward cubs. Neither knows the rudiments of scientific wrestling."

One leap brought Frank Merriwell to his feet, another leap carried him before Flemming, who was turning away.

"Wait a moment, sir," said Frank, his voice cold, clear and distinct. "I believe you consider yourself something of a wrestler, Flemming?"

Merriwell had appeared before him so suddenly that Fred started back involuntarily. Then, angry with himself at the recoil, his lips curled scornfully, and he surveyed the other lad in the most haughty and insolent manner.

"Get out of my way!" he cried, harshly. "I will not be bothered by you!"

The same old smile—the smile that was so dangerous—crept over Merriwell's face.

"You think you will not be bothered by me," he said, his voice smooth and soft, "but you deceive yourself. You have taken a fancy to bother me, to revile me behind my back, even to make false statements concerning me, for you have said that I sought your position on the crew and obtained it by underhand means. In the presence of these witnesses you have stated that I am a most bungling wrestler. That is something you cannot deny."

"I do not wish to deny it. You are not a wrestler—you know nothing of the art."

"And you claim to be a wrestler?"

"Yes, I can wrestle."

"Then, here and now, I challenge you to wrestle me at side-holds, catch-as-you-can and arm's end, the winner of two out of three falls to be acknowledged the best man, and Hugh Heffiner to be the judge. If you refuse to wrestle, I will brand you as a blower and a braggart—a fellow not fit to be accepted in the society of gentlemen. Your answer, Flemming—your answer!"



CHAPTER XIII.

THE WRESTLING MATCH.

Flemming turned pale and trembled with suppressed passion, while his hands were clinched, and he glared at Merriwell as if he longed to strike the lad who had dared face him and fling such an insulting challenge in his teeth.

He tried to speak, but the words were choked back in his throat. He felt that Merriwell was seeking retaliation, and, for that reason, had purposely worded his challenge in a manner calculated to cut him deeply.

"Shame!" came from the lips of Tom Thornton.

Still the lad who had given the challenge smiled.

"I am meeting Mr. Flemming as he would meet me," said Frank, calmly. "I am using the sort of language he would not hesitate to apply to me. Of course I feel that I am lowering myself in doing so, but it is absolutely necessary in some cases to place one's self on the level of an unscrupulous enemy in order to meet and defeat him."

All this was said with coolness and distinctness, and it was as if Frank were deliberately sinking the knife deeper in Flemming's writhing body.

It seemed to be more than Flemming could endure, for he lost control of himself, and would have leaped toward Frank.

"You insolent hound!" he cried, through his set teeth.

Merriwell stood with his hands at his side, making no move, but he saw that Flemming's friends had grasped him and were holding him in check.

"Steady, Flem, my boy!" fluttered Thornton. "Remember where you are!"

"I will strangle him."

"Wait! You can't do it here!"

"Let me go!"

"Thornton is right," declared Andy Emery, who had placed himself between the two foes. "You cannot fight him here, old man."

"Then fix it so I can fight him somewhere—anywhere! I could murder him!"

"You will have to wrestle him."

"Yes," said Thornton, "you will have to do that, Fred, or his friends will believe you are afraid."

"Then I will wrestle him—and I will break his back!"

"You must calm down before you attempt it, and you must promise to wrestle fairly according to rules."

"That will give me no chance to get square for this insult."

"You can show your superiority by throwing him, which you will do, as you are an expert wrestler, and, for all of the other things he does so well, no one ever heard that Merriwell could wrestle. Then, the next time you meet him outside college bounds, you can force him to apologize."

Emery nodded.

"Thornton is right, Flemming," he said.

Then, with a mighty effort, Fred seemed to gain control of his anger, and he calmly said:

"All right, I will wrestle him, but I shall not be gentle with him, although I promise not to foul him."

"Be as rough as you choose, as long as you keep within bounds."

Then it was that Frank Merriwell was heard saying to the friends who had gathered around him:

"It may seem that I have opened myself to criticism by my manner in challenging this person, but I call you all to witness that he was the first to be insulting by his manner of criticising the friendly bout between Mr. Diamond and myself. That, however, was not the beginning. Had not Flemming given me other cause, I should not have challenged him in such a manner. I have sought neither his friendship nor his enmity, but he has seen fit to regard me as an enemy. I can honor an honest foe who meets me man to man, but not one who takes a mean advantage of me. On my head I now bear a bruise where I was felled by a heavy cane in the hands of one of Flemming's friends, when he with five companions set upon Diamond and myself. I always endeavor to square all my accounts with friends and foes, and I shall balance the books with Flemming."

Fred forced a scornful laugh.

"A very fine speech!" he cried. "I assure you, Merriwell, you shall have the opportunity to square matters. I could wish something somewhat more businesslike than a mere wrestling match, but that may come later—if you have as much nerve as you wish persons to think you possess. To begin with, I'll show you that I spoke the truth when I said you know nothing of the art of wrestling. I am satisfied to have Hugh Heffiner for judge and referee."

Merriwell had chosen Heffiner because he knew Hugh was a square man, and they were not at all chummy, so he could not be accused of having selected a person who would favor him. Heffiner was in the gymnasium, and had been attracted by the struggle between Merriwell and Diamond, so he had overheard all that passed between Frank and Fred.

Diamond was standing at one side, his arms folded, a look of satisfaction on his face. For all of Flemming's reputation as a wrestler, Diamond felt sure that Merriwell was making no false moves. He knew Frank too well to think he would deliberately challenge his enemy to wrestle without feeling certain of his own ability to accomplish his defeat.

Flemming was eager for the struggle, while Merriwell was calm and deliberate in his movements. Flemming's friends gathered about him, giving him advice.

Then Frank was not a little astonished to find Tad Horner at his side, and heard the little junior say:

"Look here, Merriwell, I want you to understand that I am not your enemy, although appearances may be against me."

"You were one of the Flemming gang at Jackson's."

"I acknowledge it but with shame," said Tad, and, to Frank's surprise, the little fellow colored deeply. "At the same time, you will remember that I did not lift a hand against you. You are a white man, Merriwell, and I think you all right."

Frank was impressed by Tad's sincerity.

"Thank you," he said. "It is not necessary for every fellow who dislikes me to be a rascal. I am sure that all of Flemming's friends are not rascals. It is quite probable that a great many honest fellows think me in the wrong, but I am glad to know that you, who were present at Jackson's, do not think so."

Tad retired, quite satisfied with this. He had long admired Merriwell, and he felt it his duty to come out on this occasion and express himself openly. He did not mind that Flemming and his friends regarded him with anger and scorn.

Arrangements for the wrestling match were soon made, and then the two lads faced each other on the turf. Flemming was tall and solid, with broad shoulders and a back of which he was particularly proud. He was heavier than Merriwell.

There was not a single ounce of superfluous flesh on Frank Merriwell. He was a mass of bone and sinew, splendidly formed and supple as a young panther. In every movement and pose there was indescribable grace, and, at the same time, a suggestion of wonderful strength and self-reliance.

Flemming was bold and confident. He had made a special study of wrestling, and he knew all the tricks employed by experts. He had seen Merriwell and Diamond wrestling, and he felt certain that his adversary and rival would be an "easy thing."

It chanced that the under holds in the first match fell to Flemming, which made him certain in his own mind that he would have no trouble in throwing the lad he hated.

The signal was given, and the enemies advanced and secured holds. Then Heffiner gave the command, and the struggle began.

In the twinkling of an eye Flemming tried the cross-buttock, but it seemed that Merriwell had been expecting just such a move, for he passed his left leg behind Fred's right and through in front of Fred's left. Then the force of Flemming's surge seemed to lift both lads off their feet.

"Down Merriwell goes!" cried Thornton, triumphantly.

But it seemed that in the act of falling Frank whirled in the air and brought his rival under. This, however, had been planned from the very instant that Fred made the first move to accomplish the cross-buttock, and Frank's lock-trip had brought it about by lifting the other lad from the ground by a whirling movement.

Flemming struck fairly on his shoulders, with Merriwell across his body, and Heffiner cried:

"First fall for Merriwell!"

Exclamations of astonishment broke from the spectators. Instead of a struggle of some moments, this fall had seemed to come about in the twinkling of an eye.

But what was most astonishing was that Flemming was flat on his back at the bottom when the lads struck the ground, although it had appeared that he had successfully accomplished the cross-buttock.

It is certain that very few of those who witnessed the affair had the least idea how Merriwell had accomplished this, but they saw that he was the victor in the first contest.

Jack Diamond seldom smiled, but now he did so, and the expression of satisfaction on his face was complete.

"Who said Merriwell was going down?" squealed Danny Griswold, in delight. "Somebody fooled himself that time!"

Thornton bit his lip, muttering some fierce exclamation beneath his breath.

Of them all no person was more astonished than Fred Flemming. He lay dazed and wondering, scarcely able to realize that he was flat on his back and his enemy across his chest.

Frank arose hastily, his face quite calm and expressionless. He did not betray satisfaction or triumph, but his manner indicated that what had happened was no more than he had fully expected. He had confidence in himself, which any one must have to be successful, but still he was not overconfident, which is a fault quite as much as timidity.

Flemming sat up. He had felt himself lifted from his feet with a twisting movement, and he had felt himself whirled in the air, but still he could not understand how the feat had been accomplished.

Shame caused the hot blood to rush into his face, and he ground his teeth together, his whole body quivering.

"It was an accident—it must have been an accident!" he told himself. "I tried to throw him so heavily that I overreached myself."

The look on Merriwell's face cut him like a keen knife and made him feel a fierce longing for the next tussle.

"They actually think he threw me, when I threw myself," was his thought; "but I will undeceive them in a moment. Next time I will drive him into the earth beneath me! There'll be no further miscalculation."

Thornton was at the side of his friend.

"How in the world did you happen to let him take a fall out of you in that manner?" whispered Tom, in extreme disgust.

Flemming's lips curled.

"Bah!" he returned. "He did not do it!"

"No? But you were thrown! Explain that."

"I was not thrown."

"Yes, you were, my dear fellow! Heffiner has given Merriwell credit for winning the first fall."

"I made a misjudgment in the amount of strength I should use on the fellow, and I turned myself in the air," declared Fred.

"Is it possible?"

"Of course it is!" hissed Flemming, who saw the incredulity in the face of his friend. "He is even easier fruit than I imagined."

Thornton brightened up somewhat, although not fully satisfied.

"You must not let him accomplish it this time."

"I tell you he did not accomplish it before!" came bitterly from the crestfallen and furious youth. "I will convince you of that in a moment. See the fellow stand there with that lordly air as if he had actually accomplished something. I will take all of that out of him! This is catch as we can, and I will break his back!"

"Injure his back in some way, and he will not be able to hold the place that belongs to you on the crew."

"That is right!" panted Flemming, his eyes glittering and his teeth showing. "A fellow with a sprained back is no good at an oar. Why, Thornton, my boy! Merriwell has played right into my hands! He has given me the very opportunity I most desire, and I'll be a chump if I neglect it! If he is not taken to his room on a stretcher, it will be necessary for some of his friends to aid him. I know a hug that will take the stiffness out of his spine and make him lame for a month!"

"Give it to him!" fluttered Tom, with returning confidence. "Fix the cad this time so he will not be able to wrestle any more!"

"I will, rest assured of that. This is my opportunity. In five minutes the starch will be taken out of him."

Flemming was confident, far more confident than he would have been had he dreamed that Merriwell had turned him in the air and brought him underneath in the first fall.

In his mind he saw Merriwell groaning on the ground, saw him assisted to his room, saw him helpless in bed and attended by a physician.

But what gave Flemming the greatest satisfaction was the vision of Collingwood humbly asking him to again resume his place on the crew—the place now given to Frank Merriwell.

It seemed remarkable to Fred that he had not planned to engage the lad he hated in a wrestling match, and so injure him in such a manner that he would be unable to row on the crew.

But no less remarkable, it seemed, was the fact that he had been challenged to wrestle by Merriwell, and thus given the opportunity he most ardently desired.

The only thing that marred his satisfaction at that moment was that Merriwell had, apparently by accident, seemed to have acquired the honor of having thrown him in the first struggle.

"Gentlemen," said Heffiner, "are you ready?"

The antagonists stepped forward and signified their readiness. The spectators fell back.

"This time it is catch as you can," said Yale's famous pitcher. "Any kind of a hold is fair. Is that understood?"

"It is," nodded Merriwell.

"Certainly," bowed Flemming, giving Frank a scornful look.

"Very well, gentlemen. Prepare to clinch. Ready—go!"



CHAPTER XIV.

PLOTTING FUN.

Like a panther Merriwell sprang forward, but he halted quite as suddenly and stood erect, careless and disdainful.

Flemming came forward in a crouching posture. He believed he saw his opportunity, and, with a gasp of satisfaction, he darted in and caught the lad he hated about the body.

This time it was not Flemming's intention to throw Merriwell too suddenly. He wanted a little time to wrench Frank's back, and then he would cast his foe writhing and helpless at his feet.

Tom Thornton saw that Fred had obtained the hold he sought, and he mentally exclaimed:

"This time there will be no blunder!"

Jack Diamond no longer smiled. He saw that Flemming had obtained what seemed to be a great advantage, and his face was filled with concern.

"It was careless of Merriwell to give the fellow such a hold!" thought Jack. "Flemming is sure to be the victor this time!"

There was a look of intense satisfaction on Fred Flemming's face as he made firm his clasp about Merriwell's back.

And then, just as Flemming was ready to give a bear-like hug, something happened.

Frank's right arm was bent so that his forearm came directly under Fred's chin, while his left arm was clasped across Fred's shoulders behind his back.

Merriwell gave a sudden surge, drawing Flemming close with his left arm, and thrusting back the fellow's head by pressing his right arm under his enemy's chin.

In the twinkling of an eye Flemming's wind was shut off, and his neck seemed to crack beneath the strain. He made a mad effort to hurl Merriwell to the ground, but he had delayed the attempt a moment too long.

Frank Merriwell well knew how dangerous was the trick he had played upon his enemy. He knew that he could break Flemming's neck in that manner if he desired to do so, and he was careful not to make the sudden pressure too intense.

Flemming could not breathe, and his eyes started from his head. His strength seemed to leave his body, and his struggles to throw the lad he hated were weak and ineffectual. He was like a child in the hands of Frank Merriwell.

The spectators stared in astonishment, and Diamond gasped:

"Great Caesar! Merry purposely let Flemming get that hold!"

"Break away, Flem—break away!" cried Tom Thornton, quivering with excitement.

But Flemming could not break away, for he had not sufficient strength to do so.

"Foul!" shouted Emery, starting forward, as if he would part the combatants.

In a moment Jack Diamond's arm was extended and pressed across Emery's breast, holding him back like a bar of iron.

"There is no foul in this match!" came exultantly from the lips of the Virginian. "That was stated at the beginning."

Flemming made one last feeble struggle, and then the two lads went down together, with Fred under. They fell heavily, and Merriwell came down on his enemy with his full weight.

A moment later Frank arose.

On the turf Fred Flemming lay white and still, his eyes closed.

"Bring some water," calmly directed the victor. "I think Mr. Flemming has been stunned."

"This fall settles the match," decided Hugh Heffiner. "Frank Merriwell has won by throwing Flemming two times in succession. Permit me to congratulate you, Mr. Merriwell, for it is apparent that you are as expert in the art of wrestling as you have proved yourself to be in the other things you have attempted."

"Thank you," said Frank, simply, as he accepted Heffiner's hand.

Jack Diamond whispered in Tom Thornton's ear:

"It is your turn next!"

Diamond called on Merriwell that evening.

"You are a dandy, old man!" cried the Virginian, admiringly. "You got back at Flemming in great shape. They say he has been weak as a rag ever since you dropped him the second time, and it is pretty certain he will hold you in respect hereafter."

"I shall be satisfied if he will let me alone," said Frank, quietly. "I have no grudge against him, but the fellow who has not the nerve to fight his way in this world gets left. Life is a battle from start to finish, and the hardest fighter is the winner."

"True," nodded Jack.

"My mother was one of the gentlest women in the world," continued Merriwell. "Thoughts of strife and contention distressed her. To her a personal encounter was brutal and vulgar, and she instructed me never to fight unless absolutely compelled to do so. As far as possible I have tried to remember her teachings. I have not found it possible to do so at all times, as my enemies would ride over me if I did. When I see that a foe is determined to force me into an encounter then I become the aggressor. In another thing my mother was at fault. Many times she told me never to strike the first blow. She was wrong. Often the first blow wins the battle. If a person sees there is certain to be an encounter, he should do his best to get in the first blow, and make it a good one. Then he should not be satisfied to let it rest there till his enemy has recovered, but he should follow it up. That is my belief."

"And you are right. Old man, you have a level head. I never saw another fellow like you, Merriwell, and I doubt if there is another in the world."

Frank laughed.

"You flatter me, Diamond."

"Not at all."

"Ah, but you do. I know my own failings."

"I wonder what they are?"

"Do not think for a moment that I have no failings! I have studied my own nature, and I have discovered them. As far as possible, I seek to remedy them. To myself I am a very ordinary sort of fellow. I know it, Jack. The man who can see no flaws in himself is an egotist, a cad, and a shallow fool! As soon as he is perfectly satisfied with himself, he ceases to progress—he deteriorates."

"That is true."

"Among my friends I see many things worthy of emulation. You, my dear Diamond, are not aware of your own fine qualities, and——"

"That will do, Merry!" cried Jack, blushing. "I am sure that I try to be a gentleman. My father was a true Southern gentleman."

"There can be no doubt of that. You show your breeding in every way. A natural gentleman will be a gentleman under any circumstances. He carries the air about him, and nothing can disguise it."

Jack sat down.

"You have squared your score with Flemming," he said; "but I have a little matter to settle with Thornton. I am wondering how I shall settle it."

"Thornton is Flemming's satellite. It would be cruel to use him roughly."

"But I will not let him off! He should be taught a lesson."

"Look here, Jack, I have a scheme."

"What is it?"

"Let's put up a racket on him."

"What sort of a racket?"

"Oh, one out of which we can get some sport and humiliate him at the same time. I am sure you do not want to fight with the fellow?"

"I have been thinking that I would be ashamed to have an encounter with him."

"Exactly so. Now, I know you are not much of a fellow for pranks, but I hope you will agree to this little scheme of mine."

"State it," said Jack, rather doubtfully.

"Well, you know Thornton considers himself something of a masher. He gets stuck on every pretty girl who smiles on him."

"Yes."

"Danny Griswold is a daisy as an impersonator of girls. You know he is to play a girl's part in one of the entertainments to be given in the fall. He has done the trick before, and he sent home for his outfit a week ago. Yesterday, while Rattleton and I were cramming for recitations the door opened, and a stunning blonde walked into the room. She seemed confused when she saw us, begged our pardon, and said she was looking for her cousin, Danny Griswold. She had entered the wrong room by accident. Harry offered to show her to Danny's rooms, but she said she could find the way. Still she was in no hurry to go, and I began to be rather nervous, for I did not fancy the idea of having a young lady without a chaperon visit us. I feared it would become known, and we would receive a reprimand. She was decidedly giddy, and she sat on the arm of the easy-chair there and giggled and said it must be so nice to be a boy and go to Yale. After a while I began to smell a rat. I got up and took a closer look at her. Say, she was gotten up in great shape! It was that little imp Griswold!"

"Well, what is your scheme?" asked Jack, smiling.

"It is to put Griswold onto Thornton. Let Danny rig up and see what he can do. It's ten to one Thornton will think he has a new mash, and then we can have any amount of sport with the fellow."

Jack looked more doubtful than ever.

"I don't see how that is getting square with him," he declared.

"If the game works, you can pretend to be in love with the same girl. You can challenge Thornton to mortal combat. He won't dare meet you. Then you can expose him, and if that will not be getting even with him I don't know how you can get even."

This scheme did not exactly meet Diamond's approval, and Frank found it difficult to induce him to agree to it. At last, however, Merriwell succeeded.

"We'll have barrels of fun out of this," laughed Frank. "I feel in need of a little fun to wake me up."



CHAPTER XV.

THORNTON'S "MASH."

Tom Thornton was alone in his room when there came a knock on the door.

"Come in," called Tom, without turning his head or taking his feet down from the table on which they were resting.

As he had been out late the night before, he was not in a very agreeable mood. He had sent for his tailor some time before, and he supposed it was the tailor who had knocked and entered at his command.

"Well, here you are at last!" Tom growled. "I've waited long enough for you, too! You are slower that molasses in midwinter! I suppose you want to know what ails me now. Well, I'll tell you. That last pair of trousers you made me are too short in the waist and too full around the bottoms—that's what's the matter. I'd be mobbed if I should show myself in them. Now, don't tell me they are all right! I'll just try them on right before you, and let you see—— Great Jupiter! What have I been saying!"

He had turned his head, and he saw a vision that electrified him and brought his feet down from the table with a thump.

Just within the room a very pretty girl was standing, and she was staring at him in a half-frightened, half-amused manner.

"I—I—I beg your pup-pup-pardon!" stammered Thornton, jumping up, confused and flustered. "I didn't know! I—I thought it was my tailor!"

"And you nearly frightened the senses out of me by growling at me in that way," giggled the girl. "Why, I thought you were a great horrid bear, and you were going to eat me."

"If I were a bear, I couldn't ask for a daintier meal," said Tom, gallantly.

"Oh, my!" laughed the girl. "What a difference!"

"I am bound to even matters if possible."

"That's it? Then you did not really mean what you just said, after all?"

The smile vanished from her face, and she seemed a bit offended.

"Oh, yes I did—I vow I did!" exclaimed Tom, hastening to repair the "break." "You see I am all broken up by the surprise. I—I didn't think of seeing a young lady here—alone."

"I suppose not. I am looking for my cousin, Mr. Griswold."

"Griswold? Griswold? Why, I have heard of him. Yes, he is a soph. You'll find him over in South Middle. This is Welch Hall."

"Oh, dear! Then I was misdirected. I was told I'd find him here somewhere. I beg your pardon, sir."

"Oh, don't mention it, Miss—er—Miss——"

"Darling. My name is Grace Darling, and I have come down to spend a week in New Haven. You see I am from the country."

"I should say so!" thought Thornton; "and as fresh as they make 'em! But she is pretty—yes, she is a genuine stunner! A sort of wild flower. She is so innocent and unsophisticated!"

"I presumed you were not familiar with Yale, or you would not be in the dormitories without a chaperon," said Thornton, aloud. "It is all right, though," he hastened to declare, as she seemed to shrink back. "I will escort you over to South Middle, and help you find your cousin. My name is Thornton—Thomas Thornton."

"You are very good, Mr. Thornton, but I think I can find Danny all right. I will not put you to the trouble."

"Oh, it will be no trouble—not the least in the world, I assure you."

"Still I don't know what Danny would think. Even though your company would be very pleasant, I dare not accept it without a proper introduction, Mr.—Mr. Thornton."

This was said in the most coquettish manner possible, and Tom Thornton felt his heart beating proudly.

"I've struck her all right!" he told himself. "I mustn't let it slip. I'll improve the opportunity."

So he talked to her in his most fascinating manner, and was bold enough to express a hope that he might see her again, to which she replied that he "might." And when she left Tom was in a state of delighted satisfaction, thoroughly pleased with himself.

Thornton was inclined to boast of his conquests, and it was not long before he had told several of his friends about the "corking pretty girl" who had wandered into his room.

"And I caught her without a struggle," he declared repeatedly. "Country girl and rather unsophisticated; but a regular rustic rose—no, a regular daisy. Cousin of some fellow over in South Middle. Her name? Never mind. I am not giving things away. She is going to stay down a week, and gave me her promise that I should see her again. But she intends to be strictly proper, although she does not know much of city ways, for she declared that I must be properly introduced to her before she would make an appointment with me. Oh, it's dead easy when you know how!"

Tad Horner was Thornton's roommate. "Grace Darling" had chosen an occasion when Tad was not in, and thus had found Tom alone.

Tom boasted of his conquest to Tad, who grinned and tried to chaff him about his charming country girl.

"Did she have hayseed in her hair?" asked Tad.

"It's not that kind of a lady, Horner. They'll all be envious of me. She is a stunning blonde, and her innocent country ways make her all the more attractive. She has such eyes—and such teeth! Her lips are very inviting, my dear boy. It's just the sort of a mouth a fellow longs to kiss. And if I do not sip nectar from those ruby lips before she returns to her country home, I'll be dead slow."

"Wow!" whooped Tad. "Sip nectar! That beats! Thornton, this rural maiden has knocked you silly!"

"Wait till you see her, and you will not wonder, my boy."

"I'll go something you do not see her again."

"Oh, but I have her promise!"

"Ah, she was giving you a jolly!"

"You'll see!" cried Tom, piqued. "Just wait a while."