Book: Frank Merriwell at Yale

B >> Burt L. Standish >> Frank Merriwell at Yale




Frank heard the farmer calling for him to stop, but, with Mr. Gobbler
dangling on his back, he fled the faster.

The gun spoke, but he was not touched, and he did not stop to look
around, so he did not know how Harry had saved him.

Three-quarters of an hour later the five fellows who had started out on
the turkey chase met on the outskirts of New Haven. They came up one at
a time, Rattleton being the last to appear. There was a general feeling
of relief when it was found that all were there safe and sound.

It was decided that they should go into the city one at a time, taking
different routes. Frank believed he could reach the house without being
stopped, although it would be no very easy job.

He was remarkably successful until he was on York Street and close to
Mrs. Harrington's. The street seemed clear, and he wondered where all
the fellows could be, when of a sudden a tall form in dark clothes
stepped right out before him. He gave a gasp, for at a glance he seemed
to recognize one of the professors.

"Young man," sternly said a familiar voice, "what have you there?"

"It's Professor Grant!" thought Frank, aghast.

The professor blocked his way. What could he do?

Quick as a flash he swung the gobbler around and struck his challenger a
smashing blow with it, knocking him sprawling.

Then he took to his heels, still holding fast to his capture.

In a moment he heard the sound of feet in pursuit, and he knew the
outraged professor was after him.

Frank's heart was in his mouth, and he felt scared for the first time
that night. He was certain it would mean expulsion to be caught.

For all of the running he had done that night, he fled like a frightened
deer, occasionally glancing over his shoulder. He had never dreamed that
Professor Grant was a sprinter, but the man was running at great
speed--seemed to be gaining.

"Stop, sir!" cried the pursuer. "I tell you to stop!"

"Not much!" thought Frank. "I won't stop! If you catch me your wind is
better than I think it is."

He did not dare go into his house, so he dashed past, cut into another
street, turned corner after corner, and still he found himself pursued.
It seemed marvelous that Professor Grant could keep up such a pace.

Finally the pursuer called:

"Merriwell, is that you?"

No answer.

"I know you," declared the pursuer, and now Frank perceived that that
voice did not sound like Professor Grant. "You are a crackajack runner.
I wanted to give you a try to see what you could do. I'll see you
to-morrow. Good-night."

The pursuer gave up the chase.

"As I live, I believe it was Pierson, manager of the ball team!"
muttered Frank when he was sure it was no trick and he was no longer
followed. "He looks something like Professor Grant, and he is a great
mimic. That's just who it was."

A short time later he was in his room, where a jovial party of freshmen
was gathered.




CHAPTER XXI

ROAST TURKEY.


Frank's appearance, with the turkey still in his possession, was hailed
with shouts of delight.

"We didn't know as you would get in," said Jones. "I invited some more
of the fellows up here, as you see, and we found out that some of the
sophs seemed to know something unusual was going on."

"That's right," nodded Rattleton. "They were laying for us. Two of them
stopped me when I reached York Street. They told me to give up what I
had, but I didn't have anything to give up, so they let me go."

Then Frank told of his adventure with a person who looked like Professor
Grant.

"That's it!" cried Little. "That was their game! They were after our
turkey."

"But how did they know we were after turkey?" asked Robinson.

"They must have been told by somebody," said Street.

"And that means we have a tattler among us," declared Burnham
Putnam--Old Put--looking keenly around.

The boys looked at each other suspiciously, wondering if there was one
of the number who would carry to the sophs.

To Frank's surprise he saw that Walter Gordon was there. Jack Diamond
was also present.

Frank found an opportunity to get close to Dismal and whisper in his
ear:

"Great Caesar, old man! why did you invite Gordon here?"

"I did not."

"Then how does he happen to be here? He didn't come without an
invitation, I am sure of that."

"He was in Billy's when I asked Put to come up. I knew you would like to
have Put here."

"That's all right."

"Well, Put asked Gordon to come along before I could prevent it. Of
course I didn't have the crust to make any objection after that."

"I should say not! It's all right, but you want to remember that the
sophs found out something was going on. Did Gordon come right along with
you?"

"No. He said he'd have to go to his room, but he showed up a few minutes
after we arrived here."

"Lots of mischief can be done in a few minutes. Did he know just what
was going on here?"

"Well, he knew somebody had gone out into the country to swipe something
for a feast."

"And it is pretty plain that the sophs became aware of the same fact.
Here is food for reflection, Dismal."

"You are right."

The foragers told of their adventures in capturing the turkey, and there
was a great deal of laughter over it. Merriwell showed how near he came
to getting shot, and it was universally agreed that he was remarkably
lucky.

Harry told how he had bowled the old farmer over just as the man was
about to shoot at Frank, and then he convulsed them with laughter by
relating the capture of the gun and the chase he had led the hayseed.

Robinson said he thought Harry was crazy when he rushed after the farmer
in the way he did.

"I couldn't understand what sort of a game he was up to," said Bandy,
"and I didn't feel like following him into the jaws of the lion, so I
held aloof. I saw him fling his club at the old duffer and saw it knock
him down. Then, when I was sure Harry was all right, I legged it."

"Farmer Baldwin's dog will have a sore head in the morning," smiled
Frank. "The last crack I gave him stretched him quivering on the ground.
Hope it didn't kill the brute."

"Hope it didn't?" shouted Little. "I hope it did!"

"But I don't want to pay for his old dog."

"Pay for it! Are you dopy, daft, or what's the matter with you? Why,
that man had a spring gun set, and it would have filled you full of shot
if you hadn't tripped!"

"He had a right to set a spring gun in his own shed to protect his
turkey roost from marauders."

The boys stared at Frank in amazement.

"Say, Merriwell," said Uncle Blossom, gravely, "you're an enigma. Great
poker! The idea of calling us marauders!"

"What else were we?"

"Boys, it is our duty to take him out and hold him under under the
hose!"

"Gentlemen," said Jack Diamond, who was present, "you will have a real
lively time if you try to do it. I fully agree with Mr. Merriwell that
the farmer had a right to protect his property."

"Whe-e-ew!" whistled several lads, and then they all cried together:
"Goodness, how the wind blows!"

The boys had come to understand in a measure Diamond's chivalric nature
and sentiments, and it did not seem strange that he should see something
improper in stealing turkeys from a farmer; but it did appear rather
remarkable that Merriwell should maintain such an idea after he had
taken a hand in the game.

"It must be that you chaps intend to become parsons after you leave
college," said Walter Gordon, rather derisively.

"And Merriwell would pay for the dog if he killed the beast!" exclaimed
Uncle Blossom. "How about the turkey? I should have thought you'd paid
for that."

"I did."

"What!"

That word was a roar, and it seemed to leap from the lips of every lad
in the room, with the exception of Diamond and Merriwell. The boys were
all on their feet, and they stared at Frank with bulging eyes, as if
they beheld a great curiosity.

Merriwell simply smiled. He was quite cool and unruffled.

"You--you paid--for--the--turkey!" gasped Lucy Little, as if it cost him
a mighty effort to get the words out.

"Exactly," bowed Frank.

"How? When? Where?"

"I pinned a five-dollar bill to the roost before I laid violent hands on
the old gobbler. Baldwin will find it there in the morning."

"Water!" panted Robinson as he flopped down on a chair. "I think I am
going to faint!"

"Oh, think of the beautiful beers that V would have paid for!" sighed
Robinson, with a doleful shake of his head.

"This is a disgrace on the famous class of 'Umpty-eight!" shouted Lewis
Little. "We can never wipe it out!"

"I fear not," said Easy Street. "It is really awful!"

"And to think Merriwell should have done it. It would have served him
right if that spring gun had filled him with shot!"

"Excuse these few tears!" exclaimed Blossom, who had secretly opened a
bottle of beer and saturated his handkerchief with the contents.

He now proceeded to wring the handkerchief in a highly dramatic manner.

"Go ahead," laughed Frank. "Have all the sport you like over it, but I
feel easy in my mind."

Some one proposed not to eat the turkey at all, but there was a
dissenting shout at that. Then the bird was taken down into the cellar
by three of them and stripped of its feathers. A pan and necessary
dishes had been borrowed of Mrs. Harrington, and there was a roaring
hard-wood fire in the open grate.

Harry officiated as cook, and set about his duties in a manner that
showed he was not a novice, while the other lads looked on with great
interest, telling stories and cracking jokes.

Merriwell offered to bet Robinson that woman was created before man, but
Bandy was shy, scenting a sell. However, Frank kept at him, finally
offering to let Robinson himself decide. At length Robinson "bit," and a
small wager was made.

"Now," cried Bandy, "go ahead and prove that woman was made before man.
You can't do it."

"That's dead easy," smiled Frank. "I know you will readily acknowledge
that Eve was the first maid."

"No, I'll be hanged if--"

Then Robinson stopped short, for he saw the point, and the others were
laughing heartily and applauding.

"The first maid!" he muttered. "Oh, thunder! What a soft thing I am! You
have won, Merriwell."

The turkey began to give out a most delicious odor, and the boys snuffed
the air with the keenest delight. How hungry they were! How jolly
everything seemed! There was not one of the party who did not feel very
grateful to think he was living that night.

At last the turkey was done. Harry pronounced it done, and it was
certainly browned and basted in beautiful style. It was a monster, but
there would be none too much for that famished crowd.

Frank and Blossom assisted Harry in serving. There were not enough
plates for all, but that did not matter. They managed to get along all
right. Some were forced to drink their beer out of the bottle, but
nobody murmured.

The turkey was white and tender, and it was certainly very well cooked.
It had a most delicious flavor. And how good the beer was with it! How
those fellows jollied Merriwell because he would not even taste the
beer. And still they secretly admired him for it. He had the nerve to
say no and stick to it, which they could not help admiring.

When the turkey was all gone cigars were passed, and nearly every one
"fired up." Then Harry and Frank got out a banjo and mandolin and gave
the party some lively music. It was long after two o'clock, but who
cared for that? Nobody thought of the hour. If Mrs. Harrington
complained in the morning, she must be pacified with a peace offering.

They sang "Old Man Moses," "Solomon Levi," "Bingo," and a dozen more.
There were some fine voices among them. Finally a quartet was formed,
consisting of Merriwell, Rattleton, Diamond and Blossom. It positively
was a treat to hear them sing "Good-by, My Little Lady."

"The boats are pushing from the shore,
Good-by, my little lady!
With brawny arm and trusty oar,
Each man is up and ready;
I see our colors dancing
Where sunlit waves are glancing;
A fond adieu I'll say to you,
My lady true and fair.

"Good-by, good-by, my lady sweet!
Good-by, my little lady!
Good-by, good-by, again we'll meet,
So here's farewell, my lady!"

Oh, those old college songs! How they linger in the memory! How the
sound of them in after years stirs the blood and quickens the pulse! And
never can other songs seem half so beautiful as those!

It was after two when the party broke up, but it was a night long to be
remembered.




CHAPTER XXII.

A SURPRISE FOR FRANK.


On the following morning Merriwell arose with a headache.

"The smoke was too much for me last night," he said. "It was thick
enough to chop in this room."

"And you don't know how I wanted to have a whiff with the fellows," said
Harry, dolefully. "It was awful to see them enjoying cigars and
cigarettes and not touch one myself!"

"But you didn't," smiled Frank. "Good boy! Stick to that just as long as
you wish to keep a place in athletics."

"I don't know which is the worst, smoking or midnight suppers."

"Midnight suppers are bad things, and you will observe that I seldom
indulge in them. If I was on one of the regular teams I could not
indulge at all. I'll not have any part in another affair like that of
last night till after the race. From now till it is over I am going to
live right."

"Well, I'll do my best to stick with you. If you see me up to anything
improper, just call me down."

"Agreed."

There was no time for a cold bath before chapel, although Frank would
have given something to indulge in one. As it was, he dipped his head in
cold water, opened the window wide, and filled his lungs with fresh air,
then hustled into his clothes and rushed away, with the chapel bell
clanging and his temples still throbbing.

The whole forenoon was a drag, but he managed to get through the
recitations fairly well. Over and over he promised himself that he would
not indulge in another midnight feast until the time came when such
dissipation was not likely to do him any particular harm physically.

At noon as he was crossing the campus he was astonished to see Paul
Pierson, a junior and the manager of the regular ball team, stop and
bow. Unless it was Pierson who had pursued him on the previous night,
Frank had never spoken a word to the fellow in his life. And this public
recognition of a freshman on the campus by a man like Pierson was almost
unprecedented.

"Ah, Mr. Merriwell, I would like to speak with you," said Pierson in a
manner that was not exactly unfriendly.

Frank remembered that the fellow who chased him the night before had
promised to see him again, but he had thought at the time that the man
did not mean it. Now he wondered what in the world Pierson could want.

"Yes, sir," said Merriwell, stopping and bowing respectfully.

"I understand that you are something of a sprinter," said Pierson as he
surveyed the freshman critically. "A--ah--friend of mine told me so."

"Well, I don't know, but I believe I can run fairly well," replied
Frank, with an air of modesty.

"My friend is a very good judge of runners, and he says you're all
right. In doing so he settled a point in my mind. I have been watching
your ball playing in practice this fall, and I have arrived at the
conclusion that you have good stuff in you if you do not get the swelled
head. Young man, the swelled head is one of the worst things with which
a youth can be afflicted. When he gets it for fair it is likely to be
his ruin."

Pierson addressed Frank as if he were a father speaking to a boy. Frank
felt that the junior was patronizing to a certain extent, but the
fellow's manner of stopping him on the campus was so remarkable that it
more than overbalanced his air of superiority.

Wondering what Pierson could be driving at, Frank kept silent and
listened.

"Now, I have a fancy," said the baseball magnate, "that you are rather
level headed. Still, the best of them get it sometimes, and that is why
I am warning you."

Pierson spoke deliberately, still looking hard at the freshman, who
waited quietly.

"He'll come to the point if he is given time," thought Frank.

"I have seen you pitch," said Pierson, "and I have watched your delivery
and your curves. You are very good. More than that, you bat properly and
your judgment is excellent."

He paused again, as if to note what impression this praise made upon the
other. Frank felt his cheeks grow warm, but his voice was perfectly
steady as he said:

"Thank you, sir."

"I did not know just what you would do when it came to running till my
friend saw you run," Pierson went on. "He says you are all right. Now,
if you will look out for yourself and keep yourself in condition, it is
quite possible that you may be given a trial on the regular ball team in
the spring."

Frank felt his heart give a great jump. On the regular team! Why, he had
not dreamed of getting there the very first season. Was Pierson giving
him a jolly?

"Are you serious, sir?" he asked.

"Most certainly, Mr. Merriwell," answered the junior. "I can assure you
that you stand an excellent chance of having a trial. What the result of
the trial is will depend entirely upon yourself."

"What position, Mr. Pierson?"

"Well, there is but one position that is not well filled. We've got men
to burn for every other place. If you are tried at all, it will be in
the box. Heffiner is the only man we have, and he can't do all the work.
There will come times when he will be out of condition."

To pitch on the regular ball team! To be given an opportunity when the
great Heffiner proved out of condition! That was glory indeed. No wonder
Frank Merriwell tingled with excitement in every part of his body; but
it was a wonder that he appeared so cool and self contained.

Pierson was surprised by the freshman's manner, for he had expected
Frank to show excitement and delight.

"What sort of a fellow is this?" he thought. "Does he really understand
me, or is he a little thick?"

Then he saw by Frank's fine and highly sensitive face that he could not
be thick, and he began to perceive that the freshman had nerve. That was
one of the great requirements for a successful pitcher.

"I have spoken of this to you, Mr. Merriwell, so you may be keeping
yourself in condition through the winter, as you will then stand all the
better show of making a favorable impression when you are given a
trial."

"Thank you, sir."

"If I were in your place I would not make any talk about it, for
something may happen that you will not be given a trial, in which case
it would be very humiliating if you had publicly stated that you were to
have a show."

"You may be sure I will say nothing about it, Mr. Pierson."

"That is all. Good-day, sir."

"Good-day, sir."

Pierson passed on, quite aware that a number of students were regarding
him with the utmost amazement, plainly wondering that he should have
stopped to talk with a freshman on the campus.

Walter Gordon had seen the two speaking together, and he hastened to
call the attention of some friends to it.

"Look there!" he cried. "As I live, Merriwell is talking with Pierson!
What'll you bet the fellow's not making a try to get on the regular ball
team? Ha! ha! ha! He's got crust enough for it."

"And I am not sure he hasn't the ability for it," said Easy Street.

"Oh, rats!" snapped Walter. "He'd go to pieces in the first inning.
He'll never make a pitcher in his life."

"There are others," murmured Lucy Little.




CHAPTER XXIII.

THE YALE SPIRIT.


Frank went to his room with his head in a whirl. He had dreamed of
working hard to secure a place on the freshman team, but he had not
dreamed there was a possibility that he would be given a trial in the
regular Yale nine during his first year in college.

Merriwell knew well enough that Phillips men were given the preference
in everything at Yale as a rule, for they had friends to pull them
through, while the fellows who had been prepared by private tutors
lacked such an advantage.

But Frank had likewise discovered that in most cases a man was judged
fairly at Yale, and he could become whatever he chose to make himself,
in case he had the ability.

The Phillips man might have the advantage at the start, but he could not
hold the advantage unless he proved himself worthy. If the unknown
student had nerve and determination he could win his way for all of the
wire pulling of the friends of some rival who was not so capable.

Frank had heard the cry which had been raised at that time that the old
spirit of democracy was dying out at Yale, and that great changes had
taken place there. He had heard that Yale was getting to be more like
another college, where the swell set are strongly in evidence and the
senior likely to be very exclusive, having but a small circle of
speaking acquaintances.

It was said that in the old days the Yale junior or senior knew
everybody worth knowing. But this had changed. The blue-blooded
aristocrat had appeared at Yale, and he had chosen his circle of
acquaintances with great care. To all outward appearances, this man
believed that outside his limited circle there was nobody at Yale worth
knowing.

Professor Scotch, Frank's guardian, had read this in certain newspaper
articles relating to Yale, and had expressed his regret that such should
be the case.

After coming to Yale Frank kept his eyes open to see to what extent such
a state of affairs obtained. At first it had seemed that the newspapers
were right, but he came to see that his position as freshman did not
give him the proper opportunity to judge.

In the course of time Frank came to believe that the old spirit was
still powerful at Yale. There were a limited number of young gentlemen
who plainly considered themselves superior beings, and who positively
refused to make acquaintances outside a certain limit; but those men
held no positions in athletics, were seldom of prominence in the
societies, and were regarded as cads by the men most worth knowing. They
were to be pitied, not envied.

At Yale the old democratic spirit still prevailed. The young men were
drawn from different social conditions, and in their homes they kept to
their own set; but they seemed to leave this aside, and they mingled and
submerged their natural differences under that one broad generalization,
"the Yale man."

And Merriwell was to find that this extended even to their social life,
their dances, their secret societies, where all who showed themselves to
have the proper dispositions and qualifications were admitted without
distinction of previous condition or rank in their own homes.

Each class associated with itself, it is true, the members making no
close friendships with members of other classes, with the possible
exception of the juniors and seniors, where class feeling did not seem
to run so high. A man might know men of other classes, but he never took
them for chums.

The democratic spirit at Yale came mainly from athletics, as Frank soon
discovered. Every class had half a dozen teams--tennis, baseball,
football, the crew and so on. Everybody, even the "greasy" grinds,
seemed interested in the something, and so one or more of these
organization had some sort of a claim on everybody.

Besides this, there was the general work in the gymnasium, almost every
member of every class appearing there at some time or other, taking
exercise as a pastime or a necessity.

The 'Varsity athletic organization drew men from every class, not
excepting the professional and graduate schools, and, counting the
trials and everything, brought together hundreds of men.

In athletics strength and skill win, regardless of money or family; so
it happened that the poorest man in the university stood a show of
becoming the lion and idol of the whole body of young men.

Compulsory chapel every morning brought together the entire college, and
had its effect in making everybody acquainted with everybody else.

A great fosterer of the democratic spirit was the old Yale fence, over
the departure of which "old grads" are forever shedding bitter tears.
The student who had not known the old fence was inclined to smile
wearily over the expressions of regret at its loss, but still the "old
grad" continued to insist that the fence was one of the crowning
beauties of Yale, and that nothing can ever replace it.

On the old fence men read the newspapers, crammed for recitation,
gossiped, told stories, talked athletics, sung songs, flirted with
passing girls, and got acquainted. Oh, yes, it was a great fosterer of
the democratic spirit.

In the promotion of this spirit the drinking places at Yale are
important factors. At Harvard the men drink in their clubs, the most of
which are very expensive places, and in the Boston cafes. The Yale men
drink at Morey's, and Traeger's, and Billy's. Traeger's, where from a
score to fifty students may be seen any afternoon or evening, is
furnished in exact imitation of German students' drinking places. In the
back room is heavy furniture, quaint paintings, and woodwork and
carvings. It had a sort of subdued cathedral light, which fell softly on
the mugs which decorated the shelves and mantel.

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