Book: Frank Merriwell at Yale

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




A little fellow stepped out.

"You claim to be a gentleman," he said, distinctly, "but you will prove
yourself a cad if you peach."

"I had rather be a cad than a ruffian, sir!"

"If you were a gentleman you would take your medicine like a gentleman.
You'd never squeal."

"You fellows are the ones who are squealing now, for you see you have
been imposing on the wrong man."

"Man!" shot back the little fellow, contemptuously. "There's not much
man about a chap that blows when he is hazed a little."

"A little! a little! Is this what you call a little?"

"Oh, this is nothing. Think of what the poor freshies used to go through
in the old days of Delta Kappa and Signa Epsilon. Why, sometimes a
fellow would be roasted so his skin would smell like burned steak for a
week."

"That was when he was burned at the stake," said a chap in the
background, and there was a universal dismal groan.

"This is some of the Delta Kappa machinery here," the little fellow
explained. "Sometimes some of the fellows come here to have a cold bot
and hot lob. You freshies walked right in on us to-night, and we gave
you a pleasant reception. Now, if you blow I'll guarantee you'll never
become a soph. The fellows will do you, and do you dirty, before your
first year is up."

"Such threats do not frighten me," haughtily flung back the lad from
Virginia. "I know this was a put-up job, and Bruce Browning was in it.
He got us to come here. Frank Merriwell knew something about it, or he'd
never been so ready to come. And I know you, too, Tad Horner."

The little fellow fell back a step, and then, with a sudden angry
impulse, he tore off his mask, showing a flushed, chubby, boyish face,
from which a pair of great blue eyes flashed at Diamond.

"Well, I am Tad Horner!" he cried, "and I'm not ashamed of it! If you
want to throw me down, go ahead. It will be a low, dirty trick, and will
show the kind of big stuff you are!"

The masked lads were surprised, for Tad had never exhibited such spirit
before. He had always seemed like a mild, shy, mother-boy sort of chap.
He had been hazed and had cried; but he wouldn't beg and he never
squealed. After that Browning had taken him under his wing, had fought
his battles, and had stood by him through the freshman year. Anybody who
was looking for trouble could find it by imposing on Horner; and
Browning, for all of his laziness, could fight like a tiger when he was
aroused.

Some of the students clapped their hands in approbation of Tad's plain
words, and there was a general stir. One fellow proposed that everybody
unmask, so that all would be on a level with Horner, but the little
fellow quickly cried:

"Don't do it! You'd all be spotted, and the faculty would know who to
investigate if anything should happen to Diamond. If I'm fired, I want
you fellows to settle with him for me."

"We'll do it--we'll do it, Tad!" cried more than twenty voices.

Diamond showed his white, even teeth and laughed shortly.

"Perhaps you think that will scare me," he sneered. "If so, you will
find I am not bluffed so easily."

"We are not trying to scare you," declared another of the masked
students, "but you'll find we are in earnest if you blow."

"Well, you will find I am in earnest, and I do not care for you all."

The boys began to despair, for they saw that Diamond was determined and
obstinate, and it would be no easy thing to induce him to abandon his
intention of reporting the hazing. If he did so, Browning and Horner
would find themselves in deep trouble, and others might become involved
during the investigation. It was not probable that the consequences
would be serious for Merriwell, who would be able to prove his innocence
in the matter.

What could be done?

The boys fell to discussing the matter in little groups, and not a few
expressed regret that Tad Horner had unmasked, as an alibi could have
been arranged for him if he had not done so. Now he would be too proud
to permit them to try anything of the sort, and he would tell the truth
about his connection with the affair if the truth were demanded of him.

"We're in a bad box," said one fellow in one of the little groups.
"Diamond is mad enough to do as he threatens."

"Sure," nodded another. "And that breaks up this joint. No more little
lunches here--no more games of penny ante."

"It's a howling shame!" exploded a third. "It makes me feel grouchy."

"I move we strangle Diamond," suggested the first speaker.

"It seems that that is the only way to keep his tongue still," dolefully
groaned a tall chap. "This is a big horse on us."

"That's what," sighed a boy with a face like a girl's. "The whole
business puts me in a blue funk."

Then they stood and stared silently at each other through the eyeholes
in their masks, and not one of them was able to propose anything
practicable.

The rest of the assembled sophomores seemed in quite as bad a plight,
and some of them were inclined to indulge in profanity, which, although
it relieved their feelings for the moment, did not suggest any way out
of the scrape.

At this point Merriwell spoke up, addressing Diamond.

"Look here, old man," he said in a friendly way, "you've only taken the
same dose they gave me. It's nothing when you get used to it."

Diamond gave him a contemptuous look, but did not speak.

"Now, I don't propose to make a fuss about this little joke," Frank went
on. "What's the use? I'm not half killed."

"Perhaps you think you can hoodwink me!" cried Diamond. "Well, you
cannot! You were in the game all the time. That's why you were so ready
to meet me in a duel--that's why you came here."

"I assure you on my word of honor that you are wrong."

"Your word of honor!"

"Yes, my word of honor," he calmly returned. "See--look at my clothes.
You can tell that I have been through the mill."

"You may have had them fixed that way on purpose to fool me."

"Oh, you must know better than that! Be reasonable, Diamond."

The Virginian made a savage gesture.

"If you are so pleased to be made a laughingstock of it's nothing to
me," he flashed. "Keep still if you want to. I'm going to tell all I
know."

"That would make a very large book--full of nice clean, blank pages,"
said some one in the background.

Frank's manner suddenly changed.

"Look here, Diamond," he said, "you won't tell a thing."

The Southerner caught his breath and his eyes stared.

"Eh?" he muttered, surprised at the other's manner. "I won't?"

"Not on your life."

"Why not?"

"Because it will mean expulsion for you as well as myself if you do."

Every one was listening. They gathered about the two freshmen, wondering
not a little at Merriwell's words and manner.

"Expulsion for me?" slowly repeated Diamond. "How is that?"

"It's straight goods."

"Explain it."

"Well, I will. We came here to fight a duel, didn't we?"

"Yes, sir."

"You admit that?"

"I do, sir."

"That is all that's needed."

"How? Why? I don't understand."

"Duels are not countenanced in the North, and nothing would cause a
fellow to be fired from Yale quicker than the knowledge that he had had
anything to do with one while here. Do you twig?"

There was a moment of silence and then a stir. A deep sigh of relief
came from the masked lads, and some of them showed an inclination to
cheer Merriwell.

Diamond seemed nonplused for the moment. He glared at Frank, his hands
clinched and his face pale.

At last he slowly said:

"A duel is something no gentleman can blow about, so if you are a
gentleman you will have to remain silent, sir."

"That's the way you Southerners look at it, but yon will excuse us
Northerners if we do not see it in the same light. A hazing is something
we do not blow about, but you seem determined to let out everything, for
all that it would be a dirty thing to do. In order to even the matter,
these fellows are sure to tell that you came here to fight a duel with
deadly weapons, and you'll find yourself rusticating in Virginia
directly."

"'Way down in ole Virginny," softly warbled one of the delighted
sophomores. "That's the stuff, Merry, old boy!"

Diamond trembled with intense anger. He tried to speak, but his voice
was so hoarse that his words were unintelligible. A blue line seemed to
form around his mouth.

"Merriwell's got him!" Bruce Brown lazily whispered in Tad Horner's ear.
"See him squirm!"

Tad was relieved, although he endeavored not to show it; but a satisfied
smile crept over his rosy face, and he felt like giving Frank Merriwell
the "glad hand."

Diamond's anger got the best of him. He strode forward, looked straight
into Frank's eyes, and panted:

"I hate you, sir! I could kill you!"

And then, before he realized what he was doing, he struck Merriwell a
sharp blow on the cheek with his open hand.




CHAPTER IV.

THE FIGHT.


The blow staggered Frank. It had come so suddenly that he was quite
unprepared for it. His face became suddenly pale, save where Diamond's
hand had struck, and there the crimson prints of four fingers came out
quickly, like a danger signal.

With the utmost deliberation Merriwell removed his coat.

"Come, sir!" he said to Diamond as he passed coat and hat to a ready
sophomore.

"I--I can't fight you that way!" protested the Virginian. "Bring the
rapiers."

"This time I claim the right to name the weapons, and they will be bare
fists."

"Right! right!" cried several voices. "You'll have to fight him that
way, Diamond."

"I will fight him!" grated Jack, furiously. "It is the prize fighter's
way, but I'll fight him, and I will lick him!"

He tore off his coat and flung it down. The boys quickly formed a ring,
and the freshmen foes faced each other.

Then the door of the room where the other freshmen were confined was
thrust open, and Harry Rattleton excitedly cried:

"Whee jiz--I mean jee whiz! what do you fellows think? Do you imagine we
are going to stay penned in here while there is a scrap going on? Well,
I guess not! We're coming out!"

Harry came with a rush, and the other freshmen followed at his heels,
the party having been abandoned by the sophs who had been placed on
guard over them.

"Hold on! hold on!" commanded Harry, forcing his way toward the
fighters. "I am Merriwell's second, and I'm going to see fair play, you
bet!"

"And I am Diamond's second," said Roland Ditson. "Just give me a chance
in the ring there."

The appearance of the freshmen caused a brief delay. There was some talk
about rules and rounds, and Diamond said:

"If I must fight with my fists, I'll fight as I please. I don't know
about your rules, and there will be but one round--that will finish it."

"How does that suit you, Merriwell?" asked Tad Horner, who seemed to
have assumed the position of referee.

"I am willing that Mr. Diamond should arrange that matter to suit
himself."

"But there is to be no kicking," Tad Horner hastily put in.

"Certainly not," stiffly agreed the Southerner.

"All right. Shake hands."

Diamond placed both hands behind his back, and Merriwell laughed.

"Ready!" called Horner. "On guard! Now you're off!"

Barely had the words left the little referee's lips when--top, tap,
slap!--Merriwell had struck Diamond three light blows with his open
hand.

A gasp of astonishment came from the watching sophomores. Never had they
seen three blows delivered in such lightning-like rapidity, but their
ears had not fooled them, and they heard each blow distinctly.

Merriwell's guard was perfect, his pose was light and professional, and
he suddenly seemed catlike on his feet.

Diamond was astonished, but only for an instant. The tapping blows
started his blood, and he sprang toward his foe, striking out with his
left and then with his right.

Merriwell did not attempt to guard, but he dodged both blows with ease,
and then smiled sweetly into the face of the baffled Virginian.

"Oh, say!" chuckled Harry Rattleton, hugging himself in delighted
anticipation, "just you fellows wait a minute! Diamond will think he has
been struck by an earthquake!"

Bruce Browning, himself a scientific boxer, was watching every movement
of the two freshmen. He turned to Puss Parker at his side and said:

"Merriwell handles himself like an old professional. By Jove! I believe
there's good stuff in that fellow!"

"Diamond would like to kill Merriwell," said Parker. "You can see it in
his face and eyes."

In truth there was a deadly look in the eyes of the pale-faced young
Virginian. His lips were pressed together, and a hardening of the jaws
told that his teeth were set. He was following Merriwell up, and the
latter was avoiding him with ease. Plainly Diamond meant to corner the
lad he hated and then force the fighting to a finish.

The rivals were nearly of a height and they wore built much alike,
although Frank had slightly the better chest development.

Merriwell seemed to toy with Diamond, giving him several little pat-like
blows on the breast and in the ribs. When the Virginian felt that he had
Frank cornered he was astonished to see Merriwell slip under his arm and
come up laughing behind him.

Merriwell's laughter filled Diamond's very soul with gall and wormwood.

"Wait!" he thought. "He laughs best who laughs last."

"Give it to him, Frank!" urged Rattleton. "You'll get out of wind
dodging about, and then it will not be so easy to finish him off."

But Frank saw that in a scientific way Diamond was no match for him, and
he disliked to strike the fellow. He regretted very much that the
unfortunate affair had come about, and he felt that there could be no
satisfaction in whipping the Southerner.

Merriwell hoped to toy with Diamond till the latter should see that his
efforts were fruitless and give up in disgust.

But he did not yet recognize the kind of stuff of which John Diamond was
built.

"Come! come!" impatiently called one of the spectators. "Quit ducking
and dodging and get into the game."

"That's right! that's right!" chorused several. "This is no sport."

"And it's no six-day walking match," sneered Roland Ditson. "Merriwell
seems afraid to stand up and face Diamond."

"Is that what you think?" Frank mentally exclaimed. "Well, I suppose I
will have to hit him a few times, although it goes against my grain."

A moment later he dropped his hands by his side and took a step to meet
the Virginian. It seemed like a great opportunity for Diamond, and he
led off straight for Frank's face, striking with his left.

With a slight side movement of his head Frank avoided the blow, allowing
his enemy's fist to pass over his shoulder. At the same time he cross
countered with his right hand, cracking Jack a heavy one under the ear.

"Hooray!" cried Harry Rattleton in delight. "That was a corker! Bet
Sparkler saw more stars than there are in the Wilky May--I mean Milky
Way."

For a few minutes the fight was hot. Again and again Frank struck his
enemy, but without putting his full strength into any of the blows, but
it did not seem to have any effect on Diamond save to make him more
fierce and determined.

"The Southerner's got some sand," commented Bruce Browning.

"That's right," nodded Puss Parker.

"He takes punishment well for a while, at least; but I don't believe he
will hold out much longer. I think he is the kind of a fellow to go to
pieces in an instant."

"You can't tell about that. I have a fancy that he's deceptive."

None of them, save Rattleton, possibly, knew that Merriwell was
reserving any of his strength when he struck his foe.

The fellows who a short time before were the most indignant against the
Southerner because he seemed determined to "blow" were now forced to
admire his bulldog tenacity and sand.

Merriwell had no desire to severely injure Diamond, although he had felt
some resentment toward the fellow for forcing him into a duel with
rapiers.

To Frank it had seemed that the Virginian had no hesitation in taking
advantage of an enemy, for Diamond must have presumed that Merriwell
knew nothing of the art of fencing and swordplay.

But for this belief, Merriwell would have been inclined to keep on and
tire his enemy out, without striking a single blow that could leave a
mark.

But when Frank came to consider everything, he decided that it was no
more than fair that he should give his persistent foe a certain amount
of punishment.

Again and again Frank cross countered and upper-cut Diamond, and
gradually he came to strike harder as the Virginian forced the fighting,
without showing signs of letting up.

Bruises and swellings began to appear on Diamond's face. On one cheek
Merriwell's knuckles cut through the skin, and the blood began to run,
creeping down to his chin and dropping on the bosom of his white shirt.

Still, from the determination and fury with which he fought, it seemed
that Diamond was utterly unconscious that he had been struck at all.

Jack did not consider how he had led Frank into a duel with rapiers
without knowing whether the fellow he hated had ever taken a fencing
lesson in all his life.

His one thought was that, being an expert boxer himself, Merriwell had
forced him to a fist fight, believing it would be easy to dispose of him
that way.

Diamond's hatred of Frank made him blind to the fact that he was in the
least to blame, and filled him with a passionate belief that he could
kill the smiling Northerner without a qualm of conscience--without a
pang of remorse.

At last, disgusted with his non-success in striking Frank at all, he
sprang forward suddenly and grappled with him.

Frank had been on the watch for that move.

Then the boys saw a pretty struggle for a moment, ending with Diamond
being lifted and dropped heavily, squarely on his back.

Merriwell came down heavily on his persistent enemy.

Frank fell on Jack with the hope of knocking the wind out of the fellow
and thus bringing the fight to a close.

For a few moments it seemed that he had succeeded.

Frank sprang up lightly, just as Tad Horner grappled him by the hair
with both hands and yelled: "Break away!"

Roland Ditson was at Diamond's side in a twinkling.

"Come, come, old man!" he whispered; "get up and get into the game
again! Don't let them count you out!"

But the Virginian was gasping for breath, and he did not seem to hear
the words of his second.

"That settles it," said Puss Parker, promptly.

"Better wait and see," advised Bruce Browning. "Diamond may not give up
when he gets his breath."

"It doesn't look as if he'd ever get his breath again."

Harry Rattleton was at Frank's side, swiftly saying:

"Why didn't you knock him out and show the fellows what you can do? You
monkeyed with the goat too long. He's stuffy, and you had to settle him
sometime. It didn't make a dit of bifference whether it was first or
last."

"That's all right," smiled Frank. "He's got sand, and I hated to nail
him hard. It seemed a shame to thump such a fellow and cover his face
with decorations."

"Shame? shame?" spluttered Harry. "Why, didn't he force you into a duel
with rapiers, or try to? and he is an expert! Say, what's the matter
with you? If I'd been in your place I'd gone into him tooth and nail,
and I wouldn't have left him in the shape of anything. Have you got a
soft spot around you somewhere, Merriwell?"

"I admire sand, even if it is in an enemy."

"You take the cherry pie--yes, you take the whole bakery!"

Harry gazed at his roommate in wonder that was not entirely unmingled
with pity and disgust. He could not understand Merriwell, and such
generosity toward a persistent foe on the part of Frank seemed like
weakness.

In the meantime Ditson had been urging Diamond to get up.

"They'll call the scrap finished if you don't get onto your pins in a
jiffy," he warned. "Horner's got his watch in his hand."

Still the Virginian gasped for breath and seemed unable to lift a hand.
If ever a fellow seemed done up, it was Diamond just then.

Roll Ditson ground his teeth in despair.

"Oh, Merriwell will think he is cock of the walk now!" he muttered.
"He'll crow and strut! He's laughing over it now!"

"Wh-what's that?" gasped Diamond, trying to sit up.

"He is laughing at you," hurriedly whispered Ditson, lying glibly. "I
just heard him tell Rattleton that he could have knocked the stuffing
out of you in less than a quarter of a minute. He says you'll never dare
face him again."

"Oh, he does! oh, he does!" came huskily from Diamond's lips. "Well,
we'll see about that--we'll see!"

With Ditson's aid he got upon his feet. Then his breath and his strength
seemed to come to him in a twinkling. With a backward snap of his arm he
flung his second away. Then uttering a hoarse cry, he rushed like a mad
bull at the lad he hated.




CHAPTER V.

THE FINISH.


Diamond's recovery and the manner in which he resumed the fight caused
general astonishment. Even Bruce Browning had come to think that the
Virginian was "out."

Frank was taken by surprise. Before he could square away to meet his
foe, Diamond struck him a terrific blow near the temple, knocking him
into Rattleton's arms.

"Foul!" cried Harry, excitedly. "Horner hadn't given the word."

"Foul! foul!" came from all sides.

"There is no foul in this fight save when something is used besides
fists," declared Merriwell as he staggered from his roommate's arms.
"It's all right and it goes."

But he found that everything seemed swimming around him, and dark spots
were pursuing each other before his eyes. The floor seemed to heave like
the deck of a ship at sea. He put out his hand to grasp something, and
then he was struck again.

Once more Rattleton's arms kept Frank from going down.

"This is no square deal!" Harry shouted. "By the poly hoker--I mean the
holy poker! I'll take a hand in this myself!"

He would have released Merriwell and jumped into the ring, but Frank's
strong fingers closed on his arm.

"Steady, old man!" came sharply from Merriwell's lips. "I am in this yet
awhile. If Diamond finishes me he is to be let alone. The fellow that
lays a hand on him is no friend of mine!"

"You give me cramps!" groaned Harry.

Instead of aiding in finishing Frank, Diamond's second blow seemed to
straighten him up, as if it had cleared a fog from his brain. The spots
disappeared before his eyes and things ceased to swim around him.

Into the ring to meet his foe sprang Frank, and, to the astonishment of
everybody he still smiled.

At the same time, Merriwell knew he had toyed with Diamond too long. He
realized that the Virginian's first blow had come within a hair of
knocking him out, and he could still hear a faint, ringing and roaring
in his head.

Frank saw that the only way he could end the fight was to finish his
unrelenting and persistent foe.

Diamond fought like an infuriated tiger. Again and again Frank's fist
cracked on his face, and still he did not falter, but continued to
stand up and "take his medicine."

In less than a minute the Virginian was bleeding at the nose, and had
received a blow in one of his eyes that was causing it to swell in a way
that threatened to close it entirely.

The spectators were greatly excited, and not a few of them declared it
was the most gamey fight they had ever witnessed.

The front of Diamond's shirt was stained with blood, and he presented a
sorry aspect. His chest was heaving, but his uninjured eye glared with
unabated fury and determination.

"Will he never give up?" muttered Harry Rattleton. "He's a regular hog!
The fellow doesn't know when he has enough."

It was true Southern grit. It was the unyielding Southern spirit--the
spirit that led the soldiers of the South to make one of the pluckiest
struggles known in history.

While the fellow's grit had won Frank's admiration, still Merriwell had
learned that it would not do to let up. The only way out of the fight
was to end it, and he set about trying to accomplish that with as little
delay as possible.

Once Diamond succeeded in getting in another blow, and it left a slight
swelling over one of the other lad's eyes.

But Merriwell did not seem to know that he had been hit. He soon cracked
the Virginian upon the uninjured eye, and that began to swell. In a few
seconds it seemed that Diamond must soon go blind.

"Finish him, old man--finish him!" urged Harry.

Frank was looking for the chance, but it was some time before he found
it. It came at last, and his left landed on the jaw beneath Diamond's
ear.

Over went the Southerner, and he lay like a log where he fell.

At a glance, it was evident to all that he was knocked out.

The boys crowded around Merriwell, eager to congratulate him, but he
thrust them back, saying:

"It's the first time in my life I ever did a thing of which I was
ashamed! Look after him. I'm all right."

"Say!" exploded Harry Rattleton, "you make me sick! Didn't you have to
do it?"

"I suppose so."

"Didn't he strike you foul twice?"

"He knows nothing of rules, and we were fighting by no rules, so there
could be no foul."

"Oh, no! If he'd soaked you with a brick you'd said it was all right! I
say, you make me sick! Wait till he gets a good chance to do you, and
see how quick he will take it."

"He'll not be to blame if he tries to get square."

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