Book: Frank Merriwell at Yale

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




The party filed out of Morey's and Browning took the lead. Ditson went
along with them as if he was a sophomore. He seemed to feel himself
highly honored, but Browning had hard work to choke back his absolute
contempt for the fellow.

As they went along, it was arranged that Ditson should go into Billy's
and see if Merriwell was there. One of the sophomores should accompany
him. If Merriwell was there and he should come out alone or in company
with one or two others, he was to be captured. Browning had a plan that
should be carried out if the capture was made.

Ditson seemed to think he was doing something very smart and cunning in
betraying a fellow freshman into the hands of the sophomores. He fancied
he was making himself solid with Browning's crowd.

Billy's was reached, and one of the sophs went in with Ditson, while the
others kept out of sight nearby.

After a little the soph came out and reported that Merriwell and
Rattleton were in there. He had treated the house, but Merriwell had
absolutely declined to take anything.

"Oh, yes," nodded Browning. "They say he never drinks. That's how he
keeps himself in such fine condition all the time. He will not smoke,
either, and he takes his exercise regularly. He is really a remarkable
freshie."

Arrangements were then made that a cab should be brought to the corner
near Billy's, where the driver should remain, apparently waiting for
somebody.

It was known to be quite useless to attempt to decoy Merriwell out, so
dependence must be placed on chance. If he came out with no more than
one or two companions his name was "mud," according to the assembled
sophs.

Arrangements were made to bind handkerchiefs over their faces to the
eyes, so they would be partly disguised. Some of them turned their coats
wrong side out, and some resorted to other means of disguising
themselves.

Then they waited patiently.

It was not so very long before Ditson came out in a breathless hurry. He
signaled, and they called him. As he hastened up he panted:

"Merriwell is coming right out, fellows! Be ready for him!"

The sophomores knew which way Frank was likely to go after leaving
Billy's, and they lay in wait at a convenient spot.

"Is he alone?" eagerly asked Puss Parker.

"No."

"Who is with him?"

"Rattleton."

"Any others?"

"Not likely."

"Good! Take a tumble to yourself and skip."

Ditson did so.

"Now, fellows," hurriedly said Browning, "be ready for a struggle.
Remember that Merriwell is a scrapper and he is likely to resist. We
must take him completely by surprise. Get back and lay quiet till I give
the signal."

They did as directed, and as they were in a dark corner, there was not
much danger that they would be seen till they were ready to light on
their game.

Footsteps were heard.

"Here he comes!"

Browning peered out, and two figures were seen approaching.

"How many?" anxiously whispered Tad Horner, quivering with anxiety.

"Two. They are easy. Ready for the rush."

The sophomores crouched like savage warriors in ambush.

Merriwell's peculiar, pleasant laugh was heard as the two unsuspecting
freshmen approached.

Rattleton was talking, and, as usual, he was twisting his expression in
his haste to say the things which flashed through his head.

"It doesn't make a dit of bifference if we haven't proved anything
against him, I say Ditson can't be trusted. He's got a mooked crug--I
mean a crooked mug."

"Oh, don't be too hard on the fellow till you know something for sure,"
advised Merriwell. "I will confess that I do not like him, but--"

There was a sudden rush of dark figures out of the shadows, and the two
freshmen were clutched. Coats were flung over their heads and they were
crashed to the ground.

Although taken by surprise, both lads struggled.

In the suddenness of the rush Browning had made a mistake and flung
himself on Rattleton, while he had intended to grasp Merriwell. The coat
being cast over the head of the lad prevented him from discovering his
mistake.

Punch Swallows and Andy Emery were devoting themselves to Merriwell, and
it was their first impression that they had tackled Rattleton.

For an instant it seemed that the trick had worked to perfection, and
the freshmen had been made captives easily.

Then came a surprise.

Swallows and Emery were unable to hold their man down. He tore off the
smothering coat and rose with them, despite all they could do. They
cried out for help:

"Give us a hand, fellows! He's like an eel! Quick!"

Some of the sophs had been unable to render much assistance, and they
now did their best to aid Swallows and Emery. In their haste to do
something they seemed to get in the way of each other.

"Well, I don't know--I don't know!" laughed a familiar voice, and the
freshman gave Swallows a snap that lifted him off his feet and cast him
into the stomach of another fellow, who received such a blow from
Punch's head that the wind was knocked out of him in a moment.

"We'll have to see about this," said the freshman as he cracked Emery on
the jaw and broke his hold.

"Great smoke! It's Merriwell!" gurgled Emery as he reeled back.

"Onto him, fellows!" urged a soph, and Frank suddenly found six or seven
of the crowd were at him.

Just how he did it no one could tell, but he broke straight through the
crowd and in another moment was rushing back toward Billy's, shouting:

"Lambda Chi! Lambda Chi!"

It was useless to try to follow him, as all quickly saw.

In the meantime Rattleton had been cornered, and the disappointed sophs
resolved to escape with him. They lifted him and made a rush for the
cab. He was bundled in, and away went the cab.

Frank rushed into Billy's and gave the alarm. He was out again in a
very few seconds, with a crowd of excited freshmen at his heels; but
when they came to look for the sophomores and Rattleton they found
nothing.

"Confound it!" exclaimed Frank in dismay. "How could they get him away
so quick? I can't understand it."

The freshmen searched, but they found nothing to reward them. Rattleton
was in the toils of the enemy, and the would-be rescuers were given no
opportunity to rescue him.

Then Merriwell blamed himself for leaving his roommate at all. But
Billy's had been so near and his chance with his many assailants had
seemed so slim that he had done what seemed the right thing to do on the
spur of the moment. He had not fancied that the sophomores would be able
to get Harry away before he could arouse the freshmen and bring them to
the rescue.

"Poor Harry! I wonder what they will do with him?" Frank speculated.

"Oh, they won't do a thing with him!" gurgled Bandy Robinson.

"How did it happen, anyway?" asked Roland Ditson, who had joined the
freshmen after the affair was over.

He tried to appear innocent and filled with wonder and curiosity, but
his unpopularity was apparent from the fact that nobody paid enough
attention to him to answer his question.

Frank, however, found it necessary to tell his companions all about the
assault, and Ditson pretended to listen with interest, as if he had
known nothing of the affair.

The freshmen went back to Billy's and held a council. It was decided to
divide into squads and make an attempt to find out where Harry had been
taken.

This was done, but it proved without result, and not far from midnight
all the freshmen who had been there at the time of the capture, and many
others, were again gathered at Billy's. They were quite excited over the
affair, and it seemed that the beer they had absorbed had gone to the
heads of some of them.

In the midst of an excited discussion the door burst open, and a most
grotesque-looking figure staggered into the room. It was a person who
was stripped to the waist and painted and adorned like a redskin, his
face striped with red and white and yellow, his hair stuck full of
feathers, and his body decorated with what seemed to be tattooing.

"Bive me a gear--I mean give me a beer!" gasped that fantastic
individual. "I am nearly dead!"

"It's Rattleton!" shouted the freshmen.

They crowded around him.

"Well, say, you are a bird!" cried Lucy Little, whose right name was
Lewis Little.

"A regular bird of paradise," chuckled Bandy Robinson.

"Where are those fellows?" demanded Frank Merriwell. "Where did they
leave you? Tell me, old man."

"At the door," faintly replied Rattleton as he reached for a mug of beer
which some one held toward him. "They took me right up to the door and
made me come in here."

"Out!" shouted Frank--"out and after them! Capture one of them if
possible! We want to even this thing up."

Out they rushed, but once more the crafty sophomores had vanished, and
not one of them was to be found.

The freshmen went back and listened to Harry's story. He told how he had
been blindfolded and taken somewhere, he did not know where. There they
had kept him while his friends were searching. When there was no danger
that the freshmen would discover them, they set out to have fun with
Rattleton.

"Say, Merry, old man," said Harry, "I know Browning was the leader of
this job, although he was disguised. They seemed to feel pretty bad
because you got away. They got twisted--took me for you at first, and by
the time they discovered their mistake you were knocking them around
like tenpins. One chap insists you broke his jaw."

"Well, I am glad I did that much. I didn't mean to leave you, Harry.
Billy's was so near I thought I could get the boys out and rescue you
before they could carry you off. I couldn't rescue you alone, so I ran
here to stir up the fellows."

"That was right. I was glad you got away. They were laying for you. They
told me so."

"Well, come back, and we'll wash this stuff off you."

"I don't know as you can do it."

"Eh? Why not?"

"They said it was put on to stay a while. They told me we were so fond
of playing the noble red man's part that they would fix me so I could
play it for a week or two. Some of them advised me to use sand to scrub
myself with if I hoped to get the paint off."

"Oh, that must be all a bluff. It will come off easy enough if a little
cocoa butter is used on it. Here, somebody run out to a drug store and
get some cocoa butter."

After they had worked about fifteen minutes they looked at each other
in dismay, for they had scarcely been able to start the paint, and it
become plain that cocoa butter, soap and water would not take it off.

"Didn't I tell you?" murmured Harry, sorrowfully. "I'm done for! I'll
never be able to get it off! I'll have to go out West and live with the
Sioux! If I do I'll take along the scalps of a few sophomores!"

They continued to work on him for nearly an hour, but were unable to get
off more than a certain portion of the paint. Harry was still
grotesquely decorated when the boys arrived at the conclusion that
further scrubbing with the materials at hand was useless.

Then Frank went out and rang up a druggist who had gone to bed, for it
was after midnight. He told the man the sort of scrape his friend was in
and offered the druggist inducements to give him something to remove the
paint.

The druggist said it could not be paint, but must be some sort of
staining, and he gave Frank a preparation.

Frank went back and tried the stuff on Harry. It removed a certain
amount of the stain, but did not remove it all.

At last, being thoroughly worn out, Rattleton said:

"I'll give it up for to-night, fellows. Perhaps I'll be able to get the
rest off in the morning. I'll poultice my face and neck. But you'll
have to watch out, Frank. They say they will use you worse than this
when they get hold of you."

For the time the sophomores seemed to have the best of the game.




CHAPTER XII.

FRESHMAN AGAINST SOPHOMORE.


On the following morning a large piece of cardboard Swung from the door
of Merriwell and Rattleton's room in Mrs. Harrington's boarding house.
On the cardboard was this inscription:

"Good-morning!
Have you used
Soap?"

Harry was up at an early hour industriously scrubbing away. He succeeded
fairly well, but despite his utmost efforts the coloring refused to come
off entirely.

And it was absolutely necessary that he should attend chapel.

On their way to chapel Frank and Harry came face to face with Professor
Such, who peered at them sharply and said:

"Good-morning, gentlemen."

"Good-morning, professor," returned the boys.

Harry tried to keep behind Frank, so that his face would not be noticed.
The professor was nearsighted, but he immediately noted Rattleton's
queer actions, and he placed himself in front of the boys, adjusting
his spectacles.

"Hang his curiosity!" muttered Harry in disgust.

"Eh?" said the professor, scratching his chin with one finger and
peering keenly at Harry. "Did you speak, sir?"

"Yes, sir--I mean no, sir," spluttered Harry, while Frank stepped aside
and stood laughing silently to himself.

"I thought you did. Er--what's the matter with your face, young man?"

"That's the result of my last attack of chilblains," said Harry,
desperately. "They hent to my wed--I mean they went to my head."

"Eh?"

The professor seemed to doubt if he had heard correctly, while Merriwell
nearly exploded.

Rattleton looked frightened when he came to think what he had said. He
felt like taking to his heels and running for his life.

"Chilblains, sir?" came severely from Professor Such. "Sir--sir, do not
attempt to be facetious with me! You will regret it if you do!"

Cold sweat started out on Harry's forehead, and he looked appealingly
toward his companion; but Frank had turned away to conceal his
merriment.

"I--I don't think I--I understood your--your question," stammered
Harry. "I'm a little heard of haring--I mean hard of hearing."

"I asked you what was the matter with your face, sir."

"Oh, my face! Ha! ha! He! he! I thought you said something about my
pace, because I was walking so slowly. That made me fancy you were
interested to know what ails my feet. Excuse me! I beg your pardon,
professor!"

"Hum!" coughed the professor, again scratching his chin with the tip of
his finger, while he peered through his spectacles, plainly still
somewhat suspicious. "It is rather remarkable that you should get things
mixed in such a manner."

"I am not feeling well, professor, not at all."

And it was apparent to Frank that Harry told the truth.

"You are not looking well," came somewhat sarcastically from Professor
Such's lips. "Your countenance has a strangely mottled hue."

"It comes from Injun jestion," explained Merriwell, coming to his
roommate's relief.

"Eh? From what, sir."

"From indigestion," said Frank, very soberly. "He is much troubled that
way."

"Much troubled! much troubled!" exclaimed the professor, whose ear had
been offended and who immediately turned his attention on Frank. "I
advise you to be somewhat more choice and careful of your language,
young man. There is a right and a wrong use of words."

Just then the chapel bell clanged, and the professor exclaimed:

"Bless me! we'll be late if we're not careful!"

Away he hurried.

Frank and Harry followed him, and as they went along Harry expressed his
feelings forcibly and violently.

"How dare you howl before me?" laughed Frank.

"Excuse me," said Rattleton. "I didn't know you wanted to howl first."

At chapel Harry felt that the eyes of everybody were upon him. He kept
one hand up to his face as much as possible, but he saw the sophomores
smiling covertly and winking among themselves. He longed to get even;
that was his one burning ambition and desire.

When the service was over the freshmen stood and bowed to the faculty as
they passed out. They were supposed to keep bowing to the seniors,
juniors and sophomores, but that custom had long been a dead letter at
Yale. The freshmen had become too independent for such a thing.

However, they stood and saw the upper classmen go past, and it seemed
to poor Harry that every fellow stared at him and grinned. The sophs
added to his misery and anger by winking at him, and Tad Horner ventured
to go through a swift pantomime of taking a scalp.

"Oh, I am liable to have yours yet," thought Harry.

On their way back to their rooms Harry and Frank were greeted by all
sorts of calls and persiflage from the sophomores, who had gathered in
knots to watch them pass.

This sort of chaffing gave Rattleton "that tired feeling," as he
expressed it, and by the time they reached their room he was in a
desperate mood.

"I'll get even!" he vowed, fiercely. "I'll do it."

"Go ahead--you can do it," laughed Frank. "You can do anybody."

Then Harry flung a book at him, which Frank skillfully caught and
returned with the utmost politeness.

At breakfast Rattleton was chafed by the freshmen, and he boiled more
than ever.

"Somebody has my coat, vest, hat, shirt and undershirt," he said as he
thought the affair over. "I had to go home in a linen duster which I got
down to Billy's last night. I don't care so much for the clothes I lost,
but I'd like to know who has 'em. I'd sue him!"

But after breakfast an expressman appeared with a bundle for Rattleton,
and in the bundle were the missing articles.

The sophomores were jubilant, and they taunted the freshmen. They said
the fate that had befallen Rattleton was simply a warning. It was
nothing beside what might happen.

For the time the freshmen were forced to remain silent, but they felt
that the sophomores had not evened up matters by any means. And the
affair would not be dropped.

During the afternoon of that day it rained for at least two hours, and
it did not clear up and let the sun out, so there was plenty of dirt and
mud at nightfall.

Then it was that Rattleton some way found out that a number of
sophomores who dined at a club on York Street were going to attend a
party that evening. It was to be a swell affair on Temple Street, and
the sophs were certain to wear their dress suits.

"They'll din for dresser--I mean dress for dinner," spluttered Harry as
he was telling Frank. "It's certain they'll go directly from dinner to
the party."

"Well, what has worked its way into your head?"

"A scheme."

"Give it to us."

"We'll be ready for 'em when they come from dinner, and we'll give 'em a
rush. They're not likely to be in any condition to attend a party after
we are through with them. What do you say, old man? What do you think
of it?"

"We are likely to get enough of rushing in the annual rush, but I'm with
you if you want to carry this job through."

"All right, then, we'll do it. We'll give those sophs a warm time. I
have been grouchy all day, but I begin to feel better now."

So Frank and Harry communicated the plan to their friends, and a party
gathered in their room immediately after supper.

Dismal Jones was out as a scout, and he had agreed to let them know when
the sophomores left their club. They were inclined to take much more
time in dining than the freshmen.

Pretty soon Jones came racing up the stairs and burst into the room.

"Come on, fellows!" he cried. "The sophs are leaving their club, and
there's lots of 'em wearing dress suits. We'll have a picnic with 'em!"

Dismal seldom got excited, but now he was quite aroused.

The freshmen caught up their caps and hurried downstairs. They were soon
on the street, and they hastened to meet their natural enemies.

The sophomores had formed by twos, with Browning and Emery in advance.
It was true that many of them were in dress suits, and they were not a
little disturbed when they saw the solid body of freshmen coming swiftly
to meet them.

To pass on the right the sophomores were entitled to the inside of the
sidewalk, and although they would have given much to avoid the
encounter, they formed solidly and prepared to defend their rights.

The freshmen also formed in a compact mass, and came on with a rush,
keeping hard up against the wall.

"Turn to the right! Turn to the right!"

The sophomores uttered the cry as they hugged the wall on the inside.

"Sweep 'em off! Sweep 'em off!"

That was the cry that came from the determined freshmen.

"Hold on! hold on!" ordered Browning. "There is a law for this!"

"Then you will have to produce officers to enforce it," laughed Frank
Merriwell.

"But there is a regular time for rushing."

"This is not a regular rush, so we don't mind."

"But you fellows have no right to do it!"

"Is that so?" was the derisive retort. "Hear the sophs squeal fellows!
Oh, my! but this is funny!"

"Stop a minute and we will argue this matter, freshies," invited
Browning, who was thoroughly disgusted over the prospect.

Then the whole crowd of freshmen roared with laughter.

"Hear the baby cry!" they shouted. "He is begging! Ha! ha! ha!"

Browning's face was crimson with anger and confusion.

"You are an insolent lot of young ruffians!" he snapped, "and Merriwell
is the biggest ruffian of you all!"

"Back it up! back it up!"

"I can!"

"Why don't you?"

"I will when the right time comes."

"What's the matter with this for the right time?"

"No! no! Turn to the right and let us pass now. We will see you again."

"We see you now, and we are going to raise you the limit."

The sophomores held a hurried consultation, and then Browning said:

"If you fellows will wait till we go change our clothes we'll come out
and give you as warm a time as you want."

"All right, we will wait."

"Then let us pass."

"We'll do that, but you will have to pass on the outside."

That was something the sophomores could not do without yielding to the
freshmen, and they felt that they had rather die than yield unless
compelled to do so.

The sophomores stormed and scolded, and the freshmen, who outnumbered
them, laughed and flung back taunts.

Then the sophomores determined on a quick, sudden rush, but it happened
that the freshmen had decided on a rush at the same moment, and the two
bodies of lads plunged forward as if at one signal.

"'Umpty-eight! 'Umpty-eight!" yelled the freshmen.

"'Umpty-seven! 'Umpty-seven!" shouted the sophomores.

Crash! They met!

Then there occurred one of the liveliest struggles of the season up to
that date. Each side did its best to force the other off the sidewalk,
and for some moments they swayed and surged in one spot.

At last the superior weight of the freshmen began to tell, and the
sophomores were slowly swept backward, contending every inch.

Feeling that they must be crowded to the outside, Browning gave the
signal for them to break and make it a hand-to-hand affair. Then he
grappled with Merriwell.

Frank was ready, and he willingly left the line as the freshmen forged
onward. He was anxious for an opportunity of seeing just what sort of
stuff the king of the sophomores was made of, and this was his chance.

Finding that they could not hold the freshmen back, the sophs had each
singled out a man, and the contest became hand to hand.

In a few moments several parties were down, and some of them rolled from
the sidewalk into the street.

Now that they had been forced to do battle, the sophs were desperate,
and they sailed in like a lot of tigers.

Rattleton found himself pitted against Andy Emery, and Emery had the
reputation of being as full of grit as a bulldog. He was on the 'Varsity
crew, and he had a back and shoulders which were the admiration of those
who had seen him strip to the buff.

Emery had a quick temper and a strong arm. He grappled with Harry,
lifted him off his feet and tried to throw him, but the freshman came
down on his feet like a cat.

A second later Emery was astonished to feel his own feet flung into the
air, and he could not help falling, but he clung to his antagonist and
they went down together.

Over and over they rolled, each striving to get on top. They were soon
off the sidewalk and into the street.

Emery was furious, for he felt that his dress suit was the same as
ruined, and he uttered some very savage language.

"That's right," chuckled Harry. "Cuss a little--it may help you."

It seemed to, for Emery finally succeeded in getting astride Rattleton
and holding him down for a few moments. He was soon pulled off by
another freshman, and the merry war went on.

Little Tad Horner was right in the hottest scrimmage, and he proved
formidable for the freshmen, despite his size. He had a way of darting
under them and tripping them up, then getting away before he could be
grappled.

Dismal Jones was quoting Scripture and doing his best to make himself
felt by the sophomores. Jones was a character. His parents were
"shouting Methodists," and they intended him for the ministry. He had a
long, sad face, but he was full of deviltry, and it was very seldom that
the freshmen entered into any affair against the sophomores that he was
not on hand and interested.

"Lay on and spare not!" he cried, after the style of a camp-meeting
revivalist. "If the wicked entice thee, consent thou not. Get behind me,
Satan! Brothers, oh, my dear brothers! it makes my heart sad and weary
to see so much wicked strife and contention."

Punch Swallows, the red-headed soph, found himself pitted against Lucy
Little. Despite his name, Little was not a "sissy," and he was no mean
antagonist, as Punch found out. It was nip and tuck between them, and
neither seemed to have the best of it.

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