Book: Frank Merriwell at Yale

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




Some of the sophs were able to down their men, but they were so
outnumbered by the freshmen that they could not hold an advantage very
long.

The struggle between Browning and Merriwell waxed furious. The big
sophomore exerted himself to his utmost, and he found that it was
necessary that he should do so if he had any thought of holding his own
with the freshman leader.

Frank knew all the time that he was pitted against a hard man, and so
his muscles were strained and his nerves were taut.

"Now, fresh, we'll see what we can do for you," Browning said, as he
made a mighty effort to land Frank on his back.

"You are very kind," laughed Merriwell. "I will not forget your
kindness."

"You are not the only one," panted Browning. "There are others."

"Are you going to the party this evening?" chuckled Frank.

"Not till I have done you up, my friend with the swelled head."

"Then you expect to be rather late?"

"We'll see!"

Frank resorted to all the tricks he knew, but Browning was familiar with
every one of them. They gave up trying to down each other by main
strength, and science cut quite a figure in their battle.

At length Browning got Frank foul, and to his dismay the leader of the
freshmen felt himself falling. Browning fell with him, a cry of triumph
coming to his lips.

That cry turned to an exclamation of dismay, for Merriwell seemed to
twist about in the air, and they fell side by side on the ground. In a
twinkling they were at it again, and over and over they went, till they
finally stopped and got upon their feet together.

"Very good thus far," laughed Merriwell. "But I see your wind will not
hold out. I am bound to do you in the end."

That was the very thing Browning feared.

"Well, I don't know about that," he said as he broke Frank's grip. "This
may settle the whole business."

He struck hard and straight at Merriwell's face!




CHAPTER XIII.

JUBILANT FRESHMEN.


Spat!

Merriwell staggered.

"Down you go!"

Browning followed the freshman closely, launching out again, with the
full expectation that the second blow would be a settler.

Frank had been taken slightly off his guard, so that he had failed in
getting away from the first blow, but he skillfully ducked the second,
countering as the king's fist passed over his shoulder.

Browning reeled backward, having received a terrific crack on the ear.

If Frank had not been slightly dazed he might have followed the
sophomore closely, but he was a bit slow in getting after Bruce.

For a few seconds the boys gave an exhibition of scientific sparring
which would have proved very interesting to their comrades if all had
not been too busy to watch them.

Frank Merriwell contiuued to laugh, and it had been said at Yale that
he was most dangerous in an encounter when he laughed.

"You came near doing it, Browning," he admitted, "but it was rather
tricky on your part. I wasn't looking for a fight."

"You will get many things you are not looking for before you have been
at Yale much longer," returned the king.

"Think so?"

"Dead sure."

The two lads seemed to be very evenly matched, save that Merriwell was
the more catlike on his feet. Browning was solid, and it took a terrific
blow to stagger him. Merriwell was plainly the more scientific. He could
get in and away from his foe in a most successful manner, but he saw
that in the confined limits of a ring Browning's rush would be difficult
to escape.

What the result of this encounter might have been cannot be told, for
two freshmen suddenly appeared and gave the alarm that at least a
hundred sophomores were coming in a body to aid their comrades.

A moment later the sophs appeared, hurrying along the street toward the
scene of the encounter.

"'Umpty-seven! 'Umpty-seven! Rah! rah! 'rah!"

Then the signal was given for the freshmen to break away and take to
flight, which they promptly did.

"Oh, soph--oh, my poor soph!" cried many taunting voices.

"Good-evening, gentlemen!" called Bandy Robinson. "Shall I toss you down
soap and towels?"

"Say, fellows," cried Lucy Little, "don't you think it is rather warm
out this evening?"

"Hello! hello!" shouted Rattleton. "Has it been raining, or did we have
a small shower?"

Then Merriwell's beautiful baritone voice pitched the chorus of a
familiar negro melody, in which the triumphant and delighted freshmen
joined:

"Git erway from de window, mah love an' mah dove!
Git erway from de window--don't yeh heah?
Come eround some odder night,
For dere's gwine ter be er fight,
An' dar'll be razzers er-flyin' through de air."

The sophomores retired to a safe distance and then challenged the
freshmen to come out and fight. They called them cowards and other
things, but the freshmen laughed and taunted them in return.

"Is--er--King Browning present?" yelled a freshman, leaning out of a
window. "If so, I'd like to inquire if he means to attend the party this
evening."

"If he does," said another freshman, "he will be able to obtain a dress
suit down at Cohen's, price 'von tollar ber efenin' to shentlemen.'"

"Oh, you wait till we get at you fresh ducks!" shouted back an angry
sophomore. "We'll make you sweat for this!"

"Go on! you're only fooling!" sang the freshmen.

"We'll show you we're not fooling!" excitedly declared Punch Swallow.
"We'll scalp a few of you!"

"Ah!" cried Bandy Robinson. "He is a bad man! Methinks I can detect his
cloven foot."

"You're wrong," laughed Merriwell. "But you may have been near enough at
some time to detect his cloven breath!"

The three freshmen who were leaning out of one of the upper windows
repeated in chorus:

"Punch, brother--punch with care,
Punch in the presence of the passenjair."

Another freshman shouted:

"Say, Swallows, give us a lock of your hair. It'll save the expense of
gas in my room."

"I'd like a lock of it, too," declared another. "I'm troubled with rats,
and I haven't any paris green handy."

"Oh, rats!" yelled twenty voices.

"Hello, Parker!" cried Little. "I hear you were held up last night? Is
it true?"

"Oh, yes," said Rattleton. "He'd been down to Morey's, and that was the
way he got home."

"But oh, what a difference in the morning," sang the freshmen.

"Ask Rattleton if he means to join the Indians?" called a soph.

"Or will he Sioux for damages?" put in another.

"Oh, say!" groaned Dismal Jones. "That's the worst I ever heard! It's
enough to give one heart failure!"

"Come out and fight! Come out and fight!" urged the sophomores. "You
don't dare to come out and fight!"

"You will have to excuse us this evening, gentlemen," said Merriwell,
suavely. "We have done our best to entertain you, and we will see you
again at some other date."

"You are certain to see me again," assented Browning. "You ran away, or
we would have settled matters between us this evening. As it is, I am
going to watch my opportunity to do you fairly and squarely. When I am
done with you one of us will be beautifully licked."

"And that one will not be King Bruce," declared Andy Emery.

"Say! say! say!" spluttered Rattleton. "I'll go you a shot that it is!
I'll stand you a supper for twenty at any place you'll name that
Merriwell knocks the everlasting stuffing out of Browning."

"Done!" returned Emery.

"You name plime and tace--I mean time and place, and we'll be there,
you bet!" declared Harry. "All we want is a fair deal."

"You'll get that," assured Browning. "This little affair shall be
arranged very soon."

"The sooner the better. Don't delay on our account."

The sophomores, seeing it was useless to linger there and be taunted by
the freshmen, began to stroll away one by one.

Up in Merriwell's room Rattleton got down his banjo and began to put it
in tune. A merry party gathered there. One of the strings snapped, and
as he was putting on another Harry fell to laughing.

"What are you laughing at?" asked Bandy Robinson.

"Down at the table to-night," explained Harry, "Merriwell was poking his
finger into the butter. I asked him what he was doing that for, and he
said he was only feeling its muscle."

The boys who dined in the house appreciated that, and there was a
general laugh. Then Harry adjusted the string and placed the banjo in
tune. Pretty soon the boys were singing "Bingo," "Upidee," "Nellie Was a
Lady," and other college songs. Every one of them seemed familiar with
"Paddy Duffy's Cart" and its pretty chorus:

"Twinkling stars are laughing, love,
Laughing on you and me,
While your bright eyes look into mine,
Peeping stars they seem to be."

Such glorious days and such merry nights will never come again to those
who have known them. Here's to good old Yale!




CHAPTER XIV.

THE RUSH.


At last the sophomores were thoroughly aroused. The freshmen had long
been carrying things with a high hand, but the rushing of a lot of them
who were in dress suits and bound for a swell party was the straw that
broke the camel's back.

An indignation meeting was held, and certain freshmen were placed under
the ban.

Of these Merriwell was the leader, and it was agreed that every effort
must be made to "take the starch" out of him. That Browning intended to
"do" Merriwell was well known, but some of the others proposed to get at
him.

"Wait," advised Bruce--"wait till I have had it out with that fellow.
Then you may do whatever you like with him. But I feel it a solemn duty
to settle our little affair before anybody else tackles him."

The freshmen were getting their ball team in condition for the coming
season, and they were practicing as often as possible. Frank was
interested in the team, and it was said by those who watched him that he
seemed to have the making of a pitcher in him. He had sharp curves and
good control. If he had a head, they said, he was all right. But this
was something that could not be decided till he had been tried in a
game.

Another freshman by the name of Walter Gordon seemed certain to be the
regular pitcher of the team. He had a record, as he had shown, while
Merriwell would say nothing about what he had done in the way of
pitching.

The students had found it extremely difficult to find out much about
Merriwell, as he persistently avoided talking about himself. If he had
been one of the kind of fellows who go around and brag about themselves
and what they have done he would not have aroused so much interest; but
the very fact that he would not talk of himself made the students
curious to know something of his history.

In a vague sort of way it became known that although he lived in simple
style, like any freshman whose parents were not wealthy, he had a
fortune in his own right and had traveled extensively in various parts
of the world.

Frank's silence seemed to cast an air of mystery about him, and that air
of mystery made him all the more interesting, for the human mind is ever
curious to peer into anything that has the flavor of a secret.

The sophomores had been rushed by the freshmen, and they resolved to
retaliate in a similar manner. On Saturday afternoons the freshmen ball
team practiced, and Saturday was at hand. It would be an opportune time
to meet the youngsters and make it warm for them.

The affair was carefully planned, but wind of it reached the freshmen.
As a result, the youngsters prepared for what they knew must take place.
There could be no such thing as avoiding it, so when Saturday noon came
they dressed themselves in their old clothes and started for the park,
going out as much as possible in a body.

When the park was reached it was found that the sophomores were there
ahead of them. More than that, the sophs had closed and fastened the
gate, and they proposed to hold it. They taunted the freshmen, and told
them they would have to climb the fence if they hoped to get into the
park.

Then there was a consultation among the freshmen. "We'll have to make a
rush," was the universal decision.

Frank looked the ground over, and he decided that an ordinary rush would
not be successful, for that was the very thing the sophomores were
expecting. But there seemed no other way of getting into the park unless
they climbed the fence, and not a man thought of doing such a thing as
that.

The sophomores formed in front of the gate, five deep. In the front
rank of the sophs were Browning and two 'Varsity crew men. Bruce was in
the middle, with the rowers on either side. The ends were two men from
the football team.

Thus the very first line of the sophomores made a formidable array, and
it is not surprising that some of the freshmen were chicken-hearted.

With assistance, Frank marshaled the freshmen, reserving a place in the
first line for himself. While that might be considered a position of
honor, it was the most dangerous, and every fellow there knew this rush
was to be no baby play.

For companions Merriwell selected Dismal Jones, Jack Diamond, Puss
Parker and a big, broad-shouldered fellow by the name of Hovey.

Rattleton and Robinson, together with a dozen others, were appointed as
"scouts." It was their duty to "hook" out men from the ranks of the
sophs and break the force of the enemy's rush as far as possible.

The sophomores had likewise appointed a dozen scouts, strong, active
fellows, every one of whom had shown ability as an athlete.

The sophs prepared quickly for the rush, but it took more time to get
the freshmen in order. In this the seniors rendered not a little
assistance.

When everything was ready the order was given, and the freshmen started
forward. Those in the front line leaned back at a slant, and those
behind pushed.

At the same time the sophomores moved toward the freshmen, and then
there were shouts, taunts and jeers. Each side gave its own cheer.

"This is the last of the freshmen!" cried the sophomores. "We'll wipe
them off the earth. Good-by, freshies!"

"'Umpty-seven will never be heard of again," returned the freshmen.
"They'll be angels right away."

Then the two bodies came together with a frightful impact. They had
locked their arms about each other's waists, and there they clung, while
they pressed upon each other with all their might.

For a little time they swayed and swayed. There were screams and cries
of pain. They wavered and turned about, but still the crush continued.

The scouts were getting in their work, hooking their bent arms around
the necks of their opponents and yanking them out of the line.

Before long the rush turned into a general pushing and hauling. Freshman
pitted himself again sophomore, and a score of wrestling matches were in
progress.

Merriwell and Browning had clinched at the outset, but it was a long
time before they could do anything but cling to each other. When they
did have an opportunity another soph, a scout, spoiled the match by
making a low tackle on Frank and flinging him to the ground. Browning
came down heavily on the leader of the freshmen, but he immediately
jumped up, crying:

"That was not a square deal. Let's have it over."

But the breath had been knocked out of Frank with the force of the fall,
and he fell back twice as he struggled to arise.

"Are you hurt?" asked Browning.

"No," panted Frank, who could dimly see his opponent through a thick
haze which seemed to hang before his eyes.

"Then why don't you get up?"

"I--I'm going to."

Setting his teeth, he did so, but Rattleton caught Browning by the
collar and flung him aside as the big soph sprang at Frank.

"You are hurt, old man!" insisted Harry. "I saw the fellow when he
tripped you. It wasn't a fair thing. You are in no condition to meet
Browning now. Wait till you get your wind."

"I must meet him!" cried Frank. "He'll say he did me up if I do not."

"Then he'll lie. It's all right. You do as I say."

Frank tried to resist, but Rattleton dragged him aside, being able to do
so because Browning found himself occupied by a little freshman who
stuffily blocked his way, declaring that Merriwell should have a show.

Frank was more than disgusted by the result of the affair. He felt that
he must have it out with Browning then and there, and he made desperate
attempts to break from Harry. Ordinarily he would have succeeded with
the greatest ease, but the fall had robbed him of his strength.

Then came the knowledge that the freshmen had been repulsed. The
sophomores were cheering wildly, and the unfortunate freshmen were
downcast.

"They've held us out," muttered Harry, bitterly. "It begins to look as
if we'll have to climb over the fence if we get inside."

"What's that?" cried Frank, bracing up a little. "Climb the fence? Not
much!"

"Then how'll we get in? Will you tell me that?"

"We'll find a way."

"Wind a fay!" spluttered Harry excitedly. "It's easy enough to say that,
but I don't believe we can do it."

"Oh, freshies! oh, you poor freshies!" tauntingly cried the victors.
"Don't you wish you could? But you can't do it, you know!"

"That remains to be seen," muttered Merriwell, brushing the hair back
from his eyes. "I didn't think we could do it in this way. But there are
others."

"You'll be a dandy if you devise a way," declared Little.

Diamond, with his coat off, his vest ripped up the back and his shirt
torn open at the throat, was regarding the jeering sophomores with a
fierce, sullen look. Evidently he was ready for anything. He glanced at
Merriwell, but said nothing.

Frank called the freshmen around him.

"Look here, fellows," he said, "we are bound to go into that park, and
we're going through that gate."

"That sounds well," said Dismal Jones, who wore an unusually long face,
"but I'm inclined to believe we're not in it with that crowd."

"Guess again!" exclaimed Frank. "Now listen to me, and I don't want one
of you to look around. You might arouse suspicion if you did. Close to
the wall there lies a long stick of timber."

"Well?"

"We'll use it."

"How?"

"As a battering-ram."

"To batter down the gate? Why, how are we to get to the gate?"

"The timber will take us there, and it will open the gate. When I give
the word we will rush for it, pick it up, and sail right into the sophs.
I'll bet anything they get out of the way when they see us coming with
that. It will take them by surprise."

"'Rah! 'rah! 'rah!" yelled several of the enthusiastic freshmen.

The sophomores yelled back at them in derision.

"They think we are beaten now," said Diamond, whose face had lighted up
somewhat as he listened to Merriwell's plan. "If we only can get the
best of them that way!"

"We can and we will," assured Frank. "Those who can't get hold of the
timber may look out that they don't hook our men away from it. That is
all."

The freshmen became eager for the effort, but Frank held them back till
he was certain they all understood just what was to be done.

"Are you ready?" he finally asked.

"All ready," was the eager reply.

"Then go!"

The sophomores were astonished to see the freshmen suddenly whirl all
together and rush toward the wall.

"They're going over! They're going over!"

The sophomores shouted their satisfaction and delight, fully convinced
that they had forced the freshmen to abandon all hope of going through
the gate.

Then came a surprise for them.

The freshmen caught up the timber, and Merriwell cried:

"Charge!"

Like a tornado they bore down on the men near the gate, toward which the
timber was directed.

With cries of amazement the alarmed sophomores broke and scattered
before the oncoming freshmen.

Crash!

The timber struck the gate, bursting it open instantly, and the
triumphant freshmen swarmed into the park, cheering wildly.

"Hurrah for 'Umpty-eight!" yelled Bandy Robinson, turning a handspring.
"We are the boys to do 'em!"

"Hurrah for Frank Merriwell!" shouted Harry Rattleton, his face beaming
with joy. "It was his scheme that did it."

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" roared the freshmen. "'Rah! 'rah! 'rah!"

Then Frank felt himself lifted to the shoulders of his enthusiastic
admirers and carried to the home plate of the ball ground, where the
freshmen cheered again and again.

The sophomores were filled with rage and chagrin.

"That was the blamedest trick I ever heard of in all my life!" declared
Andy Emery. "We weren't looking for anything of the kind."

"And we have Merriwell to thank for it!" snapped Evan Hartwick. "He's
full of tricks as an egg is full of meat."

"By Jawve!" said Willis Paulding, who had managed to keep out of harm's
way during the entire affair. "I think somebody ought to do something to
that fellaw--I really do, don't yer know."

"Suppose you try to see what you can do with him," grinned Tad Horner.
"You ought to be able to do something."

"Aw--really you will hawve to excuse me!" exclaimed Willis in alarm. "I
hawdly think I could match his low cunning, don't yer understand."

"Oh, yes, I understand," nodded Horner, significantly. "It takes a man
to go up against Merriwell."

"I hope you don't mean to insinuate--"

"Oh, no!" interrupted Tad. "I have said it."

"Eh? I hawdly think I understand, don't yer know."

"Think it over," advised the little soph as he turned away.

It is probable that Bruce Browning was more thoroughly disgusted than
any of his friends.

"Confound it!" he thought. "If I'd stuck to that fellow and done him up
anyway he wouldn't have been able to carry out this trick. If he is
given any kind of a show he is bound to take advantage of it."

Bruce felt like fighting.

"I'm going in there and lick him," he declared. "I will settle this
matter with Merriwell right away."

But some of his friends were more cautious.

"It won't do," declared Puss Parker.

"Won't do?"

"No, sir."

"Why not?"

"It might be done under cover of a rush, but a single fight between a
soph and a fresh under such public conditions would be sure to get them
both in trouble."

"I don't care a continental! I've stood him just as long as I can! If I
can give him a good square licking I'll stand expulsion, should it come
to that!"

They saw that Browning was too heated to pause for sober thought, and so
they gathered close around him and forced him to listen to reason.

It took no small amount of argument to induce the king to give over the
idea of going onto the ball field and attacking Merriwell, but he was
finally shown the folly of such a course. However, he vowed over and
over that the settlement with Merriwell should come very soon.




CHAPTER XV.

ON THE BALL FIELD.


The sophomores went in to watch the freshmen practice and incidentally
to have sport with them.

Two nines had been selected, one being the regular freshman team and the
other picked up to give them practice.

As Merriwell had been given a place on the team as reserve pitcher, his
services were not needed at first, and so he went in to twirl for the
scrub nine.

Walter Gordon went into the box for the regular team, and he expected to
fool the irregulars with ease. He was a well-built lad, with a bang, and
it was plain to see at a glance that he was stuck on himself. He had a
trick of posing in the box, and he delivered the ball with a flourish.

The scrub team did not have many batters, and so it came about that the
first three men up were disposed of in one-two-three order, not one of
them making a safe hit or reaching first.

Rattleton had vainly endeavored to get upon the regular team. He had
played pretty fast ball on a country nine, but he was somewhat out of
practice and he had not made a first-class showing, so he had failed in
his ambition.

He went into catch for Merriwell, and they had arranged a code of
signals beforehand, so that they were all prepared.

There was no affectation about Frank's delivery, but the first man on
the list of the regulars found Merriwell's slow drop was a hard ball to
hit. He went after two of them before he saw what he was getting. Then
he made up his mind that he would get under the next one and knock the
peeling off it.

He got under it all right, for instead of being a drop it was a rise,
and the batter struck at least eighteen inches below it.

"Well, say," laughed Gordon, who had been placed second on the list at
his own request. "I'll go you something he doesn't work that on me."

He was full of confidence when he walked up to the plate. The watching
sophomores were doing their best to rattle Merriwell, and it seemed that
he must soon get nervous, even though he did not seem to hear any of the
jolly that was being flung at him.

The very first ball seemed to be just where Gordon wanted it, and he
swung at it with all his strength. It twisted in toward him and passed
within two inches of his fingers.

Gordon looked mildly surprised, but he was still confident that he
would be able to hit the next one with ease. He found out his mistake
later on when he went after an out drop and failed to come within six
inches of it.

Then it was Gordon who grew nervous. He did not fancy the idea of being
fanned out by his rival, and he felt that he must make connections with
the next one. He resolved to wait for a good one, and Frank fooled him
by putting two straight ones right over the center of the plate. Gordon
felt sure that both would be curves, and so he offered at neither of
them. The umpire, however, who was a particular friend of Gordon, called
them both balls. Then Gordon went after the next ball, which was a
raise, but found nothing but empty air.

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