CHAPTER XXIV
HUMPERDINK TO THE RESCUE
What Miller saw was this:
A room lighted by one solitary candle and rendered more gloomy by heavy curtains hanging before the windows; a cot bed was in the middle, and upon it was a body all covered over with the exception of the face, and the face above it was that of Frank Merriwell.
It need hardly be said here that Frank was as much alive at that moment as he had ever been in his life, but his face had been covered with chalk so as to resemble that of a dead man.
Miller was thoroughly convinced that Frank was dead, and he was not too frightened to realize that he had admitted having been the cause of it.
"Oh! what shall I do? What shall I do?" he groaned. "I never meant that it should be as bad as this!"
"It isn't a question of what you shall do," remarked Baker, sternly.
The other students had come into the room and now stood around, looking on solemnly. Not one of them so much as winked at another for fear that the spectacle would lose some of its force upon the mind of the frightened victim.
"The point is," continued Baker, "that you are not in a position to do anything; the question is, what shall we do?"
"He ought to have his head chopped off where he is!" muttered Bruce Browning, gruffly.
Miller started and edged away from the spot where he was kneeling.
"No!" exclaimed Baker, sternly; "that would be too easy; I should rather think that it would be better to boil him in a vat!"
"Or might burn him alive out on the marshes!" said another.
"I think a good straight forward hanging is the best thing for him!" muttered Jack Diamond.
"Oh, for Heaven's sake, gentlemen!" groaned Miller, "don't let it be to-night. Give me a chance to make up for this!"
"How can you make up for it?" retorted Baker. "Do you know any way of restoring a dead person to life?"
"No, I don't, but I never would have gone to do it if I'd supposed that it would be serious, so help me, I never would!"
"I don't think that that makes any difference."
At this moment there was a stir in the room back of the students. Baker turned inquiringly.
One of the students who had really been present all the time now pretended to be coming in from the outside in a hurry.
"Prof. Humperdink," said this student, "is on the way, and will be here in a minute or two."
"Ah!" responded Baker, in a tone of relief, "perhaps then that may make things better, for, of course, while we are bound to punish this man Miller, we want Merriwell restored to life if such a thing can be done."
"Humperdink can do it if anybody can!" said Rowe.
"Do you mean to say, gentlemen," gasped Miller, "that there's a chance that Merriwell may be restored?"
"We can't tell until Humperdink comes," responded Baker, solemnly. "Haven't you ever heard of Humperdink?"
"I don't think he buys his cigars at my store," responded Miller.
"No, he probably doesn't," responded Baker, significantly. "Humperdink doesn't indulge in ordinary tobacco; he smokes the root of snake plants found in the wilds of Africa. One whiff of it for an ordinary man is fatal."
Miller stared in a way that showed he believed every word. He was not in a condition to doubt anything that was told to him.
That is one of the effects of hasheesh, but even without the drug it is more than likely that he would have believed everything said to him on this occasion.
"Humperdink," continued Baker, "knows all the mysteries of nature. He has experimented with all poisons, and eats them as readily as the rest of us do ordinary food. In the old days he would have been called a magician. Really he's a very great scientist, and if there's any possible hope for Merriwell he'll know it. Ah! here he is."
At the moment when Miller had been taken into the room where Merriwell lay apparently dead, another student had slipped into the dressing-room of the little theatre, which was a part of the society's quarters, and had put on a long gown, white wig and beard, and concealed his eyes with dark glasses.
He now came tottering feebly across the room toward the students.
"What have ye here?" he asked in a high, cracked voice.
"One of the students has died, professor," responded Baker, in a tone of deep respect, "and the circumstances were so peculiar – "
"Dead, eh?" returned the "professor," stopping short in his walk, "then I can't do anything for him."
He turned about as if he would go away.
"Oh! don't give it up!" screamed Miller, "come in and give him something to bring him back to life; do it, I beg you, for my sake!"
"Your sake," sneered the "professor," "you are not worth the turn of a thumb!"
"Oh, but you don't know how much depends on it!" cried Miller.
"I don't know!" fairly shouted the professor. "I know everything! I know that you caused that young man's death; I know that you pushed him in front of a moving car; I know that you didn't mean to kill him, but that you would be glad to do so if you could do it safely; I know that you're a cold-hearted wretch!"
Miller again beat his hands upon the floor helplessly.
"Yes! Yes!" he groaned, "I'm all that, but I don't want him to die! Do save him if you can, professor."
"It's this way, professor," said Baker, quietly. "This man groveling on the floor is not worth the turn of a thumb, but the rest of us are very fond of Merriwell, and would like to have him restored to life if such a thing can be done.
"Do it for our sakes, and the sake of science, professor."
"Well," grumbled the "professor," after hesitating a moment, "for the sake of science I'll take a look at him. The rest of you clear out."
He turned slowly into the dark room, while the rest of the students withdrew, taking Miller with them; then a long ten minutes passed.
Meantime, acting according to their former programme, the students in the main room discussed various plans for the punishment of Miller.
The victim of their fearful proceeding squatted on the floor, rocking his body back and forth, moaning and wringing his hands.
At last "Prof." Humperdink appeared in the doorway and started slowly across the room. Miller jumped to his feet, ran to him, and caught him by his robe.
"Tell me," he cried, frantically, "will he recover?"
"Bah! don't touch me!" returned the "professor," giving the cigar dealer a vigorous kick.
Miller fell over on his side, while the "professor" went slowly out of the room.
"Why don't you ask him," said Browning, anxiously turning to Baker, "has he succeeded or failed?"
"He must have failed," responded Baker, sadly, "or he would have said something about it. We'll take the prisoner in there again and decide what to do with him."
By this time Miller was a complete wreck. He could not possibly stand upon his feet, and students picked him up to carry him to the darkened room.
Just then the door of that room opened again, and Frank appeared in the doorway.
He had rubbed some of the chalk off his face so that he appeared more natural than before, but he leaned against the doorpost as if weak.
"Well, fellows," he said, feebly, "what's the matter?"
The students set up a great shout, ran to Merriwell, grasping his hand and congratulating him warmly. Frank appeared to be dazed by the proceeding.
"What's the matter, anyway?" he asked. "What am I here for in this condition?"
"You've been dead!" shouted the students, in chorus.
"Dead, is it?"
"Yes, and Prof. Humperdink has restored you to life."
Frank looked as if he did not believe it.
"This is some joke," he said.
"Joke? Why, we thought you were going to tell us what happened in the other world."
"I'm not going to tell anything until I understand this!" he retorted. "Hello, there's Miller."
During this Miller had been half lying in a chair where the students had dropped him at sight of Frank. He was staring in speechless astonishment at the figure in the doorway.
The probability is that he was still so frightened that he believed that Frank had not really come back to life, but that it was his ghost that was speaking.
"What's Miller doing in the Pi Gamma rooms!" exclaimed Frank, starting toward him. "He's the fellow that pushed me under the car! Did you bring him up here for me to give him a thrashing?"
This was said in such a perfectly natural tone, and Frank appeared to be so much in earnest, that Miller was restored to a good deal of his ordinary condition.
He jumped up from the chair, and tried to make for the door; of course, he was caught before he could get out.
Then while he was held there, Baker pretended to explain to Frank that death had taken place and that Humperdink had restored him by some secret scientific process.
"We had Miller here," he concluded, "so that we might punish him for causing your death."
Frank listened very gravely.
"Well," he said, "the main thing is that I'm alive again. As for you, Miller, you deserve to be hanged just as much as if you had succeeded in what you tried to do, but I'm so much alive again that I'm inclined to beg the boys to let you off."
"Oh, don't let them hurt me, Mr. Merriwell!" groaned Miller. "On my life I didn't mean to do you any harm, and I'll never do anything wrong again as long as I live."
"I think it's safe enough to take his word for that," said Frank, turning to the others.
They looked a little doubtful, but Baker answered for them.
"Well, Merriwell is the most interested party, and what he says ought to go. You may get out, Miller, but remember if there is ever any sign of you attempting dirty work with a student again, we'll be after you, and next time we won't give you any chance for a trial, either."
"I'll behave myself for the future, I will, so help me!" stammered Miller, as he made for the open door.
After he had been seen well out of the building the students indulged in an uproarious laugh at the success of their plan, and all declared that it was a much better way of getting even with the cigar dealer than any of the plans suggested by the other students.
They had another supper on the spot to celebrate the event, and they were not surprised a day or two later to learn that Miller had disposed of his cigar business and left New Haven forever.
CHAPTER XXV
FRANK HAS A VISITOR
After the affair with Miller matters went along quietly for some time with Frank.
He turned to his studies with a will, paying particular attention to mathematics, so that no complaint might be made against him by Prof. Babbitt.
One day he was deep in a problem in geometry when there came a loud rap on the door.
"Come in."
The door opened, and in walked Ben Halliday. Frank looked up in surprise.
"Hello! Hally," he called.
"Hello! Merriwell," said the other, a trifle stiffly.
"What's the matter, old man? You are not usually in the habit of knocking in that manner. Usually you walk in without being invited."
"Perhaps I have been a little too free in that respect," said Ben, significantly.
"Free! Not at all. You know any of my friends are welcome here at any time. This is Liberty Hall."
"That sounds all right, Merriwell," said Ben, remaining standing; "but, if you mean it, why should you say I am too fresh and take too many liberties?"
"I say so? Why, I never said anything of the sort Has any fellow reported me as saying that?"
"I heard it."
Frank came to his feet instantly.
"Heard me say so?" he cried. "Is that what you mean, Hally?"
"No; I mean that I have heard you did say so."
Merriwell advanced and placed his hands on the shoulders of his visitor, looking straight into Ben's eyes.
"Halliday," he said, slowly, "have I ever been anything but a friend to you?"
Ben moved uneasily, and then answered:
"I do not know that you have."
"Did you ever know me to say anything behind the back of either friend or foe that I did not dare say to his face?"
"No."
"Did you ever know me to lie?"
"No."
"Then you will believe me, I think, when I tell you I did not say you were too fresh and took too many liberties. Some chap has been trying to make you my enemy. I have seen of late that you acted strangely but did not know why. Now I understand it. But I am surprised that you could believe such a thing of me."
Halliday was confused.
"Well," he falteringly said, "you see it's this way: I knew you hated to throw up your grip on the football team and drop out entirely, and somebody said you were jealous of me because I did such good work against the Indians. You know my run in that game was compared with your famous run in the Princeton game last season. And you have not been just like yourself lately. Sometimes you have not looked at me when we met."
"Is that so?" asked Frank, in surprise. "I didn't know it. Must be my mind is on my studies too much. And still I made a dead flunk the day after the Carlisle game. There had been so many reports that the Indians had a new trick that was sure to enable them to win, and, knowing as I did what bulldogs they are to play, I was all nerved up with anxiety. Couldn't seem to keep my mind on my studies for a week before the game, and it grew worse and worse the nearer the time came. After it was over, I found I might as well have taken part in the game."
"That's just it!" cried Halliday, quickly. "That's why I dropped around to see you."
"Eh? What do you mean?"
"Why don't you get back on the team?"
"Get back? What are you driving at? You're doing good work.
"I don't want to crowd you out."
"You wouldn't. They need you as full-back."
"You played that position in the game with the Indians."
"But I am not to play it again. I am quarter-back now."
"Is that right?" cried Frank, in surprise. "Your position has been changed? How did that happen?"
"Quigg is out of it for the season. You know he was hurt in the last game. Doctor says he must not play any more this year. I have been shoved into his place in a hurry."
"What's that for?"
"Forrest did it. A new man is going to be tried at full-back – Rob Marline. Forrest is desperate. He says the team is broken all to pieces, and stands a poor show with either Harvard or Princeton. This will be a dismal season for Old Yale."
Frank turned pale and seemed to stagger a bit, as if he had been struck. It was a shock for him to know that Yale was in danger. He had supposed she was all right and everything was running well.
"We did not make the showing against the Indians that we should have made, although we beat them," Halliday went on. "But for my lucky run, we might have been beaten."
"I didn't know – " began Frank, falteringly.
Ben made a fierce gesture.
"What's the matter with you Merriwell?" he savagely cried. "Didn't know? You should know! You are the fellow of us all who should know. You have changed, and it has not been for the better. I tell you we stand a slim show with Harvard and Princeton, and you are needed just as you were needed at the tug of war. That being the case, you have no right to shut yourself up here in your room and plug away, seeming to take no interest in anything but your studies and recitations. You have been the most popular man in college, but your popularity is on the wane. I'll tell you why, if you want to know."
Frank was still whiter, if possible. Was this Halliday talking to him in such a manner – Halliday, who had ever seemed to stand in awe of him? It was plain enough that Ben was giving him a "call down," but what shook Merry the most was the fact that he began to feel that it was merited.
"I should like to know," he said, slowly.
Ben could not tell what effect his words might have on Frank, but he was reckless, and he did not care.
"You can punch my head, if you want to," he said, "but I am going to talk plain. Don't seem to be anybody else who dares to talk to you. They kick and growl and say things behind your back, but they don't come right at you with what they want to say. They are saying that you are afraid to play on the eleven this year."
Frank stiffened up.
"Afraid?" he said, hoarsely.
"Yes."
"How can they say that? Have I ever shown fear?"
"They do say it," came doggedly from Halliday. "They say you made a lucky run in the Princeton game last year, and you know it was a case of dead cold luck. It gave you a great rep., and you are afraid of taking a fall down if you play this season. That's exactly what they are saying, and," added Ben, for himself, "I'll be hanged if it doesn't look that way from the road!"
Frank bit his lip and stood staring at Halliday. He showed no anger, but it was plain that he was astonished. Up to that moment he had not realized he stood in a position where he could not withdraw from football, baseball, or anything else in that line of his own desire without being regarded as cowardly. Now he saw it plainly enough.
Halliday had been doubtful as to the manner in which Frank would take his plain talk, but he was determined to tell Merry what was being said, and he would not have hesitated had he felt certain it would produce a fight.
But Frank saw Ben was speaking the truth, and, instead of being angry, he experienced a sensation of gratitude. Still he was determined to know all about it.
"How long have they been making this kind of talk, old fellow?" he asked.
"Ever since it was known for sure that you had decided not to try out for the eleven this fall."
"And this is the first I have heard of it!"
"They didn't talk so much at first," explained Ben. "It wasn't known then but your place could be filled easily."
"You were put in my place."
"Yes, but I should have been placed elsewhere if you had come on."
"And they think that would have strengthened the team?"
"Of course it would! I tell you the fellows have a reason to growl when they see Yale putting out a weak eleven while the best man in college refuses to get into gear and give a lift."
"What sort of man is this Marline?"
"A good runner and a pretty punter."
"Sand?"
"Guess so."
"Then what's his weak point?"
"Temper."
"Quick tempered?"
"Like a flash of powder. Loses his head. Forrest says he may lose any of the big games for us by getting mad at a critical point, but still he is the best man we have."
Frank walked over to his window and looked out, his back toward Halliday. Ben stood watching him with no small anxiety.
Now it was over, and he had relieved his feelings by speaking out plainly, Ben wondered at his own boldness. He had been flushed with excitement, but he felt himself growing pale and cold.
"Lord, what a crust!" he thought.
Three minutes passed this way, and then Frank whirled around with startling suddenness.
"Do you practice to-day?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I'll come out to the park."
"What for?"
"Don't know yet. I'll look on, anyway."
"Shall I tell Forrest?"
"No, you needn't say anything about it."
"All right."
Halliday was well pleased with the result, for he felt sure Merry was aroused.
"How do I know I am wanted on the eleven?" Frank asked. "It's all made up now, and – "
"Heard Forrest say he'd rather have you for full-back than Marline."
"Well, I'll come out and see you practice."
So Ben left. At one time he had been envious of Merriwell, but now, like others, he realized that Merry was too good timber to be lost from the eleven. Halliday overcame his selfishness, and, for the interest of Old Yale, desired to see Merry back on the team.
Besides that, Ben was not pleased to be changed from full-back to quarter-back and have a fellow like Marline given the position he had played very well thus far that season. He felt that he had much rather be put off the eleven entirely to give room for Frank.
After Ben left, Frank attempted to return to his studies, but he could not fix his mind upon them. He went down to recitation in a dazed condition, and made a flunk, much to the surprise of those who knew he had turned into a "greasy grind" of late.
Frank's mind was uneasy, and it wandered constantly. The knowledge that he had been regarded as cowardly in declining to go on the eleven was gall and wormwood to him.
He was glad Halliday had come to him and let him know how matters stood, and surely no one could have closer at heart the welfare of Yale in all directions.
He began to understand that he had won a position in athletics from which he could not voluntarily withdraw without being misunderstood and maligned.
That afternoon Halliday came around for Frank, and found him with his sweater and rough clothes on, ready to leave his room.
"I was afraid you would forget," said Ben, in a confused way.
"Little danger of that!" muttered Frank. "I haven't been able to remember anything else but what you said to me this forenoon."
"Hope you didn't lay it up against me, Merry."
"Don't take me for a fool, old fellow!" came rather sharply from Frank.
They left the college grounds and took a trolley car out to the park. Forrest and the team were there ahead of them. A hundred spectators were watching the men catch punts.
Bob Cook was there. He was not coaching; he was standing at one side by himself, watching the men, something like a disconsolate look on his face. This was not like him; it was significant.
As they entered the gate, Halliday touched Merriwell's arm, quickly saying:
"There he goes!"
"Who?" asked Frank.
"Marline. He's getting out to take some punts."
Frank knew Marline by sight, but he had never given the fellow much attention. Now he deliberately sized him up. He saw a well-built, healthy-looking lad, who carried himself gracefully, almost arrogantly. There was more than a suggestion of conscious superiority in Marline's manner.
Punk! – a strong leg sent a twisting ball sailing toward Marline. He ran under it with an air of confidence, and caught it easily, gracefully.
"I take it he is one of the fellows who show up well in practice, at least," said Frank.