CHAPTER XXVI
SIGNIFICANT MOVEMENTS
The appearance of Frank on the ground soon attracted attention. Of late there had been much talk about Merriwell and there was not a college man interested in football who had not expressed an opinion concerning his ability or his withdrawal from the sport.
Early in the season Walter Gordan had made a try for the eleven, but had soon been turned down. Sport Harris could not have been induced to play football, but he took much interest in the team, as he wished to know how to place his "dough" on the great games.
Harris and Gordon were watching the men at practice, but the latter saw Merriwell as soon as he entered the park.
"Well, hang me!" he muttered, staring.
"What's the matter?" asked Sport.
"Look there – with Halliday!"
"Yes, I see – why, it's Merriwell!"
"Sure."
"What's he out here for?"
"Don't ask me!"
"Thought he was out of it. Hasn't seemed to take any interest in the eleven this season."
"Perhaps he thinks he's stayed away till it is so late he'll not be asked to come on the team. He couldn't keep away any longer."
"Well, he's needed on the eleven, and that is a fact. He has disgusted his friends by pulling out of the game."
Gordan laughed.
"He seems to think he can retire on the laurels he has won."
"Well, he never made a bigger mistake in his life," said Harris. "Yale doesn't have any use for shirks. If he thinks he can retire because he made a great run in the Princeton game last fall, he is mistaken."
"He is retiring on his reputation as a globe-trotter," sneered Walter. "You know he has been all over the world. I expect to hear any day that he has discovered the North Pole during some of his extensive travels, but has forgotten to say anything about it."
"You think he hasn't traveled as much as has been reported?"
"Oh, he may have been over the pond, but that's nothing. Willis Paulding has been over several times, and so have a score of fellows I know. But the yarns about shooting panthers in South America, gorillas in Africa, and other fierce and terrible beasts in other countries are altogether too steep to go down my throat."
"How about the trophies he has to show for it?"
"Bah! His uncle left him money to burn, and he has a way of squeezing any amount of it out of his guardian, Prof. Scotch. If he calls for a thousand dollars, he gets it right away. With money like that I could buy a lot of old weapons, queer pottery, fake idols, brass lamps, skins of wild animals, and so forth, and make a big bluff that I had gathered them all over the world. I don't say much about him, but, between you and I, that fellow makes me awfully weary."
Harris grinned a bit.
"Can't get over it, can you?" he said.
"Can't get over what?"
"The fact that he beat you out at both baseball and football last year. He got onto the 'Varsity nine and the eleven. You tried for both, and got onto neither."
"Oh, I don't care about those things," protested Gordan. "It was by chance that he got onto the nine, and you know it. If Yale hadn't been hard up for pitchers, he would not have been given a trial."
"That's all right, but you had the same opportunity and you got left."
"Oh, well, rub it in!" snapped Gordan. "Merriwell has beat you at a few things, or the stories they tell are lies."
It was Harris' turn to get red in the face.
"Who has been telling anything? Has Merriwell been blowing around?"
"I don't know about that, but it is said that your Harvard friend, Harlow, proved to be a card sharp – and you introduced him to a lot of fellows here. Merriwell got into a game and caught him cheating. If the stories are straight, Merriwell could have made it hot for you. He let up on you."
"Lies!" snarled Harris, his face growing dark, while he pulled away at his short mustache. "It must be Merriwell has been telling these things. Oh, I'd like to punch his head!"
"Yes, but you don't dare try it any more than I do," grinned Gordan. "You know he can lick you and not half try."
"Oh, he's a fighter, and I don't pretend to be that; but he may find me dangerous. I have been keeping still for some time, but I'm simply waiting, that's all."
"The fellows say he was dead easy with Hartwick, but that Evan would not let up on Merriwell."
"Well, Hartwick was forced to leave college, anyway, and I'd like to make Frank Merriwell do the same thing."
"Wish you might. It would give some of the rest of us a show."
"If he's played on the eleven this fall, I should have been forced to put my money on Yale. Now we've got a weak team, and I have put up something on Harvard as soon as this. I am getting all the bets I can before it is generally known that Yale is weak."
"What if Merriwell should be taken on?"
"There is no danger of it, and he couldn't play the whole game, anyway. As full-back, however, he would have strengthened Yale's weakest point. It is remarkable, but we haven't a man besides Merriwell this season who is fully qualified to play the position."
"What's the matter with the new man?"
"Marline?"
"Yes."
"He's a grand-stand player. All he cares about is to do something pretty to win the admiration of the ladies. He will work for Marline, and not for the team. Mark what I say. The team was weak enough when it went against the Indians, but it is weaker still with Halliday at quarter and Marline at full. Harvard is better than she was last season, when we beat her by a fluke, and she will walk right over our team. Put your money on Harvard, Gordan, and you will win everything."
"Hello!" exclaimed Walter, suddenly. "What's up now?"
"Cook is talking with Merriwell, that's all."
"That means something."
"Get out! Cook is coach, but he isn't running the team."
"I tell you it means something! See – Cook calls Forrest. Now the captain of the eleven is coming over. See that! They are talking together. I tell you that means something, Harris!"
Gordan was excited, and he seemed to impart his excitement to his companion. With the greatest eagerness they watched the little group.
Perhaps the trio spent ten minutes talking, and then there was a move that added to the excitement of Gordan and Harris.
"What's Merriwell going to do?" asked Sport, catching his breath.
"Do!" exclaimed Walter, in deep disgust. "Can't you see? He's going to practice!"
"Practice? Great Scott! That means – "
"That means that he is sure to play on the eleven!"
Gordan and Harris were not the only ones interested in Merriwell's movements.
Tom Thornton, who had once been an enemy to Frank, and was now very friendly toward Rob Marline, the new man, who was expected to play full-back, was watching Cook, Forrest and Merriwell.
In catching a ball, Marline ran past Thornton, who asked:
"What's up over there, Rob? Why are those fellows talking with their heads together?"
"I don't know," was the answer. "Maybe Merriwell wants to get onto the eleven."
"If he wants to, he'll do it."
"He can't. Positions all taken."
"Somebody'll be fired."
"'Twon't be me."
"Don't be so sure of that," thought Tom, but he did not speak the words aloud.
After a little Merriwell was seen preparing to practice. Halliday was at it already. Happening to be near Ben, Thornton heard him observe to a player:
"I've done the job for Yale this time. Got Merriwell back. They will have to thank me for that."
"Got him back?" said the other. "Why, how is that? Where will he play?"
"Full-back, of course."
"But Marline."
"Marline will be given a chance to rest."
Thornton nodded.
"Knew it!" he muttered. "Rob is a good fellow, and this isn't a square deal. He won't be given a show. Merriwell is all right as a player, but he has no right to refuse to play and then come on after things are fixed and knock some other chap out. I'll tell Rob."
So, at the first opportunity, Thornton told Marline what he had heard Halliday say.
Marline was from South Carolina, and he was proud as Lucifer. In fact, his manner of always speaking of South Carolina as the "one" State in the Union was often little short of exasperating. He was haughty and overbearing, proud of his birth, inclined to boast, and utterly blind to his own shortcomings.
No one questioned Marline's courage. He came from a family noted for courage and daring. His great-grandfather was a patriot officer of Revolutionary times, and his father had won a commission in the Confederate Army in the War of the Rebellion. The blood of fighters and heroes ran in Marline's veins.
For all that, there was no one at Yale who could make himself more offensive than the boy from South Carolina. He had a way of sneering at everybody and everything outside his native State, and when he set out to call anybody down, the most withering and biting sarcasm flowed from his tongue.
Marline was smart intellectually, but whimsical and set in his notions and beliefs. Once let him express an opinion and he would not confess himself in the wrong even when absolute proof lay before him. Instead, he was pretty sure to want to fight the fellow who offered the proof.
As an orator the youth from South Carolina had no superior in college. He was strong in argument, and it was through him that Yale had succeeded in wresting from Harvard the honors in the annual debate.
With the professors he stood unusually well, as he was regarded as a brilliant scholar, and he had never been known to take part in any of the students' carousals.
Marline's face grew dark as he listened to Halliday.
"They can't drop me without playing me at all," he said, harshly.
"Can't! Guess you don't know Walt Forrest. He wouldn't hesitate a second if he thought he could improve the team. He doesn't allow his feelings to interfere at all with the discharge of what he thinks is his duty."
"If they try to kick me out, there'll be a hot time, sah!" flashed the boy from South Carolina. "I'll show somebody that I'm not to be used like I am a dog!"
"Don't blame you," nodded Tom. "It is a dirty trick."
Marline was rattled. Three times he tried to catch a punted ball, and three times he dropped it, something remarkable for him to do – something that made the boys stare at him in surprise.
In the meantime, Merriwell was on the gridiron, and he was taking all kinds of twisters with his old-time confidence and skill. Three balls were in use, and, after a time, it happened that, in running under two of them sent into the air at the same time, Marline and Merriwell collided.
Frank struck Rob in such a manner that he was thrown to the ground, but he flopped over, sat up, and took the ball that belonged to him, laughing in a good-natured way.
Marline paid no attention to the ball he had started after, but stood looking down at Frank, his face utterly bloodless and his eyes gleaming.
"Sah," he said, after a few seconds, as Frank was getting up – "sah, you ran into me!"
"Believe I did, old man," laughed Merriwell. "No harm done, I hope. Didn't upset you, and you did me. I'm all right."
"But you ran into me, sah!"
"Couldn't help it, you know," declared Frank, with unfailing good nature. "Accidents will happen."
"Accidents, sah, may often be avoided."
"It is difficult to avoid them on the gridiron."
"You may apologize, sah."
Marline was standing there, his arms folded, his dark eyes looking daggers at Merriwell. His pose was graceful, and he really looked handsome, for all of his arrogant bearing.
Frank whistled his surprise.
"Apologize?" he said, slowly. "Do you really mean that?"
"I certainly do, sah."
When Rob Marline addressed anybody as "sah" in that manner it was a warning. The word was one seldom used by him since coming to Yale. To a great extent he had adopted the manners of the North, and had suppressed any little peculiarities of speech that might indicate his Southern blood. Now, however, he felt that he was a South Carolinian, and the dignified and haughty "sah" of the South suited his mood.
Frank paused a moment, looking straight into the eyes of the hot-blooded youth who had demanded an apology. He seemed in doubt, but quickly made up his mind.
"I never heard of an apology on the football field," he said; "but, as you seem to think me to blame for this little accident, I ask your pardon. I trust that is satisfactory."
To this Marline made no answer, but with a contemptuous movement of his body, turned about and stepped away.
A few of the players near at hand had seen and heard everything. All were astonished. To them it seemed that Marline had cowed Merriwell, and a feeling of disdain for the latter mingled with their astonishment.
"That beats the band!" said one to another. "Is this the same Merriwell we have thought such a lion?"
"It's plain," said the other, "that the fellows who have been claiming he really has less nerve than is generally supposed were right. He is afraid of Marline – I can see that. Marline comes from a fighting family, and he would challenge Merriwell to meet him in a genuine duel. Merriwell can scrap, but he has no relish for swords or pistols. He has been cowed by the fellow from South Carolina."
CHAPTER XXVII
HALLIDAY IS PUZZLED
Two teams were made up, and a short game was played, while the coachers kept at the men like relentless slave drivers.
The appearance of Frank on the field had seemed to awaken Bob Cook. He opened up on everybody, and the men seemed to find it inspiring to have him scold them.
During the first half Merriwell played full-back on the eleven that was pitted against the regular 'Varsity team. He went into the game as if it was of the utmost importance. Once he went through the center of the opposing team, and once he went around the left end. Had he been well backed up, the regular eleven would have found difficulty in securing two touchdowns, one of which was made by Marline.
On the last half, much to his disgust, Marline was taken off the regular eleven and placed at full-back on the other team, while Merriwell was given his place.
Then the 'Varsity eleven seemed to have new life, and the men played like so many tigers. The "irregulars" could do nothing with them. Merriwell kicked a goal from the field, besides making one of his surprising and bewildering runs.
Marline played desperately, but he gave up in disgust before the end, realizing he could not make a good showing under such conditions. In his bosom his heart was heavy and bitter.
"If I am pulled off the team without having a show, somebody shall suffer!" he vowed.
The practice game over, the men pulled on their coats and started for the two trolley cars which were waiting at the entrance to the park. Halliday got a seat beside Frank on one of the cars.
"You're right in it, old man!" said Ben, enthusiastically. "Why, you worked as if you were in training!"
Frank smiled.
"I suppose I forgot the possibility of making myself lame. Til feel it to-morrow."
"Never mind. You showed everybody that you are as good as ever. Marline will get walking papers."
Merriwell's face suddenly became sober.
"I don't know as that will be using him square, Hally," he said, in a low tone of voice. "I presume he has been told he should play half-back on the eleven."
"Told nothing!" snorted Ben. "Forrest don't tell us fellows we can play anywhere, and there's not a man but knows he's likely to be dropped any time. He told Marline to come and practice, and I'll go my last dollar that is all."
"Still Marline has every reason to suppose he'll be given a show in some sort of a game."
"Huah! If he supposes too much, he'll get left."
"I don't like to crowd anybody. You know that, Hally."
"You are too careful about crowding somebody. You are forever preaching that any fellow must fight his way through this world, but you never fight unless forced to do so. By the way, how could you apologize to that overbearing cur?"
"Well," said Frank, deliberately, "I permitted my good judgment to govern my action."
"Good judgment be hanged! Why, he was insulting!"
"A trifle overbearing, perhaps, but it's natural with him. You know he comes from South Carolina."
"What of that? Is he any better for that reason?"
"Not in the least, but it is probable that he has been brought up to think so. And it is certain that he has sand. He can't be driven into his boots, and I'll bet on it. South Carolina produces tigers, and Marline is one of them, or I have taken his measure wrong."
Halliday looked at Frank in doubt and astonishment.
"Is it possible you are afraid of Robert Marline, Merriwell?" he asked.
"No," was the calm reply; "but I think you will remember that I had a little trouble with one hot-blooded Southerner since entering college. The Southern aristocrat seldom fights with his fists, but he is none the less ready to fight. I am willing to confess that I do not care to become involved in a duel with pistols or swords. Can't afford to take the chances of being found out and expelled, even though honor should be satisfied without the death of either concerned. I have been hot-headed in my day, but I'm trying to hold myself down. I'd rather apologize for the accident to Marline than to have him challenge me to a duel. That's the whole of it, and – "
"What will the fellows think?"
"Let them think what they like!" exclaimed Frank, flushing. "A person who is forever considering what some one will think if he does this, that or the other is forever miserable and uneasy."
"But they'll say Marline cowed you."
"Let them."
"They'll say it is proof you have not the courage every one has thought."
"Let them."
Ben looked hard at Frank, and then slowly observed:
"Thought I understood you, Merriwell, but I'm blowed if I do!"
CHAPTER XXVIII
FRANK'S VISITORS
Despite himself, Frank was somewhat disturbed by what had taken place that afternoon. He knew Halliday was right in saying it would be believed he had apologized to Marline through fear of the proud Southerner.
Merriwell was no more than human; he did not fancy being thought a coward.
Who does?
Had it been simply one or two persons who thought him afraid of the lad from South Carolina he would not have minded, but for nearly every one in college to think so – well, that was different.
And the peculiar combination of circumstances made the situation more trying than otherwise it could have been.
Frank could not help feeling some sympathy for Marline, for all of the fellow's natural arrogance and overbearing manner. It was easy for Merriwell to imagine himself in Marline's position.
"It would cut me," he thought. "I might hold my temper, but it would cut me to have any fellow step in and shove me out without letting me have a show to see what I might do."
Sentiment demanded that Marline should be given an opportunity to play full-back on the Yale team; but sentiment should not enter into college sports, and no one knew that better than Frank Merriwell. The football or baseball team that is run on sentiment can never be a winner.
Yet it seemed to Merry that, under any circumstances, he would be placed in a false position before every one. He had refused to take an interest in football, and had held aloof till the very day that it was known Halliday had been changed from full-back to quarter-back and Marline had been given Ben's former position. Then Merry had suddenly appeared on the scene and seemed to oust the new man before the latter had a show to prove his capability.
To Frank this seemed a cowardly thing to do, and nothing but the knowledge that the eleven was weak and really needed him could have induced him to go on the field.
He did not want to fight Marline, and he was determined not to fight Marline if he could avoid it. Still he realized that his enemies would say he feared the lad from South Carolina, and his friends might believe it was true.
"Well," thought Frank, after meditating on the situation, "it will not be the first time I have been thought a coward. I can stand it. If Forrest says he needs me I shall play for the love of dear old Yale. Rather than have Yale lose through my failure to do everything in my power, I'd be branded a coward for life!"
This settled in his mind, he went to bed that night and slept peacefully, quite unaware that at Morey's a gay party had gathered about Rob Marline, who was "opening things" and vowing publicly that he would drive Frank Merriwell off the gridiron forever.
In case Frank showed a determination to get into the game again, Marline swore he would never give him a moment of peace till they met face to face on the "field of honor."
"I come of fighting stock, gentlemen," said Rob, his face flushed, his legs unsteady, his tongue unloosed, and a glass of "velvet" held aloft. "My grandfather killed his man, and my father has been concerned in more than one affair of honor. I am an expert with the sword, and I can shoot as well as the mountaineers of my native State – the fairest spot on the American continent Merriwell will not have a chance with me if we ever do meet. With the blades, gentlemen, I'll run him through in less than thirty seconds; with pistols I'll lodge a ball in his heart at the first fire. But he'll never dare to meet me. The way he took water to-day proved that. He will crawl like a whipped dog."
If Marline had not been drinking freely he would not have said so much. The wine was in his head, and he was not responsible. But he meant every word he spoke, and he did not require "Dutch courage" in order to back up his talk.
In the morning Frank awoke refreshed by a good night's sleep, took a cool dip, scrubbed down hastily, got into his clothes in a hurry, and was away to chapel, looking as fresh and rosy as a healthy youth should.
Merriwell took such care of himself that he was in perfect condition. He had not given up physical exercise, although he had thought of keeping out of football that season. Every day he spent a certain amount of time in the gym, and not a minute of that time was wasted.
Under no circumstances did Merriwell believe in radical dieting. At the same time he believed in common sense, and he knew a fellow could do himself no more harm than by overloading his stomach. The gourmand makes himself heavy of body, and dull of brain.
Frank had quite forgotten the unpleasant occurrence of the previous afternoon, and he dipped into his studies after the earnest manner that had marked him of late.
On returning from recitation in the middle of the forenoon, he found visitors in his room. They had been admitted by "Honest John," the colored porter.
"Lor' bress yeh!" grinned the white-headed old darky, showing his teeth in a broad grin – "Lor' bress yeh, Mistah Merriwell! Nebber see no purtier gal in all mah bawn days!"
"Girl!" cried Frank, astonished.
"Lor' bress yeh, yes! Purty's a picter, Mistah Merriwell."
"Girl in my room?"
"Yes, sah."
"You let her in, John?"
"Yes, sah; but dar's a lady wif her, sah."
"Oh, ha!"
"Yes, sah – got a face dat'll stop a trolley car, sah. Looks like it war cut out of wood, sah, an' mighty hard wood at dat. De gal smile, but de ole woman nebber smile at all."
Frank looked puzzled, and Honest John began to look troubled.
"Hope Ah ain't done no harm, sah?" he faltered. "De ladies said dey knowed yeh, sah, an' dey war yeh friends."
"But I do not know of any friends in New Haven who would come to my room."
John showed alarm.
"Lor', sah! hope dis ain't no scrape, sah! Mebbe yeh don't want teh see 'em? I'll jes' go an' 'splain yeh ain' heah – I'll say yeh been called away sudden by de deff ob yeh grandmam."
"Never mind, John. My grandmothers died years ago, and my visitors may be aware of the fact. I'll see them myself, although I don't care to be bothered by visitors at this time of the day."
"Hope it's all right, sah," said John. "Yo' boys hab to be careful, sah. If yo' git too wild – "
But Frank was hurrying to his room, regardless of the darky's words.
Honest John followed. He listened outside the door after Frank entered. He heard a girlish cry of delight, and an exclamation of pleasure from Merriwell.
"Lor' sakes!" he chuckled, holding one crooked hand over his mouth, as he stood crouching at the door. "Suah dat don' soun' lek trubble! Yo' am all right, John. Jes' yo' watch fo' Mistah Merriwell when he come out, an' yeh'll get a tip fer lettin' de ladies in. Hey – what am dat?"
He held his ear close to the door and listened again. Then the crooked black hand was pressed still closer over his mouth, and his whole body shook with emotion as he tiptoed away.
"Lordy! Lordy!" he exploded, when he considered himself at a safe distance. "I know dat soun' any time Ah heah it. Smack! smack! Dat war kissin'! Heuh! a-he-uh! a-he-uh! If Mistah Merriwell don' make dat tip a whole dollah, dis coon ain't took his size an' suckumfrence!"