CHAPTER XIII
THE WRESTLER
There was an immense crowd in the Seventh Regiment Armory that evening. Nearly everybody present was a friend of one or another of the colleges represented in the contests, and excitement ran high.
The seating had been arranged so that Yale students and their friends occupied a solid tier of seats upon the side of the hall near the center.
Directly across the hall, in a similar tier, were the students and friends of Harvard.
On the same side with Yale was the Cornell crowd, and directly opposite them the Princeton crowd.
The rest of the spectators sat as near their favorite college as they could, with the result that long before any of the games began, the building fairly roared with college cries mingled together, each crowd trying to outdo the others.
It seemed as if there would be no lungs or voices left to cheer the athletes, but if any one had such a fear it must have been because he was not acquainted with students' voices.
An excited Yale or Harvard man can give the college cry somehow when he would be unable to conduct a conversation above a whisper.
The very middle of the hall was left vacant. All the contests were to take place there, and, therefore, in full view of all the spectators.
The athletes had their dressing-rooms at the ends and sides of the building, and there were so many of them that each college had a number of rooms for itself.
The Yale managers took their men up to the armory about half an hour before the call for the first event.
Dressing-rooms had been picked out in advance, and the men belonging to the tug-of-war were put into one room by themselves.
The Yale crowd in the audience cheered frantically when they recognized their companions marching across the floor to their dressing-rooms.
Shortly after that the Princeton men came in, and then there was a wild howling from the other side of the room.
So it went on, and so it continued all through the evening, for there was hardly a moment when there was not something going on to arouse the enthusiasm of one college or another, and if by any accident there was a hitch in the proceedings, there was plenty of excited students in each faction to stand in front of the tiers of seats and lead their comrades in cheering on general principles.
As there were many events, and many entries in each one, the programme was put through rapidly, and as often as possible, two or more events were being contested at the same time.
The object sought for by each college was to gain as many victories, or in other words, first places, as possible, but in some events, like wrestling and fencing, where only two men could contest at a time, it was necessary to have two or three and sometimes four bouts in the same event.
This was not the case in such a sport as leaping, for there all the men could compete at the same time, and one set of trials decided the matter.
In wrestling it was necessary to draw lots to decide which colleges should compete first.
Then lots were to be cast to decide which college the winner of the first bout should wrestle with, and so on.
Each wrestling bout consisted of three rounds, with a short rest between each two.
As three rounds at wrestling is likely to tire any but the very strongest man, the next bout was set down a full half hour later on the programme in order to give the winner time to rest.
It was the same with the tugs of war. One tug was put upon the programme early in order that the winners of it might have time to recover their breath and be in condition to meet the next comers.
It would be an impossible task to describe all the many events that succeeded each other rapidly that evening. Every one had its interest and importance, although in the audience at large, as it had been at Yale, the tug of war was watched for with the greatest anxiety and excitement.
There may be space, however, to indicate the outcome of one or two minor events in which Frank and his companions were especially interested.
The first thing on the programme consisted of the contests in high jumping and the first bout in wrestling. The jumpers went through their work at one end of the floor, while the wrestlers struggled at the other.
The drawing of lots resulted in putting Mellor of Yale against Grant of Cornell for the first try.
The Yale managers almost groaned aloud at this piece of ill luck. If there was anybody among the wrestlers representing the other colleges that they feared, it was this same Grant.
He was fully as large and muscular as Mellor, and had easily downed everybody who had met him in his own college.
With Mellor in good condition the Yale men would have believed that the chances were at least even for his victory; as it was, those who understood the case were certain that the Yale freshman would be turned down quickly.
Of course the managers said nothing openly after the lots were drawn, but they exchanged views in private just before Mellor went out to begin his work.
"Tough luck," remarked Frank, between set teeth.
"I wish we had sent him back to New Haven," grumbled Hill.
"It's a confounded shame," exclaimed Rowland, "that Mellor couldn't have had a chance to meet Sherman of Harvard first. He could probably throw Sherman even if he were still half full, and that would give him some kind of a standing, but now he'll go out there and get turned down so dead easy that everybody will laugh at Yale, and the rest of our fellows will get rattled."
"I don't think the rest of us will get rattled," said Frank, "and perhaps Mellor won't be such an easy victim as you think."
"Let us hope that he gets at least one fall," muttered Hill.
There was no time for further talk about the matter, and they went out to the main hall to see the event.
At the upper end of the floor Higgins was taking his first leap, but the managers paid little attention to him. They hoped he would win, but they were confident that whatever happened he would make a good showing, and they could not take their eyes from their champion wrestler.
Mellor was still looking as solemn as if he were at a funeral. His face was rather pale, and he sat in a chair at one side perfectly motionless until the call came to enter the ring.
Grant of Cornell, on the other hand, was laughing and chatting with his managers, and his face was pink with health.
At the call he bounded from the chair and pranced into the ring nimbly, and as the Yale managers looked him over they felt worse than ever.
Mellor got up slowly and walked, as if he dreaded the ordeal, out to meet his adversary.
"That's right, Mellor," whispered Frank, as the wrestler passed, "take it easy and don't get excited."
Mellor gave Frank a grateful look. It was the only encouraging word he had received from his managers since his foolish scrape.
He shook hands with Grant, and then stepped quickly back to his position. It was a catch-as-catch-can match, and for an instant the two big fellows stood warily watching each other before they advanced.
Meantime Yale and Cornell were setting up a chorus of howls to encourage their respective champions.
The two got together with a sudden jump that surprised everybody.
It was expected that Grant would take the offensive, but it seemed that Mellor decided upon the same policy, for the floor fairly shook when they met and began a mighty struggle.
Frank's eyes glowed, and his heart seemed to rise to his throat as he watched the muscles stand out on Mellor's arms and back.
"There's big stuff in that fellow," he said, half aloud.
"If he only had staying power," retorted Hill, in disgust, "but he's wasted all that in his jag."
The words were hardly out of Hill's mouth before there was a heavy thud, as the two wrestlers went down; then such a roar went up as the building had not yet heard, for Yale's man was on top. Mellor rose quickly and ran to his dressing-room, followed by his managers, who overwhelmed him with compliments.
He said nothing, but stood up to be rubbed and taken care of.
"You took him completely by surprise that time, Mellor," said Frank. "Now the next time he'll be on his guard for that, and you'll have to pursue different tactics."
Mellor nodded.
He did not appear to be suffering from loss of breath or any sort of exhaustion, so the managers left him with his trainer to see how the jumping was getting on.
They arrived upon the floor just as another terrific chorus of Yale cries went up.
Higgins had cleared the bar after every other contestant had failed.
It was a grand start for Yale. One first place had been gained, and with Mellor's success it looked as if another was certain.
The floor was quickly cleared of the posts that had been set up for the jumpers, and the Harvard and Cornell tug of war teams came on for the first pull.
In this, as in the wrestling, the order of the trials had been decided by lot.
Leaving the tug of war for the moment, we will glance at Mellor's further work as a wrestler.
While Harvard and Cornell were getting into position for their tug, he went out again to the floor for his second set-to with Grant.
As Frank had predicted, Grant was wary this time; he waited for Mellor to take the offensive, and the latter was slow in doing so. They got together at last, and for a few seconds each struggled vainly to overcome the other.
Then they stood still, and those who were giving their especial attention to them felt the greatest excitement because the men were evidently tremendously in earnest, and very evenly matched.
After a good deal of dancing about the ring, and many a vain attempt to bring on a fall, Grant got in a sudden trip that brought Mellor to his knees.
Then, exerting all his weight and force, Grant crowded the Yale man down until his side was on the floor.
No fall could be counted until Mellor's shoulders were both squarely on the floor, and, therefore, Grant was crowding with all his might to prevent his antagonist from turning on his face.
When a wrestler lies over on his stomach with his arms outstretched, it is almost impossible to turn him.
It looked as if Mellor were trying to get into this position, for then Grant would be compelled to stand off and give him a chance to spring up.
Grant, of course, was trying to do just the reverse, for having Mellor so nearly down, he did not care to give him a chance to get on his feet again.
Just how it was done it was hard to see, but suddenly Mellor seemed to rise as if he were on a trap that rose by the force of a concealed spring.
With a wonderfully quick movement he broke his hold and got a new one, and before anybody realized what his attempt meant, he had turned his antagonist over and brought Grant's shoulders squarely down upon the floor.
Then the building shook with howls. Yale had won the first bout in wrestling, and at the same instant Harvard had beaten the Cornell tug of war team.
The Yale managers were happy. It seemed now as if Mellor were certain of carrying off the cup for wrestling.
According to the fall of lots he was to tackle Sherman of Harvard next.
Sherman was a comparatively slender, but very wiry fellow. He was considerably under Mellor's weight, and as the latter had shown unusual skill it was thought that the Harvard man would prove an easy victim.
So he did in the first round. Mellor downed him almost as easily as he had turned down Grant, but as it proved that was the end of the Yale freshman's staying power.
He had put all his force into the two set-tos with Grant and the first with Sherman; when it came to the second set-to with the latter there was a long, exciting struggle, which ended in Mellor's going under.
He showed his exhaustion plainly after that, and his limbs quivered when he went out for the third set-to.
He struggled well, and really made a good showing, but the Harvard man downed him at last, and with that defeat Yale's chances for coming out ahead in the general tournament were badly damaged.
Nevertheless Frank and the other managers felt that Mellor had made so good a showing that nobody would suspect that he had disobeyed regulations and unfitted himself for making the contest.
CHAPTER XIV
A TRICK
As might be expected, there was a big chorus of shouting when the Yale and Harvard teams came out for their trial in the tug of war.
Matters had been running rather evenly between the four colleges; each had gained at least one first place, and there was no reason for the friends of any college to be discouraged about the general result.
The Harvard men seemed to be as fresh after their victory over Cornell as if they had not exerted themselves.
They appeared to have about the same weight as the Yale crew, and were made up in much the same way; a particularly heavy man as anchor, and three lighter but evidently very muscular fellows upon the rope.
It had been decided that the fall should be at a pistol shot.
As there are several ways of conducting a tug of war, it will be well to explain that in intercollegiate games, when held indoors, the contestants always brace themselves upon cleats.
The rope which they hold lies loose upon the floor between the two teams. At a point midway between the two sets of cleats there is a chalk mark on the floor.
A ribbon is tied around the rope at the point where it crosses this mark.
When the men have fallen it is their object to pull the rope away from their opponents, and so bring that ribbon further and further toward their cleats.
In a closely contested match it sometimes happens that the position of the ribbon will not vary more than two or three inches during the entire tug.
The time is taken, and at the end of four minutes the victory is awarded to whichever team has the ribbon upon its side of the chalk mark.
In this pull with Harvard, Frank's training proved to be of the greatest value. He had laid the greatest stress upon the fall.
When the pistol shot came the Yale team dropped like one man to the general eye.
It seemed as if the Harvard team dropped at exactly the same instant, but when the excited spectators looked at the ribbon on the rope, they saw that it was fully six inches upon the Yale side of the chalk mark.
After the fall there was a silent moment of hard tugging upon each part, but the ribbon did not budge.
Meantime Bruce was manipulating the rope that ran around his belt, and keeping his eyes fixed upon the Harvard anchor opposite.
"How is it, Bruce?" whispered Frank.
"We've got 'em," muttered Bruce, in reply.
Frank said nothing, for in the course of training he and Bruce had discussed this matter so many times that Frank knew well what policy the anchor would pursue.
It is often said that a miss is as good as a mile, and in the case of a tug of war an inch is certainly as good as a yard.
It might have been possible for the Yale team by constant tugging and by occasional surprises to get the ribbon much farther over to their side, but that was not the policy that had been decided on.
If the team should win, there was Princeton still to be pulled, and every ounce of strength would be needed then; so, having the advantage of Harvard, the boys simply held to the rope, using only enough strength to keep what they had gained.
It cost them a good deal of effort to keep it.
About a minute had passed since the fall, when the Harvard anchor suddenly gave his men the word, and leaned far back upon the floor.
It was a mighty tug. Slowly but apparently surely the ribbon moved toward the Harvard cleats.
Bruce caught the end of the rope in a knot, and muttered:
"Hold hard!"
The boys did hold hard, but in spite of that the rope gradually slipped through their hands.
"It can't last long," whispered Bruce, "keep cool."
A few seconds of such mighty tugging was indeed all that any team could stand, and presently the Harvard men rested, having gained three or four inches.
To many of the spectators it seemed now as if the ribbon was even with the chalk mark, and the Harvard crew were setting tip wild cries of triumph.
The Yale team, however, had been lying low. Bruce and his men had simply resisted the Harvard tug like so much dead weight, and the instant that the Yale anchor saw that the Harvard team had come to rest lie exclaimed:
"Pull!"
Then the Yale team gripped the rope and strained at it in earnest.
Their effort came like a yank, and in less than three seconds all the space that had been lost in Harvard's long tug was recovered.
So the contest went on to the end. Harvard frequently made desperate efforts to get the ribbon on its side of the line, and each time the Yale team had to lose a little ground, but each time they made a complete recovery, and at the end of four minutes the victory was with the blue.
The Harvard team got out of sight as quickly as possible, while the Yale men went to their dressing-room, followed by the wild cheering of their friends.
For the next few minutes the Yale spectators paid little attention to what was going on on the floor. They busied themselves in cheering each member of their team.
Puss Parker led the cheering. He stood in front of the Yale tier and shouted:
"What's the matter with Browning?"
An immense chorus responded:
"He's all right."
"Nine cheers for Browning," demanded Parker, and then the rah-rahs came rattling forth like volleys from a battery.
Then Parker asked what was the matter with Merriwell, and so on until the others in the team had been complimented in the same way.
Frank was well pleased, but the complete victory was not yet won, and besides that, as manager, he had a keenness in all the other contests. So as soon as he could do so he returned to the main room and watched what was going on.
The other members of the team, with the exception of Bruce, also returned.
The anchor, with his usual indolence, preferred to remain in his dressing-room and rest, although, to tell the truth, he did not feel the slightest fatigue.
Frank found nothing to be dissatisfied with, although victories for Yale were not piling up as well as he could have wished.
All the Yale athletes had made a good showing, and there was no blame to be cast upon anybody for losing, with the possible exception of the unhappy Mellor, but there proved to be good men in the other colleges, and one by one events were decided with a first place now to Cornell, now to Harvard, now to Princeton, and so also to Yale.
The longer the evening grew the closer the contest seemed, and at half-past ten, when nearly all the events had been decided, it was still a matter of doubt as to which college would carry away the trophy.
The tug of war between Princeton and Yale was set last on the programme, not because it was thought that it would settle everything, but because it was the event that created the most general interest.
A good many unfinished bouts in other sports were being rapidly worked off.
As it drew near to eleven o'clock Harvard and Cornell gradually lost their grip upon their chance for first place, and at last, when it was time for the great tug, it proved that Princeton and Yale scored exactly the same number of points.
Therefore the result of the tug would decide whether Yale or Princeton should carry away the tournament trophy.
The thing could not have gone better for the spectators at large, but it made the students representing the two leading colleges excited and nervous.
The moment the last unfinished bout was decided, Frank hurried to the dressing-room, followed by the other members of the team and the managers.
He halted at the door with a great start of fear. Bruce lay across the threshold, his right wrist in his left hand, and glaring across the room savagely, while his jaws were shut hard together.
"For Heaven's sake, Bruce! what's the matter?" asked Frank.
"I've sprained my wrist," he muttered, "and by the feeling I guess I've sprained my ankle, too!"
"How did it happen?"
"A dirty trick, Frank, and the scoundrel who did it is somewhere in the room. I managed to get here at the door so as to grab him if he should run out, and also to prevent you from taking the same fall I did."
The other members of the team and the managers were now at the spot.
"Be careful when you go in," said Bruce. "The floor has been soaped or greased just in front of those lockers there, and it won't do for any one else to get such a fall as I've had."