BUSTER BILL SURPRISED.
Frank was methodical in everything he did, and that was how he
accomplished so much without being swamped. He gave just so much time to
everything. When the work of the day was all done, he ventured to spend
a little time in idleness, but not till then.
No man ever accomplishes great things and performs great labors unless
he is methodical. The person who goes at any task by fits and starts
does not make rapid progress. It is persistent hammering away at
anything that counts in the end. In the fable the tortoise beat the
hare; so the slow, plodding, determined man often beats the brilliant,
flighty, erratic man of genius in the race of life.
Steady hammering at one kind of work becomes monotonous after a time, it
is true, and a man may wear himself out before his time in such a
manner. But give him variety, let him change at certain hours of the day
from one thing to another, and the amount he can accomplish will amaze
those who look on and never put their powers to the full test.
Frank Merriwell’s life was one of constant change and variety. The
classroom, the gymnasium, the ball-field, the rowing-tank, or the shell
led him from one thing to another at certain hours, and so he performed
an amount of labor that astounded lazy students.
Each afternoon he reached the field at a certain hour. He entered into
the work there with vim and vigor. When it was over, he had a way of
starting off by himself to walk back to Vanderbilt. He preferred to make
this little walk quite alone. His friends had found this out, and they
permitted him to do so.
There may have been a secret reason why Frank chose to walk back
unaccompanied from the field. Perhaps it would seem impolite to pry into
some of his secrets. All day long he was thinking of studies, lectures,
gymnastics, baseball, and rowing—all day except during this walk by
himself in the dusk of early evening.
Of what was he thinking then? Why was it that he often smiled fondly to
himself, as if looking into the face of some one very dear? Why was it
that he seemed utterly oblivious to his surroundings as he swung along
with that beautiful, easy stride? Why was it that sometimes his lips
moved, and—listen! did he murmur a name? Was it—Inza?
But we’ll not pry into his secrets, although we understand now how it
was that, with his mind far away, he walked straight into the trap that
had been prepared for him. At another time he might not have been taken
so by surprise, for, as a rule, he seemed constantly on the alert. Now,
before he realized anything was wrong, a man had jumped out at him from
the corner and struck him a terrible blow on the side of the head.
That blow knocked Frank down!
Buster Bill had started in to earn his money, and it must be confessed
that he had made a good beginning.
He had intended to jump on Merriwell instantly, but now he paused,
astonished that even a college athlete could be popped over so easily.
That pause was fatal to the ruffian’s plans.
Although the shock had been terrible, although his head was ringing and
he was somewhat dazed, Merriwell quickly recovered and started to rise.
Then, with a snarl, the thug made another spring and a kick. He meant to
earn his money by fracturing a rib with his heavy boot.
In a crouching position Frank Merriwell sprang aside with a froglike
hop. Then he straightened up. The violence of that kick, which had
reached nothing but empty air, had thrown Buster Bill down.
When Bill, astonished beyond measure, scrambled to his feet, he found
Frank Merriwell, the Yale athlete, waiting for him.
Not a word passed Merry’s lips, but he sailed into that fellow in a
manner that meant business. He swung at Bill’s head, and Bill did not
entirely avoid the blow. He was hit pretty hard, but not hard enough to
knock him off his pins.
Then a hot time followed. If Buster Bill had underrated his antagonist
at the start, he soon experienced a change of opinion. The Yale man, for
all of the blow he had received, became the aggressor in less than
thirty seconds.
Bill, you are in trouble for fair. There you have it, fair and square on
the nose, and it was a solid jolt, too. It started your nose to
bleeding, but you don’t mind that, of course! only boys mind when they
get a crack on the nose that starts the claret. But there is another in
the eye. That will be likely to give you a very pretty eye to show your
friends to-morrow. You’ll be proud of it, Bill, and you will enjoy
exhibiting it to the gang.
Brace up, Buster Bill; it won’t do to let this smooth-faced, clear-eyed,
handsome fellow get in many more like that one on the cheek. If he does,
you’ll have a mug that will arouse doubts in regard to your veracity
when you explain to-morrow that you fell down on the hard ground just by
accident. People may listen to you, Bill; but inwardly they will be
asking if you fell or were pushed.
What ails the fellow, anyhow? Why won’t he keep still and let you hit
him back a few times, gentle William? It doesn’t seem hardly fair for
him to do all the hitting, with the exception of that first blow; now,
does it? If you had dreamed he was going to act this way, you would have
hit him with a brick, wouldn’t you, Bill?
Great Scott! but that was an awful jab in the wind, Bill! It doubled you
up beautifully. And then he was rude enough to give you another one on
the ear. What are you doing down there, William? You’ll get your clothes
dirty rolling round on the ground.
That’s right, sir; get right up, like a little man. He’ll accommodate
you by knocking you down again. How long can you keep it up, Bill? Your
head is pretty hard, but even a wooden head must get tired of being
biffed round in such a manner.
Don’t froth, man! It’ll not do you a bit of good. Don’t gnash your
teeth, for you’ll not frighten him that way. He doesn’t seem a bit
afraid of you, and he keeps coming right after you all the time. At
least, he might have the decency to give you a rest.
What’s that, you mighty thug, you slayer of men? Can it be that you
realize you have met your master in this college chap at whom you
sneered? Who are you shouting to? On my life, I believe you are calling
to your friends for help!
Yes, it is true! And here they come through the dusk on the run, four of
them in all! Well, well! you’ve surely got the college chap in a bad
place now; but if you down him at last, Bill, you can’t brag that you
did it alone, and I do not fancy that you’ll feel very proud of the job.