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Changes to the text are noted at the end of the book.
FRANK MERRIWELL’S STRONG ARM
* * * * * *
BOOKS FOR YOUNG MEN
MERRIWELL SERIES
Stories of Frank and Dick Merriwell
PRICE FIFTEEN CENTS
_Fascinating Stories of Athletics_
A half million enthusiastic followers of the Merriwell brothers
will attest the unfailing interest and wholesomeness of these
adventures of two lads of high ideals, who play fair with
themselves, as well as with the rest of the world.
These stories are rich in fun and thrills in all branches of
sports and athletics. They are extremely high in moral tone, and
cannot fail to be of immense benefit to every boy who reads them.
They have the splendid quality of firing a boy’s ambition to
become a good athlete, in order that he may develop into a
strong, vigorous right-thinking man.
_ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT_
1--Frank Merriwell’s School Days By Burt L. Standish
2--Frank Merriwell’s Chums By Burt L. Standish
3--Frank Merriwell’s Foes By Burt L. Standish
4--Frank Merriwell’s Trip West By Burt L. Standish
5--Frank Merriwell Down South By Burt L. Standish
6--Frank Merriwell’s Bravery By Burt L. Standish
7--Frank Merriwell’s Hunting Tour By Burt L. Standish
8--Frank Merriwell in Europe By Burt L. Standish
9--Frank Merriwell at Yale By Burt L. Standish
10--Frank Merriwell’s Sports Afield By Burt L. Standish
11--Frank Merriwell’s Races By Burt L. Standish
12--Frank Merriwell’s Party By Burt L. Standish
13--Frank Merriwell’s Bicycle Tour By Burt L. Standish
14--Frank Merriwell’s Courage By Burt L. Standish
15--Frank Merriwell’s Daring By Burt L. Standish
16--Frank Merriwell’s Alarm By Burt L. Standish
17--Frank Merriwell’s Athletes By Burt L. Standish
18--Frank Merriwell’s Skill By Burt L. Standish
19--Frank Merriwell’s Champions By Burt L. Standish
20--Frank Merriwell’s Return to Yale By Burt L. Standish
21--Frank Merriwell’s Secret By Burt L. Standish
22--Frank Merriwell’s Danger By Burt L. Standish
23--Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty By Burt L. Standish
24--Frank Merriwell in Camp By Burt L. Standish
25--Frank Merriwell’s Vacation By Burt L. Standish
26--Frank Merriwell’s Cruise By Burt L. Standish
27--Frank Merriwell’s Chase By Burt L. Standish
28--Frank Merriwell in Maine By Burt L. Standish
29--Frank Merriwell’s Struggle By Burt L. Standish
30--Frank Merriwell’s First Job By Burt L. Standish
31--Frank Merriwell’s Opportunity By Burt L. Standish
32--Frank Merriwell’s Hard Luck By Burt L. Standish
33--Frank Merriwell’s Protégé By Burt L. Standish
34--Frank Merriwell on the Road By Burt L. Standish
35--Frank Merriwell’s Own Company By Burt L. Standish
36--Frank Merriwell’s Fame By Burt L. Standish
37--Frank Merriwell’s College Chums By Burt L. Standish
38--Frank Merriwell’s Problem By Burt L. Standish
39--Frank Merriwell’s Fortune By Burt L. Standish
40--Frank Merriwell’s New Comedian By Burt L. Standish
41--Frank Merriwell’s Prosperity By Burt L. Standish
42--Frank Merriwell’s Stage Hit By Burt L. Standish
43--Frank Merriwell’s Great Scheme By Burt L. Standish
44--Frank Merriwell in England By Burt L. Standish
45--Frank Merriwell on the Boulevards By Burt L. Standish
46--Frank Merriwell’s Duel By Burt L. Standish
47--Frank Merriwell’s Double Shot By Burt L. Standish
48--Frank Merriwell’s Baseball Victories By Burt L. Standish
49--Frank Merriwell’s Confidence By Burt L. Standish
50--Frank Merriwell’s Auto By Burt L. Standish
51--Frank Merriwell’s Fun By Burt L. Standish
52--Frank Merriwell’s Generosity By Burt L. Standish
53--Frank Merriwell’s Tricks By Burt L. Standish
54--Frank Merriwell’s Temptation By Burt L. Standish
55--Frank Merriwell on Top By Burt L. Standish
56--Frank Merriwell’s Luck By Burt L. Standish
57--Frank Merriwell’s Mascot By Burt L. Standish
58--Frank Merriwell’s Reward By Burt L Standish
59--Frank Merriwell’s Phantom By Burt L. Standish
60--Frank Merriwell’s Faith By Burt L. Standish
61--Frank Merriwell’s Victories By Burt L. Standish
62--Frank Merriwell’s Iron Nerve By Burt L. Standish
63--Frank Merriwell in Kentucky By Burt L. Standish
64--Frank Merriwell’s Power By Burt L. Standish
65--Frank Merriwell’s Shrewdness By Burt L. Standish
In order that there may be no confusion, we desire to say that the
books listed below will be issued during the respective months in
New York City and vicinity. They may not reach the readers at a
distance promptly, on account of delays in transportation.
To Be Published in July, 1923.
66--Frank Merriwell’s Set Back By Burt L. Standish
67--Frank Merriwell’s Search By Burt L. Standish
* * * * * *
FRANK MERRIWELL’S STRONG ARM
Or,
Saving an Enemy
by
BURT L. STANDISH
Author of the famous MERRIWELL STORIES.
[Illustration: (Publisher colophon)]
Street & Smith Corporation
Publishers
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York
Copyright, 1901
by Street & Smith
Frank Merriwell’s Strong Arm
(Printed in the United States of America)
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign
languages, including the Scandinavian.
FRANK MERRIWELL’S STRONG ARM.
CHAPTER I.
WHEN THE SPRING COMES AGAIN.
In the sweet and balmy springtime the sedate senior’s fancy lightly
turns to thoughts of frivolity. All through the weary winter
months he may have carried himself with the grave dignity that so
well becomes a senior; but when the spring comes something stirs
within him, and as the world turns green and the birds begin to
twitter that something takes hold of him with a grip that makes
him its servant. A strange sensation of restlessness pervades his
entire being, running over his nerves like little electric thrills,
setting his muscles itching, his heart throbbing, his whole body
aching--aching to do something, anything, everything.
This is a very dangerous condition for a senior to fall into, and
yet nearly all of them suffer from an attack of it. It drags them
to the border-line of recklessness, and while it possesses them in
all its awesome force, there is no desperate thing it might not
lead them into. It even has the power to make them forget for a
while that the whole world has its eyes fastened upon them.
There must be some vent for this spring-coltish feeling which
assails the senior. Until he became a senior he could occasionally
disport himself as a boy, but now for some months the burden of his
exalted station in the world has roosted on his shoulders until it
has become almost too heavy to bear. He longs to fling it off and
be a boy again.
That’s it--that’s what ails the grave-faced senior when he feels
that queer sensation running over the electric-wires of his body,
which are known as the nerves. For the first time in life he
realizes that his boyhood is slipping from him, and he makes a
clutch at it to drag it back for one last look into its happy face
before he is parted from it forever.
How sad a thing it is to part with boyhood forever; and yet how
many do so without a sigh or a regret! It is only in after years
that they wake up to understand how great was their loss. Some,
well aware that the hour has come for boyhood to bid them farewell,
turn to look after it fondly, even when their feet are set on the
new road that manhood has led them into. Good-by, happy boyhood!
this is the final parting; we shall never meet again. Of course,
it’s a grand thing to be a man, but it’s only after we have become
men that we realize how grand it was to be a boy.
The senior has been playing at being a man. He has carried a sober
face, his manner has been sedate, and he has been very much
impressed with his own importance. All this has begun to wear
upon him, and with the awakening of spring he wakes up also to a
knowledge of what is happening. By Jove! it’s a serious thing,
after all, to permit boyhood to drift away without so much as a
word of farewell. This hits him hard, and he suddenly stretches out
his hands to that part of himself that he has so carelessly thrust
aside.
Behold a lot of dignified Yale seniors wooing back their boyhood
on a sunny spring day. You’d scarcely know them now. There in one
group are Aldrich, who carried off the honors as a drum-major in
the political rally last fall; Tomlinson, widely celebrated as a
“greasy grind;” Browning, the laziest man on earth; Hodge, famous
on the gridiron or the diamond, and Merriwell, famous the country
over. And what are they doing?
Spinning tops! So help me, they are spinning tops!
But look around and you will see scores of well-known seniors
engaged in the same surprising occupation. They enter into the
spirit of if with the combined hilarity of boys and dignity of
men. If you look beneath the surface, it may seem rather pathetic
to witness this great crowd of intellectual young men seriously
engaged in a last romp with their departing boyhood.
There is Porter, the famous poet of the Lit., frolicking down the
walk, trundling a hoop before him with the apparent satisfaction
of a lad of seven. See! his hoop collides with that of Gammel, the
great Dwight Hall orator, and there is a general mixup. But they’re
not real boys. They’re only men playing that they are boys. If they
had been boys that collision might have resulted in an exchange of
blows, instead of an exchange of bows.
Over yonder are more seniors spinning tops or rolling hoops. And
a great throng of men from other classes stand off and watch “the
sport,” commenting upon it sagely.
This top-spinning and hoop-rolling serves as a vent for the pent-up
steam that has been threatening an explosion. The safety-valve is
open, and the rollicking seniors proceed to let ’er sizz. There are
other ways of letting off steam, but surely this is far better than
the sign-stealing and gate-shifting recklessness of the freshmen.
This is a part of the life of Yale, a scene peculiar to the balmy
days of early spring. It is one of the memories that old grads.
smile over in after years. It is peculiar and characteristic of Old
Eli; to eliminate it would be to take away something that seems to
aid in making Yale what it is.
By themselves the Chickering set had gathered to look on and make
comment. Their observations were most edifying. These remarks tell
how the gray matter in their little heads is working. It has to
work hard for them to think, for they have dulled the gray matter
with cigarettes and hot suppers and lack of proper exertion. Yet
somehow these “men” manage to keep along in their classes, and
somehow they pass examinations, and somehow they will graduate, as
hundreds and thousands like them graduate from colleges all over
our land.
“Look at that big elephant, Bruce Browning!” lisped Lew Veazie,
in derision. “Thee him thpinning a top, fellowth! Ithn’th that a
thight faw thore eyeth!”
“And that cheap fellow Hodge,” said Ollie Lord, pointing with his
cane. “Just look at him, gentlemen! Isn’t it just perfectly comical
to see him spinning a top! Oh, dear, dear, dear!”
“And Merriwell,” said Rupert Chickering, whose trousers looked as
if they had been freshly pressed that day. “It is a sad spectacle
to see a man like that lose his dignity.”
“Oh, come off!” croaked Tilton Hull, his collar holding his chin so
high that he seemed to be addressing his remarks to a twittering
sparrow on a limb over his head. “That’s about the only kind of
sport Merriwell is suited for.”
“It’s no use,” said Gene Skelding gloomily, exhibiting deep
depression, for all that he was wearing a dazzling new pink shirt;
“we can say whatever we like about Merriwell, but it’s plain he’s
on top of the bunch to stay.”
They all regarded him in amazement, for always he had been the
fiercest against Frank.
“This from you!” cried Julian Ives, smiting his bang a terrible
smack with his open hand and almost staggering. “What does it mean?”
“It means that we may as well own up to the truth. He has pulled
himself up to the top, and everything we or others have done or
said has been fruitless in pulling him down.”
No wonder they were amazed! Skelding had been one who had often
taken a hand in some daring move against Merriwell. The others to a
man had lacked nerve, but Gene was reckless, and they knew it. He
had never seemed to give up hope; but now, all at once, he flung up
the sponge. Why shouldn’t they show consternation?
Behind his collar Tilton Hull gave a gurgling groan.
“It’s not Merriwell’s strength that has placed him on top,” he said
despairingly. “He is not a strong man.”
“Not in any sense,” said Julian Ives.
“He’s strong enough in his way. No other Yale man has ever done the
things he has done and kept on top. Think of him, a senior, going
into the freshman boat as coxswain in place of the coxswain the
sophs had stolen! The nerve of the thing is colossal. But what
would have befallen any other senior who dared do such a thing? He
would have got it in the neck. How about Merriwell? Why, everybody
seems to think he did a clever thing in palming himself off as Earl
Knight, the freshman. A man who can do a thing like that and come
off all right is too strong to be thrown down. It’s no use, he is
on top for good.”
“I don’t think he ith verwy thwong,” simpered Veazie. “He ith a
gweat bwute! But there are otherth jutht ath thwong ath he ith. I
weally believe he thinkth himthelf a Thandow.”
“I was not thinking of his physical strength,” said Skelding;
“though it seems that he’s pretty nearly as strong that way as any
other. You know they say he defeated that strange athlete of the
scarred face.”
“That’s a story his friends tell, don’t you know, dear boy,” said
Ollie Lord. “How can anybody be sure it’s true?”
“I don’t suppose there is much doubt of it,” said Gene, still with
great gloom. “He is as strong one way as another, and that makes
his position impregnable. He’s king of Yale.”
“It thirtenly ith a thwange thight to thee a king thpinning a top,”
giggled Veazie.
“Come away!” croaked Hull, still with his eyes on the limb where
the sparrow had perched. “Gene is in need of something to brace
him up. Let’s get out of here for a stroll.”
So the Chickering set dragged themselves away, all feeling greatly
depressed by the words of Skelding, for when he gave up, hope
seemed crumbling ashes.
They had continued to hope that something would bring about the
downfall of Merriwell. In Chickering’s perfumed rooms they had
talked of the possibility. Even though every adverse circumstance
seemed to turn in Merry’s favor, still they hugged the gasping
form of hope and fanned breath into its pinched nostrils. Now they
beheld it dead in their arms, for Skelding had grown tired and
refused to fan any more.
In a gloomy group they left the campus and crossed the green. Few
words passed between them, but all seemed to know where they were
going. Into the Tontine Hotel they made their way and disappeared,
for there they knew a room where they could be served with whatever
they ordered, and no one would be permitted to trouble them.
It was fully an hour later when they issued from the hotel. There
was a wild light in Skelding’s eyes, and his teeth were set. Hull
had a flush in his cheeks, but his weak chin would have dropped had
his collar permitted. Ives’ bang was rumpled, and he did not care.
He was humming a tune. Lew and Ollie were clinging to each other,
and making a pretense of being very sober, in order to attract
attention to the fact that they had been drinking. Rupert had his
hat canted at a rakish angle over one ear.
This is the Chickering set full of fuddle. Look out for them now,
for they are real reckless. How strong they are now! You can see
it in their faces and in the steadiness of their walk. And they
demonstrate it by their language.
“It ith no uthe!” Veazie declared; “I don’t take a bit of thstock
in thstorieth they tell about Fwank Merriwell being tho thwong. I
think he ith weal weak.”
“That’s right, chummie!” chirped Ollie Lord, flourishing his cane
in a fierce gesture. “We’d not be afraid of him, would we?”
“No, thir!” cried Lew; “not a bit!”
“Of course not!” said Ollie. “If we were to meet him we’d give him
a shove.”
“I’d like to give him a thove!” said Veazie, shaking his terrible
fist in the empty air. But somehow his other hand stole round
behind him and hovered over a place that had once been spanked by
Merriwell’s open palm.
“Don’t talk about the creature!” croaked Hull loftily. “He should
be beneath our notice. We’ve settled the fact that he is not strong
in any way. We did that back in the hotel after we took the second
drink. Now, drop it.”
“Yes, drop it!” grated Skelding. “He’s been given every kind of a
chance to demonstrate his strength, but I know it’s been nothing
but luck. I could have done the same thing, had I been given the
same chance. But I never have a chance.”
“Let’s not revile Merriwell,” murmured Chickering. “Let’s try to be
charitable.”
“But I wouldn’t turn out for him if I were to meet him face to face
right----”
Tilton Hull stopped speaking with a gulp, for he had come face to
face with Merriwell.