FRANK AND INZA.
All night Frank dreamed of Inza. In the morning he received a brief
message from her. Her father had been taken ill again and was convinced
that he could not withstand the attack. He was pleading to see Fardale
again before he died, and Inza and her brother had resolved to take him
back there if he could endure the journey. She could not leave him, but
would not Frank and Dick come to her that she might thank them for
having saved her brother?
Walter wanted to see them, also.
Dick at once declined to go, but told Frank that he must go. At first,
Merry urged Starbright to come along, but the big fellow shook his head,
saying:
“No, Frank; it would be folly for me to go there—much better for me to
stay away. You must understand that. I must keep away from her.”
It was useless to urge him to go, so Frank gave it up. They saw Diamond
off first, as Jack made an early start. He was in a royal good humor.
“You must come across for the occasion when it comes off, Merry,” he
smiled, speaking of his marriage to Juliet Reynolds. “You know you are
to be the best man.”
“I can’t promise absolutely, old fellow,” said Frank; “but I’ll come if
I can. We can’t be sure of the future.”
“All I know is that I owe everything to you, for I might have blown in
my last dollar gambling if you had not pulled me up with a round turn.
Had I done so, my conscience would not have permitted me to accept
Juliet’s invitation to come back. I should have regarded myself as
entirely unworthy. Merriwell, I can never repay you for what you have
done!”
“You have already.”
“How?”
“With your smiling face, your happiness, the change that has come over
you. It’s enough!”
They shook hands like brothers, and then parted. Many things were to
happen before they met again.
Frank and Starbright had intended returning to New Haven by an early
train, but Dick decided to wait, now that Merry was to call on Inza.
Merriwell found Inza in a family hotel near the park. She had been
waiting for him, and at first she did not seem to notice that Starbright
had not accompanied him.
“I was afraid you could not come,” she confessed, as she gave him her
hand and looked into his eyes. “And I have so much to thank you for!”
“Don’t thank me, Inza! You know I would do anything for you—anything in
my power!”
“Would you?”
“Haven’t I proved it many times?”
“Yes, yes! And last night you were the one my mind turned to when I felt
sure Walter was in trouble and danger. He says he owes his life to you.
You must let him thank you. He is with father now.”
“It seems so strange that you have a brother. I can hardly realize it.”
“Hush! It is not known here that he is my brother. He is supposed to be
my cousin. You know it is dangerous for him to be in this country. He
might be arrested.”
“I’ll take care not to let the cat out of the bag. I had thought him
dead so long that I never dreamed he could be a bearded man like that. I
remember him only as a slight, dark-eyed stripling at Fardale.”
Fardale! The mention of that magic word seemed to give them both a
thrill, bringing to them a rush of delightful memories. Her cheeks
flushed and her bosom heaved, while a soft sigh escaped her lips.
How beautiful she was! Frank had ever regarded her as the handsomest
girl he knew, but at this moment, with the remembrance of those old,
sweet days stirring within her heart she seemed far more lovely than
ever before.
He was seized by a sudden desire to clasp her to his heart at that
moment and declare the passion which had been reawakened within his
soul; but he realized that such a sudden action might baffle his
purpose, and with a mighty effort he held himself in restraint.
“I have been thinking of those days in Fardale,” she said softly.
“Have you?”
“Yes.”
“So have I.”
She lifted her eyes, and the look she saw in his face surprised her not
a little. It was the old, old look of admiration—more than admiration!
The moonlight had revealed to her that look the night he kissed her over
the gate in front of her home in Fardale.
Then he might not have held himself in check, but she fell back a bit
before him, and he fancied her movement was one of repulsion.
Something told him that it would be a terrible blow if she were to
repulse him now. And it was possible she still cared for Starbright—or
thought she cared.
“Go slow, Frank Merriwell!” something seemed to whisper in his ear. “You
have given this girl every reason to think you cared more for another,
now be careful not to make a break that may cause her to doubt your
sincerity.”
And so, by his own good sense, he was restrained.
“Why should you be thinking of Fardale?” she asked, her girlish
curiosity aroused.
“Why—why, I don’t know, exactly. Something—some talk brought it to my
mind.”
She was surprised to note that he, usually so direct and
straightforward, seemed rather confused and faltered somewhat.
“Those were happy days,” she murmured softly.
“In truth, they were!” he exclaimed. “We did not dream how happy at the
time.”
“Nor did we dream of the strange things to happen in the future. I often
think, Frank, that I can never again be quite as happy as I was back
there.”
“I have thought the same, Inza.”
“Oh, but you,” she said—“you have everything to make you happy!”
“Have I?”
“To be sure.”
He longed to tell her then that there was one thing he did not
possess—one thing that would make him happier than all else. The words
rose to his lips. Had he spoken them a direct proposal must have
followed. At that moment, however, one of the guests of the house looked
into the parlor, which was sufficient to deter him for the time.
Somehow, this repression of his feelings simply seemed to make them more
intense, as is usually the case with every one. Now that he feared to
speak out, he longed to do so most intensely. He inquired for Mr.
Burrage.
“I am truly worried about him,” Inza declared. “These spells of illness
are becoming more frequent, and he feels that he may not live long. That
is why he was seized by a sudden desire to see Fardale again.”
“Perhaps it will do him good to visit your old home. I hope so.”
“I hope so, too, Frank. If father should die——”
She stopped with such an expression of pain on her face that all the
sympathy and pity of his nature stirred.
“Don’t worry, Inza; that will not happen for many years to come.”
“We cannot be sure. I should be left alone in the world.”
“Not alone, for your brother——”
“Hush! He must go away again—must leave the country. If he were
recognized and apprehended, the blow would be sure to completely undo
father.”
Her trouble and distress affected Frank and compelled him to say:
“You know, Inza, that you may ever depend on me. If anything happens, I
shall be ready to help and befriend you.”
“I have no doubt of that, Frank. Somehow, I’ve been wishing you were
going back to Fardale with us, if only for a single day.”
His heart leaped at the thought. To be in Fardale with Inza once more!
To visit the dear old spots with her! She was watching his face, and she
suddenly exclaimed:
“Why don’t you come, Frank? Can’t you? You can go along with us. Please
come!”
Her hand was on his arm, and they were alone again. He secured that hand
and looked deep into her eyes.
“Do you really wish me to come?”
“Of course I do! It would be splendid! And I’m sure you could give
father strength and courage to bear up and withstand the journey.”
A struggle was taking place within his heart, for he knew that already
he had remained away from college far longer than he should. He had
obtained permission to leave for a time, but surely it had been
anticipated that he would return before this.
“Do come with us, Frank!” she urged. “If you wish, you may leave us as
soon as we arrive there.”
He could not resist such pleading.
“I’ll do it, Inza!” he exclaimed. “I’ll go back to Fardale with you!”
Frank found Mr. Burrage sitting bolstered in an easy chair, wrapped
about with blankets and made easy with pillows. Walter Burrage was with
the invalid. He advanced at once, his hand outstretched, and greeted
Merry.
“Mr. Merriwell,” he said, “I am glad you have given me this opportunity
to thank you for saving my life.”
“Don’t speak of that!” urged Frank. “I was glad to be of service, and——”
“You came just in time. The fire was gaining rapidly, and those Chinks
had left us perfectly helpless, bound hands and feet. I’ve been to the
hospital to see the doctor whom they tapped on the head, and they say
there is no chance for him to recover. His skull is fractured. The
police are looking for the Chinamen, though they are not informed of all
that happened. The Chinese secret society has recovered that infernal
little black stick, which I brought to this country to sell to Doctor
Dennoval, and I shall never lay eyes on it again. But for the fact that
I knew the doctor would pay a large sum for it, I should never have
ventured into the United States at this time. Even now I’m afraid my
concern with this affair may bring about my recognition.”
“My boy! my boy!” fluttered the invalid. “They have no right to harm
you! I am sure you never did anything wrong, and——”
“There, there, father!” came soothingly from the lips of Inza’s bearded
brother. “I did not mean to reawaken your fears. It’s all right. I can
do better in Australia than in this country, and——”
“But I am an old man, and I should have my only son near me. It is hard
to be unjustly separated from him.”
“Frank has agreed to make the journey to Fardale with us,” said Inza. “I
invited him.”
“I’m glad he is going along,” murmured the sick man.
“And so am I,” nodded Walter. “We’ll have an opportunity to talk over
the old days at the academy. It’ll be good to have a boyhood friend to
chat with. I’ve often thought of those days and wondered what had become
of Frank Merriwell, who was the leader in every honest sport at the
academy.”
“If I can stand it to travel so far,” came wearily from Mr. Burrage. “It
was folly for me to leave the old home and wander over the world in
search of health. The search has been vain, and I’m going back to die!”
“To get well, you mean,” put in Merry cheerfully. “The atmosphere of the
old home will give you new life and courage.”
“Do you think so?” eagerly asked Mr. Burrage.
“Of course it will! Why shouldn’t it? Your old friends will be glad to
see you again.”
“That’s true. I believe you are right. The thought of it buoys me up.”
Inza gave Frank a grateful look and soon found an opportunity to whisper
to him:
“I knew you could do him good. You always have a way of putting new life
and courage into anyone.”
He smiled at her.
“You should hear the wonderful things Inza has been telling me about
you, Merriwell,” said Walter. “Why, if she has not been romancing, you
are the most wonderful fellow in the whole world.”
“Not that,” declared Merry.
“But you are a wonderful athlete, and your fame has spread over the
country. Yale must be proud of you. But it was the only thing to expect
from Frank Merriwell, of Fardale. I remember that you were constantly at
work building yourself up and trying to become physically perfect. Nor
did you spend your whole time at this to the neglect of your studies,
but you never wasted time—you were forever doing something.”
“That’s the secret of success,” smiled Merry quietly. “The fellow who
wastes his time wastes his chance of success. Prize-fighters have
muscular development, but usually little mental development. The perfect
man seeks both by giving his body and his mind just the proper amount of
work and rest.”
“By Jove!” cried Walter, his eyes flashing; “you should be a teacher of
your theories, Merriwell. I believe you could do an immense amount of
good in the world.”
“Yes, yes,” murmured the sick man, “I believe so, too. If I had known
what to do when I was young, if I had built my body up properly, I’d not
be here to-day, a wretched, worn-out invalid. It was ignorance that
brought me where I am.”
Frank felt that Mr. Burrage spoke the simple truth. He was a man grown
old and broken down before his time—a piece of machinery out of repair.
And all because he had not in early life built himself up properly to
withstand the strain that came upon him in later years.
This is the great error made by thousands and hundreds of thousands. In
their youth they fail to understand the need of building for themselves
strong, sound, healthy bodies to help them fight to a successful finish
the battles of life. As boys and girls they may feel exuberant, strong,
and they fancy that they will “grow” to be what is right and proper.
Then it is that they should be told that if they neglect developing
themselves they will grow up with their parents’ physical imperfections
plainly marked and pronouncedly apparent.
The weak spots will remain weak—they may become weaker. The strong
points will not keep the weak parts from giving out and breaking down
when a heavy strain is brought upon them. And what good is a perfect,
handsome engine with a broken piston-shaft? The engine cannot run till
it has a new shaft. Unfortunately, the human engine cannot be repaired
thus easily. When a breakdown occurs, the result may mean that the
engine stops forever.
“Fardale did much for me,” declared Walter; “but I must confess that I
was influenced greatly by your example, Merriwell. I know you did lots
of good in that school. And now I have found that boys and young men all
over this country are profiting by your example. Everywhere they are
beginning to work regularly to make themselves stronger and handsomer
and better. It’s a great thing, Merriwell, to know that you are doing
this for the youth of the land.”
As of old, Frank was unable to keep the warm color from mounting to his
face.
“I fear you are giving me altogether too much credit,” he protested.
“Not if all reports are true. Inza tells me there are ‘Frank Merriwell
Athletic Clubs’ everywhere, the members of which are bound together by
pledges that compel them to do each day a certain amount of work to make
themselves physically perfect.”
“Why, the papers are full of it!” Inza declared. She was sitting beside
her father and holding one of his hands. “Hardly a day passes that I do
not read something about it.”
“You seem to have brought about a revolution in America, Merriwell,”
smiled Walter.
“Well,” said Merry, “it is high time such a revolution took place, for
disaster graver than commercial depression and financial panic has begun
to threaten us.”
“You mean——”
“Degeneration. It is a fact that Americans are great money-makers, and
the struggle for wealth has threatened to put an end to all efforts for
health. Already the signs of such decay as has befallen other powerful
nations in the past have begun to appear all over this broad land. Men
are thin-legged, small-necked, narrow-chested, weak, bespectacled,
dwarfed, undeveloped—and yet they seem quite unaware of the fact that
they are lacking in the very points that go to make up perfect manhood.”
“You’re right,” nodded Walter. “Go on.”
“Our forefathers lived simpler and plainer lives, and therefore they
were better developed, hardier, handsomer. Sometimes we hear that the
span of human life has increased in the last decade—that men live longer
to-day than formerly. This may be true, but it is because our medical
skill is far greater, our homes are more comfortable, and we are less
exposed to the things that destroy life. But take this generation and
put it back into the conditions that existed sixty years ago and our
weaklings would go to the wall by thousands. The time has come when
somebody must sound the warning note and bring the young men and the
boys of the land to a realizing sense of the danger that threatens.”
“That is sound truth and common sense!” cried Walter, “and you, Frank
Merriwell, are just the one to do the work. Why don’t you take it up?”
“I have thought of it,” confessed Merry.
“Oh, what a grand thing that would be!” cried Inza.
“Grand, indeed!” echoed her brother. “Think of devoting a life to the
improvement and elevation of humanity! Why don’t you do it, man? The
boys of the country will listen to you when you speak, for they already
recognize you as the representative and physically perfect young
American. You can lecture——”
“That is first-rate, but I have a plan of reaching far more boys and
young men than by lecturing.”
“How?”
“Through a book.”
“Splendid!”
Inza clapped her hands.
“That’s it!” she nodded. “You should do it, Frank—you should write a
book that will tell the boys just what to do.”
“I think I shall as soon as I find time. Almost any boy may become a
wonderful athlete if he knows how to go about it, and where is the boy
who does not long to have a splendid, handsome body—who does not desire
to be admired and recognized as a leader among his fellows. If the
ordinary boy knew just how to go about it, he could accomplish this. If
I ever write that book, I’m going to tell the boys just how to do it.”
“Such a book would have been worth millions to me in my younger days,”
earnestly declared the invalid. “Had I possessed it I’d not be here now,
a broken-down man.”
It was a sad thing to hear him utter those words, and Frank realized
their absolute truthfulness. Bernard Burrage had given out long before
there was a necessity for such a thing, and now, even if he were to live
some years, he must drag along in suffering and pain, punishment for the
neglected opportunities of his youth.
Had he built himself up properly years before he might have remained
robust and healthy to the end of his days, vigorous in his declining
years.
The conversation now turned to other matters, and when Merry left it was
with the promise that he would be on hand when they were ready to start
for Fardale.
So Starbright returned alone to Yale.
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