"Look out, Merriwell!" called Bart Hodge, from his comfortable seat in
the shade of the vine-covered arbor. "This game decides the set."
"I know that," smiled Frank, as he took his position back of the base
line of the right court, poised his racket, and prepared to serve. "Miss
Creighton is a wonder at tennis."
The pretty girl on the opposite side of the net laughed merrily.
"Oh, what a jolly thing it will be to defeat Frank Merriwell, the great
Yale athlete, of whom my brother is forever telling some improbable
yarn!" she cried.
Three other girls, two of whom were swinging in a hammock, clapped their
hands and laughed.
"Do it, Mabel--do it!" eagerly urged Bessie Blossom. "My brother is
forever talking about Frank Merriwell, too! Sile seems to think Mr.
Merriwell is the only fellow in college."
"Oh, he's not the only pebble on the beach!" sang Fanny Darling, who,
for half an hour, had been trying to tease Jack about Frank, and had
succeeded in making the loyal fellow decidedly sour and sarcastic. "He
may be able to cut some ice with men, but he'll have to sharpen his wits
when he encounters the opposite sex."
Fanny was freckled and given to slang, but she was independent, could
take care of herself, and was popular.
The third girl, Lucy Lake, said nothing at all, but seemed to enjoy it
all very much.
Frank was not at all disturbed by the chaffing of the girls. In fact, he
seemed to enjoy it thoroughly, and he laughingly said:
"If I am to fall, I could choose no fairer conqueror."
Mabel Creighton laughed, but added color came to her flushed face, and
she could not entirely conceal her happy confusion. She betrayed in a
moment that already she had learned to regard her brother's guest with
unusual favor.
At tennis Mabel Creighton was a wonder. Never had Frank seen a girl who
was so light on her feet and so deft with a racket. She had actually
driven him to the base line game, while she played a net game and
volleyed with such bewildering skill and rapidity that it made Frank
gasp for breath.
To himself Frank confessed that he had never before seen a girl who
could serve so perfectly, or who ran up on her service so quickly. It
seemed impossible to take her off her guard.
Frank had started out with a half-formed fancy to let her win, but it
was not long before he discovered she was an opponent worthy of his best
efforts.
And now, as he prepared to serve, the score stood "games all," with one
"advantage game" to Mabel's credit. If she could win again, Frank would
be defeated.
If possible, Frank resolved to keep her from winning that time, just to
make it interesting.
But, on this occasion, Frank was to discover it was not such an easy
thing to keep a determined girl and a good tennis player from defeating
him.
With as much freshness and vigor as if she had not been so long at work,
Mabel received the ball, returning it with a smashing stroke, upon which
she risked everything.
Frank was not looking for such a play at the very start, and it took him
slightly off his guard. He got the ball on the bound, but drove it out
of bounds, and lost the first point with surprising quickness.
"He's going to lose the set!" muttered Hodge, disconsolately.
Fanny Darling laughed merrily.
"Of course he is!" she cried. "Why, he isn't in it!"
The game went forward swiftly, but Frank won the second point by
"lobbying," being able to toss the ball over the girl's head so she
could not get back to receive it.
"He's getting desperate when he resorts to that style of play," decided
Diamond.
Fanny Darling gave a shriek of laughter.
"Oh, my goodness!" she cried. "Did you see that, girls? That's all the
way he can get a point now! He's afraid to try a drive! Is this the
mighty Frank Merriwell, of whom we have heard so much? Oh, my! oh, my!"
Frank joined in the burst of laughter.
"Miss Creighton has me guessing," he confessed. "I acknowledge I fell
back on what seemed my last and only resort."
"It's too bad to laugh like that, Fan," protested Lucy Lake. "Just see
what a gentleman he is, and how honest he is in owning up that Mabel is
giving him a close game."
"Too bad!" mocked Fanny. "Oh, I don't know! He's altogether too honest!
Nothing seems to ruffle or disturb him. I don't like a fellow who is so
cool. I'd give anything if I could get Frank Merriwell real good and
mad."
"Why do you wish to do that?"
"Oh, just for fun! I'd like to prove that he can lose his temper
occasionally."
On the very next play Frank succeeded in winning another point by
placing the ball skillfully, which made the score stand thirty-fifteen,
in his favor.
Hodge brightened up.
"Oh, Merry has been fooling all along," he declared. "You'll see how
easy he will pull off the set, Miss Darling. He hasn't cared to hurt
Miss Creighton's feelings by showing her up."
"Indeed!" scornfully returned the saucy little witch with the freckled
face. "Don't count your chickens so soon. Mr. Merriwell won't melt
things."
Mabel Creighton looked doubly determined as she again prepared to serve.
Her eyes measured the distance to the net carefully, and though she made
a fault by placing her first ball against the top of the net, she sent
the next over with a speedy drive.
In a moment Merry was on it, and he made a handsome return, which,
however, did not deceive the girl in the least. Mabel volleyed, and
Frank was forced to resort to the same play. For some moments the game
was highly exciting, and the spectators gasped for breath. Then the girl
smashed one down within three inches of the outside line, and Frank's
return was outside, so the score was evened.
"Oh, I knew it!" chattered Fanny Darling. "I'll bet a pound of Huyler's
that Mr. Frank Merriwell does not make another count."
"Done!" cried Hodge.
"Oh, say, isn't this easy, girls?" laughed Fanny. "It's a perfect snap!"
"For us," smiled Bessie Blossom. "We'll have some of that candy who ever
wins."
The next point was scored by Mabel, and Diamond called:
"You must quit fooling, Merry, old man. It's forty-thirty, and she wins
if you do not tie her this time."
"I shall do my best," declared Frank.
He did do his best, and it seemed that he would tire the girl out, but
he was not successful, and a final daring drive from Mabel's racket was
successful.
She had won the game and the set.
"Well, Merriwell, I must say you are a good thing!" called a laughing
voice. "I didn't suppose you would let a little girl like that get the
best of you at anything."
It was Charlie Creighton himself who had entered the grounds, and was
standing near the tennis court, accompanied by a stranger.
The latter was a stocky-built lad of nineteen or twenty, with thin lips
and a hard-set jaw, besides having a large neck that swelled at the
base. He was dressed in clothes that fitted him perfectly, but were a
trifle "loud" or "sporty," to say the least.
"Yes, I am a good thing," returned Frank, also laughing; "and your
sister has enjoyed herself with me immensely. If you taught her to play
tennis, Creighton, she does you credit."
"Oh," cried Fanny Darling, "now that Mr. Merriwell is defeated, I
suppose he will say it is not polite to win from a girl, and so he did
not do his best. That makes me tired!"
"I shall say nothing of the sort, Miss Darling," declared Merry, with
unfailing good-nature. "I tell you honestly that I soon discovered I
would not be in the game at all if I loafed, and I did my prettiest. I
think I played my average game, and I know that Miss Creighton defeated
me without receiving any favors."
"Really, you astonish me!" said Fanny, who did not seem pleased by this
confession. "But I see you are inclined to be diplomatic. I don't blame
you, but----"
She interrupted herself with a toss of her head, and she had hinted
quite enough to bring the hot blood to Frank's cheeks, although he
pretended not to understand her meaning.
Generous to a fault, it cut Merriwell deeply to be suspected of
declaring he had been beaten fairly and not meaning it. A blow in the
face would not have hurt him so much, but he simply smiled, saying:
"You do me an injustice, Miss Darling."
No one understood how Frank had been touched better than Bart Hodge, and
he growled under his breath, giving Fanny Darling a scowl, which she did
not see.
The stranger with Charlie Creighton was sizing up Merriwell in an open
manner that was little short of insolent.
"Merry," called Creighton, "permit me to introduce Mr. Wallace
Hegner--Mr. Hegner, Mr. Merriwell."
Frank came forward, and offered his hand, which Hegner accepted with an
air that was rather supercilious, to say the least.
"How do you do, Mr. Hegner?" said Frank. "I'm always pleased to meet any
of Creighton's friends."
"How are yer?" said Hegner.
The touch of the fellow's hand gave Merry a feeling of repulsion. He
dropped it almost instantly.
"Mr. Hegner is Burk's trainer, you know," explained Creighton. "You
remember what I was telling you last night about Hank Burk going against
Tom Jackson?"
"Yes, I remember," nodded Merry. "I believe you said this Jackson is
backed by the Olympic Club?"
"Yes, they are the challenging parties. They think Jackson can whip his
weight in wildcats, and it is their boast that he will hammer the best
man Fairmount can put up all over the ring. Mr. Hegner has been handling
Burk nearly six weeks, and has him in the pink of condition. He says our
man will give Jackson the biggest surprise he ever struck. If it was to
be with hard gloves, it's more than even Burk would knock Jackson out in
four rounds. But we----"
"Oh, Charlie!" exclaimed his sister; "what do you suppose we care about
that! You can talk of those things at the club, and you are there the
most of the time."
"I beg your pardon," laughed Creighton. "I forgot the young ladies
present. They do not care for boxing."
"Some of them do," said Fanny Darling, quickly. "I like a fellow who can
handle his fists scientifically and take care of himself. That's why I
admire Mr. Hegner so much."
"Thank you," Hegner bowed, with great gravity. "The manly art is worth
acquiring, if it were useful only to protect young ladies from insult."
"Haw!" grunted Hodge. "There are some fellows who can box a little, and
yet do not make a great spread about it."
Hegner's eyes narrowed, and he surveyed Hodge with the same insolent air
with which he had regarded Frank Merriwell.
"I presume you box some, sir?" he asked.
"Not much, but I have friends who are able to put up quite a little go."
Charlie Creighton interposed laughingly, and introduced Hegner and
Hodge. Bart bowed stiffly, but did not offer his hand, while Hegner
nodded as if he had rheumatism in his neck. Then Diamond was introduced.
"Do you put on the gloves?" Hegner asked of the Virginian, in a blunt
way.
"Not often," was the answer, as Jack's cheeks glowed a bit. "Never had
them on in my life till I went to Yale and ran up against Merriwell.
Southerners, sir, have a way of settling differences with other weapons
than their fists."
"Oh!"
Jack bit his lip, for there was a hidden sneer in that simple
exclamation. For a moment he felt like challenging Hegner on the spot,
but remembered that he was in the North, where such things did not "go."
Hegner turned to Frank, whom he again surveyed from head to feet.
"From what Mr. Diamond says, I infer that you are something of a boxer,"
he observed.
"Well, there are others," smiled Merry. "I do not consider myself
anything more than fairly handy with the gloves."
"Now, Frank!" began Hodge; but Merriwell cut him short with a glance.
"Well, I didn't know but you thought you could spar," said Hegner, in a
bored way, and then he turned and began to talk to Fanny Darling, who
chatted and laughed with him as if pleased by his attention.
Frank was thoroughly disgusted by the air assumed by Creighton's
companion, and Charlie himself was not pleased. And Bart Hodge was
chewing his tongue as a war horse might champ its bit, while he glared
at Hegner's back in a way that told he was thoroughly "stirred up."
After a while, Creighton proposed that they should go down to the club.
To this the girls objected, but Hodge and Diamond exchanged significant
glances, and then expressed sudden eagerness to go.
"I'll have to go anyway," said Hegner. "Burk will be there, and I am due
to give him his regular course."
"Well, I will remain here and do my best to entertain the girls," said
Frank.
"Not by a hanged sight!" said Hodge, quickly. "We want you to come along
with us, Merry."
"That's right," agreed Diamond. "Won't you come, old fellow?"
"Oh, yes, by all means, go!" cried Fanny Darling.
"We can get along very well without any fellow to bother us."
It was too good an opportunity for Frank to miss, and so he quietly
said:
"If I remained behind I should not bother you much, Miss Darling."
This was unusually ungallant for Frank, but he began to see that Fanny
must be met with her own weapons, and he had suddenly decided on his
course of dealing with her in the future. His retort brought the blood
to her cheeks, and her eyes flashed as she snapped:
"That's right! I wouldn't let you!"
As the five lads walked away to take a car, Bessie Blossom said:
"How could you be so rude to such a splendid fellow, Fan? It was just
perfectly horrid of you!"
"That's so!" chorused Lucy and Mabel. "Frank Merriwell is splendid!"
"Say, girls," cried Fanny, "you make me weary! The trouble with Mr.
Merriwell is that he is smart, and he knows it. He has been accustomed
to having everybody flatter him, and it will do him good to know there
are persons who do not think he is the only item in the paper. Perhaps
it will reduce the size of his head so an ordinary hat will fit him."
"If there is any fellow in the world who has every reason to have a
swelled head, and still hasn't got one, it is Frank Merriwell," declared
Mabel Creighton. "My brother says so, and he knows. He says that, for a
fellow in such a position, Merriwell is the most unassuming chap in
college. You do him an injustice, Fanny."
The girl with the freckles gave her head a saucy toss.
"Oh, that's what's the matter--every one of you is stuck on him! I saw
that right away. And it always happens that way. Wherever he goes, the
girls get all broke up over him, and then flock around him. Well, he'll
find there is one girl who doesn't care a cent for him--so there!"
"At least, Fanny, you might treat him decent," protested Mabel.
"I will, for I won't have anything at all to say to him after this. I
hope that will satisfy you. If Wallace Hegner would put on the gloves
with him, and give him a good thumping, it would help take the conceit
out of him. But Mr. Merriwell, the great Yale athlete, would be far too
shrewd to stand up in front of Hegner for a bout."