ON THE SPECIAL TRAIN.
Some of the lads felt like staying in New London and making a night of
it, but this was strictly against rules, and those who did so took a
desperate chance of getting into trouble by it.
After the race there was a general rush for the trains, and those bound
west over the N. Y., N. H. & H. were crowded.
Later on there was a special train for the Yale crew and their friends.
As this train was not exclusive and it was generally known that it would
be run, large numbers of students waited for it, and it was quite as
crowded as the trains which had preceded it.
The car containing the victorious crew was a scene of wild merrymaking.
The eight muscular lads who had pulled off another victory for Old Eli
were gathered in the middle of the car and surrounded by admiring
friends, who cheered and sang and smashed one another's hats, and
played the very Old Nick with one another.
Beer, wine and whiskey had been brought on board the train, and it was
urged upon the crew. Danny Griswold was in his glory. About half the
time he was perched upon the shoulders of the crowd, and it was
observable that he did not refuse anything that was offered him in the
way of a liquid. Still, for all that he drank so much and mixed his
drinks, he did not seem to get any worse off than he had been when the
train started from New London.
Charlie Creighton climbed upon the backs of two seats and made a speech.
"Hark, ye noble sons of Old Eli!" he began, with a spread-eagle gesture
that came near causing him to lose his balance and fall off headlong.
"This is the great day when we can get up on our hind legs and make the
welkin ring with war whoops of victory. To-day we stand with one foot on
Princeton's neck and the heel of the other foot gouging into Harvard's
back. They have bitten the dust before us, oh, mighty warriors in blue!
They have fallen like autumn leaves before a gale. We have carried our
colors on to victory in many a mad scrimmage, but never have we done a
better job than we did this day. During the greater part of the race it
looked as if Harvard would take our scalps. We who watched the awful
struggle felt our blood turn cold with fear. Then, when we looked upon
the calm face of our captain [cheers], we took heart and hoped. Like
clockwork he was handling his men, and his calm confidence gave them
heart. They saw he did not fear the result, and when he began to drive
them for the final spurt every one of that noble band responded like the
greatest of heroes. [More cheers.] Then it was that Yale began to crowd
Harvard. Then it was that the Harvard crew showed how the pressure was
telling on them. Then it was that the backers of Old Eli who were
watching the struggle became confident that we were still in it and
would pull off the race after all. Then Old Yale crept into the lead,
the spurt being admirably timed, so that our boat crossed the line just
in time to make Old Eli again the winner. And to whom is honor due for
this? You know!"
"Collingwood! Collingwood!" roared the jubilant crowd in the car.
"Hurrah for dear old Bob!"
Then they cheered and cheered, and then they called for a speech from
"dear old Bob."
Collingwood was lifted to his feet. He protested that he could not make
a speech, but they would not be satisfied till he had said something,
and so he cried:
"Well, boys, we did them--and we did them good!"
This was better than a long speech, and it produced the most unbounded
enthusiasm.
When the excitement had abated somewhat, Collingwood arose again, and
motioned for silence. In a moment he was receiving the full attention of
every one.
"Every man on the crew deserves praise," began Bob.
"Hooray for the croll hew--I mean the whole crew!" shouted Harry
Rattleton, smashing his new straw hat over Bandy Robinson's head.
"But there is one who deserves especial commendation," Collingwood
added.
There was a breathless silence, and all eyes were turned on Frank
Merriwell, who flushed beneath this sudden attention.
"There was one man on the crew who was not in condition to row in the
race to-day, and I came very near letting him out. Now I am glad I did
not, for, although he had a bad felon on his left hand, there was no man
of the crew who pulled a stiffer stroke or showed more lasting powers
till the finish was reached. He fainted then, it is true, but it was
because of the frightful pain in his hand and arm, and I wish you to
remember that he did not faint till the victory was won."
"Merriwell! 'Rah! 'rah! 'rah!"
Not even Bob Collingwood himself received a greater ovation. Frank was
seized, he was lifted aloft, he was perched on the shoulders of his
friends, and then there was a general howl for a speech.
Frank felt himself thrill from his hair to his toes; his eyes were
dimmed with moisture, even though he laughed. In his bosom there was a
choking sensation of gratitude and love for his comrades and the
admiring throng around him. He forgot that he had a single foe at
Yale--that he had a foe in all the wide world.
"Boys," he said, somewhat brokenly, "I did my best for dear old
Yale--that is all."
That was all he said. It was enough. It seemed to touch a chord in
every breast, and there was a ring of patriotism in the cheering that
followed.
"Here's to good Old Yale--drink it down!
Here's to good Old Yale--drink it down!
Here's to good Old Yale,
She's so hearty and so hale--
Drink it down! drink it down! down! down!"
It seemed that every person in the car joined in singing this song. The
enthusiasm was running higher and higher. In every heart the Yale spirit
grew deeper and stronger during that ride from New London to New Haven.
The students who were there never forgot that scene--never forgot how
they thrilled with love for Old Yale. The hardships and struggles of
college days were forgotten; the triumphs and joys alone were
remembered.
But with it all it is certain that the result of the race had
disappointed no Harvard man more than it did Fred Flemming.
At the last moment he had been overjoyed to learn that Merriwell had a
bad felon on one of his hands, which, it seemed, must debar him from
rowing in the great race.
Flemming had kept himself in condition as far as possible, and he lost
no time to let Collingwood know that he could be called on in case of
emergency.
That he would be called on seemed almost certain, for he was notified to
be on hand at Yale's quarters before the time set for the race to begin.
He had been on hand, ready to strip off in a moment, and had seen
Collingwood talking earnestly with Merriwell. Then, to his inexpressible
astonishment, he had been told that Merriwell would row after all.
From that moment Flemming hoped and prayed that Yale would lose the
race. He would have given almost anything in his power to give had Frank
Merriwell been unable to row to the finish.
But Merriwell had finished the race, and Yale had won. Flemming's
friends, who had bet that he would row in the race, had lost money, and
they were sore also.
It was bitter gall for Flemming and Tom Thornton to pretend to rejoice
over Yale's victory, but they dared not do otherwise. It happened that
they waited till the special train left for New Haven, and they were on
that train and in the car which carried the victorious crew.
Occasionally they cheered with the others, to keep up appearances; but,
for the most part, they remained seated in a corner at one end of the
car and talked in low tones.
"How was it that Collingwood happened to retain the fellow for all of
his hand?" asked Thornton, referring to Merriwell.
"Ask me something easy!" exclaimed Flemming. "I am sure he intended to
fire the fellow, but I think Merriwell begged to be given a show, and
Collingwood did not have the nerve to chuck him off."
"Collingwood must be soft!"
"Oh, I don't know. I think that cad Merriwell must be a hypnotist by the
way he gets around some fellows."
"I don't want to have anything further to do with him."
"Oh, you've lost your nerve since Merriwell and Griswold put up that
girl job on you, and Diamond drew you into a bogus duel."
"That was enough to make any fellow lose his nerve."
"Rats!"
"You may say 'rats,' but you don't know how you would have felt if you
had been in my place. Just as the word was given to fire and I pulled
trigger, Griswold, dressed as a girl, rushed between us. I fired, and,
with a frightful shriek, he fell. Then I ran forward and looked at him.
The moonlight made him look deathly white, and I felt sure I had shot
him. I'll never forget the sickening sensation that came over me at that
moment! The hangman's noose seemed to dangle before my eyes. I dropped
the pistol and rushed away to my room. I think I was stunned, for Horner
found me sitting on a chair and staring blankly at the wall about an
hour afterward. Then he said the girl had not been shot at all, but had
fainted. Say, Flem, my boy, it is utterly impossible for me to tell the
feeling of thankfulness and relief that rushed over me. I felt just like
getting right down on my knees and thanking Providence, but I didn't,
for Tad Horner was watching me all the time, and I saw the laughing
devil in his eyes. Then, within two days, I found myself the guy of the
whole college, and, finally, it all came out that 'Grace Darling' was
Danny Griswold in his theatrical rig, and I had been played for a
blooming guy by Merriwell and Diamond, assisted to a certain extent by
Horner, my own roommate."
"And the only decent thing you ever did about it was to quit Horner
cold. You've never seemed to have sand enough to make an effort to get
back at Merriwell."
"I decided that Merriwell is a bad man to monkey with."
"That's rot! It's his reputation that frightens you. I'm going to watch
my chance to get even with him."
"So am I, young man!" whispered a voice in Flemming's ear.
Fred whirled swiftly, and saw close at his shoulder a rather
rough-appearing, smooth-faced man, who wore a wide-brimmed hat, and was
weather-tanned, as if by much exposure.
"Eh?" exclaimed the college lad. "Who are you?"
"One who has a good reason to dislike that fly chap, Mr. Frank
Merriwell," was his answer.
Flemming was suspicious.
"Why should you hate Merriwell?" he asked.
"Because he kicked me," was the fierce reply.
"He kicked you? Then you are the man he fired out of the boathouse? I
heard about that little affair."
"I am the man."
"You should have known better than to try to bribe Merriwell to throw
any sort of game or race to Harvard. That chap is so honest that he has
wings sprouting under his clothes. He said you pushed a thousand dollars
at him?"
"I did--I put it into his hand."
"And he flung it into your face?"
"Yes, curse him! Then he threw me out of the window!"
"Well, you do seem to have a reason for disliking him. What would you do
to him if you got a good chance?"
"Ask me what I wouldn't do! All I want is the chance!"
"Can you keep your mouth closed?"
"You bet your dust! I never peach!"
"Then you may be just the kind of a man I am looking for. I want
somebody with nerve. The trouble with the fellows in college who hate
Merriwell is that they do not dare butt up against him. They are afraid
of him."
"Well, I'm not afraid of any man living, let alone a mere boy. He's
nothing but a tenderfoot! Waugh!"
"Hear them shouting over him!" muttered Thornton. "See! They have lifted
him on their shoulders! One would think he alone won the race to-day!"
Then Frank was heard to make the brief speech which elicited such hearty
applause.
"It is sickening!" growled Flemming, pale with jealous rage.
"It is," nodded the stranger. "It makes me want to give him back the
kick he gave me!"
"If you stick to me, I promise you that you shall have a good
opportunity," said Flemming.
"You may bet your rocks that I'll tie to you, pard," assured the
unknown. "I'll help you to get square, and you can help me. Frank
Merriwell will have to keep his eyes open if he dodges us both."