KIDNAPED.
"We'll down Harvard in everything at the tournament," was the angry
resolve of the disappointed Yale crowd, who returned to New Haven to
find no band and no great gathering of cheering students awaiting them
at the station.
Among them all, not excepting Hugh Heffiner himself, no one felt worse
about the defeat than did Frank Merriwell. In his heart, he blamed
himself for not going to the manager of the Yale team and offering his
services in case of emergency. He knew it was possible he might not have
been able to save the game, but still the possibility that he might have
done so bore heavily upon him.
But Frank did not dream that his enemies would make capital out of the
fact that he had not taken any part in the game. He did not know they
were saying he had kept among the spectators where he could not be found
when things seemed to turn against Yale.
"Merriwell didn't dare pitch any part of that game," they were saying.
"He was afraid, and he knew it would dim his glory if Harvard won. He
has his record, and you won't see him pitching out any games in order to
pull Yale out of a hole."
But Yates had ruined his chance of running in the mile race at the
tournament by getting full on the train. Directly after the next meeting
of the committee of arrangements, Frank was notified that he had been
chosen to represent Yale.
Each night Frank took a run out into the country. He was determined to
put himself in the very best condition possible.
This practice of Merriwell's was generally known, and he was watched
with interest by friends and foes.
The time for the tournament drew near. Arrangements for all the contests
had been completed. The end of the spring terms had come. Commencement
was over, and another class had been showered with sheepskins.
In all the doings of this busy time of the college year Merriwell took
little part, as he was putting himself in shape to do his best at the
tournament, and the time he had to spare from "grinding" was given to
hard physical work.
Then he went down to a summer cottage on the sound. The cottage was
located near Southport, and there he continued his training, taking long
runs into the country.
The day before the great tournament came at last. That afternoon Frank
took his last run in training. He waited till near evening, and then
jogged gently out along the country road.
It was dusk when he turned back toward the cottage where he knew Bruce
Browning, Rattleton and Diamond were loafing on the veranda and awaiting
his reappearance.
As he was passing through a small patch of woods, a cord that was strung
across the road, about six inches from the ground, tripped him, and he
fell heavily.
Frank was stunned by the shock. Before he could recover, dark forms
rushed out and flung themselves upon him.
Frank realized that he had been attacked, and he tried to make a fight
of it, but the shock of the fall had taken away his strength, and then
he found there were three against him.
"Work lively!" growled a hoarse voice. "He's worse than a tiger in a
scrap!"
His hands were twisted about behind his back and held there, while a
cord was bound about them. In a remarkably brief space of time he was
rendered helpless.
Then Frank's feet were bound, and he was forced to submit to the tying
of a blindfold over his eyes. Before this was accomplished, however, he
saw the three men through the gloom, and discovered that all wore masks
to hide their faces.
When Frank was blindfolded, the man who had given all the commands, and
who seemed to be the leader, said:
"Bring out the team."
Frank's ears told him that one of the men went away, and soon, by the
sound, the boy decided that a team was being brought from some place in
the woods, where it had been concealed.
"What sort of a job is this?" thought the captive lad. "It seems to be a
case of real highwaymen right here in Connecticut. And still they do
not seem like highwaymen, for then they would have robbed me and let me
go. They are up to something else."
He soon found that his captors meant to remove him from the spot, for he
was lifted from the ground and tossed into the bottom of the wagon, like
a sack of grain. Then the men climbed in, the horses were whipped up,
and away they all went.
After a drive of at least two hours, during which Frank had several
times asked where they were taking him, and had been repeatedly
cautioned to "shut up," the team came to a halt.
Frank was glad of it, for much of the distance had been made over rough
roads, and he had been several times menaced in order to keep him quiet,
and once choked into silence by two of the men, who sat upon him while
they passed another team.
Frank was taken from the wagon, his feet were set at liberty, and he was
marched into some sort of a building.
"There," said the hoarse voice of the leader. "He's safe and solid
here."
Through the blindfold there was a glow of light, and then the cloth was
removed from his eyes.
Frank found himself in a rough room, to which there seemed to be no
windows and but one door. In the room there was a table, a broken chair,
and a rude sort of bed.
One of the two men who had brought him into the room coolly sat down
astride the chair, and stared at Frank, his eyes gleaming by the flaring
light of the tallow-dip that burned on the table.
"Set down," invited the man, making a motion toward the bed. "We offer
our visitors the upholstered furniture out of courtesy. Make yourself at
home."
"Don't care if I do," returned the boy, with equal coolness, "but in
order for me to be thoroughly comfortable, it will be necessary for me
to have my hands free."
"Sorry I can't accommodate ye just now, but I want to have a talk with
yer first. Set down."
Frank obeyed.
"Well," he observed, "I suppose I might as well, as long as I do not
seem to have much to say about it; but I'd like to know what this little
game is."
"Thought you'd be kinder curious," said the man, with a hoarse laugh.
"Well, ye see, it's this way. We've heard so much about you that we
thought we'd kinder like the pleasure of your company for a day or two,
and so we brought you over here."
A day or two! Frank gasped for breath, as a sudden light dawned upon
him.
If he were held there for a single day he would not appear at Madison
Square Garden to take part in the tournament!
"This is the work of my enemies!" he mentally cried. "They have hired
these ruffians to kidnap and hold me till the tournament is over!
Cæsar's ghost! I never dreamed such a thing could be done in this quiet
part of the New England States!"