CAUGHT IN THEIR OWN TRAP.
Although Fred Fillmore was among the first to congratulate Merriwell,
he found an opportunity to slip out of the shed while efforts were
being made to restore Husker Galway.
Hackett followed him.
“I’ve got to have a drink!” exclaimed the latter. “I want something to
brace me up after that.”
“Just what I’m after,” said Fillmore. “That was enough to drive any one
to drink.”
They found their way to the bar and both ordered whisky, regardless of
the fact that they had been drinking beer and an abundance of that.
“What do you think of it, Fred?” asked Hackett, his hand unsteady as he
poured his drink.
“I can’t think!” confessed the captain of the lacrosse team. “Husker
Galway knocked out—by him!”
“And he was jagged when the scrap began.”
“Was he?”
“Wasn’t he?”
“I don’t believe it.”
“But—but he appeared to be.”
“I know he did.”
“Then you think——”
“He fooled us.”
They looked at each other. After a moment or two, Hackett nodded slowly.
“I reckon that’s right,” he said. “He fooled us. But he must be a
tank, for he drank as many as seven big slugs of Old Tom gin.”
“So did Hodge.”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“Well, Merriwell may have braced up after getting into the scrap.
Perhaps that was what sobered him.”
“What sobered Hodge?”
Again they looked at each other blankly.
“It’s too much for me,” admitted Hackett. “I give it up. But I never
dreamed Merriwell could fight like that, even if he didn’t take a
drink. Why, why, Fred, he knocked out the champion of the Pimlico Road
and a man who might easily be the champion of Baltimore!”
“Don’t I know it? You don’t have to tell me! I’d bet my life Husker
could hammer the head off him—before I saw this. I can’t believe
Merriwell did it!”
“Well, let’s drink up. Here’s to drown our disappointment.”
They tossed off the drinks.
“I haven’t taken a drink before this term,” said Fillmore dolefully,
“and I did so to-day to pull those dubs into the trap. If any one
peaches on me, I’ll get a raking over.”
“You can’t get much of a raking, for wasn’t Branch in the bunch? He’s
the one who will get the raking. He’ll lose his job.”
“He doesn’t care, for the season is pretty nearly over, and he
graduates, so he doesn’t want the position again. That’s how I
induced him to get onto the band wagon to-day. We’re not going to take
Merriwell and Hodge back to their ladies in the shape we expected.”
“Unless we get them into a mess with the whole bunch and all jump on
them.”
“Can’t do that. The boys won’t stand for it. Some of them are gone on
Merriwell now. They thought it would be a joke to get the great athlete
out here and put him up against Galway; but they’ll see no joke in
mobbing him. It won’t work. We’re baffled to-day, old man, and we may
as well throw up the sponge.”
“But there’s another time coming,” muttered Hackett.
“We’ll have to give Merriwell that game. I hate him! I thought I hated
Herb Onslaw, but I hate Merriwell worse. I’d like to get a rap at him.”
“You might be able to in the game.”
“That’s right,” nodded Fillmore. “More than one fellow has been knocked
out with a lacrosse stick while playing. No one could prove I did it
intentionally. It would give me lots of satisfaction. It’s the very
chance I’ve been praying for with Onslaw.”
“Onslaw will be in the game, too.”
“So Merriwell says, but we’re not sure of it. I hope he is! It would
delight me to get even with both chaps in one day. Yes, we’ll have to
give Merriwell the game.”
“Let’s drink another and get back before we’re missed.”
Their faces were flushed and their tongues thick. Already they had
taken as much as they could stand, but the time had passed when they
could gauge their capacity. Once more they drank whisky, and both
staggered a little as they left the bar.
They met the students, accompanied by Merriwell, Hodge, and Galway,
coming from the shed. To their surprise, Galway showed no resentment
toward his conqueror.
But he gave Fillmore a vicious look, although he said nothing.
The slugger was determined to “blow” the crowd. He insisted that it was
on him.
Frank and Bart could not refuse without appearing caddish, so they
accepted the man’s invitation, although they now ordered ginger ale.
“What?” cried several of the students, in astonishment.
“Ginger w’ot?” gasped Galway. “Oh, say! dat’s a joke. Ye’re foolin’!”
“No,” said Merry. “We have had quite enough to drink. I make a
practice of stopping when I have enough. I always order ginger ale or
sarsaparilla at that stage.”
“I would meself,” grinned Galway, looking very hideous with his bruised
face and split lip; “but w’en I have enough I can’t say sarsaparilla.”
In vain Frank and Bart were urged to drink something stronger; they
persisted in their determination to take nothing but ginger ale, and
ginger ale they drank.
On the other hand, although they already had too much, Fillmore and
Hackett again drank whisky.
A short time after that both these fellows were in a wretched
condition. They insisted on returning home, and Merry, thinking the
open air would do them good, besides wishing to get them away from the
road house, ordered the team hitched up.
It was necessary to lift Fillmore and Hackett into the carriage. Hodge
looked after one, while Frank took care of the other.
It happened that neither chap betrayed himself directly, although both
mumbled things which were suggestive of their feelings over the outcome
of the encounter.
“Shay!” Fillmore finally exclaimed, seizing Frank’s arm and looking
into his face wonderingly; “shay, Merriwell, how’d ju do it?”
“Do what—defeat Galway?”
“No; how’d ju drink all that gin an’ keep shober? Tha’s what puzzlesh
me. Musht be reg’ler tank, Mer’well.”
“I didn’t drink any gin,” laughed Frank. “That’s the secret of it, my
boy. I never drink intoxicants.”
“Oh, shay, come off! I shaw you take five, shix, sheven drinks—more’n
that.”
“Sho did I,” put in Hackett, bracing up. “You’re ri’, Fred, ol’ man—I
shaw him do it. Reg’lar tank, tha’sh ri.”
“You did not see me take a single drink of gin,” declared Merry. “When
you insisted that we should drink something, gin was brought for us,
with water on the side. We drank the water and left the gin. Black Tom
drank the gin, and I hope it does not cost him his position.”
“Wha’—wha’—wha’——” gurgled Fillmore, in a dazed way. “I don’t think I
jusht undershtand ju. How wash that?”
“We drank the water, which looked the same as gin, and left the gin,
which was brought with it.”
Hackett was sitting on the back seat with Hodge. He reached forward and
jabbed Fillmore in the back.
“Ol’ man,” he mumbled, “we’re a pair of eashy marks, that’sh what we
are! We’ve been fooled. We started to get thesh fellersh full an’ have
fun wish them, an’ they played it on ush. I want to go die shomewhere!”
Fillmore was even more disgusted than Hackett.
“Next time you pick out two chaps as easy be sure you do not make a
mistake,” advised Hodge.
Frank laughed over it.
“I fancied you were planning something for us,” said Merry, “and so we
turned it on you. It’s all right, fellows. No hard feelings. We’re able
to stand the joke.”
“Joke’s on ush,” said Hackett.
For some time Fillmore rode in silence. They had reached Druid Hill
Park.
Suddenly the captain of the lacrosse team flew into a drunken rage.
“Anybody can keep shober ’f he drinksh water!” he snarled. “That
washn’t smart! I ’fuse to ride with a man who drinksh water! It’sh
dishgrace! Lemme out! I’ll take car home! Lemme out!”
“Don’t be silly,” said Frank. “You’re not going home now, either
of you. You’re not in condition to go home. We’ll take you to the
Belvidere with us and get you straightened out. You don’t want to show
yourselves in this condition. What will your sister think, Fillmore?
What’ll she say? Keep still!”
“I’m all ri’! Guess I know when I’m all ri’! Needn’t think you’re only
shober person on earth! I’m shober—perfec’ly shober. But I’ve been
inshulted! I’ve been basely desheived! I won’t ride ’nozer inch wish
you! Lemme out!”
“That’s ri’, Freddie, ol’ man!” joined in Hackett. “I’m wish you! Le’sh
git out an’ walk.”
“Shtop thosh horsesh!” commanded Fillmore, starting to rise.
Frank pulled him back on the seat.
“I tell you to keep still!”
“I tell you go to thunder!” snarled Fred, as he tore from Merry and
flung himself from the carriage.
He fell sprawlingly, but gathered himself up directly and was on his
feet when Merry stopped the horses.
“G’wan!” cried the unreasonable chap. “Want noshing to do wish you!”
Hackett tumbled out.
“G’wan!” he echoed. “Noshing to do wish you at all!”
He joined Fillmore and feebly tried to brush the dust from his friend’s
clothing.
“What are we going to do about it, Hodge?” asked Frank.
“Let the blamed fools go,” answered Bart, at once. “Why should we
bother with them? They’ve fixed themselves the way they planned to fix
us.”
“I suppose that is true, but they’re intoxicated, and I can’t leave
them this way.”
In vain he tried to reason with Fillmore and Hackett. They took to the
nearest walk, arm in arm, and reeled away. Merry drove along as near
them as possible, hoping they would change their minds and decide to
get back into the carriage.
“Show that you can take a joke as well as anybody, fellows,” he urged.
“Come, get in here again.”
He was invited to go to a most disagreeable place, and the Hopkins men
kept on until they came out of the park and boarded a street car.
Then, of course, Merry had to give up.
Befogged by drink, Fillmore went straight to his sister’s home, taking
Hackett with him. On entering they encountered Inza and Elsie, and
thus, through their own folly, exposed themselves to the girls in much
the same condition in which they had intended to expose Frank and Bart.