AT THE UNIVERSITY CLUB.
There was an unusual gathering of young college men at the University
Club that evening. Word had been passed round that Merriwell would be
there. He appeared shortly before nine o’clock, accompanied by Hodge.
Maurice Spaulding, a Yale man, hastened to greet him.
Frank and Bart surrendered their hats to the darky checker and followed
Spaulding into the reading room. Immediately several Yale grads
hastened to greet them. After this, they were introduced to other club
members and visitors.
The Yale men gathered in a group, with Merry and Bart in their midst,
and chatted of such things as interested them all. They were very proud
of Merriwell and the athletic record he had made.
“It will be a long day before Yale sees another leader like him!” cried
Spaulding enthusiastically. “You made plenty of enemies in your day,
Merriwell, old man. I believe my cousin Wallace was one of them.”
“Wallace Spaulding—is he your cousin?” asked Frank, in some surprise.
“I regretfully confess that he is,” grinned Maurice. “Wallace regarded
himself as the real thing in his college days, and, as far as things
go, he was.”
“I don’t see how you’ve kept up in athletics as you have since leaving
college, Merriwell,” observed Henry Harriman. “Most chaps take a slump
unless they go into professionalism. Of course there are exceptions.”
“And Merriwell is a shining star among the exceptions,” nodded Cutler
Priest.
“Hail to the all-round amateur champion of the United States!” cried
Vincent Carroll. “What’s the secret, Merriwell, old chap?”
“Never let up,” answered Frank quickly. “That’s the secret of success
in most things.”
“Is that your motto?” questioned Harriman.
“One of them,” answered Merry.
“But you’ve had some things besides athletics to occupy your time and
attention since toddling out into the world,” observed Raymond Harrow.
“I understand you’re in the mining game.”
“Somewhat,” admitted Frank. “Still I find a chance now and then to drop
everything and go in for baseball and kindred sports.”
“Well, let’s all go take something,” suggested Carroll. “Merriwell used
to be a cold-water crank, I understand; but, of course, he’s broken the
pledge since he began to ramble from Old Eli’s fireside.”
“On the contrary,” said Frank, “I’ve kept it the same as ever. That’s
one secret of my success, only there is no secret about it. Be
temperate, fellows—be temperate.”
“Oh, I am!” protested Carroll; “I’m temperate, but I’m no total
abstainer. A total abstainer is not a temperance man. Temperance means
moderation, and unless you use a thing with moderation you have no
claim to temperance. Got you there!”
“Your argument cannot be overthrown,” admitted Frank. “Therefore I’m
willing to be classed among the cranks.”
“Oh, but come have something with us!” they urged.
“I’ll do that,” he laughed; “but it will be something nonintoxicating.”
Hodge was treated with the same cordiality, and the entire party
crowded in before the little bar.
Frank and Bart both drank ginger ale.
“Here’s to Merriwell, the pride of Yale in the old days and the pride
of Yale to-day!” cried Carroll, holding a glass of beer aloft. “May his
star never grow dim!”
“That’s the talk!” they cried. “Drink—drink it down!”
Some one ordered another round.
“Here’s to Hodge!” cried Spaulding. “Merriwell’s right-hand man at Yale
and his loyal backer ever since. If there’s any baseball on the Golden
Shore, I’ll expect to see Bart Hodge doing the backstopping when Frank
Merriwell fans the batter with the double-shoot.”
“You expect to see it!” laughed Harrow loudly. “You’ll be fanning
yourself in another country.”
“Blasphemer!” exclaimed Spaulding. “Go to! You seem to think every one
is traveling the same road you’ve taken.”
They left the bar and entered the billiard and pool room, where some of
the club members were amusing themselves.
Two young chaps had lately entered the billiard room. They were Bob
Ridgely and Martin Manners, known to some of those in Frank’s party.
Manners brought Ridgely up.
“How are you, Harrow,” he said familiarly. “Looking for a victim? I
understand you’re a shark at billiards.”
“Not looking for a game to-night,” answered Harrow.
“Perhaps some of your friends are?” said Manners, in the way of one
inclined to “butt in.” “I’ve been told Frank Merriwell would be here
to-night. They say he’s a shark at everything, even billiards. I’d like
to try him a go.”
He looked straight at Frank as he made this challenging remark.
“Mr. Merriwell—Mr. Manners,” said Harrow.
“Er—I beg your pardon, what name?” said Merry.
“Manners is his name.”
“Quite remarkable,” said Merry quietly. “Haven’t heard that name in
some time. How do you do, Mr. Manners.”
“What do you say, are you good for a hundred points?” asked Manners.
“I’d enjoy beating the great champion at something.”
“I beg to be excused this evening,” said Frank. “I didn’t come here for
billiards or anything of that sort, but to meet these friends of mine.”
Ridgely laughed and pulled at Manners’ arm.
“No go, Mart,” he said. “Better look for some one fast enough to make
it interesting.”
Hodge was angered at this insolence and felt like expressing himself,
but Maurice Spaulding picked it up.
“This club is supposed to be for gentlemen!” he exclaimed.
“It’s supposed to be,” drawled Ridgely; “but I see the rules are not
enforced.”
“Cad!” growled Carroll.
“Oh, take a little joshing!” cried Manners. “The great Merriwell, who
is champion at everything, ought to stand a little fun. What’s the
matter?”
“I hear he’s a gone-by,” grinned Ridgely. “He’s been playing baseball
with schoolboys of late and trying to keep up his reputation that way.”
It seemed that Spaulding would strike the insolent fellow, but Frank
caught Maurice’s arm.
“Never mind him,” he said. “I’m always stirring up soreheads. I don’t
know what he has against me, and I care less.”
The entire party seemed highly incensed by the words and behavior of
Manners and Ridgely, but the latter continued to insist that it was
nothing but a joke.
“I’d back Merriwell myself,” he averred. “That is, I’d back him in his
own field. I wouldn’t put him up against professionals. It would be
folly to back him against Jeffries in the ring.”
“Don’t mind him,” said Harriman. “Some one will settle him for
insulting guests of the club.”
“But I haven’t insulted any one,” persisted Ridgely. “Some silly
persons might put an amateur against a professional. What would
Merriwell or any other amateur do against a professional wrestler like
Americus?”
“They say Americus is going to show up Hashi, the jujutsu chap,
to-morrow night,” said Manners.
“What’s that?” exclaimed the voice of a newcomer. “Well, I’ll bet five
hundred dollars that Americus or any other man in Baltimore can’t get
the best of my friend Hashi. If there is any one here who thinks he can
handle Hashi—well, here’s Hashi to give him the chance.”
The speaker was Fred Fillmore, and he was accompanied by the Japanese
master of jujutsu.
“’Ware, Merry!” hissed Hodge, quick as a flash.
Instinctively he knew there was something in the air. He felt it like
an electric shock. Frank did not need the warning. He, too, felt a
sudden tightening of his nerves.
Fillmore swaggered into the room. His face was flushed and his manner
seemed to indicate that he had been drinking heavily.
The Jap who followed him was smiling serenely.
A number of those present had seen Hashi’s performance at the theatre,
and they recognized him instantly.
The billiard players paused and regarded him with interest. The others
were no less interested.
“Who says Americus can handle Hashi?” demanded Fillmore. “Americus
is all right in his class, but he’ll overstep himself if he accepts
Hashi’s challenge and goes after the hundred dollars offered to the
wrestler of less than two hundred pounds who can handle this little
master of jujutsu. Why, Hashi can break Americus in two, if he wishes;
but he’s a harmless little chap, and it’s likely he’ll be content with
flinging Americus over his head and across the stage.”
As he said this Fillmore placed a hand on the shoulder of the Jap, who
continued to smile and look innocent.
“Gentlemen,” said the Hopkins man, “it gives me great satisfaction to
introduce my friend Hashi.”
The jujutsu master bowed in his politest manner, murmuring:
“It inexpressible pleasure gives me the honorable gentlemen to humbly
greet.”
“You see Hashi is very modest,” laughed Fillmore.
“Keep your eyes open for tricks, Merry,” whispered Bart. “There is
something behind this, sure as fate.”
Frank nodded the least bit.
“Hashi has taken to the warpath,” explained Fillmore. “He has heard
a great deal of talk about jujutsu being a fake. The _Sun_ to-day
contained a letter from some duffer who claimed that there was nothing
to the Japanese art of self-defense and that any ordinary American
athlete could defeat a Japanese expert. It has angered him somewhat.”
“Indeed meek confession I must speak that it has incensed me to the
great extremeness,” put in Hashi.
“No one would ever dream it from his everlasting smile and his soft
speech,” muttered Raymond Harrow.
“The critic of the _Sun_ didn’t have the nerve to sign his full name,”
said Fillmore; “but I have a fancy that I know who the man is.”
“We are honored to meet Professor Hashi,” said Maurice Spaulding.
The Jap bowed very low, after his manner.
“The honorableness is fully upon me,” he asserted. “I am quite overcome
in your august presence.”
Vincent Carroll laughed softly.
“He has a fluent way of expressing himself,” he observed in an aside to
Cutler Priest. “Seems to take great satisfaction in articulating big
words.”
“It is the way of his countrymen,” nodded Priest. “In Japan they have
no personal pronouns, but apparently Hashi has picked them up in this
country, for he uses them.”
“The professor is a particular friend of mine,” Fillmore went on, “and
I am interested in seeing him maintain his reputation. He is looking
for some of these great American athletes who think they can defeat
him.”
“It’s coming, Merry!” muttered Bart softly.
Frank was calm and unconcerned. Apparently Fillmore had not observed
him since entering the club; but Frank knew the fellow had a keen
pair of eyes. This seeming oversight on Fillmore’s part was enough to
convince Merry beyond doubt that the visit was premeditated in full
expectation of encountering him there.
He knew Fillmore had listened behind the portières at John Loder’s and
heard of the engagement to meet certain Yale grads at the club.
“Did you read in the papers about the American wrestler who repeatedly
defeated a Japanese jujutsu expert in Omaha and other Western cities?”
inquired Henry Harriman.
Fillmore laughed.
“Of course we read it, all of us,” he answered. “I showed the reports
to Professor Hashi. He says the Jap was no expert.”
“Honorable attention give,” murmured Hashi, “and I will complete
explanation make. No one ever a full master of the art can become who
does not unto it give the long and faithful attention. Acquirement of
it may not be obtained with the exceeding great rapidity. Since in your
distinguished country the art has appeared, many there must be who it
seek to teach that have not ever at all learned it in its uttermost
completion. Therefore thus discredit upon it is contumely heaped, which
should not ever be the proper condition. The pretending one in the West
who has been much defeated by the honorable skillful American athlete
was not of the art completely the full master.”
“That’s about the size of it,” nodded Fillmore. “The Jap who was put to
the bad in Omaha was a faker. Hashi is ready and eager to demonstrate
that no American wrestler can defeat him, and no ordinary athlete has a
ghost of a show with him. He is most disgusted with the Americans who
learn a little jujutsu and think they know it all.”
“It is even thus true, augustly honorable sirs,” bowed the Jap.
“I presume,” said Spaulding, “that jujutsu is regarded in Japan as the
proper mode of self-development?”
“Leniently pardon my humble correction, beneficent sir,” said Hashi.
“Jujutsu is not what in your bounteous country you know as the
excellent art of self-development. That is where the unfortunately
grave error makes presentation. Jujutsu is not the physical culture;
it is the exceedingly efficient manner of self-defense. Boxing done in
your expansive country is for the self-defense much extremely more
than for the physical culture. In Japan jujutsu is of the same nature.
Continuation of practice may much increase the participator in physical
development; but it is not that end solely that it is in use brought.”
“This gives me a new idea of jujutsu,” confessed Spaulding. “Why,
most of the teachers of it in this country speak of it as a system of
physical culture.”
“That’s just where the mistake comes,” said Fillmore. “As Hashi says,
practice of it cannot help improving the one who practices; but it
is not regarded in Japan in the light of an exercise for physical
development solely. It is chiefly taught that the one who acquires it
may be able to defend himself against a less skillful, even though a
stronger, opponent.”
“We’re finding out all about jujutsu, Merry,” said Hodge softly.
“But not learning anything new,” said Frank.
Suddenly Fillmore seemed to discover Merriwell.
“Hello!” he muttered.
Frank regarded the fellow calmly.
“Here, Hashi,” said Fillmore, “you have the fortune of beholding one
who regards himself as the champion athlete of this country and has
somehow won considerable recognition of his claim.”
The Jap bowed very low.
“Augustly deign to let my bewildered eyes find resting upon the famous
one,” he urged.
Fred jerked his thumb toward Merry. It was a gesture calculated to
irritate Frank.
“Behold him, professor.”
Hashi smiled, but there was the least touch of incredulity and contempt
in that smile.
“I am greatly overcome in his honorable presence,” he murmured.
“Here’s a chance for you to prove your claim that you are more than
a master for any athlete or wrestler that weighs not more than two
hundred pounds.”
“How would you generously suggest that such may come about?”
“Challenge him! His name is Merriwell. Challenge him!”
Fillmore laughed, as if considering it a great joke.
The face of Bart Hodge was dark and frowning.
“Here it comes!” he muttered again.
Hashi advanced a little and surveyed Frank more fully.
“I humbly confess my exceeding admiration at beholding one so grandly
famous,” he purred. “Believe me greatly overcome in your august
presence.”
“What claptrap!” said Hodge. “Out with it and show your hand! Nobody is
fooled by this slick game.”
Hashi looked surprised, but said:
“Wonderful much pleasure it would give if the excellent honorable
American athlete would condescend to meet me in the contest of skill.”
“All right,” said Frank promptly. “Where shall it be?”
Fred Fillmore was somewhat surprised by Merry’s prompt acceptance of
the smoothly delivered challenge. He had fancied it would be necessary
to drive Frank into it through ridicule.
Frank was not pleased. He was dressed in evening clothes, and he had no
desire to meet Hashi; but he had understood from the first that it was
a scheme to force him into the meeting in some manner, and therefore he
decided to meet the schemers halfway.
“The sooner it is over the better,” he thought.
Martin Manners and Bob Ridgely were somewhat disappointed. They were
friends of Fillmore, and it had been arranged that they were to join in
the ridicule of Merry in case he declined or seemed reluctant to meet
the Jap.
Hashi had been told by Fillmore that it might be no easy matter to draw
Frank into the snare, and he, also, was somewhat surprised.
“It is the exceeding great honor you are beneficently willing to bestow
upon me?” he questioned.
“If that’s the way you look at it,” nodded Frank.
“You’ll get all that’s coming,” muttered Hodge.
“I know where we can pull it off,” laughed Fillmore quickly. “There’s
a private gymnasium near the Diamond on Howard Street. That will be a
fine chance.”
“Well, well!” cried Spaulding; “it seems that we’re going to have an
entertainment not down on the bills.”
“’Rah, ’rah!” cheered Harrow. “This is the kind of stuff to suit me!”
The Yale men were enthusiastic, and to a man they expressed their
confidence in Merry.
“Do your best with him, old man,” urged Spaulding.
“Without doubt I’ll have to,” nodded Frank.
Merry knew he was going against “the real thing.” He was not one of the
scoffers at jujutsu, although he held that the Japanese art alone was
not enough to make a man complete master of other men.
Now it happened that for many months Merry had been perfecting his
knowledge of jujutsu, which he had first picked up during his trip
round the world. In Japan he had learned much of the art, the secrets
of which were well guarded at that time. It was this knowledge that had
enabled him on many occasions to overcome assailants far heavier and
stronger than himself, greatly to their dismay and chagrin. At Yale he
had practiced it, although he had not called it jujutsu at that time.
Frank was not conceited enough to fancy himself the equal of Hashi in
the knowledge of all the Japanese methods; but there was another thing
that promised to make Merry the equal of the Jap. Frank was a wonderful
wrestler, and a scientific boxer. He had even learned the French method
of boxing with his feet. Every muscle in his body was splendidly
developed, but his mental development quite equaled his physical.
Therefore he would not be confined in his encounter with Hashi to one
style or system of offense and defense. He hoped to baffle the Jap by
his knowledge of the Japanese acquirements, and to this he added the
hope of defeating him by accomplishments of a sort in which Hashi was
not proficient.
In his heart Fred Fillmore was exulting.
“Worked him easy!” he mentally cried. “Hashi will do the job! He’ll
swear it was an accident. Instead of making preparations for your
wedding to-morrow, Mr. Merriwell, you’ll be resting in Johns Hopkins
Hospital with a broken leg.”
“How do we reach this gymnasium?” asked one of the party. “I presume
we’re all invited to witness this set-to.”
“Hashi wants you to come along,” nodded Fillmore.
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re all invited,” said Merry.
“Call carriages!” cried Spaulding. “Leave it to me, gentlemen. Let me
see, how many want to go?”
He quickly found out the number and hastened to order carriages for
them.
A short time later people on the street were surprised to see many
carriages collect before the University Club. Those who watched
observed a number of chatting, laughing, well-dressed young men leave
the club and enter the carriages, which rumbled softly away over the
asphalt.
“Something doing somewhere,” commented one of the watchers.
Frank, Bart, Spaulding, and Harrow were in one of the carriages.
“This is a queer affair,” commented Spaulding. “I don’t know what to
think about it.”
“I do,” declared Hodge.
“Eh? You do?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think?”
“It’s some sort of a put-up job.”
“You mean——”
“Fillmore and the Jap came to the club for the purpose of bringing this
affair about. Fillmore and Merry had a little trouble some time ago.
You know Fillmore struck Frank over the head in the lacrosse game at
Oriole Park.”
“That’s a fact!” exclaimed Harrow. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“They had a little trouble shortly after we arrived in the city this
afternoon. Mark what I say, that fellow has engaged Hashi to make a
holy show of Merry. He thinks it will be an easy thing to do.”
“Well, I didn’t see through the thing!” confessed Spaulding. “I thought
it was purely accidental. If I’d thought it was a put-up job I’d surely
had something to say to Mr. Fillmore. How did you happen to agree to it
under such circumstances, Merriwell?”
“What was the difference?” said Frank. “If I’d spoken up and declared
it a scheme more than one present would have fancied me a squealer.”
“I suppose that is so.”
“Besides, I must confess that I was not a little annoyed, and I felt
a desire to teach that Jap a lesson. I hope I may be able to succeed.
I’ll wager that Fillmore has promised him money if he makes an
exhibition of me.”
“Frank,” said Bart, “behind this there is something more than the mere
desire to show you up.”
“What do you mean?”
“Take my advice and be on your guard every moment. You know what things
may be done with these bone-breaking Japanese tricks.”
“I know very well.”
“If that Jap wished and he could catch you just right, he might injure
you for life.”
“Would he venture to do that?” cried Harrow.
“Fred Fillmore would be delighted to have him do it.”
“This affair seems more serious than I suspected,” said Spaulding. “Are
you certain you can handle him, Merriwell?”
“No man can be certain of his ability to handle another who is a
stranger to him,” confessed Frank.
“But you had no hesitation about agreeing to meet him. I fancied you
felt fully confident.”
“I give you the assurance that I shall handle him if it is in my power.”
“Don’t worry; he’ll do the trick,” asserted Hodge, whose confidence in
Frank was solid as the everlasting hills.
It was not a long drive from the club to the gymnasium on Howard
Street. They left the carriage and ascended a flight of stairs.
In a dark corner on the stairs stood a fellow who seemed waiting for
something. As Frank passed, this person seized his arm.
“One moment, Merriwell!” he whispered.
It was Cutler Priest.
“All right, Hodge,” said Frank, for Bart, not recognizing Priest, had
turned quickly.
“Merriwell, you’re in danger!” whispered Priest. “I came over from the
club in the carriage with Manners and Ridgely. Both had been drinking.
They were shooting off their chin. Fillmore planned this whole affair.”
“As I thought,” said Merry.
“He’s paid the Jap to do you up.”
“This simply makes my suspicion an assurance.”
“But, from some things Manners let drop, I feel sure that it is not the
intention to simply defeat you. The Jap is going to break your bones.”
“Do you know this?” asked Frank, his heart burning with indignation.
“I’m dead sure of it. You are going to be maimed. Better not go into
it. Keep out of the dirty trap!”
“Keep out?” laughed Frank, and there was something terrible in the
sound of that laugh.
“Yes.”
“On the contrary, I’ll go into it, and Fillmore’s paid tool had better
look out for himself. He may get a portion of his own medicine!”