FOR THE UNDER DOG.
In an instant every lad save Davis was on his feet, for all knew what
naturally followed an act of this sort.
But the natural order of events did not take place. Davis slowly and
carefully wiped the water from his face with the napkin. His hand
trembled a little, and his cheeks were pale, the color having fled from
them in a moment.
Frank had taken a quick step forward, ready to see fair play.
Although it was generally known that Davis was a peaceful sort of a
fellow, who would not get into trouble if he could avoid it, still all
expected he would show resentment at this open insult.
Bascomb stood with an insolent sneer on his face, waiting. As Davis
made no move, he broke into a short laugh.
"There's courage for you, gentlemen!" he said, scornfully. "Why, the
fellow hasn't as much spirit as a dead mouse!"
Frank was about to speak, when Davis slowly rose to his feet.
"I suppose I am expected to fight in a case like this," he said, his
voice shaking.
Some of the cadets who were always eager to see a fight of any sort, no
matter how unevenly the antagonists might be matched, quickly said:
"That's right. You must fight."
"I have never done such a thing in my life," declared Davis; "but I do
feel like it now. You have laughed at me because I promised my mother
that I would not lie, and I will give you a chance to laugh again. I
promised her I would not fight, and I shall keep my word."
"Baby boy!"
"Mamma's petsie!"
"Softie!"
These terms of derision came from several sources, and Frank was swift
to note every one.
Bascomb laughed again.
"You are altogether too good to live, Baby!" he said. "You make me
sick!"
Frank had kept quiet as long as was possible. He saw that Davis did
not mean to fight, and he made a resolve to save the plebe if possible
by taking up his quarrel.
With two swift steps Merriwell confronted Bascomb.
"Sir," he said, speaking rapidly, and in a low tone, "I have been a
witness to this entire affair."
"Well?" sneered the big yearling.
"I want to say that I think Davis perfectly right in refusing to fight
you. You are larger and older than he is, you have nearly, if not
quite, twice as much strength as he has, and your reputation is that of
a slugger. He would not stand a show with you, and you know it, for
which reason you have seemed to select him as an object of your
bullying attentions."
Frank looked Bascomb straight in the eye, and the big fellow's face
grew black with anger.
"What do you want?" he muttered.
"I want to tell you what I think of you, and I am going to do so.
Davis has been reared like a gentleman, and it is but natural that he
should recoil from contact with such as you."
"Do you mean to say I am no gentleman?"
"That is exactly what I mean to say, sir. No gentleman ever plays the
bully, as you have done."
Bascomb made a move, as if he would do something desperate, and, on the
instant, two of his particular friends caught hold of him, saying
hastily:
"Not now, old man--not here! It would spoil everything."
Now Bascomb was not longing for a fight with Merriwell, and he would
gladly have done something to cause the officers to interfere; but, to
his regret, he saw that he had been too slow about it. So he sullenly
muttered:
"All right, fellows; I won't smash him here."
"But you'll meet him later--you'll have to," eagerly said Rupert
Reynolds, a fellow who made a pretension of being "sporty," and who was
a great admirer of gamecocks and prize-fighters, for which reason he
had grown very friendly with the slugger of the academy. "This affair
must be settled in the regular manner."
"I didn't suppose I'd have to fight the whole academy," came sulkily
from the bully. "If every sneak in school had somebody to step in and
fight his battles, things would soon undergo a change."
As he said this, he cast a contemptuous glance at Davis, who was
looking on, in a helpless way.
"You may fight or not, as you like," said Frank, serenely. "But you
know what I think of a bully who is too cowardly to tackle a fellow he
fears may be his match."
And then, unmindful that Bascomb made another move and was held back by
his friends, Frank turned his back and walked round the table to Davis.
"Come," he said, "we will go."
There was a murmur of applause when he turned away, with Davis at his
side.
Still Frank knew very well that he had taken an unpopular stand by
espousing the cause of a plebe who did not seem to have nerve enough to
stand up for his own rights, and he was breaking all precedent and
traditions by a show of friendliness for his own fag.
However, Frank was a lad who firmly believed in standing by the right,
no matter whether the cause were popular or not, and his sympathy was
invariably with "the under dog in the fight." He could not bear to see
the weak oppressed by the strong.
His generous heart had gone out to the lad who had been so tenderly and
delicately reared, and who declined to lie or fight because he had
promised his mother he would not do such things. Somehow Davis did not
seem at all like a "sissy-boy" to Merriwell, who believed the plebe had
a great deal of moral courage, if he were not physically brave. And
Frank had come to believe that moral courage is a higher qualification
than physical courage.
In this world there are two classes of heroes, and one class is likely
to be grievously misunderstood. First comes the physical hero, the
fellow who defiantly faces dangers that are sufficient to turn to ice
the blood of another, and yet may succumb to some simple temptation
that he knows will lead him into wrongdoing.
Then comes the moral hero, who resists the strongest temptations to do
wrong, who fights and conquers in many a silent battle with his
passions and desires, who bravely faces ridicule and scorn because he
is confident that he is doing right, yet who quails, cowers, trembles,
and flees in the face of physical danger.
Who will say which is the greater hero?
As soon as they were in the open air, Davis turned to Merriwell, his
voice shaking, as he said:
"You must not fight with that fellow on my account."
"Why not?" asked Frank.
"Because you must not. It would not be right. He is big and
strong----"
"But I am not afraid of him."
"That may be true, and still it is not right for you to fight in my
place. That will not help me any. I can see that I will not be
thought any better of if you fight in my place. You must not fight
him!"
Fred was very agitated and excited.
"The matter rests entirely with Bascomb now," said Frank, calmly. "I
have expressed my opinion of him in public, and I shall be forced to
back up my words if he challenges me."