THE FINDING OF MELLOR.
"Now, Higgins," said Frank, rather sharply, as they were well out on
Twenty-sixth Street, "what have you been up to?"
"Why," answered Higgins, hesitatingly, for he had not yet half recovered
from the surprise of the event, "nothing but swapping boasts with those
Princeton fellows and refusing to drink with them."
"It's small business for a Yale student to boast of what he can do,"
exclaimed Frank, in disgust.
Higgins bit his lip and said nothing; although he was a freshman of but
few months' standing, he had already learned that in athletic matters
the word of a manager is law, and that a student in training would no
sooner dispute his manager or trainer than a soldier would dispute an
officer.
"And did you refuse their drinks?" demanded Frank in the same sharp
tone.
"On my honor, Merriwell, I did. Do you suppose I would take such risks
just previous to----"
"Don't talk to me about risks," Frank interrupted; "here it is only the
day before the contests, and you're not back at the hotel at the time
you're ordered to be."
"I know that," Higgins responded humbly, "and I'm sorry for it, but I
didn't realize how the time was going by after I got in with those
fellows. They're very pleasant chaps, and I must say that I can't
understand for the life of me why it was you sailed into them so."
Frank was too irritated to explain for a moment. It was very seldom that
he spoke as sharply as this to a comrade, and he would not have done so
on this occasion if he had not been so anxious for the success of Yale
in every possible event.
As they walked along he noticed that Higgins was perfectly steady, and
although there was a slight flush on his face, there was no sign that he
had been drinking. The flush undoubtedly was due to mortification and
excitement.
"See here, Higgins," said Frank, at length, in a quieter tone, "don't
you know that those Princeton students, as you call them, were trying to
disable you?"
"I never dreamed of such a thing."
"It's a fact."
"How do you know, Merriwell?"
"I saw the attempt made, and for that matter you got kicked in the shins
and tumbled over, didn't you?"
"Yes, but I supposed that was an accident of the scrimmage."
"It was nothing of the kind; it was a put-up job, and if I hadn't sailed
in it might have lamed you so that you couldn't jump. That was what they
were after."
"Whew!" exclaimed Higgins. "I think I'm a good Yale man, if I am a
freshman, and I hate Princeton and all the rest of them, but, on my
honor, Merriwell, I didn't think that a student of any college would
resort to such a low-down trick."
"I don't believe it, either," said Frank.
"Well, that----"
"What made you think those fellows were students?"
"Why, they said they were; they gave the year of their class, which made
them out to be seniors. They had big wads of money that they wanted to
bet, and they got into conversation with me by asking what odds would
put up on myself in the high jump."
Frank grunted to express his disgust, and asked:
"Did they talk like students?"
"I thought so."
"I don't believe they were," said Frank, "for there was something in
their manner that didn't make them seem like students, and besides that,
I can't believe any more than you that Princeton men would try to win
out in these contests by deliberately disabling any of our fellows.
"Of course, I can understand how, in an exciting match like a game of
football, a man's temper might get the best of him, but to try to lame a
fellow in cold blood hours before the beginning of the event is a little
too much for me to think of when it comes to a student, whether he's
from Princeton, Harvard or anywhere else."
"Then, who were these fellows?" asked Higgins.
"They may be New York gamblers, for all I know," Frank answered, "but in
any case I think they are men not connected with Princeton in any way,
who are trying to make sure of their bets by disabling the leading
contestants in the other colleges."
"Then but for you I suppose I might have been seriously lamed?"
"I don't know, Higgins; I'm taking no credit for what I did, but I hope
you see that you made a grave mistake in not coming back to the Murray
Hill on time."
"I do, and will look out that such a thing doesn't happen again."
"Where's Mellor?" asked Frank, suddenly.
"I don't know."
"Didn't he start out with you?"
"Yes, but we didn't keep together long."
"Where did he go?"
"We separated at the corner of Thirty-second Street and Broadway. I was
for going down Broadway, but he said that he wanted to see something of
the Tenderloin district."
"The Tenderloin!" exclaimed Frank, with a groan.
Instinctively he hurried his steps.
"Hasn't Mellor turned up yet?" asked Higgins, hurrying along with him.
"No, and unless he's more careful than you were there's no telling what
mischief he may have got into."
Higgins looked as penitent as if he had been guilty of a serious crime.
The flush on his face had entirely gone now, and he was quite pale.
"See here," exclaimed Frank, cheerfully, "you've had your scolding, so
now brace up and forget it. If you feel the slightest soreness from that
kick, give yourself a good rubbing when you get to the hotel, and go to
bed."
"Aren't you coming?" asked Higgins, for Frank had stopped short.
"No."
"What shall I say to the fellows?"
"Nothing; or you might tell them that I met you and ordered you to the
hotel; if they ask for me, you don't know where I am, and that's all
there is to it."
Higgins nodded and went on obediently to the Murray Hill.
Frank, boiling with indignation and sore with anxiety, set off toward
the corner of Thirty-second Street and Broadway. He had no foolish idea
that he would find Mellor there, but as that was the last place where he
had been seen, it seemed to be the most sensible point from which to
begin a search for him.
When he arrived at the corner he looked about a moment and then entered
a hotel, and going to the telephone closet, rang up the Murray Hill and
asked for Browning.
"Bruce," he said, when he heard a familiar hello in the receiver at his
ear, "has Mellor returned?"
"No, but Higgins has."
"All right. Good-by."
"Hold on, Frank."
"Well?"
"Are you coming back soon?"
"I don't know."
"Rowland and Hill expect you to take a run with us up the avenue this
evening."
"I'll be there if I can."
"What are you up to, anyway?"
"That's my business, old fellow; say nothing about it, but if I don't
turn up, go ahead with your run without me."
With this Frank hung up the receiver without giving Bruce any further
chance to ask questions.
His object in not explaining what he was about was to prevent any of the
contestants from worrying. He was pretty sure that Higgins would not
speak of his own adventure, and he did not care to have even cool-headed
Browning suspect that there was anything so serious in the wind as a
deliberate plot to disable Yale athletes.
It seemed to Frank as if he had never been in so serious a situation.
There had been times in his travels when one adventure or another had
brought him in danger of his life, but at such times his mind was
usually easy; now he was oppressed by responsibility and anxiety for
others.
The credit of Yale depended upon the good showing at the intercollegiate
games; whether they won or lost was not so much of consequence as that
the Yale crowd should do their best.
As one of the managers, Frank felt responsible for the good condition of
every man in the party.
He set out down Sixth Avenue looking to right and left and glancing in
at the door of every saloon he passed.
Near the juncture of Sixth Avenue and Broadway are a number of places
where gamblers resort, and it was in one of these that Frank half
suspected and feared to find Mellor.
Business was lively in all these places at this hour. Men of all
conditions were at the bar discussing all manner of sporting events.
Once in a while, as Frank made his way through the crowded barrooms, he
overheard some remark about the coming college games, but it did not
seem as if the professional sports took very much interest in them, and
nothing occurred to give him any clew as to Mellor's whereabouts.
He continued on down the avenue, running through every place he came
across, until he got as far as Twenty-third Street. There he paused,
feeling rather discouraged.
It is worse than looking for a needle in a haystack to hunt for a man in
New York.
Farther down the avenue there were other saloons, but he had already
passed out of the district most frequented by gamblers.
He had no other theory on which to pursue his search, and it seemed to
him that it might be better to return to the hotel and let Mellor turn
up or not, as it might happen.
A public telephone sign caught his eye across the way, and he again went
over and rang up the Murray Hill. This time it was Rowland that he asked
for, and when Rowland was at the 'phone Frank told him briefly that he
was on the hunt for Mellor.
"Don't mention it to anybody," Frank added, quickly.
"Have you any idea what's become of him?" asked Rowland.
"Mighty little," answered Frank. "But if he hasn't returned to the hotel
yet I'll make another short trip before I give it up."
Mellor had not returned, and the conversation with Rowland was not
continued.
Frank retraced his steps up the avenue, but this time he did not make so
careful a search as he had before; he simply glanced in at various doors
and passed on.
At length he turned in at Thirtieth Street, intending to call at a
drinking resort on Broadway, which was known to be popular with
gamblers.
He had taken but a few steps when a sound of laughter attracted him and
he paused suddenly. It came from his right hand.
He noticed that he was standing near the side door of a saloon which he
thought he had thoroughly investigated on his downward trip.
He remembered then that he had not looked in at any of the so-called
private rooms at the back.
This laughter evidently came from such a room, and he was quite certain
that he distinguished Mellor's voice. He waited a moment until the
laughter ceased and then he heard this in thick accents:
"Shet 'em up 'gain! I c'n rasshle any man 'n Nighted Shtatesh, drunk er
shober."
It was Mellor's voice, and Frank's heart sank like lead. For one
miserable instant he was in doubt as to what he had better do.
His disgust and anger were so great that he felt like leaving Mellor to
his fate, for it would serve the freshman right to let him continue
filling himself up and so lose all chance of making a decent appearance
in the contests of the following evening.
Then it occurred to Frank that after all there might be some little hope
that Mellor could pull himself together sufficiently to make a good
effort.
In any event he was a Yale student, and as such Frank felt bound to look
after him; so after the slightest hesitation he entered the side door of
the saloon and opened a door leading into the small room from which had
come the laughter and the sound of Mellor's voice.
He saw the big freshman with a silly smile on his face seated at a
table, holding an empty glass unsteadily in his hand, and trying to talk
with three companions, each of whom wore a rosette of orange-colored
ribbon upon the lapel of his coat.
None of the three had been in the crowd with Higgins, so far as Frank
could remember their faces.
They did not look up when Frank entered, for they supposed, as Mellor
himself did, that the bartender was coming in to get an order.
"Fill 'em up!" said Mellor, stupidly, rapping his glass upon the table.
"Letsh have 'nother round."
His eyes were bleary, and although he glanced at Frank he failed to
recognize him. The latter stood still for a second or two to control his
indignation; before he spoke the bartender entered with a bottle of
champagne, the cork of which was already drawn.
"I suppose it's the same, gents?" he said, in a businesslike tone.
"Shame old Shampaggeny water," returned Mellor, holding his glass upside
down.
One of the men at the table reached over and righted Mellor's glass,
which the waiter promptly proceeded to fill.
"Here'sh ter good ol' Yale!" stammered Mellor, bringing the glass to his
lips with the aid of the man who had helped him to hold it steady.
Frank could remain quiet no longer. He reached over the table, and with
a sweep of his arm knocked the glass from Mellor's hand and sent it
flying against the wall, where it broke in a hundred pieces.