A TRICK.
As might be expected, there was a big chorus of shouting when the Yale
and Harvard teams came out for their trial in the tug of war.
Matters had been running rather evenly between the four colleges; each
had gained at least one first place, and there was no reason for the
friends of any college to be discouraged about the general result.
The Harvard men seemed to be as fresh after their victory over Cornell
as if they had not exerted themselves.
They appeared to have about the same weight as the Yale crew, and were
made up in much the same way; a particularly heavy man as anchor, and
three lighter but evidently very muscular fellows upon the rope.
It had been decided that the fall should be at a pistol shot.
As there are several ways of conducting a tug of war, it will be well to
explain that in intercollegiate games, when held indoors, the
contestants always brace themselves upon cleats.
The rope which they hold lies loose upon the floor between the two
teams. At a point midway between the two sets of cleats there is a chalk
mark on the floor.
A ribbon is tied around the rope at the point where it crosses this
mark.
When the men have fallen it is their object to pull the rope away from
their opponents, and so bring that ribbon further and further toward
their cleats.
In a closely contested match it sometimes happens that the position of
the ribbon will not vary more than two or three inches during the entire
tug.
The time is taken, and at the end of four minutes the victory is awarded
to whichever team has the ribbon upon its side of the chalk mark.
In this pull with Harvard, Frank's training proved to be of the greatest
value. He had laid the greatest stress upon the fall.
When the pistol shot came the Yale team dropped like one man to the
general eye.
It seemed as if the Harvard team dropped at exactly the same instant,
but when the excited spectators looked at the ribbon on the rope, they
saw that it was fully six inches upon the Yale side of the chalk mark.
After the fall there was a silent moment of hard tugging upon each part,
but the ribbon did not budge.
Meantime Bruce was manipulating the rope that ran around his belt, and
keeping his eyes fixed upon the Harvard anchor opposite.
"How is it, Bruce?" whispered Frank.
"We've got 'em," muttered Bruce, in reply.
Frank said nothing, for in the course of training he and Bruce had
discussed this matter so many times that Frank knew well what policy the
anchor would pursue.
It is often said that a miss is as good as a mile, and in the case of a
tug of war an inch is certainly as good as a yard.
It might have been possible for the Yale team by constant tugging and by
occasional surprises to get the ribbon much farther over to their side,
but that was not the policy that had been decided on.
If the team should win, there was Princeton still to be pulled, and
every ounce of strength would be needed then; so, having the advantage
of Harvard, the boys simply held to the rope, using only enough strength
to keep what they had gained.
It cost them a good deal of effort to keep it.
About a minute had passed since the fall, when the Harvard anchor
suddenly gave his men the word, and leaned far back upon the floor.
It was a mighty tug. Slowly but apparently surely the ribbon moved
toward the Harvard cleats.
Bruce caught the end of the rope in a knot, and muttered:
"Hold hard!"
The boys did hold hard, but in spite of that the rope gradually slipped
through their hands.
"It can't last long," whispered Bruce, "keep cool."
A few seconds of such mighty tugging was indeed all that any team could
stand, and presently the Harvard men rested, having gained three or four
inches.
To many of the spectators it seemed now as if the ribbon was even with
the chalk mark, and the Harvard crew were setting tip wild cries of
triumph.
The Yale team, however, had been lying low. Bruce and his men had simply
resisted the Harvard tug like so much dead weight, and the instant that
the Yale anchor saw that the Harvard team had come to rest lie
exclaimed:
"Pull!"
Then the Yale team gripped the rope and strained at it in earnest.
Their effort came like a yank, and in less than three seconds all the
space that had been lost in Harvard's long tug was recovered.
So the contest went on to the end. Harvard frequently made desperate
efforts to get the ribbon on its side of the line, and each time the
Yale team had to lose a little ground, but each time they made a
complete recovery, and at the end of four minutes the victory was with
the blue.
The Harvard team got out of sight as quickly as possible, while the Yale
men went to their dressing-room, followed by the wild cheering of their
friends.
For the next few minutes the Yale spectators paid little attention to
what was going on on the floor. They busied themselves in cheering each
member of their team.
Puss Parker led the cheering. He stood in front of the Yale tier and
shouted:
"What's the matter with Browning?"
An immense chorus responded:
"He's all right."
"Nine cheers for Browning," demanded Parker, and then the rah-rahs came
rattling forth like volleys from a battery.
Then Parker asked what was the matter with Merriwell, and so on until
the others in the team had been complimented in the same way.
Frank was well pleased, but the complete victory was not yet won, and
besides that, as manager, he had a keenness in all the other contests.
So as soon as he could do so he returned to the main room and watched
what was going on.
The other members of the team, with the exception of Bruce, also
returned.
The anchor, with his usual indolence, preferred to remain in his
dressing-room and rest, although, to tell the truth, he did not feel the
slightest fatigue.
Frank found nothing to be dissatisfied with, although victories for Yale
were not piling up as well as he could have wished.
All the Yale athletes had made a good showing, and there was no blame to
be cast upon anybody for losing, with the possible exception of the
unhappy Mellor, but there proved to be good men in the other colleges,
and one by one events were decided with a first place now to Cornell,
now to Harvard, now to Princeton, and so also to Yale.
The longer the evening grew the closer the contest seemed, and at
half-past ten, when nearly all the events had been decided, it was still
a matter of doubt as to which college would carry away the trophy.
The tug of war between Princeton and Yale was set last on the programme,
not because it was thought that it would settle everything, but because
it was the event that created the most general interest.
A good many unfinished bouts in other sports were being rapidly worked
off.
As it drew near to eleven o'clock Harvard and Cornell gradually lost
their grip upon their chance for first place, and at last, when it was
time for the great tug, it proved that Princeton and Yale scored exactly
the same number of points.
Therefore the result of the tug would decide whether Yale or Princeton
should carry away the tournament trophy.
The thing could not have gone better for the spectators at large, but it
made the students representing the two leading colleges excited and
nervous.
The moment the last unfinished bout was decided, Frank hurried to the
dressing-room, followed by the other members of the team and the
managers.
He halted at the door with a great start of fear. Bruce lay across the
threshold, his right wrist in his left hand, and glaring across the room
savagely, while his jaws were shut hard together.
"For Heaven's sake, Bruce! what's the matter?" asked Frank.
"I've sprained my wrist," he muttered, "and by the feeling I guess I've
sprained my ankle, too!"
"How did it happen?"
"A dirty trick, Frank, and the scoundrel who did it is somewhere in the
room. I managed to get here at the door so as to grab him if he should
run out, and also to prevent you from taking the same fall I did."
The other members of the team and the managers were now at the spot.
"Be careful when you go in," said Bruce. "The floor has been soaped or
greased just in front of those lockers there, and it won't do for any
one else to get such a fall as I've had."