FRANK'S VISITORS.
Despite himself, Frank was somewhat disturbed by what had taken place
that afternoon. He knew Halliday was right in saying it would be
believed he had apologized to Marline through fear of the proud
Southerner.
Merriwell was no more than human; he did not fancy being thought a
coward.
Who does?
Had it been simply one or two persons who thought him afraid of the lad
from South Carolina he would not have minded, but for nearly every one
in college to think so--well, that was different.
And the peculiar combination of circumstances made the situation more
trying than otherwise it could have been.
Frank could not help feeling some sympathy for Marline, for all of the
fellow's natural arrogance and overbearing manner. It was easy for
Merriwell to imagine himself in Marline's position.
"It would cut me," he thought. "I might hold my temper, but it would cut
me to have any fellow step in and shove me out without letting me have a
show to see what I might do."
Sentiment demanded that Marline should be given an opportunity to play
full-back on the Yale team; but sentiment should not enter into college
sports, and no one knew that better than Frank Merriwell. The football
or baseball team that is run on sentiment can never be a winner.
Yet it seemed to Merry that, under any circumstances, he would be placed
in a false position before every one. He had refused to take an interest
in football, and had held aloof till the very day that it was known
Halliday had been changed from full-back to quarter-back and Marline had
been given Ben's former position. Then Merry had suddenly appeared on
the scene and seemed to oust the new man before the latter had a show to
prove his capability.
To Frank this seemed a cowardly thing to do, and nothing but the
knowledge that the eleven was weak and really needed him could have
induced him to go on the field.
He did not want to fight Marline, and he was determined not to fight
Marline if he could avoid it. Still he realized that his enemies would
say he feared the lad from South Carolina, and his friends might believe
it was true.
"Well," thought Frank, after meditating on the situation, "it will not
be the first time I have been thought a coward. I can stand it. If
Forrest says he needs me I shall play for the love of dear old Yale.
Rather than have Yale lose through my failure to do everything in my
power, I'd be branded a coward for life!"
This settled in his mind, he went to bed that night and slept
peacefully, quite unaware that at Morey's a gay party had gathered about
Rob Marline, who was "opening things" and vowing publicly that he would
drive Frank Merriwell off the gridiron forever.
In case Frank showed a determination to get into the game again, Marline
swore he would never give him a moment of peace till they met face to
face on the "field of honor."
"I come of fighting stock, gentlemen," said Rob, his face flushed, his
legs unsteady, his tongue unloosed, and a glass of "velvet" held aloft.
"My grandfather killed his man, and my father has been concerned in more
than one affair of honor. I am an expert with the sword, and I can shoot
as well as the mountaineers of my native State--the fairest spot on the
American continent Merriwell will not have a chance with me if we ever
do meet. With the blades, gentlemen, I'll run him through in less than
thirty seconds; with pistols I'll lodge a ball in his heart at the first
fire. But he'll never dare to meet me. The way he took water to-day
proved that. He will crawl like a whipped dog."
If Marline had not been drinking freely he would not have said so much.
The wine was in his head, and he was not responsible. But he meant every
word he spoke, and he did not require "Dutch courage" in order to back
up his talk.
In the morning Frank awoke refreshed by a good night's sleep, took a
cool dip, scrubbed down hastily, got into his clothes in a hurry, and
was away to chapel, looking as fresh and rosy as a healthy youth should.
Merriwell took such care of himself that he was in perfect condition. He
had not given up physical exercise, although he had thought of keeping
out of football that season. Every day he spent a certain amount of time
in the gym, and not a minute of that time was wasted.
Under no circumstances did Merriwell believe in radical dieting. At the
same time he believed in common sense, and he knew a fellow could do
himself no more harm than by overloading his stomach. The gourmand makes
himself heavy of body, and dull of brain.
Frank had quite forgotten the unpleasant occurrence of the previous
afternoon, and he dipped into his studies after the earnest manner that
had marked him of late.
On returning from recitation in the middle of the forenoon, he found
visitors in his room. They had been admitted by "Honest John," the
colored porter.
"Lor' bress yeh!" grinned the white-headed old darky, showing his teeth
in a broad grin--"Lor' bress yeh, Mistah Merriwell! Nebber see no
purtier gal in all mah bawn days!"
"Girl!" cried Frank, astonished.
"Lor' bress yeh, yes! Purty's a picter, Mistah Merriwell."
"Girl in my room?"
"Yes, sah."
"You let her in, John?"
"Yes, sah; but dar's a lady wif her, sah."
"Oh, ha!"
"Yes, sah--got a face dat'll stop a trolley car, sah. Looks like it war
cut out of wood, sah, an' mighty hard wood at dat. De gal smile, but de
ole woman nebber smile at all."
Frank looked puzzled, and Honest John began to look troubled.
"Hope Ah ain't done no harm, sah?" he faltered. "De ladies said dey
knowed yeh, sah, an' dey war yeh friends."
"But I do not know of any friends in New Haven who would come to my
room."
John showed alarm.
"Lor', sah! hope dis ain't no scrape, sah! Mebbe yeh don't want teh see
'em? I'll jes' go an' 'splain yeh ain' heah--I'll say yeh been called
away sudden by de deff ob yeh grandmam."
"Never mind, John. My grandmothers died years ago, and my visitors may
be aware of the fact. I'll see them myself, although I don't care to be
bothered by visitors at this time of the day."
"Hope it's all right, sah," said John. "Yo' boys hab to be careful, sah.
If yo' git too wild----"
But Frank was hurrying to his room, regardless of the darky's words.
Honest John followed. He listened outside the door after Frank entered.
He heard a girlish cry of delight, and an exclamation of pleasure from
Merriwell.
"Lor' sakes!" he chuckled, holding one crooked hand over his mouth, as
he stood crouching at the door. "Suah dat don' soun' lek trubble! Yo' am
all right, John. Jes' yo' watch fo' Mistah Merriwell when he come out,
an' yeh'll get a tip fer lettin' de ladies in. Hey--what am dat?"
He held his ear close to the door and listened again. Then the crooked
black hand was pressed still closer over his mouth, and his whole body
shook with emotion as he tiptoed away.
"Lordy! Lordy!" he exploded, when he considered himself at a safe
distance. "I know dat soun' any time Ah heah it. Smack! smack! Dat war
kissin'! Heuh! a-he-uh! a-he-uh! If Mistah Merriwell don' make dat tip a
whole dollah, dis coon ain't took his size an' suckumfrence!"