A STUDENTS' CONFAB.
The days passed, and Frank turned again to his studies. He was anxious
to prove to the professors that he could learn his lessons, as well as
play football.
To be sure, he did not give up his sports entirely, nor his recreation
at the gym.
As the days slipped by, many of the students became more or less
interested in a big, burly freshman, who went by the name of Hock Mason.
Mason had proved himself a regular bruiser on more than one occasion,
and he was such a thoroughly "bad man," that some of the boys grew
afraid of him.
One night there was a crowd gathered in Frank's room, and it was not
long before the conversation turned upon the "bad man," who was hardly
known to our hero.
"He's a terror!"
It was plain Halliday thought so. The manner in which he uttered the
words showed that he was fully satisfied on that point.
"Is he scientific?" asked Merriwell.
"No; but he is a bulldog," answered Halliday.
"And a brute!" exclaimed Harry Rattleton.
"That's right," nodded Danny Griswold. "Look at my eye. I hadn't an idea
that he thought of hitting me till he let me have it. Knocked me flat.
Felt as if I'd been kicked by a mule."
"What did you do to cause him to strike you?" asked Frank.
"Nothing. Just looked at him."
"If he keeps this up," grunted Bruce Browning, who was stretched on the
couch, puffing away at a cigarette, "his career at Yale will be short."
"That's right!" cried Jack Diamond, showing his teeth. "Some one will
kill him. If he struck me, I'd shoot him in a minute--in a minute!"
Diamond meant it. There was hot blood in his veins. Frank's example had
taught him to control his fiery temper to a certain extent, but there
were times when it would blaze forth and get the best of him for all of
anything he could do.
"It's a pity some fellow can't get at him and lick the stuffing out of
him," said Bandy Robinson. "That's what he needs."
"Well, who is there that can do it?" cried Griswold. "He's a perfect
giant, over six feet tall, and must weigh nearly two hundred pounds,
though there's not an ounce of fat on him. He's all bone and muscle. He
strikes a regular prize-fighter blow, and he can't be hurt. I tell you,
he is a good man to let alone."
"That's right," agreed Halliday. "I saw him do up those coppers the
other night, four of them, and they all had their clubs out."
"Did they hit him?" asked Merriwell.
"Hit him! Well, I should guess yes. They cracked him eight or ten times
over the head and shoulders."
"Somebody said it didn't have any effect on him," observed "Uncle"
Blossom, who was chewing gum as if his life depended on it.
"Not a bit more than it would if they had hammered a block of wood,"
declared Halliday. "It made me sick the first time they cracked him on
the head, and it sounded exactly as if they struck a piece of hard wood.
I expected it would lay him out stiff."
"But he kept on his feet?"
"He never staggered! Cut his scalp open in three places, and he bled
frightfully, but that only seemed to make him worse."
"Very interesting," commented Frank, his eyes sparkling. "It would be an
honor to subdue such a fellow as that."
"Honor?" cried Halliday and Griswold. "It would be a miracle!"
"If he lives, he'll become a prize fighter," said Blossom. "He has their
brutal instincts, and still he seems to have some brains."
"That's what makes him such a bad man--his brains," cried Halliday. "He
fights with his head, as well as with his hands."
"I must say, you interest me greatly in this freshman," said Merriwell.
"What did you call his name--Mason?"
"Yes, Hock Mason. You've seen him. He's that big, red-headed bruiser,
who----"
"Yes, I've seen him," nodded Frank. "I know him by sight."
"It's a wonder he hasn't jumped on you yet. You must have attracted his
notice, for you are the most popular man in college."
"Oh, he'll get at Merry in time," grinned Griswold. "All he is waiting
for is the opportunity."
Frank laughed.
"I don't know as I care about having any trouble with this freshman
bully," he confessed.
"I should say not!" cried the others.
"But I shall not run to get out of his way."
"You'd better."
"Perhaps some of you are aware that I can put up a good, stiff fight
myself."
"Yes, but you can't lick a fellow you can't hurt."
"There is no man living that can't be hurt--if you find out his tender
spot. If I were forced into trouble with this Hock Mason, I should try
to find how I could hurt him."
"While you were finding it, Merry, he would kill you."
Frank laughed again, showing not the least annoyance.
"You think so, and you may be right. As I said before, I don't know as I
care to have any trouble with him; but, at the same time, I am not going
to run away from him. I never saw a genuine bully yet that was not a
squealer when he knew he had met his master, and I'll wager something
Mr. Hock Mason can be cowed, for all of his famous fight with the
policemen."
"If you'd seen that fight, you might have a different opinion," put in
Halliday. "All he had was his bare fists, and he knocked those four cops
out. Why, when he struck one of them fairly, the man went down like a
stricken ox, and lay quivering on the ground. He knocked out two of
them, and then he grabbed the others by the collars. Both let him have
it with their clubs, but he just thumped their heads together and
dropped them. They were knocked out, and I wondered if their heads were
cracked. That made him a king among the freshmen. They're so scared of
him that they shiver when he looks at them. I don't believe there is a
freshman who likes him, but they pretend to, and they got him to his
room after the fight, washed him up, plastered up his head, and then
went forth and swore they knew nothing about the affair. The cops
couldn't spot their man when they tried, for Mason came out the next
morning looking as if nothing had happened. He wears his hair long, and
he's had it clipped away around the wounds on his head, plastered the
cuts up, and then combed his hair over the plasters. I tell you, he is a
bad man!"
"Every bad man meets his match some day," said Frank.
"Mason's match is not to be found in Yale."
"Perhaps not."
"He's bound to be cock of the walk."
"And are freshmen, sophomores, juniors and seniors going to allow this
brutal bully to walk on their necks?"
"What else can they do?"
"Kill him!" cried Jack Diamond, fiercely--"kill him, by the eternal
gods! He can't walk on my neck! If he tried it, I'd kill him, though I
hung for it!"
"I don't think it is necessary to kill him," smiled Frank. "There's
always some way of subduing a bully. That way must be discovered, and he
must be subdued."
"We'll owe you a vote of thanks if you discover it and do the job," said
Griswold.
"Well, you are liable to owe Merriwell a vote of thanks, then," grunted
Browning. "I've traveled all over with him, and I never saw him take
water for anything that stood on legs. There are a few bad men out West,
but they didn't faze him."
"Merry is all right," said Halliday. "He's a corker, and athlete, and is
built of pure sand, but he'd have to be built of iron to go up against a
big ruffian like this Mason. About the only way to subdue that fellow is
to kill him, as Diamond suggests."
"He is growing more and more insolent and aggressive every day," said
Griswold. "If something isn't done to check him, he and his crowd of
followers will run over us. They are all getting insolent, and we have
received notice that they'll appear in a body to-night with tall hats
and canes. Mason will lead them, and they don't think we'll dare tackle
them."
"We'll rush them, if we're killed!" cried Diamond, springing to his feet
and wildly pacing up and down the floor. "Are you in it, fellows?
Hark--what's that? They're out now! They're singing! It's a challenge!
Oh, there'll be a hot time around here to-night!"