BOOKS FOR YOUNG MEN
MERRIWELL SERIES
Stories of Frank and Dick Merriwell
PRICE FIFTEEN CENTS
_Fascinating Stories of Athletics_
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A half million enthusiastic followers of the Merriwell brothers will
attest the unfailing interest and wholesomeness of these adventures of
two lads of high ideals, who play fair with themselves, as well as with
the rest of the world.
These stories are rich in fun and thrills in all branches of sports and
athletics. They are extremely high in moral tone, and cannot fail to be
of immense benefit to every boy who reads them.
They have the splendid quality of firing a boy’s ambition to become a
good athlete, in order that he may develop into a strong, vigorous
right-thinking man.
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_ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT_
1—Frank Merriwell’s School Days By Burt L. Standish
2—Frank Merriwell’s Chums By Burt L. Standish
3—Frank Merriwell’s Foes By Burt L. Standish
4—Frank Merriwell’s Trip West By Burt L. Standish
5—Frank Merriwell Down South By Burt L. Standish
6—Frank Merriwell’s Bravery By Burt L. Standish
7—Frank Merriwell’s Hunting Tour By Burt L. Standish
8—Frank Merriwell in Europe By Burt L. Standish
9—Frank Merriwell at Yale By Burt L. Standish
10—Frank Merriwell’s Sports Afield By Burt L. Standish
11—Frank Merriwell’s Races By Burt L. Standish
12—Frank Merriwell’s Party By Burt L. Standish
13—Frank Merriwell’s Bicycle Tour By Burt L. Standish
14—Frank Merriwell’s Courage By Burt L. Standish
15—Frank Merriwell’s Daring By Burt L. Standish
16—Frank Merriwell’s Alarm By Burt L. Standish
17—Frank Merriwell’s Athletes By Burt L. Standish
18—Frank Merriwell’s Skill By Burt L. Standish
19—Frank Merriwell’s Champions By Burt L. Standish
20—Frank Merriwell’s Return to Yale By Burt L. Standish
21—Frank Merriwell’s Secret By Burt L. Standish
22—Frank Merriwell’s Danger By Burt L. Standish
23—Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty By Burt L. Standish
24—Frank Merriwell in Camp By Burt L. Standish
25—Frank Merriwell’s Vacation By Burt L. Standish
26—Frank Merriwell’s Cruise By Burt L. Standish
27—Frank Merriwell’s Chase By Burt L. Standish
28—Frank Merriwell in Maine By Burt L. Standish
29—Frank Merriwell’s Struggle By Burt L. Standish
30—Frank Merriwell’s First Job By Burt L. Standish
31—Frank Merriwell’s Opportunity By Burt L. Standish
32—Frank Merriwell’s Hard Luck By Burt L. Standish
33—Frank Merriwell’s Protégé By Burt L. Standish
34—Frank Merriwell on the Road By Burt L. Standish
35—Frank Merriwell’s Own Company By Burt L. Standish
36—Frank Merriwell’s Fame By Burt L. Standish
37—Frank Merriwell’s College Chums By Burt L. Standish
38—Frank Merriwell’s Problem By Burt L. Standish
39—Frank Merriwell’s Fortune By Burt L. Standish
40—Frank Merriwell’s New Comedian By Burt L. Standish
41—Frank Merriwell’s Prosperity By Burt L. Standish
42—Frank Merriwell’s Stage Hit By Burt L. Standish
43—Frank Merriwell’s Great Scheme By Burt L. Standish
44—Frank Merriwell in England By Burt L. Standish
45—Frank Merriwell on the Boulevards By Burt L. Standish
46—Frank Merriwell’s Duel By Burt L. Standish
47—Frank Merriwell’s Double Shot By Burt L. Standish
48—Frank Merriwell’s Baseball Victories By Burt L. Standish
49—Frank Merriwell’s Confidence By Burt L. Standish
50—Frank Merriwell’s Auto By Burt L. Standish
51—Frank Merriwell’s Fun By Burt L. Standish
52—Frank Merriwell’s Generosity By Burt L. Standish
In order that there may be no confusion, we desire to say that the books
listed below will be issued during the respective months in New York
City and vicinity. They may not reach the readers at a distance
promptly, on account of delays in transportation.
To Be Published in January, 1923.
53—Frank Merriwell’s Tricks By Burt L. Standish
54—Frank Merriwell’s Temptation By Burt L. Standish
To Be Published in February, 1923.
55—Frank Merriwell on Top By Burt L. Standish
56—Frank Merriwell’s Luck By Burt L. Standish
To Be Published in March, 1923.
57—Frank Merriwell’s Mascot By Burt L. Standish
58—Frank Merriwell’s Reward By Burt L. Standish
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Frank Merriwell’s Setback;
OR,
TRUE PLUCK WELCOMES DEFEAT
BY
BURT L. STANDISH
Author of the famous MERRIWELL STORIES.
Publisher’s Logo
STREET & SMITH CORPORATION
PUBLISHERS
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York
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Copyright, 1900-1901
By STREET & SMITH
————
Frank Merriwell’s Setback
(Printed in the United States of America)
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign
languages, including the Scandinavian.
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FRANK MERRIWELL’S SETBACK.
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CHAPTER I.
THE GIANT OF THE WHEEL.
In its various forms it was an old trick, and it ought not to have
worked on Starbright, who had come from the famous preparatory college
at Andover. But by some chance, Dick had never heard of it, and the
sophomores, discovering this, prepared to “work” him with it.
It was a principle with the lordly sophomores to annoy freshmen, and the
towering young giant, who had already made himself so famous at Yale,
suffered as much at their hands as less noted mortals.
There is a streak in human nature which causes those who have been
“through the mill” to want to put others through. This spirit accounts
for “hazing,” in all its forms.
Jack Ready started it by offering to bet Dick Starbright ten dollars
that he could not ride a bicycle from New Haven to Guilford and back, a
round-trip of thirty-two miles, in three hours. Starbright snapped him
up quicker than a wink, for though there were many things he could do
better than bicycling, Dick knew that he could do this, and the trip to
Guilford, along the pleasant shores for a great part of the way, was an
attractive one.
The bet was made one Wednesday evening, and Dick was to do the riding
the next Saturday afternoon. Starbright told his friend Dashleigh about
it.
“Of course you can do it!” Bert declared.
“Dead easy! Why, I could do that trip in two hours, even if the roads
are sandy. But three! I don’t know what Ready is thinking about. He must
fancy that I can’t ride a wheel. Perhaps it is because I started in to
take part in the relay race and Merriwell pulled me out of it and put me
at other work. But that was only because you are a faster rider than I
am, and my size and strength made me a promising candidate for the
shot-putting and hammer-throwing.”
“And you did your part well, old man. You covered yourself with glory!”
“And I’ll show these duffers that I can ride a wheel. I’ll see how
quickly I can do the trip, and I’ll make their eyes bulge out when they
see me back.”
Dick did not get an opportunity to see Merriwell, but he told Browning;
and Browning, who had been “let in on the ground floor,” assured Dick
that he could make it “dead easy,” and that Jack Ready was a fool for
offering such a bet.
“It will be a good way to open up Merriwell’s entertainments,” said
Ralph Bingham, when Starbright chanced to speak to him about it. “I’d do
it, if I were you.”
Bingham was a sophomore, but Dick did not think of that.
Carker, alone of the sophomores, objected, urging that he disliked to
see so good a fellow as Starbright toyed with in that way.
“Well, you aren’t going to chip into the thing and spoil the fun, just
because it doesn’t suit you, are you?” demanded Bingham. “We sophomores
must hang together. Ready is an especial friend of yours, and he is
managing the thing. Don’t you think it would be rather a scaly trick to
give the snap away?”
“If Merriwell should hear of it?”
“He’ll not hear of it. He has his hands full of other matters just now.
And he wouldn’t interfere, anyway, for he’s no milk-and-water kid. He
had to go through the mill when he was a freshman, just as we did, and
it did him good. I like Starbright. He’s a fine fellow. But he’s a
freshman, and he’s in great danger of coming to think that he is ‘it’!
He has boomed right up, and he’ll be wearing frills of great importance
round the gray matter of his thinking machine the very first thing we
know. Already he believes that he’s better than any sophomore that ever
trod the campus or sat on the fence. This thing won’t hurt him. It will
do him good, and tend to make a man of him.”
This sort of logic, directed to a fellow classman, was irresistible.
Ready was not at all sure that Merriwell would interfere; but, fearing
that he might, for Dick was recognized as his protégé, he contrived to
keep the two apart most of the time, managing to be with one or the
other whenever they met, and to so skilfully direct the conversation
that no opportunity presented for a discussion of Dick’s proposed ride.
As for the other students of all classes, they shut up mum on the
subject whenever Frank came to their midst.
There was a lowering gray sky and a hint of a change in the weather on
that Saturday afternoon when Dick wheeled up in front of the New Haven
House for his start. He rode a very high frame to accommodate his great
height. It was a heavy roadster, not adapted to racing, but Dick had
been able to crack it up for good speed on more than one occasion.
As for his attire, Dick was comfortably clothed in a woolen bicycle-suit
somewhat the worse for wear, and wore a visored cap. Like most Yale men,
the cut and quality of his clothing were of secondary consideration, his
only demand being that it would suit his needs and be comfortable.
Jack Ready was there, to lead the cheer with which Dick’s departure was
greeted, swinging his cap and yelling, after a preliminary offer to
double his bet, which offer Dick would not accept. He was sure he would
win Ready’s money, and for that reason he did not want the bet raised.
Dashleigh was there, too, and other freshmen. There were some juniors
and seniors, also. But the larger number gathered in front of the hotel
were sophomores.
Starbright liked a bicycle, though he was too large and heavy to become
a crack rider. He was a good wheelman, though, and he swung away with
cheerfulness through the level streets of the college city and out
toward the road that leads close along the shore of the Sound, following
as closely as he could the railway line.
He found the wind heavy as he began to wheel over the Sound route. The
breeze was off the water and he was forced to bore into it quarteringly,
which, with the character of the road, made the wheeling rather too
heavy for pure pleasure.
Nevertheless, Starbright “hit it up” at a good gait, bending forward
over the handle-bars and thrusting his visored cap into the wind like
the sharp prow of a racing yacht.
Now and then a farmer stared curiously at him as he slipped by. This
grew so frequent as he neared the first of the half-abandoned summer
resorts of that part of the Sound that he dismounted from his wheel,
feeling that something in his personal appearance caused these men of
the hoe to inspect him in that way.
Having looked his wheel over and found it all right, Dick took off his
coat and inspected that. There was no legend pinned or chalked on its
back, and nothing about him which could draw so much attention.
“The fellows act as if they had never seen a bicycle!” he grumbled, as
he replaced his coat and remounted for the continuance of his journey.
Yet that this could not be so seemed to be proved by the proximity of
the summer-resort hotels, which poured out scores of wheelmen for these
roads every season, to make no mention of the bicyclists of New Haven.
On reaching the first of the summer resorts, Dick was surprised still
further to find a number of men and women, chiefly composed of the class
who get their living in the winter from the waters of the Sound or by
taking care of the abandoned caravansaries, standing grouped on a corner
as if awaiting his coming, and staring at him with undisguised curiosity
as he wheeled by.
“Don’t think much o’ yer wheel!” one of them shouted. Then added: “No; I
don’t think I’ll buy one of ’em next summer!”
Stopping by a spring for a drink, he leaned the wheel against a fence,
and a country youth came forward to look it over. Dick would have
thought nothing of this if the young fellow had not asked him if he
thought he received enough pay for that kind of work.
“Not doing it for pay,” said Dick.
“Y’ain’t racin’ ag’in time, then?” was the bland question.
“Not exactly.”
“Can’t say that I want to buy the wheel!”
“I haven’t any notion of selling it.”
Then the countryman stared at him.
“You ain’t Jimmy Michael?”
“Jimmy Michael, the famous bicyclist? No. What made you think so?”
“And ain’t you advertisin’ a new kind of wheel that’s a world corker?”
“Nothing of the kind.”
The country lad flushed and moved away with explanation.
“What’s the matter with the fellow?” Starbright thought. “Jimmy Michael?
Nobody could mistake me for Jimmy Michael!”
Still the farmers stared at him as he wheeled by. Sometimes, when they
beheld him coming, they came close down to the road, often the whole
family, and stared after him as he passed on.
Once a young woman waved a handkerchief roguishly at him from a kitchen
window. Dick began to feel red and uncomfortable; and then, at the next
village, he was asked by a member of the mob that was apparently
gathered to see him, what the make of his wheel was, and if it was to be
sold cheaper than other makes of good wheels, he inquired why the
question was asked.
For answer the man pointed to a large placard on a wall:
“Richard Starbright, the world-famous giant of the wheel, will
this afternoon make a race against time from New Haven to
Guilford and return for the purpose of advertising our new make
of record-beater roadsters. Starbright has beaten the record of
Jimmy Michael, and our wheels beat the world. He has circled the
globe in the interest of our wheels. Wait for him! You cannot
afford to miss seeing him!”
“You look a good deal like a Yale guy, but yer size made us think mebbe
you was the man,” the citizen explained.
“Yes, I am the man!” said Dick hotly flushing. “I’m a guy all right,
too!”
“What’s the make o’ the wheel?” another queried, walking round as if to
inspect its fine points. “Looks like you’ve rid it a lot. I should think
they’d have sent you out on a shinin’ new one?”
“What countries have you ridden through?” queried a vinegary woman in
spectacles. “I do hope you’ve been through Tibet. But if you have, the
natives did’t treat ye as bad as they do some folks. I’ve got some real
good buttermilk, and if you’d like to drop into my house a minute to
rest and tell me about Tibet I’d take it kindly. I’m so interested
readin’ ’bout Tibet that I can’t hardly sleep o’ night sometimes. It’s
the first house on the corner as you go down—a little white house with
green winder-blinds.”
Starbright was in a profuse perspiration.
“Thank you!” he said. “You’re very kind. But I must really hurry on.
I’ve stopped too long now.”
Then, feeling that the only way to get away from these people was to
mount his wheel, he hopped on it and fled through the village, giving a
glance at the little white house with the green blinds as he swept by,
and thinking that perhaps the proper thing would have been to stop there
and talk Tibet to the inquisitive, spectacled lady and sip her
buttermilk while he thought out some plan for outwitting his tormentors.
“This is Ready’s work!” he panted, as he wheeled down the road. “I’ll
have to murder that fellow! I see there is no help for it! I shall have
to take him between my two thumbs and squash his life out as I would any
common bug!”
He tried to smile when the village was behind him.
“It’s a good joke, anyway, and it’s on your Uncle Richard! Of course,
the whole college knows of it now, and New Haven will know it before
night. Heavens! If it should get into the newspapers!”
Dick wheeled on so fast, hardly knowing now that he was speeding, that
he found himself approaching the next little village almost before he
thought it possible. He saw the inevitable crowd gathered on the
principal corner of the street, through which he must pass unless he
elected to make a wide détour and avoid the village altogether. Some
boys raised a cheer as he drew near, swinging their hats with an
urchin’s delight.
“I’ll not stop!” Dick grunted, shrinking from the thought of again
encountering some one who would ask him about his world-wide travels.
“They’ll want to know if I’ve been in China, likely, and if I’ve fought
the Boxers, and how many I’ve killed!”
So he put on extra speed, lowered his visored cap, bent over the
handle-bars, and went through the street like a streak of lightning. The
boys yelled and whooped, and he could not help hearing one citizen
remark that “Jimmy Michael ain’t in it with that feller!”
“Here comes the bikeist!” a boy was shouting to another group at the
lower corner. “Come quick, Sammy, ’er ye’ll be too late!”
“Geewhiskers! ain’t he a snorter?” another boy yelled.
The group broke into a wild cheer as Dick swept past, pedaling as if he
were racing for life. When he had escaped from these innocent
tormentors, he began to think over the situation and to ask himself if
he should go on to Guilford or stop where he was and retrace his way to
New Haven by another route. To do that would be to lose his bet. Not
that he cared so much for the money or for the mere winning, but that
would give Ready and the sophomores a perhaps coveted opportunity to guy
him for cowardice.
No, he was in it, and there seemed to be no way out but to make the ride
according to plans and schedule and win out, so far as that part was
concerned. So he rode on, wondering if there were no means by which he
could yet defeat the sophomores.
“Yes, this is the beginning of Frank Merriwell’s entertainments!” he
rather grimly thought. “I didn’t know that I would be chosen to open the
show in this way, though! Merry doesn’t know anything about it, I’m
sure.”
Merriwell was planning some festivities of an athletic character with
which he and his friends and other students were to celebrate the many
victories won by Yale that season. The college had been wonderfully
fortunate and triumphant on the gridiron, not having lost a single game
during the entire season. Never had a Yale team equaled the performance
of the football eleven of that year under the leadership of the
redoubtable senior. And not only in football, but in many other ways had
Yale won honor with the victorious teams Merriwell had trained and led.
There was a grim humor in Starbright which made him appreciate the
situation in which he found himself, even though he was the victim. At
first he had paid no heed to anything placarded on the walls, but now,
looking out for those glaring signs, he soon found one stuck against the
side of a barn. It was on the side of the barn that was invisible to him
as he came toward it.
So this had been Ready’s plan! These glittering advertisements of the
performance of the “Giant of the Wheel,” produced, no doubt, by some New
Haven printing press, had been skilfully plastered up along the roadside
and in the villages in such a way that the wheelman approaching them
could not see them. And the chances were small that he would look back
and discover them after he had whirled by. This accounted for the fact
that Dick had not for a time observed the notices which drew out the
curious villagers and farmers.
In the next village, which was also of the summer-hotel variety, though
there was a substantial element of people who resided there the year
round, a larger crowd than ever stood in the street to await his coming.
The crowd broke into a cheer as he came in sight and wheeled up to the
corner. He had resolved to ask some questions.
“When were these placards stuck up?” he inquired.
“Yisterday. Say, mister, when’s yer book comin’ out?”
“What book?”
“Why, the feller that come along yisterday stickin’ up the bills said
that you was about to put out a book tellin’ about yer wonderful
adventures with the Toltecs while you was coastin’ down one of them old
Peruvian roads in South Ameriky.”
“What sort of looking fellow was he?”
“Well, about so high and so wide. He was a sort of stocky chap with
bright eyes and red cheeks. Come to think of it, when he got off his
wheel to stick up the sign, I noticed that he toed in with one foot.”
“That was Jack Ready.”
“Was it? I didn’t know! I believe he did say somethin’ ’bout bein’
always Ready.”
“Aw! that feller’s a Yale man!” a boy was heard to sneer. “He ain’t
never been in South Ameriky ner nothin’. I know them fellers soon’s I
see ’em.”
“Be you a Yale man?” an old man growled, not relishing the idea of being
drawn out and fooled in that way by a mere college student. He had
walked nearly a mile to see the “Giant of the Wheel” go by, and he
wanted his money’s worth.
Dick was saved from answering this disconcerting question by a young man
with a pale face and large nose, who crowded forward to inspect the
wheel, saying that he intended to purchase a bicycle the coming season.
“I thought, mebbe, when I heard that feller talkin’ yesterday, that it
was one of them headless wheels made in Indianapolis. D’y’ever see one
of ’em? You sort of set in the handle-bars as if they was the arms of a
rockin’chair. I didn’t know but I’d like to have one of ’em. I’m sure
the feller said somethin’ ’bout headless!”
Dick thought it quite likely that the irrepressible Ready had referred
to the rider of the wheel as “headless,” or something of like character,
indicating that he was “easy.”
“Well, perhaps I am easy,” he thought, as he wheeled on, glad to be past
another inquisitive village.
Branford Point, a favorite watering-place, turned out a good-sized crowd
to see the “Giant of the Wheel,” but Dick concluded that he did not care
to ask further questions or make the acquaintance of the curious people,
so he flew through the place as rapidly as he could pedal.
He was making good time, even though the road was not of the best, in
spots, and the wind blew cold from the leaden clouds in the northeast.
He was warm enough, in spite of the wind, and sometimes, when he
reflected too strongly on the condition in which he found himself, and
of the laughing sophomores in the campus, he grew altogether too warm.
There were other groups to meet and pass, other farmers who hurried down
to the road to look and wonder, other boys who whooped and yelled and
told each other to “git onto de legs of de Giant,” and other things
equally uncomplimentary to the bicyclist.
But Dick, having resolved to take the whole thing good-naturedly and
philosophically, smiled back at them; and, whenever he dismounted, he
answered the rain of questions as best he could, without revealing that
he was the victim of a sophomore joke.
But when he reached Guilford, the end of his route—Guilford, celebrated
as the birthplace of the poet, Fitz Greene Halleck—he met a surprise
that took away his breath. In front of a conspicuous hotel was a brass
band, surrounded by Yale sophomores, with Jack Ready prominent in their
midst. They were waiting to give the “Giant of the Wheel” a right royal
reception; and, as Dick wheeled up, almost too disconcerted to know what
to do or say, the band struck into “See the Conquering Hero Comes!” and
the sophomores gave a yell that shook the building and almost rattled
the curbstones.
But Dick Starbright was quick-witted, and he pulled himself together, so
that he was able to dismount with a smile and a bow.
“What sort of fool circus are you idiots trying to make of yourselves?”
he blandly demanded, walking forward, pushing his wheel.
Ready wiggled his fingers characteristically.
“An immense one, old man, and you have been the clown of the show. We’ll
take supper at your expense to-night. In the meantime, you will find
refreshments in the house of this publican.”
He gave his fingers another wiggle and jerked them toward the hotel
proprietor, who stood by with red face expanded in a grin.
“It’s one on me!” Starbright admitted smilingly. “But the end hasn’t
come. Before Frank Merriwell’s entertainments are over you Smart Aleck
sophomores will acknowledge that the freshmen know a thing or two, and
are more than your masters. And we’ll not resort to deceit to win our
victories or to give us a chance to ‘holler’.”
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