Kitabı oku: «Frank Merriwell's Champions: or, All in the Game», sayfa 13
CHAPTER XXVIII – A CHANGE OF SCENE
With the death of Wade, the paid tool of Stephen Fenton, the latter took alarm and disappeared from Springbrook Farm, leaving a clear field to Harry Harden.
Before leaving Springbrook, Frank was forced to repeat the story of the hunt so many times that he became heartily tired of it. He was also tired of being regarded as a hero, and hearing compliments from all sides. A less level-headed lad might have become inflated with his own importance, but “swelled head” was a disease that never secured a hold on Frank Merriwell.
But the boys all voted that they had enjoyed themselves hugely at Springbrook, and each and every one of them was forced to promise that it would not be the last visit to the place.
They might have remained longer, as it was, but the fall term of college was at hand, and several of them were impatient to return to dear Old Yale.
“I want to get back and take a rest,” said Browning. “A big, long rest. I think I need it.”
“Did you ever see the time you didn’t rest a need – I mean, need a rest?” cried Harry.
“Are we to go right straight through to New York?” questioned Jack.
“I thought so at first,” answered Frank. “But I have received a letter which may change our plans – if you agree.”
“What letter?” asked several.
“A letter from Charlie Creighton, of Philadelphia. He urges us to stop off and pay him a visit.”
“Creighton, eh?” said Jack. “I remember him. He was a good chap at Yale.”
“Can we have some sport in Philadelphia?” questioned Harry.
“I think so. But not such sport as we have had here or in the mountains.”
“Dot vos all right alretty,” put in Hans. “I peen villing to take it easy for you, you bet mine life! No more vild adventures py me alretty!”
“By gum, it’s time we quieted deown,” snorted Ephraim. “Ef we don’t we’ll be as wild ez hawks when we git ter hum!”
The matter was talked over for quite a while, after which a vote was taken by which it was unanimously resolved to move on to Philadelphia, pay a short visit to the college youth mentioned, and see “how the land lay,” as Harry expressed it.
Two days later found them on the way. They picked out the best bicycle road, and took their time, so that even Bruce did no growling.
A telegram was sent ahead to Charlie Creighton, and he met them at the Continental Hotel, at which place they decided to put up for the time being, for they knew Creighton could not very well accommodate the whole crowd, and they were unwilling to separate.
“You must stay over, at least a few days,” said Charlie Creighton. “And some of you must stay up to our house too. It’s up on Chestnut Hill, and I know you will like it. My sister has a number of girl friends up there, and all of us will do what we can to make you comfortable.” And so it was settled.
Frank found the Creightons very nice people, and soon felt at home with them. Mabel Creighton was a girl who reminded him slightly of Elsie Bellwood, although he did not think her quite so pretty as his old-time sweetheart.
Mabel had several girl chums, and soon Frank and the other boys were on good terms all around.
The girls loved to play tennis, and it was not long before they induced Frank and the others to play.
What one of these games led to will be told in the chapter to follow.
CHAPTER XXIX – FRANK MEETS DEFEAT
“Look out, Merriwell!” called Bart Hodge, from his comfortable seat in the shade of the vine-covered arbor. “This game decides the set.”
“I know that,” smiled Frank, as he took his position back of the base line of the right court, poised his racket, and prepared to serve. “Miss Creighton is a wonder at tennis.”
The pretty girl on the opposite side of the net laughed merrily.
“Oh, what a jolly thing it will be to defeat Frank Merriwell, the great Yale athlete, of whom my brother is forever telling some improbable yarn!” she cried.
Three other girls, two of whom were swinging in a hammock, clapped their hands and laughed.
“Do it, Mabel – do it!” eagerly urged Bessie Blossom. “My brother is forever talking about Frank Merriwell, too! Sile seems to think Mr. Merriwell is the only fellow in college.”
“Oh, he’s not the only pebble on the beach!” sang Fanny Darling, who, for half an hour, had been trying to tease Jack about Frank, and had succeeded in making the loyal fellow decidedly sour and sarcastic. “He may be able to cut some ice with men, but he’ll have to sharpen his wits when he encounters the opposite sex.”
Fanny was freckled and given to slang, but she was independent, could take care of herself, and was popular.
The third girl, Lucy Lake, said nothing at all, but seemed to enjoy it all very much.
Frank was not at all disturbed by the chaffing of the girls. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it thoroughly, and he laughingly said:
“If I am to fall, I could choose no fairer conqueror.”
Mabel Creighton laughed, but added color came to her flushed face, and she could not entirely conceal her happy confusion. She betrayed in a moment that already she had learned to regard her brother’s guest with unusual favor.
At tennis Mabel Creighton was a wonder. Never had Frank seen a girl who was so light on her feet and so deft with a racket. She had actually driven him to the base line game, while she played a net game and volleyed with such bewildering skill and rapidity that it made Frank gasp for breath.
To himself Frank confessed that he had never before seen a girl who could serve so perfectly, or who ran up on her service so quickly. It seemed impossible to take her off her guard.
Frank had started out with a half-formed fancy to let her win, but it was not long before he discovered she was an opponent worthy of his best efforts.
And now, as he prepared to serve, the score stood “games all,” with one “advantage game” to Mabel’s credit. If she could win again, Frank would be defeated.
If possible, Frank resolved to keep her from winning that time, just to make it interesting.
But, on this occasion, Frank was to discover it was not such an easy thing to keep a determined girl and a good tennis player from defeating him.
With as much freshness and vigor as if she had not been so long at work, Mabel received the ball, returning it with a smashing stroke, upon which she risked everything.
Frank was not looking for such a play at the very start, and it took him slightly off his guard. He got the ball on the bound, but drove it out of bounds, and lost the first point with surprising quickness.
“He’s going to lose the set!” muttered Hodge, disconsolately.
Fanny Darling laughed merrily.
“Of course he is!” she cried. “Why, he isn’t in it!”
The game went forward swiftly, but Frank won the second point by “lobbying,” being able to toss the ball over the girl’s head so she could not get back to receive it.
“He’s getting desperate when he resorts to that style of play,” decided Diamond.
Fanny Darling gave a shriek of laughter.
“Oh, my goodness!” she cried. “Did you see that, girls? That’s all the way he can get a point now! He’s afraid to try a drive! Is this the mighty Frank Merriwell, of whom we have heard so much? Oh, my! oh, my!”
Frank joined in the burst of laughter.
“Miss Creighton has me guessing,” he confessed. “I acknowledge I fell back on what seemed my last and only resort.”
“It’s too bad to laugh like that, Fan,” protested Lucy Lake. “Just see what a gentleman he is, and how honest he is in owning up that Mabel is giving him a close game.”
“Too bad!” mocked Fanny. “Oh, I don’t know! He’s altogether too honest! Nothing seems to ruffle or disturb him. I don’t like a fellow who is so cool. I’d give anything if I could get Frank Merriwell real good and mad.”
“Why do you wish to do that?”
“Oh, just for fun! I’d like to prove that he can lose his temper occasionally.”
On the very next play Frank succeeded in winning another point by placing the ball skillfully, which made the score stand thirty-fifteen, in his favor.
Hodge brightened up.
“Oh, Merry has been fooling all along,” he declared. “You’ll see how easy he will pull off the set, Miss Darling. He hasn’t cared to hurt Miss Creighton’s feelings by showing her up.”
“Indeed!” scornfully returned the saucy little witch with the freckled face. “Don’t count your chickens so soon. Mr. Merriwell won’t melt things.”
Mabel Creighton looked doubly determined as she again prepared to serve. Her eyes measured the distance to the net carefully, and though she made a fault by placing her first ball against the top of the net, she sent the next over with a speedy drive.
In a moment Merry was on it, and he made a handsome return, which, however, did not deceive the girl in the least. Mabel volleyed, and Frank was forced to resort to the same play. For some moments the game was highly exciting, and the spectators gasped for breath. Then the girl smashed one down within three inches of the outside line, and Frank’s return was outside, so the score was evened.
“Oh, I knew it!” chattered Fanny Darling. “I’ll bet a pound of Huyler’s that Mr. Frank Merriwell does not make another count.”
“Done!” cried Hodge.
“Oh, say, isn’t this easy, girls?” laughed Fanny. “It’s a perfect snap!”
“For us,” smiled Bessie Blossom. “We’ll have some of that candy who ever wins.”
The next point was scored by Mabel, and Diamond called:
“You must quit fooling, Merry, old man. It’s forty-thirty, and she wins if you do not tie her this time.”
“I shall do my best,” declared Frank.
He did do his best, and it seemed that he would tire the girl out, but he was not successful, and a final daring drive from Mabel’s racket was successful.
She had won the game and the set.
“Well, Merriwell, I must say you are a good thing!” called a laughing voice. “I didn’t suppose you would let a little girl like that get the best of you at anything.”
It was Charlie Creighton himself who had entered the grounds, and was standing near the tennis court, accompanied by a stranger.
The latter was a stocky-built lad of nineteen or twenty, with thin lips and a hard-set jaw, besides having a large neck that swelled at the base. He was dressed in clothes that fitted him perfectly, but were a trifle “loud” or “sporty,” to say the least.
“Yes, I am a good thing,” returned Frank, also laughing; “and your sister has enjoyed herself with me immensely. If you taught her to play tennis, Creighton, she does you credit.”
“Oh,” cried Fanny Darling, “now that Mr. Merriwell is defeated, I suppose he will say it is not polite to win from a girl, and so he did not do his best. That makes me tired!”
“I shall say nothing of the sort, Miss Darling,” declared Merry, with unfailing good-nature. “I tell you honestly that I soon discovered I would not be in the game at all if I loafed, and I did my prettiest. I think I played my average game, and I know that Miss Creighton defeated me without receiving any favors.”
“Really, you astonish me!” said Fanny, who did not seem pleased by this confession. “But I see you are inclined to be diplomatic. I don’t blame you, but – ”
She interrupted herself with a toss of her head, and she had hinted quite enough to bring the hot blood to Frank’s cheeks, although he pretended not to understand her meaning.
Generous to a fault, it cut Merriwell deeply to be suspected of declaring he had been beaten fairly and not meaning it. A blow in the face would not have hurt him so much, but he simply smiled, saying:
“You do me an injustice, Miss Darling.”
No one understood how Frank had been touched better than Bart Hodge, and he growled under his breath, giving Fanny Darling a scowl, which she did not see.
The stranger with Charlie Creighton was sizing up Merriwell in an open manner that was little short of insolent.
“Merry,” called Creighton, “permit me to introduce Mr. Wallace Hegner – Mr. Hegner, Mr. Merriwell.”
Frank came forward, and offered his hand, which Hegner accepted with an air that was rather supercilious, to say the least.
“How do you do, Mr. Hegner?” said Frank. “I’m always pleased to meet any of Creighton’s friends.”
“How are yer?” said Hegner.
The touch of the fellow’s hand gave Merry a feeling of repulsion. He dropped it almost instantly.
“Mr. Hegner is Burk’s trainer, you know,” explained Creighton. “You remember what I was telling you last night about Hank Burk going against Tom Jackson?”
“Yes, I remember,” nodded Merry. “I believe you said this Jackson is backed by the Olympic Club?”
“Yes, they are the challenging parties. They think Jackson can whip his weight in wildcats, and it is their boast that he will hammer the best man Fairmount can put up all over the ring. Mr. Hegner has been handling Burk nearly six weeks, and has him in the pink of condition. He says our man will give Jackson the biggest surprise he ever struck. If it was to be with hard gloves, it’s more than even Burk would knock Jackson out in four rounds. But we – ”
“Oh, Charlie!” exclaimed his sister; “what do you suppose we care about that! You can talk of those things at the club, and you are there the most of the time.”
“I beg your pardon,” laughed Creighton. “I forgot the young ladies present. They do not care for boxing.”
“Some of them do,” said Fanny Darling, quickly. “I like a fellow who can handle his fists scientifically and take care of himself. That’s why I admire Mr. Hegner so much.”
“Thank you,” Hegner bowed, with great gravity. “The manly art is worth acquiring, if it were useful only to protect young ladies from insult.”
“Haw!” grunted Hodge. “There are some fellows who can box a little, and yet do not make a great spread about it.”
Hegner’s eyes narrowed, and he surveyed Hodge with the same insolent air with which he had regarded Frank Merriwell.
“I presume you box some, sir?” he asked.
“Not much, but I have friends who are able to put up quite a little go.”
Charlie Creighton interposed laughingly, and introduced Hegner and Hodge. Bart bowed stiffly, but did not offer his hand, while Hegner nodded as if he had rheumatism in his neck. Then Diamond was introduced.
“Do you put on the gloves?” Hegner asked of the Virginian, in a blunt way.
“Not often,” was the answer, as Jack’s cheeks glowed a bit. “Never had them on in my life till I went to Yale and ran up against Merriwell. Southerners, sir, have a way of settling differences with other weapons than their fists.”
“Oh!”
Jack bit his lip, for there was a hidden sneer in that simple exclamation. For a moment he felt like challenging Hegner on the spot, but remembered that he was in the North, where such things did not “go.”
Hegner turned to Frank, whom he again surveyed from head to feet.
“From what Mr. Diamond says, I infer that you are something of a boxer,” he observed.
“Well, there are others,” smiled Merry. “I do not consider myself anything more than fairly handy with the gloves.”
“Now, Frank!” began Hodge; but Merriwell cut him short with a glance.
“Well, I didn’t know but you thought you could spar,” said Hegner, in a bored way, and then he turned and began to talk to Fanny Darling, who chatted and laughed with him as if pleased by his attention.
Frank was thoroughly disgusted by the air assumed by Creighton’s companion, and Charlie himself was not pleased. And Bart Hodge was chewing his tongue as a war horse might champ its bit, while he glared at Hegner’s back in a way that told he was thoroughly “stirred up.”
After a while, Creighton proposed that they should go down to the club. To this the girls objected, but Hodge and Diamond exchanged significant glances, and then expressed sudden eagerness to go.
“I’ll have to go anyway,” said Hegner. “Burk will be there, and I am due to give him his regular course.”
“Well, I will remain here and do my best to entertain the girls,” said Frank.
“Not by a hanged sight!” said Hodge, quickly. “We want you to come along with us, Merry.”
“That’s right,” agreed Diamond. “Won’t you come, old fellow?”
“Oh, yes, by all means, go!” cried Fanny Darling.
“We can get along very well without any fellow to bother us.”
It was too good an opportunity for Frank to miss, and so he quietly said:
“If I remained behind I should not bother you much, Miss Darling.”
This was unusually ungallant for Frank, but he began to see that Fanny must be met with her own weapons, and he had suddenly decided on his course of dealing with her in the future. His retort brought the blood to her cheeks, and her eyes flashed as she snapped:
“That’s right! I wouldn’t let you!”
As the five lads walked away to take a car, Bessie Blossom said:
“How could you be so rude to such a splendid fellow, Fan? It was just perfectly horrid of you!”
“That’s so!” chorused Lucy and Mabel. “Frank Merriwell is splendid!”
“Say, girls,” cried Fanny, “you make me weary! The trouble with Mr. Merriwell is that he is smart, and he knows it. He has been accustomed to having everybody flatter him, and it will do him good to know there are persons who do not think he is the only item in the paper. Perhaps it will reduce the size of his head so an ordinary hat will fit him.”
“If there is any fellow in the world who has every reason to have a swelled head, and still hasn’t got one, it is Frank Merriwell,” declared Mabel Creighton. “My brother says so, and he knows. He says that, for a fellow in such a position, Merriwell is the most unassuming chap in college. You do him an injustice, Fanny.”
The girl with the freckles gave her head a saucy toss.
“Oh, that’s what’s the matter – every one of you is stuck on him! I saw that right away. And it always happens that way. Wherever he goes, the girls get all broke up over him, and then flock around him. Well, he’ll find there is one girl who doesn’t care a cent for him – so there!”
“At least, Fanny, you might treat him decent,” protested Mabel.
“I will, for I won’t have anything at all to say to him after this. I hope that will satisfy you. If Wallace Hegner would put on the gloves with him, and give him a good thumping, it would help take the conceit out of him. But Mr. Merriwell, the great Yale athlete, would be far too shrewd to stand up in front of Hegner for a bout.”
CHAPTER XXX – FRANK EXPRESSES HIS OPINION
The members of the Fairmount Athletic Club, of Philadelphia, were mainly lads under twenty years of age. There were a few older members in the club to keep everything straight and see that it was run all right, but the club was organized and conducted for the advantage of lads from fifteen to twenty-one.
Not a few of the members were sons of wealthy parents, but it was not necessary for a fellow’s parents to be rich in order that he might become a member. Rich men contributed liberally to the support of the club, which made it possible for the regular fees and dues to be light, and youngsters whose parents were quite unknown, but who were regarded as “all right” themselves, obtained admission to the club.
Although great precaution had been exercised not to let in any one who would be objectionable, it was impossible to exclude all objectionable parties, for, after getting in, some of the members showed traits of character which their best friends had never dreamed they possessed.
Gambling in the clubrooms was prohibited, but cards, billiards and pool were permitted. There was a fine bowling alley, and the gymnasium was fitted up splendidly with all needed apparatus. In the reading-room were all the late magazines and papers, among which were the leading sporting publications. There also was a good library of books, containing volumes treating of sports and athletics. On the walls were pictures of famous amateurs, of matches, contests and races, of all sorts, and of the members of the club who had made records.
Creighton had opened the club to Frank Merriwell and his friends, all of whom were led to understand that they would be welcomed there as long as they remained in Philadelphia.
After leaving the girls at the tennis ground, Charlie and the others proceeded directly to the club. There they found a number of fellows assembled, waiting to see Hegner put Burk through his daily course.
Burk was there, a tall, thin fellow, with short-cropped hair and a bullet-head. There was nothing attractive about his face, and there was something vicious in his little eyes.
At a glance, Frank saw that the fellow selected to represent the Fairmounts had many of the characteristics of the professional prize fighter. He was hard and sinewy, quick in his movements, had a big knotty fist, and looked as if he could stand any amount of punishment. Blows would have very little effect on him, unless they were delivered with skill sufficient to knock him out.
Creighton introduced Burk to the boys, and Frank talked with the fellow. It did not take Merry long to find out that, although Burk had a father who was wealthy and moved in good society, the son belonged to that class of boys who never advance beyond a certain limit, no matter how much they may be pushed. He had no fine sensibilities, and was coarse-grained in everything.
“What do you think of him?” asked Charlie Creighton, as they moved away, after Frank had chatted with the young pugilist.
“Well, you know I have not had sufficient time to form a settled opinion,” answered Merry, evasively.
“Come off!” exclaimed Creighton, quickly. “I know you, and I know you have sized him up. What do you think of him?”
“To be honest, Charlie, I am astonished to find him a member of this club.”
“Eh? Oh, I know what you mean; but Hank is all right, and his dad cuts a figure in this town.”
“I presume he got in on his dad’s reputation?”
“Well, that had something to do with it.”
“He looks as if he might make a good professional bruiser in time.”
“Well, you know there is to be nothing professional about this affair, old man. That’s on the level.”
“How do you manage it?”
“Why, there is a fierce rivalry between the Olympics and Fairmounts. This club started first, and it rejected a number of fellows who applied for membership. Those fellows usually were sons of rich parents, but they had a bad record, and we didn’t want them. They got mad and formed an organization of their own. Their fathers were angry to think their sons should be shut out of here, and they swore the Olympic should knock the spots off this club. They have a building of their own, and it is furnished magnificently. The dues are high, and no one but the son of a rich man can afford to belong there. It has cost their fathers a royal round sum to establish the club, and it is costing them big money to keep it going. At first, they attempted to be exclusive and look down on the Fairmount with disdain, but that did not seem to bother us, and when they found it appeared to be just what we wanted, they adopted another policy. They set out to lead us in athletics, and their men have been against our men in every event possible since then, while they have poured out money like water in order to down us. They have not always been inclined to be thoroughly fair and square about it, either. If they can get the best of us at anything by foul means, there is no doubt but they will do it.”
“I understand. But you said this match is not to be like a professional contest. In what way do you mean?”
“Why, it is like this: There is no purse offered, no admission will be charged, and the victor will win nothing but glory.”
Frank looked doubtful.
“I fail to understand how you can carry the thing on in that way. Did Burk agree to it readily?”
“At first he wanted to fight for a purse, and tried to have it a hard glove affair; but that would have made it a regular prize fight, and Fairmount could not stand that.”
“I should say not! I believe in boxing, but if there is anything I heartily detest it is prize fighting and prize fighters.”
“I believe I have heard you express your opinion in that direction before.”
“I have expressed it often enough.”
“And still you can fight yourself, Merriwell.”
“I can fight if it is necessary, and I believe every fellow should learn to do that, for there will come times when he’ll find the knowledge valuable. As long as the world stands there will be ruffians and bruisers who will attempt to impose on peaceful people, and there have been scores of times in my life when I have not found it possible to avoid a fight. When I have to fight, I sail in for all I am worth, and do the other fellow up as quick as I can; but I do not like it, and the chap who does has too much of the brute in him to suit me.”
“You have very decided ideas on almost everything, Merry.”
“What is a fellow worth if he does not have a few convictions he is willing to stand by?”
“Not much.”
“That’s right. I respect a fellow who will fight for what he thinks is right, even though it may be wrong; but I do not respect a prize fighter who will fight like a beast for a purse of money.”
“Well, there is to be no purse in this affair. I think you will like Burk better when you know him better. He is going to fight Jackson for the honor of the club.”
“And Jackson – what about him?”
“I don’t know. Those fellows can make such arrangements with him as they like; it’s nothing to us.”
“You do not expect to stop betting?”
“No betting will be allowed in the clubroom. Of course there may be betting on the outside. We can’t expect to stop that.”
“Well,” said Frank, “it has a slight flavor of a prize fight, and still it is not one. What sort of gloves will they use?”
“Six ounce.”
“Eight ounce gloves are allowable.”
“I know it, but six have been decided on. This is for points.”
“And will it be carried out under the rules of the Amateur Athletic Union?”
“Sure.”
“How do those fellows class?”
“Light. Burk’s weight is one hundred and forty-six usually, but Hegner has him down to one hundred and thirty-two now, and says he does not care to get him lighter.”
“I presume two judges and a referee will be chosen?”
“Yes. If the judges disagree, the referee will decide.”
“Well, I hope you win the trick, Creighton.”
“Oh, we’ll do that if it’s possible. Hegner knows his business, and he says Burk can do Jackson.”
“I wouldn’t trust Hegner as far as I could throw a Texas steer by the tail.”
“That’s because you have taken a dislike to him. I will confess that he is not agreeable sometimes, but it is his way.”
“It’s a very poor way.”
“Yes, I’ll admit that; but he was on his guard against you, for he has heard so much about you. He expected to find that you thought you knew it all.”
“That does not excuse his boorishness.”
“Admitted; but still I say he knows his business, and we depend on him when he says Burk will win. Hegner is the cleverest boxer of his age in Philadelphia.”
“That is saying considerable.”
“I mean it, and he’d prove it to you if you were to put on the gloves with him. I know you are pretty good, but Heg would give you a surprise.”
“He must be good, if you have so much confidence in him. Well, I sincerely hope your confidence is not misplaced, but there is something about the fellow’s face that makes me suspicious of him. I would not trust him, and I believe he is treacherous. It is my opinion that he will try to get something out of this mill some way.”
“He is getting something out of it.”
“Ah! So?”
“Yes; we’re paying him to put Burk in shape.”
“It is possible that will satisfy him, but I think he’s a schemer. I tell you, Creighton, you’ll find it to your advantage to look out for Hegner.”
