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diff --git a/old/63608-0.txt b/old/63608-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 242e859..0000000 --- a/old/63608-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11193 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Dick Merriwell's Heroic Players, by Burt L -Standish - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this ebook. - -Title: Dick Merriwell's Heroic Players - -Subtitle: How the Yale Nine Won the Championship - -Author: Burt L Standish - -Release Date: November 04, 2020 [EBook #63608] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: David Edwards, Barry Abrahamsen, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DICK MERRIWELL'S HEROIC -PLAYERS *** - - - BOOKS FOR YOUNG MEN - - Stories of Frank and Dick Merriwell - - PRICE, FIFTEEN CENTS - - Fascinating Stories of Athletics - - -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. - - - ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT - - 101—Frank Merriwell’s Nomads - 102—Dick Merriwell on the Gridiron - 103—Dick Merriwell’s Disguise - 104—Dick Merriwell’s Test - 105—Frank Merriwell’s Trump Card - 106—Frank Merriwell’s Strategy - 107—Frank Merriwell’s Triumph - 108—Dick Merriwell’s Grit - 109—Dick Merriwell’s Assurance - 110—Dick Merriwell’s Long Slide - 111—Frank Merriwell’s Rough Deal - 112—Dick Merriwell’s Threat - 113—Dick Merriwell’s Persistence - 114—Dick Merriwell’s Day - 115—Frank Merriwell’s Peril - 116—Dick Merriwell’s Downfall - 117—Frank Merriwell’s Pursuit - 118—Dick Merriwell Abroad - 119—Frank Merriwell in the Rockies - 120—Dick Merriwell’s Pranks - 121—Frank Merriwell’s Pride - 122—Frank Merriwell’s Challengers - 123—Frank Merriwell’s Endurance - 124—Dick Merriwell’s Cleverness - 125—Frank Merriwell’s Marriage - 126—Dick Merriwell, the Wizard - 127—Dick Merriwell’s Stroke - 128—Dick Merriwell’s Return - 129—Dick Merriwell’s Resource - 130—Dick Merriwell’s Five - 131—Frank Merriwell’s Tigers - 132—Dick Merriwell’s Polo Team - 133—Frank Merriwell’s Pupils - 134—Frank Merriwell’s New Boy - 135—Dick Merriwell’s Home Run - 136—Dick Merriwell’s Dare - 137—Frank Merriwell’s Son - 138—Dick Merriwell’s Team Mate - 139—Frank Merriwell’s Leaguers - 140—Frank Merriwell’s Happy Camp - 141—Dick Merriwell’s Influence - 142—Dick Merriwell, Freshman - 143—Dick Merriwell’s Staying Power - 144—Dick Merriwell’s Joke - 145—Frank Merriwell’s Talisman - 146—Frank Merriwell’s Horse - 147—Dick Merriwell’s Regret - 148—Dick Merriwell’s Magnetism - 149—Dick Merriwell’s Backers - 150—Dick Merriwell’s Best Work - 151—Dick Merriwell’s Distrust - 152—Dick Merriwell’s Debt - 153—Dick Merriwell’s Mastery - 154—Dick Merriwell Adrift - 155—Frank Merriwell’s Worst Boy - 156—Dick Merriwell’s Close Call - 157—Frank Merriwell’s Air Voyage - 158—Dick Merriwell’s Black Star - 159—Frank Merriwell in Wall Street - 160—Frank Merriwell Facing His Foes - 161—Dick Merriwell’s Stanchness - 162—Frank Merriwell’s Hard Case - 163—Dick Merriwell’s Stand - 164—Dick Merriwell Doubted - 165—Frank Merriwell’s Steadying Hand - 166—Dick Merriwell’s Example - 167—Dick Merriwell in the Wilds - 168—Frank Merriwell’s Ranch - 169—Dick Merriwell’s Way - 170—Frank Merriwell’s Lesson - 171—Dick Merriwell’s Reputation - 172—Frank Merriwell’s Encouragement - 173—Dick Merriwell’s Honors - 174—Frank Merriwell’s Wizard - 175—Dick Merriwell’s Race - 176—Dick Merriwell’s Star Play - 177—Frank Merriwell at Phantom Lake - 178—Dick Merriwell a Winner - 179—Dick Merriwell at the County Fair - 180—Frank Merriwell’s Grit - 181—Dick Merriwell’s Power - 182—Frank Merriwell in Peru - 183—Frank Merriwell’s Long Chance - 184—Frank Merriwell’s Old Form - 185—Frank Merriwell’s Treasure Hunt - 186—Dick Merriwell Game to the Last - 187—Dick Merriwell, Motor King - 188—Dick Merriwell’s Tussle - 189—Dick Merriwell’s Aero Dash - 190—Dick Merriwell’s Intuition - 191—Dick Merriwell’s Placer Find - 192—Dick Merriwell’s Fighting Chance - 193—Frank Merriwell’s Tact - 194—Frank Merriwell’s Puzzle - 195—Frank Merriwell’s Mystery - 196—Frank Merriwell, the Lionhearted - 197—Frank Merriwell’s Tenacity - 198—Dick Merriwell’s Perception - 199—Dick Merriwell’s Detective Work - 200—Dick Merriwell’s Commencement - 201—Dick Merriwell’s Decision - 202—Dick Merriwell’s Coolness - 203—Dick Merriwell’s Reliance - 204—Frank Merriwell’s Young Warriors - 205—Frank Merriwell’s Lads - 206—Dick Merriwell in Panama - 207—Dick Merriwell in South America - 208—Dick Merriwell’s Counsel - - -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, 1929. - - 209—Dick Merriwell, Universal Coach - 210—Dick Merriwell’s Varsity Nine - - - To be published in February, 1929. - - 211—Dick Merriwell’s Heroic Players - 212—Dick Merriwell at the Olympics - - - To be published in March, 1929. - - 213—Frank Merriwell, Jr., Tested - 214—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Conquests - 215—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Rivals - - - To be published in April, 1929. - - 216—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Helping Hand - 217—Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Arizona - - - To be published in May, 1929. - - 218—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Mission - 219—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Iceboat Adventure - - - To be published in June, 1929. - - 220—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Timely Aid - 221—Frank Merriwell, Jr., in the Desert - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - Dick Merriwell’s Heroic Players - - OR - - HOW THE YALE NINE WON THE - CHAMPIONSHIP - - - - By - BURT L. STANDISH - Author of the famous Merriwell Stories. - - - - - Publisher’s Logo - - - - - STREET & SMITH CORPORATION - PUBLISHERS - 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - - - Copyright, 1912 - By STREET & SMITH - ────── - Dick Merriwell’s Heroic Players - - - - - All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign - languages, including the Scandinavian. - - Printed in the U. S. A. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - DICK MERRIWELL’S HEROIC PLAYERS. - ────── - - - - - CHAPTER I - - INSIDE BASEBALL. - - -Jim Phillips, industriously making himself a master of certain abstruse -problems in mathematics, excited the derision of big Bill Brady, chiefly -because it was a warm, lazy spring day, and, therefore, as Bill saw it, -entirely out of the question for serious work. - -“It’s bad enough to have to go out and do baseball practice,” said Jim’s -big catcher. The two were sophomores, and had won fame as the great Yale -battery that had humbled every college team with any pretensions to the -championship except Harvard. “But I suppose that if we’re going to win -that series from the boys in the red socks, we’ve got to do a little -practicing.” - -Phillips himself paid no attention, but Harry Maxwell, his former -roommate, who had dropped in for a call, was willing enough to talk. - -“You’re not worrying about those Johnnies?” he said. “Why, Bill, they’ll -be easy. We’ve whipped Princeton and Michigan—better teams than any -Harvard has played, and better than Harvard, too, if you ask me.” - -“I don’t know about that,” said Bill. “I’m no prize pessimist, but I’ve -been watching this Harvard team pretty closely, and I’ve noticed that -they haven’t had to work very hard to win any of their big games yet. -For instance, they beat Cornell two games straight, and did it easy. -They gave Pennsylvania the same dose—and we had the time of our lives -beating both of those teams. They’ve got a pitcher called Briggs up -there at Cambridge, and from the records he’s some pitcher. He played -once against Cornell and once against Pennsylvania, and he shut them -both out. He’s only pitched about five games this year, because their -man from last year, Wooley, is plenty good enough to keep most college -teams guessing. But they’ll serve Mr. Briggs up for us, with trimmings, -believe me, and if we do any free and fancy hitting while he’s in the -box I miss my guess.” - -“I haven’t heard much about this Briggs,” said Maxwell curiously. - -He knew that Bill Brady’s opinion on any baseball matter was a mighty -good one, and that Dick Merriwell, Yale’s universal coach, regarded the -big catcher as one of his most useful aides in the development of a -championship team. - -“That’s because you don’t read the Boston papers,” said Bill. “They’ve -been keeping him pretty well under cover—and every one knows why that -is, too. They’re saving him up for us. You know how they are up -there—beat Yale, no matter what else you do or don’t do. If you can beat -Yale, all right. But I was up in Cambridge one day last week, when you -fellows didn’t know it, and I managed to see their game with Amherst -without being recognized. They sent Briggs in to pitch the nine innings, -and what he did to those Amherst fellows was a sin and a shame. They -didn’t get a hit or a run. Now, Amherst isn’t much this year. We beat -them in a walk, with old Winston pitching, and Sam Taylor doing most of -the work for him behind the bat, at that. - -“But the thing that got me was that Briggs wasn’t really working his -head off at all. He just breezed along, and took things easy, and he’s -got a catcher who understands every little trick to make a pitcher do -his best—chap called Bowen. I know him well. He was a couple of years -ahead of me at Andover, and he taught me a whole lot about the game -then. Now he’s a senior at Harvard and captain of the team, and this boy -Briggs is his specialty. He’s been spending seven days a week and about -four hours a day coaching him, since March. And, take it from me, it’s -showing up. - -“He’s so much better than any of these pitchers we’ve been running up -against that we’ll be lucky to get a hit off him. He can’t pitch more’n -two of the games, though. That’s one good thing. They’ll use him at -Cambridge in the first game, and shoot Wooley in for the second game -here. And, if the series is even, they’ll have Briggs come back at us in -New York. They’re willing to drop one game. I’ve told Mr. Merriwell all -I know about Briggs, and he’s inclined to think we’re in for the -toughest series yet.” - -Baseball proved more attractive to Jim Phillips than the higher -mathematics. He turned around to Bill Brady. - -“What’s this chap got that makes you think so much of him, Bill?” he -asked. - -“Control,” said Brady. “He hasn’t got your curves—or, if he has, he -didn’t show them. But he’s got control, and he can put that ball exactly -where Bowen calls for it ten times out of ten. And Bowen knows just -where it ought to go, too.” - -“H’m-m,” said Jim soberly. “We’re not what you’d call prize hitters this -year, Bill. Harry Maxwell here makes a long hit once in a while, and so -can Sherman and Jackson. But you’re the only clean slugger on the team. -How about it? Can you hit him?” - -“Not unless he wants me to,” said Bill cheerfully. “He can keep that -ball right under my chin if he wants to. He didn’t show a drop on that -ball the other day, but if he’s got one he can fan me about four times. -If he can’t, I’ll get a base on balls a couple of times. That’s about -the limit of my speed against him. I can’t hit a high ball, and Bowen -knows it, too.” - -“It might be a good idea for you to learn, then,” said Jim pleasantly. -He looked at his watch. “Come along! It’s half past one now. We’ll cut -that lecture on political science—we’ve got three cuts left in that—pick -up Sam Taylor, and go out to the field. Then I’ll show you a few things -about high-ball pitching.” - -Brady groaned in mock dismay at the prospect of some extra practice. - -“Gee!” he said. “You’re a worse slave driver than Dick Merriwell -himself. How about Harry here? He hasn’t learned to hit a fast shoot -yet—and he always swipes at them. Doesn’t he need to practice, too?” - -“He sure does,” said Jim Phillips. “Come on, Harry. You’re elected, too. -We’ve got to try to have a warm reception ready for Mr. Briggs if he’s -so especially keen about making trouble for us. Good thing you picked up -one of his tricks, Bill. It may mean the difference between winning and -losing if we can pick up a run right at the start, before he and Bowen -get on to the fact that we’ve corrected some of the weaknesses he’s been -counting on.” - -Jim Phillips, already assured, by his remarkable pitching, of the -captaincy of the next year’s nine, although he would then be only a -junior, although few Yale captains are chosen from any but the senior -class, had qualities of leadership that made his fitness for that -important position very marked. - -To induce men like Maxwell and Brady, his intimate friends and -classmates, to go out on such a day, when the very air invited them to -loaf and rejoice in the lassitude of the weather, was no small feat. It -was his magnetism and his persuasiveness that accomplished it; and such -qualities do much for a man who must lead other men. In college sports, -particularly, a captain should be a leader rather than a driver, -inducing men to do what he wants in a tactful way, so that they will be -willing and eager, instead of feeling that they are being forced to do -their work because of the authority vested in the captain. - -Taylor, the senior catcher, once an enemy of Jim Phillips, but now his -devoted friend, although Bill Brady had displaced him as the regular -varsity catcher, as Jim Phillips had displaced Taylor’s roommate and -closest friend, Bob Gray, as the first-string pitcher, proved very -willing to go out to the field with them and catch for Jim while the -other two practiced with their bats in the effort to become familiar -with the curves most likely to be employed by the formidable Harvard -pitcher. - -At the field they found the diamond already well occupied with freshmen, -who, while they awaited the arrival of their coach, were enjoying -themselves in a scratch game. The upper classmen immediately impressed -half a dozen of the youngsters as fielders, and stationing them in -position, began their extra practice. - -Dick Merriwell, the universal coach, arrived before they had been long -at work, and, soon guessing what they were doing, stood apart and -watched them. - -“Good work!” he said finally, walking over to them. “Putting in a little -practice for the benefit of Mr. Briggs?” - -Brady explained what they were doing. - -“I’m getting on to the way to slam that high ball out,” he said. “I’ve -always stepped back from it before. I got hit on the head by one of -those balls when I was a youngster, and I’ve been gun-shy ever since. -But Jim’s got the right idea. He marked out a place for me to stand, and -he’s been pitching so close to my head that, if I had a beard, he would -have rubbed my whiskers off. I see now what my trouble was. I’d always -draw away, and by the time I tried to hit the ball, I’d be off my -balance, and couldn’t knock it out of the infield.” - -Jim sent a high ball whizzing in just after that. Brady shortened his -bat and drove the ball on a terrific line right over the third baseman’s -head. In a game, such a drive would have been good for two bases at -least, possibly three. - -“You fellows stole a march on me here,” said Merriwell, with a smile. -“That’s the sort of spirit that wins baseball games, too. Be ready, no -matter how much trouble it is. It isn’t on the field that baseball -championships are won. It’s in the heads of the winners—it’s the men who -think about the game and know just what they’re going to do when the -emergency comes along.” - -Jim Phillips flushed slightly with pleasure. Like all other real Yale -men, he had the greatest possible respect and liking for the universal -coach. Moreover, Merriwell had aided him since he had been in Yale in -several affairs that had looked serious, and he thought much of his -praise. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER II - - JEALOUSY AND ITS RESULT. - - -Naturally, the Yale student body as a whole didn’t have the inside -information about the Harvard team that had been obtained by Bill Brady -and Dick Merriwell. Most of the undergraduates thought that Harvard -would be beaten easily, for the men who had seen Princeton, Cornell, and -Michigan humbled by the blue, had little idea that Harvard could be a -more formidable opponent than any of the other nines Yale had defeated. -Many of them had read of the feat of Briggs in shutting out Amherst -without a hit or a run, but had not taken it very seriously. Yale had -not used either of her first-string pitchers against a small college, -but had depended upon Winston, a substitute, and even so had won very -easily. So it was felt that Briggs, fine as his record against the -Amherst team had been, had still to prove that he was worthy to be -classed with Jim Phillips, who was already hailed by the newspapers as -the best college pitcher of the year, and one, who, should he choose to -do it, could make a great deal of money by turning professional and -playing with some big-league team. - -Gurney, a sophomore, voiced the general sentiment as he sat on the -famous sophomore fence on the evening of the extra practice which Jim -had planned to foil Briggs. - -“They can’t touch old Jim,” he said. “I’m going to bet every cent I can -raise on the game. This Briggs is all right, but he’ll have to go get a -real reputation before he can scare us. Eh, fellows?” - -There was only one dissenting voice in the little group that heard the -little sophomore’s boast. - -“Remember the story of the pitcher that went too often to the well,” -said Woeful Watson, known to all Yale as the class pessimist of the -sophomores. Watson, no matter how gay the company in which he found -himself, always seemed impelled to cast a blanket of gloom over the -occasion. “We’ve been depending too much on Jim Phillips. He has to do -all the work. It isn’t fair. He’s only human, and some day he’s going to -run up against some one he can’t pitch rings around. The rest of the -team ought to do more than it does to back him up.” - -“Shucks, Woeful!” said Jack Tempest, the sprinter, one of Jim Phillips’ -best friends. “Cheer up. The team’s good enough. It isn’t a very -hard-hitting team, I’ll admit, but it doesn’t need to get more than one -or two runs. If they do that, Jim can attend to the rest of it by -himself.” - -“All right,” said Watson gloomily. “You fellows have been playing in -fool’s luck all spring. Wait until after this series with Harvard is -over before you do any crowing, though. You know the darky’s receipt for -cooking a rabbit—first catch your rabbit.” - -Although Watson could never understand the reason, it was nevertheless -true that no matter how earnest his efforts were to make his classmates -take a more serious and sober view of life, the effect was usually -simply to make them laugh at him. They did so now, fairly exploding, and -half a dozen of them formed a ring and danced around him, singing a -mocking song, the words of which they seemed to make up as they went -along. - -Jim Phillips was an idol, almost, with his classmates. It was seldom, -indeed, that any man reflected so much credit in his class as the famous -pitcher. He was sure, too, to be a star on the football team in the -following fall, and they were proud of him. But some of the class, -although these were very much of a minority, and seldom made their -opinions public, were far from proud. For one reason or another, but -mostly because, having failed to win any such measure of success and -popularity for themselves, they were jealous of Jim; not a few men in -Yale, unworthy of the college as they thus proved themselves to be, -would have secretly rejoiced had some disaster overtaken Phillips. Once -or twice they had thought that their secret desire was about to be -realized, but each time Jim, with the aid of the astute and resourceful -Dick Merriwell, had emerged more popular than before. - -“Listen to those silly goats,” said one of these disgruntled ones, -Carpenter by name, as the dance about Watson continued. “I don’t see why -they raise such a fuss about this chap Phillips. He gets all the praise, -and fellows who are just as clever as he don’t get a fair chance. If you -want to get along here at Yale, you have to be an athlete. Otherwise you -can’t accomplish anything.” - -Carpenter wore glasses, that made his staring eyes very prominent. He -was thin, and there was certainly nothing athletic about his appearance. -He usually had a book with him, and it was his boast that before he was -graduated he would earn the title of the best student in his class. And -he resented bitterly the fact that, so far, Jim Phillips was the -principal stumblingblock in his path toward the honor he coveted. - -Jim was as good a student as he was an athlete; but Carpenter, who was -more concerned with bare facts and figures than with reasons why things -he learned were so, had convinced himself that the reason that Jim -consistently outshone him in the classroom and after examinations was -that the professors displayed favoritism as a reward for Jim’s successes -in athletics. - -“I think you’re right, Carpenter,” said the man he had addressed, one of -his own type. - -In college, such men are known as grinds. For them the college life has -no meaning. They devote themselves entirely to their books, doing -nothing to improve themselves by association with other students, and -taking no part in the athletics that would give them a healthy -body—quite as important a part of college training as that of the -classroom, did Carpenter and his kind only understand it. - -“But I don’t see what you’re going to do about it,” added Carpenter’s -friend. - -“I’d like to put something over on Phillips,” said Carpenter viciously. -“He needs something to take him down a bit. He thinks now he’s the -biggest man in Yale. If you ask me, I think he puts on an awful lot. I -know he’s a good pitcher, but he poses as a saint, too, that would never -do anything wrong. I’d like to try him on that—see if he’s really as -good as he’s made out to be.” - -“You’re a fine pair,” said a new voice. “Loyal to a classmate—that’s -real Yale spirit.” - -Startled at being overheard, Carpenter and his companion, Shesgren, -looked up. They were amazed and confused to see that the man who was -speaking to them was Parker, a junior, and known as a big man in his -class. He was an athlete, though not a baseball player, football being -his sport. Indeed, there was even a chance that he might be captain of -the football team the next fall. Danby, the man elected after the last -season, had been forced to leave Yale for family reasons, and the -election to pick his successor had not yet been held. Parker was one of -three candidates. For him to have heard what they said, Carpenter and -Shesgren were convinced, would mean a lot of trouble for them. - -But, after looking at them contemptuously a minute, Parker smiled. - -“I don’t know that I blame you much, at that,” he said. They plucked up -at that, surprised as they were to hear him say it. “I must confess that -I get rather tired myself sometimes when I hear them chanting the -praises of this fellow Phillips. He’s done pretty well, but he’s got an -awful lot to do yet before he’ll be entitled to all the honors every one -here seems determined to give him. For instance, there’s this baseball -captaincy. Every one says he’s sure to be elected—and that’s a bad -precedent, and a dangerous one. - -“We’ve done well in athletics here for years, but we’ve had the practice -of electing seniors to captaincies, and, when it’s worked as well as it -has, I don’t see any reason for changing around now and putting a junior -in to run a team as important as the baseball nine. Steve Carter’s the -man for captain. If Phillips does as well next year as he has this, -there’ll be no one to oppose his election in his senior year—and he -ought to wait until then.” - -“After all,” said Jack Tempest, who had overheard the last few words of -what Parker had said, “that’s a matter for the baseball team to decide, -isn’t it, Parker? They elect their own captain, and class feeling won’t -enter into it. There are only three sophomores on the team, and Jim -himself, I know, will vote for Carter, if he runs. Brady and Maxwell -will vote for Jim, I suppose, and so will Carter. Jackson is a junior—I -don’t know what he’ll do. Gray and Taylor are seniors—so’s Sherman, and -some of the others.” - -Parker turned and looked at Tempest in a coldly, insolent way that -brought the Virginian’s hot blood to his cheeks in a flush of anger. - -“I don’t remember saying anything to you, Tempest,” said Parker. “I was -talking to two friends of mine here. When we want the benefit of your -advice, we’ll be able to ask you for it, you know.” - -Tempest was furious. He raised his hand as if he would strike the junior -who had insulted him, but his common sense prevailed. He was not afraid -of Parker, although the football man, a guard, weighed fifty pounds more -than did the slight young Southerner, and was one of the strongest men -in Yale as well. But he knew that a brawl there on the campus would do -no good, and might annoy Jim Phillips. So, without another word, he -turned on his heel and walked off, although Parker’s sneering laugh, -which he heard plainly as he walked away, made it almost impossible for -him to resist the temptation to return, and, at any cost, have it out -with the bully and coward, who had struck at him through his friend. - -“These infernal sophomores are getting to think they own the college,” -said Parker angrily, utterly unmindful, it seemed, of the fact that it -was to two members of the class he insulted that he was speaking. But he -knew his men, and that they would not dare to resent anything he might -say. “Are you two fellows in earnest about Phillips? Would you like to -see him shown up? If you are, come along with me. I’ve got a plan that -may prove what sort of a chap he is at bottom.” - -Scarcely believing in their good fortune in securing an ally as powerful -as Parker, the two treacherous sophomores gladly accepted his -invitation. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER III - - A FLATTERING INVITATION. - - -Jim Phillips, his reputation firmly established as the best college -pitcher in the East, and, since his defeat of the Michigan team, in the -whole United States, was hardly surprised when, the day after the -conference between Parker and the two sophomores, of which, of course, -he knew nothing, he was asked by the captain of the team of the New -Haven Country Club to pitch for that nine against the Boston Athletic -Association nine the next day. - -Jim, like many other Yale athletes, had been elected an honorary member -of the country club, and so was eligible to play on any of its teams. -But he had not taken the time to make use of the club since his -election, as he had been busy in practice for Yale teams. His first -impulse was to decline outright Captain Hasbrook’s request, and he even -started to do so. But Hasbrook pleaded so hard that Jim finally agreed -to reconsider and to consult Dick Merriwell on the subject. - -“I’m under Mr. Merriwell’s orders, of course,” said Jim, “and I can’t do -anything of this sort without his permission. Frankly, I don’t think he -will let me play for you. This game with Harvard is pretty important, -you know, and we aren’t going to have an easy time with them, by any -means.” - -“I’ve thought of that, of course,” said Hasbrook. “I’m an old Yale man -myself, you know, and I played on the team when Merriwell was captain. -So I think I may have some weight with him. I’ll try, anyhow. And I -really think it will do you good to run up against that Boston bunch. -They’ve got a lot of old Harvard men on their team, and I’ve heard that -there will be one or two of this year’s team. They won’t have this man -Briggs that they’re counting on so heavily, but they’re better off than -we are in pitchers. Holmes, the only man I could count on to do any -really good pitching, has hurt his arm, and that’s why I’m so keen about -getting you. Winston’s a member of the club and I suppose there’ll be no -difficulty about getting him to pitch, if you can’t help us out. But I’d -rather have you, naturally, because old Winston, while he’s willing -enough, wouldn’t last three innings against that bunch of sluggers -that’s coming down from Boston. - -“They’ve got to look on this game every year as a sort of alumni game -between Yale and Harvard, you know, and, of course, they’ve got a lot -more men to draw on than we have—Boston being big enough to swallow New -Haven and a couple of other towns our size. So they’ve been beating us -for the last three years.” - -Jim, as he had told Hasbrook, had little hope of being allowed to play. -But he was anxious enough to do so. He remembered Hasbrook well as a -member of the good-government party that had helped the Yale students -mightily when the city had tried to stop the cheering at Yale Field, and -the idea of giving Harvard men a chance to crow, even if they were out -of college, was displeasing to him. - -Brady, it seemed, had received a similar invitation from Hasbrook. He -came, soon after the country club man had left Jim, to tell him about -it. He, it seemed, had accepted, making only the provision that -Merriwell’s consent would have to be obtained. But Bill was a horse for -work, and there was not the same reason for saving him that tended to -make it unlikely that Jim would be allowed to play. - -They went to see Merriwell together, Jim’s anxiety to play being greatly -increased when he found that Bill Brady would be his catcher. The idea -of pitching to a strange catcher had been one of the things that had -prompted his first refusal. - -Hasbrook was an old friend of Dick Merriwell’s, and when the two -sophomores found the universal coach they learned that he already knew -their errand. He seemed a little doubtful. - -“I think the game would do you both lots of good,” he said. “This Boston -team is made up altogether of old Harvard varsity men, and they’ve been -playing baseball on a system at Cambridge for fifteen years. When you -play one Harvard team, you know them all. That’s one reason I was -willing to consider this matter. But I’d rather have had the game come -at least a week before the big match. I’m only afraid you’ll overdo -things, Jim.” - -“I won’t let him work himself to death, Mr. Merriwell,” promised Brady. -“He’ll do just what I signal him, you know, and I’ll see that he saves -his arm. We don’t have to take chances in this game, because it doesn’t -really matter whether we win or not. If we can win, without hurting -ourselves, why we’d like to do it, of course. But every one will -understand that we can’t take chances for the country club when we’ve -got to play for Yale against Harvard. Even Hasbrook and the others out -at the club wouldn’t like that. They’d rather lose themselves than see -Yale licked, if it came to a choice.” - -“All right, then,” said Dick. “I’ll give my consent—on one condition. If -you feel tired during the game, Jim, and as if you were putting any sort -of a strain on your arm, you’ve got to promise to make Hasbrook take you -out, no matter what the score is. And I count on you, too, Brady. If you -see that Jim is hurting himself, you’ve got to see that he gets out of -the game. You may be able to tell better than he can himself. I’d be at -the game, but I’ve got some important business to attend to in New York, -and it won’t be possible for me to get there. That’s why I’m hesitating -so much. Winston can go out to the game with you, and if Jim has to go -out, he can take his place. I think he’d do better than Hasbrook -expects, too. He’s improved a lot since the beginning of the season, and -I’ve seen a lot of college teams that would be glad to have him.” - -“I guess that’s right,” said Brady. “But then any man who knows how to -curve a ball at all would turn into a good pitcher with you to coach -him, Mr. Merriwell.” - -The news of Merriwell’s permission to the two sophomore stars to form -the battery for the country club against the famous amateur team from -Boston, caused great excitement. The country club members were -overjoyed. They saw a chance to get revenge for the defeats of the last -few years. With quiet confidence, they made up a purse and sent it -posthaste to Boston, to be bet on their team, with its powerful -reënforcements. The newspapers printed the story. And from Cambridge -came rumors that every effort was being made to induce the Harvard coach -to allow Briggs to pitch for the Bostonians. - -Dick Merriwell shook his head when he heard that. - -“I hope he won’t,” he said. “If I’d thought there was any chance that -Briggs would pitch for them, I wouldn’t have consented to let Jim go in. -It would be too much like letting the Yale-Harvard game be played ahead -of time.” - -But those rumors were speedily set at rest. There was no chance for -Briggs to play, and, moreover, as the Boston men saw it, they needed no -undergraduate pitcher to give them the victory. For Hobson, the famous -Hobson, who had pitched Harvard to a championship in three successive -years while he was still in college, was back in America from a trip -abroad, and in the very pink of condition for any sort of a game. And he -had been promptly drafted by his old club. - -“Now you will have your work cut out for you, Jim,” said Dick Merriwell, -with a smile. “I know Hobson well, of old, and if you beat him, you -certainly need have no fear of Briggs or any one else that’s in college -now. Also, if he beats you, you needn’t feel disgraced. You know his -record, of course.” - -Out at the country club, Jim Phillips and Brady practiced for the first -time with Hasbrook and the other men who made up the team, arranging -signals and other details for the game. A new batting order had to be -made up, too, and Hasbrook, who knew how formidable a batter Brady was, -put him in as fourth man, with Jim Phillips to follow him. A great many -members, going out to play golf or tennis, decided to watch the baseball -practice instead, and the big porch of the country club was deserted. -Almost deserted—not quite, for in a corner, hidden by some plants, sat -Parker and his new sophomore friends, Carpenter and Shesgren. - -“It’s worked, so far,” said Parker, drawing in luxuriously on a straw -that protruded from a long, fizzy glass. “He walked right into it, and -even his friend Merriwell couldn’t see the danger. I don’t blame him. He -thinks our little friend Phillips is all he should be. He’ll have quite -a shock when he wakes up and finds out.” - -“What have you got against Merriwell, Parker?” asked Carpenter. - -He, like almost every other Yale man, both liked and respected the -universal coach, who had certainly done great things for the blue since -his Alma Mater had called him back to take general charge of all her -athletic teams; supervising all of them, and coaching the more important -teams himself. Carpenter was unable to understand why Parker, himself an -athlete, and, therefore, better able to understand than most of his -fellow students just how much the universal coach had done for Yale, -should be so bitter against Merriwell. - -Parker was more genial than usual with his sophomore allies, whom, as a -matter of fact, he secretly despised. He had been drinking iced drinks -all afternoon, and they had had a distinct effect upon him. - -“Why, I’ll tell you, Carpenter, my boy,” he said. “I’m likely to be -captain of the football team here next fall, see, and I want to be the -real captain. Look at old Tom Sherman. What’s he got to say about the -baseball team? It’s all up to Merriwell. Same way with Murchison. He was -elected captain of the crew. Has he got anything to do with the way the -crew is run? Not so you could notice it. It’s Mr. Richard Merriwell who -dictates everything.” - -“Well, that’s because they let him do it, isn’t it?” asked Shesgren. - -“They haven’t any choice,” said Parker. “Every one here thinks he’s just -about right on everything. He can’t do anything wrong. If he falls down -hard once, and gets shown up in this business, he may have still enough -to keep on being universal coach, but he won’t be a dictator, the way he -has been. Anyhow, Phillips won’t captain the baseball team, and that -will reduce Merriwell’s pull a little.” - -He finished his drink and ordered another. - -“Now, then,” he said, “are you two friendly with Phillips?” - -“Hardly,” said Carpenter. “He simply lets us alone. He started to act as -if he wanted to be friendly with me once, but I soon saw that he was -doing it just to make it easier for him to beat me out in the work, and -I dropped him.” - -“Same here,” said Shesgren. “He talks a lot of sickening rot about how -all the men in the class ought to stick together and be friendly—and -then goes and does mean things behind our backs. That’s the only way he -ever gets a good stand in his studies. Why does he try to hog -everything, anyhow? We don’t mind how prominent he is in athletics. We -came here to get good degrees. My father promised me a thousand dollars -if I was one of the first two men in the class—and the way things are -going now I won’t be able to get that. Phillips and Brady work together -all the time, and just because they are way up in athletics the faculty -favors them all the time.” - -“Never mind all that,” said Parker. “Have to drop your personal feelings -for a while if you want to get square. I want you two fellows to go back -to New Haven this evening and call on Phillips. Make any excuse you -like. Say you came in to talk over your work or something. Be chummy -with him. Make him ask you to come again.” - -The two sophomores protested violently. “Why should they?” they asked. - -But Parker had returned to his stern and superior manner. He had had -enough to drink to make him ugly, and his overbearing manner so -frightened the sophomores, since they were weaklings, physically, no -matter how bright they might be mentally, that they gave in. - -“You go do as I say,” growled Parker. “Then come to my room and tell me -how you got along. I’ll tell you then what to do next. Got a little -business to attend to here.” - -He shooed them away, and then sat down again to wait until a stranger -appeared, looking around to see if he were observed. - -“Safe enough,” said Parker. “Been waiting for you.” - -“Are you sure you are right in this?” asked the other. “It doesn’t seem -like Phillips at all to do a thing like that. I must say I was surprised -when you told me.” - -“Well, you’ve got proof, haven’t you?” asked Parker. “He refused to play -at first, didn’t he? Then, after I saw him, he agreed. He’s out here -now, practicing with the team. You go back on your agreement and see how -long he stays out here.” - -“I don’t like it a bit,” said the other. “However—we want to win, and I -don’t see any other way to do it. I’ll stick to the agreement. I guess -your plan is the safest. I’ve got to have some sort of a receipt, of -course, in case there’s any trouble. But that will be the simplest. It -won’t attract any attention, and I don’t see how it could get out, -anyhow.” - -“No,” said Parker. “I don’t see how it can get out unless one of us -splits—and I don’t suppose you’re going to do that, are you?” - -“I should say not,” exclaimed the other, so fervently that Parker -laughed, which made the man who had just handed him a letter start, as -he noticed for the first time that Parker, owing to the drinks he had -taken, was far from being himself. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - A FARCICAL GAME. - - -The game with the team from Boston was to be played in New Haven on -Wednesday, leaving Jim Phillips two full days to rest and get ready for -the test against Harvard on Saturday. That game would be played in -Cambridge, however, and would involve a railroad journey of nearly four -hours for the Yale team. A special car would be provided, and the team, -starting early Friday evening from New Haven, would arrive in Boston in -time to sleep comfortably in a great hotel, driving to the field on -Saturday morning in a flock of taxis. - -On the day of the game with the Boston Athletic Association nine, Bill -Brady and Jim Phillips drove out together to the country club. - -“Wasn’t that Carpenter I saw come downstairs with you?” Brady asked -curiously. - -“Yes,” said Jim, laughing. “He and Shesgren called on me last night. -They’ve been pretty sore at us, Bill, for getting better marks than -they’ve had, but they seem to have made up their minds to take it the -right way at last. They were very cordial last night, and Carpenter said -he had come in to see if I had been able to get up any good outside -reading on that course in European history. I gave him the names of a -few books he seemed never to have heard of, and he told me some things -I’d only guessed at before. So it was an even trade. When we got -through, we both knew more about it than we had before. - -“I told him that was the way to go to work—that I didn’t care anything -about marks, but wanted to learn the subject. He seemed to be surprised -at that—guess he’d never thought of it that way before, but he said I -seemed to keep on getting good marks, anyhow, and we all laughed. Then -he came around this morning to talk about some things he’d forgotten -last night, and stayed quite a while. He seemed mighty nervous about -something.” - -“I don’t like either of them,” said Brady shortly. “I wouldn’t have much -to do with them, Jim, if I were you. You tried to do the square, -friendly thing by them before, and they acted as if they were afraid you -were going to bite. Let them alone now. Be decent to them if they come -around, but don’t go out of your way with them. By the way, did you hear -from that tailor in New York? I told him to send you some samples.” - -“Yes, I guess so,” said Jim, pulling a number of letters from his -pocket. “I got quite a bunch of mail this morning. Registered letter -from dad—my allowance, I suppose. He always sends the check in a -registered letter, though it’s safe enough without it. He’s a crank -about it. Another registered letter, too. Don’t know who else can be -sending me money. And a lot of other stuff. I’ll open them now, and see -what they’re all about.” - -He was busy for several minutes. - -“That’s certainly funny,” he said. “I must have been seeing double. I -was sure there were two registered letters that I signed for. But I must -have been mistaken. There’s only one here.” - -“Left it behind, perhaps,” said Brady. “Maybe you dropped it on the -floor back in your room. It’s safe enough if you did. I guess we won’t -have any more robberies around these parts.” - -Brady referred to the theft of some class funds from Jim’s room not long -before. The money had been stolen at the instigation of a criminal enemy -of Jim’s in such a way as to throw suspicion upon the sophomore pitcher, -but Dick Merriwell’s cleverness had foiled the plot and uncovered the -real culprit. - -“I suppose I did,” said Phillips. “However, I might have been mistaken -about the whole thing. I was in a great hurry. The postman was late and -I was trying to get my bag packed to take out here—and I talked to -Carpenter—all at the same time. I might have just dreamed the other -registered letter.” - -“Well, we’ll forget it now and think about baseball,” said Brady. “Here -we are. I guess we’ll have to get dressed right away.” - -The scene of the game was very different from that of most games in -which Yale players took part. There were no great stands. Around the -diamond a few circus seats had been put up for the ladies, who had -turned out in great numbers to watch the play, but the men contented -themselves with places on the ground. - -The crowd itself, gathered by invitation of the members of the club, -made a pretty spectacle; the men being dressed mostly in white flannels -and other appropriate summer clothing, and the whole scene was one of -great color and animation. - -There was no organized cheering when the teams appeared for practice, as -at the college games, nor did the teams observe all the usual -formalities. Most of the players on both sides were old friends, who -remembered other contests when they had been in college, and a good many -since those happy days. - -The two teams practiced together, sharing the diamond, and laughing at -the misplays that each side made frequently, as a number of the men had -had little chance, owing to their business duties, to do any practicing. - -Brady smiled as he waited to warm up with Phillips; for, on the other -side, serving as catcher for the famous Hobson, was Bowen, the Harvard -captain. - -“He didn’t need to come down here at all,” said Bill to Jim, “but he -wants a chance to see you in action. We’ll make him work pretty hard to -get any valuable information, though. There’s more ways of killing a dog -than hanging him, they say, and I guess we can show him that there are -several ways of pitching, too. For instance, the sort of balls you’ll -pitch to-day and the sort you’ll pitch on Saturday in the same -circumstances. I’m glad we’re here, Jim. I think we’ll have some fun -before this game is over.” - -It was a true prophecy. There was no fault to be found with the work of -either battery. Both pitchers were at their best, but they could hardly -be expected to strike out every man who faced them, and the fielding of -both the amateur nines was wretched. Hobson and Jim, both inclined to be -disgusted at first as they saw easy taps rolling between the legs of the -fielders, and allowing the batters to turn sure outs into safe hits, -soon saw the humor of it, and laughed as heartily as any one. The -Bostonians, depending upon the skill of Hobson, had brought down a weak -fielding team, and, while the New Haven team was at full strength, it -was no better than its Boston rival, even so. In the sixth inning, the -score was tied, each team having made six runs, and of these only one -run on either side had been earned. - -Rather than allow Bowen to see what Jim could do in a real pinch, Brady -had called for a straight ball when Bowen was at the bat with a man on -third, and the Harvard captain had promptly slammed out a three-bagger, -while Bill himself had selected one of Hobson’s choicest curves and -unmercifully hammered it to the furthest boundaries of the field for a -clean home run. - -Then both pitchers put on their mettle by the miserable playing of the -teams behind them, had settled down, and the ninth inning came, with New -Haven batting last, without another run for either side. Jim, smiling -lightly, had decided to cut loose for the first time in the game, and he -had struck out the three Bostonians who had faced him in the ninth on -nine pitched balls. Bowen, watching his every move, whistled softly as -the feat was accomplished. - -“By George!” he said to Hobson, “that fellow Phillips has been under -wraps. I wondered what old Brady was about—but I guess Bill has learned -a thing or two since I knew him at Andover. He’s been keeping this -fellow Phillips on a lead all through the game so we wouldn’t find out -anything about him.” - -“Did you only just find that out?” asked Hobson, with a laugh. “I knew -he was a good pitcher as soon as he pitched his first ball. He’s got the -style. He’s got control, too. Unless I’m mightily mistaken, he’s been -pitching in a freak style all through the game just to keep you -guessing. It takes a pretty good pitcher to do that.” - -“Well, you’re just as good as he is,” said Bowen. “Finish them off now, -and we’ll try to win in the tenth.” - -But there wasn’t to be any tenth inning in that game. Hobson wasn’t -quite able to duplicate Jim’s feat. He struck out the two men who batted -first, but Hasbrook, swinging wildly, drove the first ball pitched to -him to right field, and the Boston outfielder, juggling the ball, -dropped it, and then threw so wild that Hasbrook scored the winning run -for New Haven. - -“That was a pretty weird game,” said Jim, shaking hands with Hobson. “I -think you’d beat me in a straight game, with good teams behind us, -Hobson.” - -“Not in a thousand years,” said Hobson. “I’ve been doing my best, and -you were under wraps. However, I hope I’ll have another chance with you. -It’s been good fun, anyhow, even if we did lose.” - -“Good work, Phillips!” said Bowen heartily. “I bet you won’t give me -another straight ball on Saturday with men on the bases.” - -The two rivals laughed, and Brady, coming up, joined in the laugh. - -“You’ll win that bet, Bowen,” he said. “How are you, anyhow? I haven’t -seen you since the old Andover days.” - -“Well, we’ll make up for lost time now,” said Bowen. “I’ll see both of -you at Cambridge on Saturday, I suppose, and then there again the week -after. I can’t wish you fellows good luck—but may the best team win.” - -“That’s what we all want,” echoed the Yale men. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER V - - A PROTEST FROM HARVARD. - - -Dick Merriwell was satisfied with the result of the game. Poor as the -work of the Boston team had been, it had still served to show players as -observant as Phillips and Brady certain tricks they would have to be on -the lookout for when it came to the meeting with the Harvard varsity -nine. The old-timers on the Boston team had known what to do well -enough; the trouble was that they had forgotten how to do it. For -instance, Bill Brady had noticed a peculiar shifting of the infield -whenever two men were on the bases with one out, a shifting that was -evidently meant to make a double play easier. - -“They learned that trick from Jimmy Collins ten years ago,” laughed Dick -Merriwell, when Brady spoke of it. “And they have kept on using it right -along. I wondered if those fellows would try it. Did you notice anything -else, Bill?” - -“Yes,” said Brady, with a grin. “If the ball is hit where nine balls out -of ten are hit under those conditions, they make a double play—if it -isn’t, it’s a sure safe hit, because there’s a big hole between first -and second they don’t cover at all, and another right inside of third.” - -“Exactly,” said the universal coach, with a smile. “It pays to keep your -eyes open in baseball, just as it does in everything else. You can’t do -it all yourself—you’ve got to use the other fellow’s mistakes sometimes -to help you out. That’s inside baseball, and I think it’s the way to get -along in the law or business, too.” - -Altogether, by the time that Dick Merriwell had gone over the game with -the Yale team, which had attended in a body, although Phillips, Brady, -and Winston had been the only ones in uniform, a lot of things, that -might be looked for to make up a part of the Harvard attack, were -foreseen and discounted. - -“This will all help,” said Merriwell, “but don’t get the idea that you -can win the game by just being ready for a few old tricks. They have a -great way at Harvard of working out a system and sticking to it, but -some time they’re going to fool us. In the past, we’ve beaten them some -times by being wide awake. They stick too long at anything that has -worked well once up there. But that doesn’t mean they’re going to keep -on doing it. They may make a change now. It’s a good time for them to do -it. So we’ve got to be ready to shift whenever they do—to follow them, -if they lead the way.” - -Dick Merriwell had to hasten away from the conference with the baseball -team to attend the meeting of the football players, who were that day to -elect a new captain. He had no vote, nor, theoretically, any voice in -that election. But, as a matter of fact, he had a great deal of -influence; and, while he did not want to interfere in the free choice of -the players, he was far from anxious to see Parker elected captain of -the team. He knew the junior only slightly, and he knew, moreover, that -he was a first-class football player: strong, rugged, and, on the field, -quick and intelligent. To all appearances, Parker would make a good Yale -captain. But Dick distrusted him. - -In the football season, Parker stuck admirably to his training. But now, -as Dick knew, he took no pains to keep himself in good condition. He -drank more than was good for him; he smoked immoderately, and, -generally, he set a bad example for athletes, who should, to keep -themselves ready always to do their best, be very careful, even when not -in the strictest of training. Dick heard of all this, but he did not -feel justified in moving against Parker for such a reason. Parker might -retort that, so long as he observed training rules in the football -season, it was no one’s business what he did at any other time. And -there was just enough truth in that, in case Parker had much support -among the players, to make it embarrassing for Dick to oppose him on -such grounds. - -Sherman, captain of the baseball team, who had a vote in the election as -an end of the eleven the previous year, although he had played his last -game on the gridiron for Yale, walked over to the meeting in Dwight Hall -with Dick. At the door of the room they were joined by Sam Taylor, the -big senior catcher, who had been a tackle on the football team. - -Dick knew that both the seniors were devoted to him, and would do what -he asked. So he halted them, just before they went in, and spoke -earnestly to them, explaining his feelings. - -“I don’t care who else is elected,” he said, in a low voice, “but, until -we know more about him, I don’t think Parker is the right stamp of man -for a Yale captain. So, if it looks as if he were going to be elected, -it would be a good thing, if you could do it, to get the election -postponed.” - -Sherman and Taylor, whose opinion as to Parker agreed fully, and on even -better evidence than his, with that of the universal coach, nodded their -heads in agreement. Parker, entering at that moment, flushed angrily as -he saw what was going on. He had not heard what was said, but he was no -fool, and he was well able to guess. - -There was no choice on the first ballot. There were three candidates. -They were Parker, Jackson, second baseman of the baseball nine, who, as -a quarter back, seemed to many the logical captain for the football -team; and a big fellow called Jones, the center, who received only four -votes. - -The other fifteen votes went, eight to Parker, and seven to Jackson, so -that neither had a majority of all the votes. Jones, evidently, would -withdraw on the next ballot, and both Sherman and Taylor knew that his -four votes would be divided evenly between Parker and Jackson, giving -Parker the captaincy by a vote of ten to nine—close, but sufficient. - -Suddenly Taylor had an inspiration. - -“Back me up in this,” he whispered to Sherman, then got up. - -“Fellows,” he said, “Danby isn’t here, but I don’t think we ought to -finish this election, close as it is, without giving him a chance to -vote. It would look as if we were forgetting him and all he did for -Yale, just because he has had to leave college. We elected him captain -unanimously after the Harvard game last fall, and I move that we adjourn -this election now to give him a chance to come here and vote.” - -“Second the motion,” cried Sherman, rising at once, and when Dick -Merriwell, who presided, put it, the motion was carried with little show -of dissent, though Parker was obviously furious. - -Dick Merriwell breathed a sigh of relief. He had no feeling of dislike -for Parker, for he knew little of him, but he was almost convinced that -he was not the man for captain, and he thanked Taylor as they left the -building. - -“You’ve won this time,” said Parker, coming up to them, cold hatred in -his tone as he stared insolently at the universal coach. “But you’ve -only postponed it. I’ll be captain of the Yale football team next fall -in spite of you, Mr. Merriwell.” - -“I shall be the first to congratulate you when you are elected, Parker,” -said Dick Merriwell quietly. “As you know, I have no voice in the -election. As you probably know, also, if I had a vote, I should cast it -against you, as matters stand. But, if you are elected, I shall do my -best to work with you to turn out a winning team.” - -“We’ll see about that,” said Parker hotly. “The captain of the team -selects the head coach, you know, and, universal coach or no, I’ll -decide on who is to be in full charge of the football team. If I want -your advice, I shall ask you for it, you may be sure.” - -And he walked off angrily, leaving Sherman and Taylor to give vent to -their rage. But Dick Merriwell himself only smiled. - -“He’s very young,” he said. “I don’t know what he’s got against me—but I -imagine a guilty conscience may have something to do with his feelings.” - -“Conscience!” exclaimed Sherman satirically, although he was one of the -mildest and gentlest men in Yale. “I don’t believe he has one.” - -At his rooms, Dick Merriwell learned that a caller had been waiting some -time to see him. To his surprise it was Bowen, the Harvard catcher and -captain. - -“Hello, Bowen!” exclaimed Dick. “I’m glad to see you. But I thought -you’d be back in Cambridge, coaching your batters on how to knock -Phillips out of the box by this time.” - -“I wish I were there,” said Bowen gloomily. “I can’t say I’m glad to see -you, Mr. Merriwell. I’m more sorry that I can say to have to be here. -I’ve got the most unpleasant duty to perform I ever tackled. Mr. -Merriwell—I hardly know how to say it. But I’ve got to file a formal -protest against your playing Phillips against Harvard, on the ground -that he is a professional, and has accepted money for playing baseball.” - -It took a good deal to startle Dick Merriwell, but Bowen’s amazing -charge accomplished it. - -“What!” he cried. “You can’t be serious, Bowen. It’s too absurd even to -merit a denial.” - -“I’d have said the same thing myself until I saw the proofs,” said Bowen -miserably. “I did, in fact. But they convinced me. I hope there’s some -way that the charge can be disproved. But unless it is, I’ll have to -stand on the protest.” - -“What are the proofs?” asked Dick, in a tense voice. - -He was furiously angry, but not at Bowen. The Harvard captain, with such -a charge brought in a way that had convinced him of its truth, could act -in no other way. And Dick could see that the Harvard man was distressed -and disturbed by the affair. - -“They’re pretty strong,” said Bowen unhappily. “Mr. Chetwind, a member -of the New Haven Country Club, says he sent a registered letter to -Phillips, which was received by Phillips on Tuesday morning. Chetwind -has the post-office receipt card, signed by Phillips, which was returned -to the postman when the letter was delivered. This letter, according to -Chetwind, contained a hundred dollars, the price agreed upon between an -agent of his and Phillips. I’ve looked Chetwind up, and the worst thing -I can find about him is that he consented to pay an amateur to pitch for -an amateur team against another amateur team. He seems to stand well -here in New Haven, and to be rated as a man of his word. You probably -know more about him than I have been able to find out in a brief -investigation.” - -“Chetwind is all right,” said Dick Merriwell, stunned by what Bowen told -him. “The thing’s incredible. But Chetwind, so far as I know, has never -done a crooked think or told an untruth in his life. Can you tell me how -you found this out?” - -“Only in part,” said Bowen. “I got an anonymous letter telling me what -had happened. I wouldn’t pay any attention to such a thing as a rule. -But, intending to turn the whole thing over to you, I stayed over, and -just happened to ask Chetwind about it. To my amazement, he confirmed -the story. He seemed to be both angry and alarmed when he found that I -had heard about it, and he wouldn’t tell me who his agent was. But he -has the receipt for the registered letter, and showed it to me. - -“He said he would never have opened his lips on the subject, but that -when I asked him point-blank about it, he couldn’t lie. I guess I showed -him what I thought about him for consenting to descend to such a step to -get a good pitcher for his club, and he seems to be ashamed of his part -in it. I’ll leave it to you to investigate, of course, Merriwell. I’m -more sorry than I can say to have had to bring you such a story.” - -“I don’t see how you could help yourself,” said the Yale coach kindly. -“You had no choice in the matter, and it’s certainly not your fault. In -spite of what you’ve learned, I’m sure that this can be disproved. -There’s no reason in the world for Phillips to do anything of the sort. -His parents are not wealthy, but they are well off, and he has as much -money as he needs. But I will investigate and let you know what I find -out.” - -“I hope you can explain it,” said Bowen, and departed, evidently -unhappy. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - A STRONG CASE. - - -Dick Merriwell, stunned as he was by the news that Bowen had brought -him, did not for a moment believe that Jim Phillips was guilty of the -charge made against him. But he recognized that it was a serious matter, -and one that must be investigated without delay. Bowen’s protest had -been eminently reasonable, and Yale could neither ignore it nor refuse -to disqualify Phillips. The evidence presented was all against him, so -far, and Dick understood that he must at once proceed to gather some -witnesses who could testify in favor of the accused pitcher. - -His first step, taken even before informing Jim of the charge, was to -find Chetwind, the country club member who had supplied Bowen with -confirmation of the anonymous charge against Jim. He knew Chetwind, not -very well, but well enough to go to him direct, and he went at once to -the office of the principal witness in the case, as he already regarded -him. Chetwind was a real-estate broker, and no time was wasted when Dick -was ushered into his private room. - -“I can guess why you are here, of course, Merriwell,” said Chetwind, -raising a distressed face to Dick. “What Bowen has, I suppose, told you -is true. I was told that Phillips would not consent to pitch for us -unless he received a hundred dollars in cash, and, being anxious to win -the game, I put up the money myself, and sent it to him in a registered -letter. Here is the receipt.” - -“Have you a witness to the fact that there was a hundred dollars in the -letter?” asked Dick. - -“Yes,” said Chetwind. “The clerk at the post-office saw me put the -money—two fifty-dollar bills—in the envelope. I then sealed it and -handed it to him.” - -Certainly that looked very bad. Dick had seized upon the thought that -the letter might not have contained money at all, but Chetwind’s witness -banished that hope. - -“Who told you that Phillips wanted money to play on the team?” asked the -universal coach then. - -“That I cannot tell you,” said Chetwind firmly. - -“Consider this matter seriously,” said Dick. “I’m not going to say -anything about your own dishonorable action in trying to introduce a man -you thought was a professional into an amateur game. But here is a man, -a student of your own college, accused of a serious offense, that will -hurt not only him, but Yale. Have you the right to withhold any facts -that may clear up the case?” - -“I don’t think I am doing anything of the sort, Merriwell,” said -Chetwind. “You need say nothing about my own action. I realize fully how -dishonorable it was, and I was sorry the moment I had agreed to do it. -But I don’t see how it would help you for me to break my promise of -secrecy to the man who conducted the negotiations between Phillips and -myself. You have evidence that Phillips received the letter, and -evidence, too, to back mine, that it actually contained a hundred -dollars. - -“If Phillips can explain that away, or can show that there is any reason -for me to break my promise, I will do so, rather than permit any -injustice to be done. But I don’t think it’s possible for that to -happen. It looks like a clear case to me—and, in a way, I’m glad it’s -come out. It will ease my mind to know that others know of my own dirty -work. I’ll never engage in anything of the sort again, I can assure -you.” - -“Repentance is a good thing,” said Dick, “but it’s better still to keep -straight. Then you won’t have anything to repent of afterward. I think -you come out of this pretty badly. This man you are shielding is -obviously a shady character, and, as such, not worthy of being shielded. -You’ve done a mighty wrong thing. I think you ought to do all you can to -set it right, instead of suddenly getting conscientious about your -promise to your fellow conspirator.” - -“That’s pretty strong language, Merriwell,” said Chetwind, flushing. “It -isn’t going to make me any the more likely to do what you want, I can -tell you. It’s up to Phillips to prove that there’s been some mistake -here. If he can do that, I’ll help him, even to the extent of giving -away the man who approached me. Until I see some reason to do so, -however, I’ll keep my promise. My word has always been good, and it is -good now.” - -“You’ve got a curious conscience,” said Dick angrily. “It seems to work -just about when and how you want it to. Good day.” - -He could not trust himself to stay there any longer. Convinced, as he -was, that Jim was innocent, it was hard for him, at first, to realize -that others, who did not know the sophomore pitcher as well as he, would -be much more likely, on the evidence so far produced, to think him -guilty. - -From Chetwind’s office, Dick made his way to Jim’s room. To him, first -explaining that he was sure that he was innocent, despite the appearance -of the case, he told the whole story, beginning with Bowen’s visit. - -“I never even heard of this man, Chetwind,” exclaimed Jim angrily. “I -certainly received no letter from him, registered or otherwise. The only -registered letter—hold on, I’d forgotten.” - -Jim had suddenly remembered the curious episode of which he had spoken -to Bill Brady, which had never entered his mind since their drive out to -the country club the previous day. Breathlessly, he told Dick of the -second registered letter he had fancied was there, but which, when he -came to look for it, had vanished. - -“Of course, I couldn’t be sure,” said the coach, deep concern in his -voice now, “but I certainly was obliged to think that that receipt was -signed by you. The first explanation that came to me was that there had -been no money in the letter, and that Chetwind was lying. The second was -that the money had been some he owed you, and that he was still lying. -Where is the letter, if you signed for it?” - -“I must have dropped it here in the room,” said Jim. “I’ll look.” - -But the most thorough search that he and Dick could make brought them no -trace of the missing letter, which now loomed so important in the -discussion. Jim’s landlady was called up, but she had seen nothing of it -when she cleaned his room, and the one servant of the house, who was -absolutely trustworthy, professed an equal ignorance. - -“Could you have dropped it outside?” asked Dick. - -“I don’t see how I could,” said Jim. “I put all the letters I got that -morning in my pocket, and didn’t take them out until I was in the -carriage with Bill Brady. I told him about thinking I had seen a second -letter, and we looked in the wagon. But it wasn’t there.” - -“You told Brady about it, eh?” said Dick. “That’s good.” - -The next step was to find Brady and see if he could throw any light on -the missing letter, which had assumed such great importance in the case. - -“You can see how it is, Jim,” said Dick Merriwell. “I don’t say that you -were to blame in any way. It may have been pure accident, and something -that you couldn’t avoid, that resulted in the disappearance of that -letter. But it’s got to be found. If it isn’t, and you simply say you -didn’t receive it, how will we look? They’ll produce the receipt that is -signed by you—always assuming that you did sign it, which we will soon -find out—and say that you are naturally denying the receipt of the -money. But your denial wouldn’t be accepted as proof by people who don’t -know you, against the positive evidence of that receipt. That’s the -thing that makes the whole thing look so bad and so difficult.” - -Brady, furious at the idea of such a charge, was slow in becoming calm -enough to try to remember what had happened. Then, however, he recalled -what Jim had said about the second letter he thought had come to him. - -“You didn’t have it while you were with me,” he said positively. “And -you didn’t drop it while you were coming out of the house, either. You -remember that Carpenter was with you, and I was surprised, because I -didn’t think that you and he were friendly. So I was watching you more -closely than I would have done as a rule.” - -“Carpenter?” said Dick Merriwell, puzzled. “I don’t think I know the -name. Who is he?” - -Brady, whose dislike for Carpenter was well known to most of his -classmates, gave a highly unflattering portrait of the man, whose -aspirations to lead the class in scholarship Jim Phillips seemed likely -to block. - -“Was this Carpenter in the habit of coming to see you?” he asked Jim -then. “Was he a friend of yours?” - -“No, I wouldn’t say he was a friend of mine,” said Jim, manifestly -unwilling to say a bad word of one of his classmates. “I always supposed -he hadn’t much use for me. He doesn’t go in for athletics, and goes -around saying that they’re a waste of time. I think, too, he got rather -sore when he wasn’t at the head of the class in two or three courses -he’d worked specially hard in.” - -“Oh, go ahead and say it, Jim,” cried Brady impatiently. “He’s had it in -for you all year, and he and Shesgren and that crowd of grinds have been -telling every one who would listen to them that all the professors here -thought more of athletes than of students, and would favor them in -examinations every time.” - -“Is that so?” asked Dick gravely, of Jim. - -“It’s a bit exaggerated, I guess,” said Jim, smiling, “but I have heard -something of the sort. I’ve never taken much stock in it, though. -Fellows are apt to talk that way when they’re a little excited, but they -don’t usually mean more than half they say.” - -“Well, there’s no light here, anyway,” said Dick. “We’ll go down and -make sure of that registered-letter receipt. Come along, Bill. You know -Jim’s handwriting, too. But keep cool, and don’t start any trouble with -this fellow Chetwind. He’s a pretty poor specimen, but he’s convinced -himself that he’s doing the right thing—and, so far as I can see, I -think he’s right.” - -The receipt, when Jim and Brady examined it, left no room for doubt. It -had certainly been signed by Jim. Brady recognized his writing, and Jim -himself, without the slightest hesitation, identified it. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - THE STORY IS TOLD. - - -The action of the football men in postponing the selection of a captain -had caused a good deal of surprise. Parker had a big following in his -own class, which was anxious to see him chosen as the gridiron leader, -and he was enough of a politician to stir up a good deal of comment. -Moreover, he spread in all directions the statement that it was Dick -Merriwell who had caused the adjournment without action. - -“I don’t care for myself,” Parker said, sitting on the junior fence and -addressing a number of his admiring classmates. “But it’s a bad -principle. We’ve always had self-government in sports here at Yale, and -I don’t see why this Merriwell should be allowed to come in and disturb -all our traditions and upset our plans. We should have elected a captain -to-day, whether it was Jackson or myself. - -“I would have been perfectly willing to give way to Jackson if it had -seemed as if most of the fellows wanted him, but there was no reason why -I should withdraw when I was sure of a majority of the votes on the -second ballot. And Taylor was talking to Merriwell and Tom Sherman just -before the meeting. He told them what to do—and every one knows how they -did it.” - -Steve Carter, third basemen on the baseball team, who had once thought -the baseball captaincy such a prize that he had been willing to stoop to -a dishonorable trick to spoil Jim Phillips’ chance of getting it away -from him, spoke up warmly in defense of Dick Merriwell. - -“I don’t believe Merriwell influenced any one to vote against you, -Parker,” he said. “His interest is to have the best man in college -elected to the captaincy of every team. It doesn’t make any difference -how good a coach may be, he can’t do anything here or at any other -college unless the captain of the team backs him up and supports him -loyally all the time. And I know that every man on the football team who -voted against you would have done the same thing if Merriwell had made a -speech in your favor before the meeting and done his best to have you -elected.” - -Parker was furious. He stripped off his coat, and moved threateningly -toward Carter. - -“I’ll make you fight for that,” he said savagely. “No man can talk to me -that way without giving me satisfaction.” - -But Carter held his ground without flinching, big as Parker was. - -“Don’t be a fool, Parker,” he said. “In the first place, I didn’t say -anything insulting to you, and you know it. You’re just trying to start -trouble to show what a big boss you are. And in the second place, I’m on -the baseball team, and I couldn’t fight you until after the training -season, no matter what you did.” - -“Any port in a storm,” sneered Parker, resuming his coat. “That’s a good -way to get out of a licking after you’ve provoked a man to the point of -giving it to you.” - -But Parker went too far when he said that. His own friends cried out -that he was unfair; that Carter, as he said, had said nothing to make a -fight necessary, and that, even had he done so, training rules made it -necessary for hostilities to be postponed until baseball was at an end -for the year. - -“Perhaps you won’t feel so good about Merriwell and his gang when you -see your baseball captaincy taken away from you by Jim Phillips,” -sneered Parker. “That’s their little game, if you haven’t had sense -enough to see it for yourself. You think you’re sure to be elected. -Don’t be surprised when you find them expecting you to take your orders -on the field from Phillips next season.” - -“It won’t surprise me at all,” said Carter, with a smile. “I’m not -looking for the captaincy. When it comes time for the election, I’m -going to nominate Phillips myself and try to have the election made -unanimous. If ever a man deserved a captaincy, he’s the one!” - -Parker was furious. He had no love for Carter, but the junior was -necessary in his plans, and he had never suspected that Carter had given -up his own well-known and honorable ambition to lead the Yale baseball -team in his senior year. If Carter would not aid his fight, even -passively, how could he hope to defeat Merriwell and Phillips, who, as -he saw them, were allies, trying to get hold of the chief power in all -Yale athletics. - -“Well,” he cried, carried away by his anger, and led into a rash move he -had not contemplated; “Jim Phillips won’t be captain of any Yale team, I -guess. He’s a professional. He’s played ball for money. They’ve caught -him with the goods. There’s a receipt for a registered letter in the -possession of people who have shown it to the Harvard team, and that -letter contained a hundred dollars. That’s what he got for playing for -the country club team the other day. How does your little good boy look -now?” - -If to create a sensation was all that Parker wanted, he certainly -succeeded most brilliantly. He was surrounded in a moment by an eager -crowd, that demanded details, most of them scoffing at the idea that -such a charge could be true, but some, who, for one reason or another, -were jealous of the sophomore pitcher, inclined to rejoice mightily in -the news that he was in danger of disgrace. - -Carter waited only long enough to hear exactly what sort of charges -these were that were being made, then hurried off to see Dick Merriwell -and tell him what had happened. He was furious, but not by any means -dismayed. It never even entered his head that Jim could be guilty of -such a thing. The enmity between them was something that had been buried -deep, and he was now loyal to Jim in spirit as well as in action, and -his first thought was to go to Jim’s most powerful friend, who might, -for all he knew, be in ignorance of what Parker had said, that steps for -his defense might be promptly taken. - -It was important news he brought, as Dick Merriwell at once recognized. -The universal coach knew already more of the charge than Carter could -tell him. But that Parker, of all men in Yale, shared his knowledge, and -was busily engaged in spreading a scandal that, until it was proved to -the hilt, most Yale men would have kept strictly to themselves, was a -surprising and illuminating fact. - -“There can’t be any mistake about this, can there?” asked Dick, when he -had heard Carter’s story. “Parker was actually the first man to tell the -story? He couldn’t have heard it talked of about the campus and just -repeated it as a bit of gossip?” - -“He certainly could not,” said Steve Carter. “He knew all about it, and -he was so mad at me for saying that I wasn’t going to run against -Phillips for the baseball captaincy that he blurted it out without doing -much thinking about it. I don’t believe he’d have started it at all if -he’d known what he was doing. But his temper got the best of him, and -when he once started, he had said so much that he had to keep on.” - -The universal coach was very thoughtful for a moment. - -“It’s good and it’s bad,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry the news is out, -because it will be all over town, and it’s almost sure to get into the -papers. The Harvard people were very decent. They simply made their -protest and supplied us with the facts they had learned, leaving us to -investigate, to report to them, and to do as we liked about making it -public. I wonder how Parker heard about it. I certainly haven’t said -anything and the only others who know anything about it are Jim himself -and Bill Brady, who have given me their promise not to talk about it. I -haven’t even told Tom Sherman about it yet.” - -“If you ask me,” said Carter hotly, “it looks as if some sort of a -conspiracy was on foot against Jim.” - -He flushed, but went on bravely: - -“We know there have been attempts of that sort before, because I was -mixed up in one of them myself. Doesn’t it seem to you, Mr. Merriwell, -that some one may be at work again, trying to do Jim up and make him -look like a professional just to drive him off the team and keep him out -of the captaincy?” - -“It looks very much like that to me,” said the universal coach gravely. -“And it’s a very hard charge to meet. The time is very short, and the -evidence against Jim is very convincing.” - -Then, feeling that as Carter knew so much, he had better hear the whole -story, he told him of the episode of the missing registered letter, the -receipt for which made up the real evidence against Jim. - -Carter whistled. - -“Well,” he said, “it ought to be easy to trace that letter. It seems to -me it’s a sure thing that some one must have stolen it. And that’s a -pretty serious offense. They wouldn’t dare destroy it, it seems to me. -They might want to produce the letter later, in such a way as to make it -look as if Jim had kept it hidden all the time. I should say that the -best thing to do would be to keep a careful watch on Jim’s place, and -make sure that no one gets away with any trick of that sort there. When -people do a crooked thing like that, they almost always overreach -themselves by trying to accomplish too much. That was the trouble when -that scoundrel Harding was using me to make trouble for Jim.” - -“You’ve certainly helped a lot by hearing that and coming to me,” said -Dick heartily. “And you’ve given me an idea, beside, that I ought to -have thought of myself. Can I count on you to help me in this business?” - -“You certainly can,” said Carter impulsively. “Just tell me what to do, -and if it can be done, you can be sure that I’ll do it. I’d give a good -deal to see Parker’s goose cooked. And I think he’s at the head of the -whole business. Moreover, it isn’t Jim he’s after, especially. He’s -hitting at you through him. If he’s elected captain of the football -team, he’ll make all the trouble for you that he can.” - -“I hadn’t thought of that, either,” said Dick grimly. “That makes me -just a little angrier than I was before. The idea that some one may be -trying to get at me by hitting at my friends. I’ll remember this, -Carter, and I think you can help a lot when the time comes.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - THE WORM TURNS. - - -When Steve Carter told Dick Merriwell that Parker had been surprised by -his own anger into revealing the charge against Jim Phillips to his -assembled classmates, he was quite right. But Parker, though he let his -temper run away with him at times, was shrewd as well as unscrupulous, -and he was not long in seeing that, by a slight change in the plan of -his campaign, he could make the general knowledge of the case work to -his own advantage, or, at least, to the advancement of his plan. That -the discrediting of Jim Phillips, and, consequently, of Dick Merriwell, -would certainly advance his own interests, he never doubted at all. -Already he was laying his plans for the coming football season, which, -if he had his way, was likely to be more for the benefit of Parker than -of Yale. - -He went to Shesgren’s room after he had finally torn himself away from -the curious crowd that wanted to know all he could tell it about the -registered letter and the Harvard protest, and there found Carpenter as -well as the owner of the room. The news had spread all over the campus -by that time, and they, remembering how strictly Parker had ordered them -to maintain secrecy about the whole affair, were afraid that he would -think that they had told. He soon reassured them, however, when they -began, as soon as he entered, to protest their innocence and say that -they had no idea of how the story had got out. - -“I have,” said he curtly. “I changed my mind, and told it myself. It’s -best the way it is, too. We can settle the whole thing now and make sure -that there’s no way for Phillips to squirm out of this thing and prove -that he is innocent. He _is_ innocent, you know, and that’s why we’ve -got to be careful. I read once that if a man hadn’t done a thing he was -accused of, there always was some way, no matter how long it took for -him to find it, to prove the truth, or to prove, at least, that he -couldn’t have had a hand in it. Here’s where we fool the man that wrote -that. Still got that letter, Carpenter?” - -Carpenter nodded. - -“Yes,” he said. “You told me to keep it. I wanted to burn it. It isn’t -safe to have around. It might turn up some way, and then where would we -be?” - -“I’ll do all the worrying that’s needed around here,” said Parker -harshly. “Just you leave that to me. You do as I tell you and there’ll -be no trouble. I want you to go to see Phillips right away, and tell him -you don’t believe all this story. Say you were with him that morning, -and that you certainly didn’t see any registered letter. See?” - -“Yes—but I don’t understand,” said Carpenter feebly. - -“Never mind about understanding,” snarled Parker. “Have the letter with -you, in your pocket. Then, when he isn’t looking, slip it into some -place where it will stay hidden until they make a more thorough search. -You can bet they’ve hunted through that place pretty carefully already——” - -Suddenly Shesgren, his blue eyes flashing behind his heavy spectacles, -cried out. - -“What are you talking about?” he cried. “What letter do you mean? Do you -mean to tell me that Phillips never really got that letter that they’re -making all the fuss about? Why, he signed the receipt!” - -“Yes, he signed the receipt,” said Parker mockingly, “but your friend -Carpenter here got the letter.” - -“But that—that’s stealing,” cried Shesgren, horrified. “There was money -in that letter.” - -“There still is,” said Parker, with a sneering grin. “And we’ll see that -Phillips gets his letter in due time, with the money still in it. -Stealing that is not what we’re after.” - -Shesgren, confused, and slow, even when he was at his best, to -understand complicated things, took some time to grasp the idea. - -“Then Phillips isn’t crooked at all!” he exclaimed. “This was just a -plan of yours to put the blame on him and make it look as if he’d taken -money to play in that game when you knew all the time that he hadn’t.” - -“What of it?” asked Parker, sneering again. “You knew what we were going -to do—what the whole plan was.” - -“I knew you were going to give him a chance to take the money,” said -Shesgren, trembling. “I didn’t know that you were going to fake evidence -against him. I won’t stand for that. I thought you had proved that -Phillips was a hypocrite and a sneak—not that you had set a trap for -him.” - -Parker glared furiously at Carpenter. - -“I thought you were cowardly enough,” he said, with contempt. “I didn’t -suppose that you were training with such a white-livered chap as this, -though.” - -“I’ll tell the whole story,” cried Shesgren angrily. “I’m going to -Merriwell right now.” - -He sprang for the door, but Parker was after him in the twinkling of an -eye, and, being immensely stronger, had no trouble in dragging the angry -sophomore back. - -“Get me a trunk strap,” he cried to Carpenter, and Carpenter, who was -completely under the influence of the junior, obeyed. In a moment -Shesgren, struggling pluckily, though there was no hope that he could -cope with Parker, was trussed up in a chair. - -“This is fine business,” exclaimed Parker angrily, then. “I thought I -could count on you two to help me do Jim Phillips up to get him out of -your way, while I was disposing of Dick Merriwell at the same time. And -now you go back on me just when the thing seems likely to be a success.” - -Furiously angry, he sat in sullen silence for a few minutes, trying to -work out some way in which he could rescue his plan from the destruction -with which Shesgren’s sudden attack of conscience seemed to threaten it. -If he released Shesgren, the sophomore would betray the whole conspiracy -at once. If he kept him tied up, he could only postpone discovery a -short time. The only thing to do was to find some means of stopping -Shesgren’s contemplated betrayal—to find some way to seal his lips. He -must get him in his power in some fashion. - -“I’ve got it,” he cried suddenly. “You’ll be sorry you ever turned on me -before I’m done with you, Shesgren. Give me that letter, Carpenter.” - -Skillfully, he slit open the edges of the envelope with a sharp knife, -and, extracting the two fifty-dollar bills the letter contained, put -them in Shesgren’s wallet, which he was able, without difficulty, to -take from his captive’s pocket. - -“Those bills are marked,” he said. “Chetwind took their numbers from the -bills when he mailed them, as an extra precaution, in case of any -trouble. Now, my fine fellow, if you start to tell anything, you’ll have -difficulty explaining those bills. I’ll see that you have no chance to -get rid of them, and if you try to do me any harm, you’ll simply find -yourself involved in the case with Phillips without doing me any harm or -him any good. You can’t prove anything that you say—and the evidence of -those bills in your possession will be taken as worth much more than -anything you say. And you want to remember, too, that if it comes to a -test, Carpenter and I will stick together and tell the same story, and -our word is better than yours. I won’t give you a chance to promise not -to split—I wouldn’t take your word now, no matter what sort of an oath -you swore.” - -“You won’t get the chance,” cried Shesgren. He seemed like a great -coward, but like many other weaklings, Shesgren had a certain courage, -and, when he made up his mind to do anything, it took more than threats -to dissuade him. “I’m going to tell the truth no matter what you do, and -you’ll find that the truth can be proved, even if it is difficult. Just -as soon as you let me go, I’ll take the whole story to Merriwell, and -he’ll believe me, whether any one else does or not. Then, when he knows -the truth, he’ll find some way to prove it. You can make your mind up to -that, you crook! You’re pretty clever, but there are some people who -know just as much as you do, and you’ll find that out and wish you’d -kept straight.” - -“Quite a bantam cock, isn’t he?” said Parker contemptuously, to -Carpenter. “I didn’t think our little friend had so much nerve. I really -admire him, honestly I do.” - -The junior was much relieved by the plan he had worked out. And he had -one or two trump cards, too, of which Shesgren knew nothing, for he had -not been fool enough to confide fully in his two rascally and -treacherous helpers. - -They left him there, Parker walking freely, singing as he went; -Carpenter terrified, white and trembling. He wasn’t much of a rogue, -really, and it was only Parker’s complete domination of his weak -character that had made it possible for him to do as much as he had so -far. With them went the registered letter, slit now, and empty, except -for a folded sheet of paper. Parker carried it, and seemed afraid to -trust it to Carpenter. - -“What do you want me to do?” asked Carpenter shakily. “The letter isn’t -any good now, is it, with the money gone out of it?” - -“Certainly it is,” said Parker, laughing. “You’re a silly sort of a -fool, Carpenter. The letter—without the money—turns up in Phillips’ -room. At the right time, the money is found in the possession of -Shesgren. You explain, very sorrowfully, that you’re afraid Shesgren and -Phillips went together on the thing. And then see what Chetwind will -say. You needn’t worry. I’ve got everything they can do worked out, and -we’ll fool them on every side. You go on up and see Phillips now. And be -sure to drop the letter in his wastebasket, or some place like that.” - -Carpenter felt that he could only obey. He would have given all he -possessed, and all his hopes of graduating at the head of his class, to -be well out of the mess, and free from the fear of Parker. But he was -afraid to make a move. He had seen the fate of Shesgren, still a -prisoner in his own room, and, as Carpenter well knew, likely to find -himself, because he had turned honest and had tried to undo the wrong -that had been done, involved as deeply as Jim Phillips himself in the -toils, with no way at all of clearing himself of the charge. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - A STRANGE CLEW. - - -The letter dropped so carefully by Carpenter—for he had done his work -well—was found by Jim Phillips himself on Friday morning. Jim was -nervous and upset. The team was to start that evening for Cambridge, and -he knew, despite Dick Merriwell’s optimistic way of speaking, that -things were still looking very bad, and that he was as far as ever from -being cleared of the charge against him. The feeling that he was -regarded by many of his friends and fellow students as one who had for -money deliberately violated his standing as an amateur and a Yale -athlete, and that Yale would suffer the next day because of his absence, -had had a bad effect on him, as was only natural. - -Bill Brady was with him as he found the letter. Jim, bending over by his -desk, saw a little speck of white protruding from the edge of the -carpet. He pounced on it, and, with a cry of amazement, held up the -envelope. - -Eagerly he and Brady examined it. Outwardly, it was exactly as Chetwind -had described it. The number stamped on it by the post-office was the -same that had appeared on the card receipt which Jim had signed, now in -Chetwind’s possession. But inside they found the real surprise. The -money was missing. There was only a single sheet of note paper, folded -three times, with no writing at all on it. That, too, confirmed -Chetwind, in a way. He had said that the two fifty-dollar bills he had -sent had been put inside a sheet of folded note paper. - -“We must have overlooked this when we searched the room,” said Jim, -tremendously excited. - -“Not a bit of it,” cried Brady. “I took up the whole carpet myself, and -went over the whole floor. I shook out the carpet, too, and I couldn’t -possibly have missed this. Look here, Jim! This envelope has been slit -open by a knife. Some one has opened it, and taken the money out. And it -isn’t here by accident, either. It’s been put here for you to find—or -for some one else. Probably they would rather have had some outsider -find it than you—but that’s a small matter. A criminal, or you, if you -were guilty, might destroy this. But I think it may work the thing out -yet. I’m no detective, but Merriwell is. If he doesn’t call this a -first-class clew, I’ll eat my hat.” - -“Let’s take it to him right away,” cried Jim eagerly, seizing his hat. - -“Hold on!” cried Brady, almost as excited as his friend, but because he -was less deeply concerned personally, finding it easier to keep his -head. “I want him to see this just as we found it, before there’s any -chance to have things changed around in the room.” - -He went to the window, and looking out into York Street, soon saw a -freshmen walking past. - -“Hello, there, freshie!” he called. “Beat it up to Mr. Merriwell’s -rooms, and ask him if he can’t come down here right away.” - -The freshman obeyed—he would have been venturesome, indeed, had he -not—and Bill and Jim Phillips waited impatiently for the universal coach -to appear. He did not keep them waiting long, for he knew that such a -summons must mean an important discovery. - -“Well,” he said, “this certainly does look as if we were getting warm. -But I must confess that the whole thing is too complicated for me. Why -should this thing be allowed to turn up just now? I should think they -would have done better to keep the letter altogether.” - -Even as he spoke, Jim’s landlady appeared in the door and announced that -a man was asking for Phillips. - -“He’s a post-office inspector, sir,” she said. - -The three Yale men exchanged quick glances. - -“Show him in,” said Jim quietly, and in a moment the inspector, a dark, -keen-looking man, appeared. - -“I was in town on some other business,” said he, “and the postmaster -asked me to investigate the matter of a missing registered letter.” - -“I don’t see how the post-office department is concerned,” said Dick. -“The receipt was duly signed, which shows that the letter carrier did -his duty. The responsibility of the department ceases with the safe -delivery of the package.” - -“Y-e-es,” said the inspector, a little doubtfully. “But I understand -that Mr. Phillips says he did not actually receive the letter. The mail -carrier says he delivered it personally, and, therefore, the postmaster -has been rather annoyed by the implication that some misuse of the mails -has been made.” - -“I don’t know who has implied that,” said Dick. “However, it makes no -difference. The letter has just been found. Good day.” - -The inspector looked annoyed. - -“It seems to me this whole affair is a tempest in a teapot,” he said, -rather hotly. “I’ve been chased up here on a fool’s errand. I’m sorry to -have intruded.” - -“A strangely timely visit,” said Dick, laughing, when the inspector had -gone. “You would almost think that some one who knew that letter was -going to be found wanted to make sure that we shouldn’t conceal the -discovery, wouldn’t you? Now, Jim, I want to know who could have dropped -that envelope in this room? It must have been done while you were here, -for I have had the room watched in your absence, and no one has been -here. Tell me every one who has been here since dinner time last night. -It must have been done since then.” - -Jim had no difficulty in supplying the list. He had just three visitors. -Harry Maxwell, Bill Brady, and Carpenter made up the list. - -“Carpenter again,” said Brady, with a sarcastic laugh. “He’s very -careless. He was here when the letter disappeared—he is the only one, -eliminating Harry Maxwell and myself, who could have restored it—with -the money gone.” - -“Exactly,” said Dick Merriwell. “There are a lot of things I should like -to have Carpenter explain. But being sure of a man’s guilt and proving -it afterward so that other people will be sure also, are two very -different things. We’re not in a position yet to accuse Carpenter of -anything, or to try to make him answer any questions. In fact, it would -be dangerous to try it. We would simply put him on his guard, if he has -anything to do with it, and make it harder than ever to straighten -things out. And our time is getting so short that we can’t afford to -make any sort of a move without being absolutely sure.” - -He waited a minute to think over the new facts. - -“There’s one thing we can do, though,” he said. “Our friend Chetwind has -had time to do some thinking. And I imagine that with what we can tell -him now, he may decide that it’s time he told us who served as his agent -in those remarkable negotiations of his with Jim by which he agreed to -pay for the services of a pitcher in that wretched baseball game.” - -“That’s so, too,” said Brady. “Let’s go to it.” - -The three of them, accordingly, taking the letter as mute but convincing -evidence, took their way to Chetwind’s office. Dick Merriwell, on the -way, examined the letter very closely. - -“The man who opened this made one bad mistake,” he said. “He should have -torn it open with his fingers, as nine men out of ten open a letter. He -didn’t. And he may be sorry before we get through that he did not. If he -did that with this letter, the chances are that he makes a practice of -it—and that practice may give us some very valuable information yet.” - -They had to wait some little time to see Chetwind, but when they finally -reached him, they found him much more disposed to talk with them than on -their previous visit. Briefly, Dick explained to him why they had come, -and laid before him all the facts that had developed since the charge -had been made against Jim. - -“You see, Mr. Chetwind,” said Dick Merriwell, “we’ve gone about as far -as we can without your help. You said that, in view of the strong -evidence against us, it was up to Phillips to prove his innocence, or, -at least, that there was a chance that he was innocent. Now consider the -whole affair. - -“Phillips makes no attempt to deny signing the receipt for this letter. -He does deny having received the letter itself, however, and the fact -that he received, at a time when he was in a great hurry, two registered -letters in the same mail, a highly unusual occurrence, explains how that -might have happened. If he did not receive it, and some one else did, it -ought to be possible to prove who the other person was. We haven’t -proved that it was Carpenter, but we have done something to show that -Carpenter had the chance, and practically the only chance, both to -abstract the letter in the first place, and to return it afterward. Now, -I think we have the right to demand that you tell us who it was that was -concerned with you in the arrangement to pay Phillips for pitching -against the Boston team.” - -“I guess I’ll have to do that,” said Chetwind. “I don’t like to, but -you’ve certainly raised a doubt in my mind as to Phillips’ guilt, which -I didn’t think, yesterday, it was possible for you to do. The man who -approached me, and through whom I made the arrangement, was a sophomore, -named Shesgren.” - -“Shesgren!” cried Merriwell and Jim, together, with Bill Brady’s deep -bass to echo them. - -“Why, I hardly know the fellow,” exclaimed Jim. “I’ve seen him around -with this chap Carpenter, but I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to him more -than about three times.” - -“What does he look like?” asked Dick Merriwell quickly. “Did you see -him?” - -“Only once,” admitted Chetwind. “I did most of the dealing with him by -conversation over the telephone. But I saw him once. He was a big -fellow, with rather a deep voice. I couldn’t describe him, except to say -that he was big and dark. I suppose that much of a description would fit -a hundred Yale men.” - -“Yes,” said Brady dryly. “But it doesn’t happen to fit Shesgren.” - -“I should say not,” exclaimed Jim. “He’s small, and light, and he wears -glasses. His eyes are blue, and he has a thin, reedy sort of a voice, -like that of a young boy.” - -“Good,” said Dick Merriwell. “Now I’m going to look for the knife that -opened this envelope.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER X - - A TIMELY CONFESSION. - - -Parker had laid his plans well. But he had made two mistakes. He had not -allowed for the fact that while it would not be easy for Dick Merriwell, -though he might know the truth himself, or, at least, strongly suspect -it, to convince others, it would make his task much easier than if he -were kept wholly in the dark himself. And, as Dick had said, he had used -his knife to slit open the envelope of the registered letter. - -Shesgren, after his defiant outburst, Parker had left to reflect upon -the folly of his sudden repentance. He had ordered Carpenter to see that -his friend did not suffer for lack of food and water, and, indeed, had -forced Carpenter to spend the night in Shesgren’s rooms. And he had -arranged, also, for Shesgren’s release on Friday morning, in time for -him to be found by Dick Merriwell and the others, with the money on him -to confirm what he knew they would hear from Chetwind; namely, that it -had been Shesgren who had served as a go-between. - -Until the time of the game with the Boston team, Parker had had nothing -to do with Chetwind, and, when he had approached the real-estate man, he -had told him that his name was Shesgren. That was the trump card that he -had kept up his sleeve, concealing it from his two associates, so that, -in case they went back on him, as Shesgren had actually done, he would -have something in reserve. - -He knew that Shesgren would immediately go to Merriwell and tell him -what had happened. But he did not believe that Merriwell, after what he -had heard from Chetwind, would believe such an unlikely story. That -chance he had to take. But he thought it was a very slight one, and that -he was really safe at least, with success certain to attend his plot. - -Shesgren had just been released, when Dick Merriwell and the two -sophomores appeared in the doorway of the house where he lived. He was -hastening, as fast as his stiffened legs would let him, in search of -them when he met them. - -“Come on upstairs with me,” he pleaded. - -And, back in his room, he told them the whole story, as he knew it. When -he was done, he threw the money down on the floor. - -“There’s the money,” he said. “I know this sounds like a wild yarn, but, -on my honor, it’s true. I’d never have gone into the thing at all, if -I’d any idea that Parker was going to try to work such a trick. He said -that Phillips wasn’t as good as he tried to make out, and that it would -be easy to prove it. I was willing to stand for that, though I see now -that even that was dirty business, but I never supposed that Parker -would go as far as he did.” - -“Will you come with me and repeat this story before Parker?” asked Dick -Merriwell. “I believe every word you’ve told us, Shesgren, unlikely as -it seems, and I think, what’s more, that I’ll be able to prove enough of -it to make Parker confess the rest.” - -“I’ll do anything you want,” said Shesgren furiously. “I hate that -fellow Parker, and I’d do anything I could to make trouble for him.” - -“I don’t blame you much for feeling that way,” said Dick, smiling, “but -I guess that Parker will find himself needing sympathy before long.” - -“He won’t get it from me,” said Bill Brady spitefully; and they all -laughed. The big catcher’s remark relieved the tension. - -Dick Merriwell, as he led the way to Parker’s room, realized fully that -the hardest part of his fight to clear Jim Phillips was still before -him. If Parker refused to confess, and could induce his accomplice, -Carpenter, to stand by him, it would be hard, indeed, to prove that Jim -was all right. Against the positive statements of both Carpenter and -Parker, Shesgren’s unsupported word wouldn’t count for much. But the -universal coach was used to fighting against odds, and he felt that he -was really more than a match for Parker. - -Parker greeted them with a satirical smile, and invited them to sit -down. - -“I am honored by this visit,” he said, looking at them. “Any friends of -yours, Mr. Merriwell, are welcome, of course. Have you come to talk over -the football season?” - -“No use, Parker,” said Dick quietly, but dangerously. “I know the whole -story. And I’m not any the more inclined to be easy on you because you -were trying to reach me, and were quite ready to ruin a friend of mine -as a means of hurting me. Shesgren has told me everything.” - -“Indeed?” said Parker. “I don’t know what he’s told you, of course, but -I suppose it must be something very interesting. I’d like to hear it.” - -“Repeat what you told us just now, Shesgren,” says Dick. “If Parker -wants to brazen it out, I’m willing to take a little extra trouble.” - -Parker laughed when Shesgren, trembling with anger, finished. - -“You ought to start writing for the magazines, Shesgren,” he said. “I -suppose I don’t need to tell you, Mr. Merriwell, that there isn’t a word -of truth in all this wild story?” - -“You certainly need not tell me that,” said Dick, “because I know that -you’re not telling the truth when you do. I have also seen Mr. Chetwind. -He has told me who it was that acted for him, or with him, in this -matter.” - -“Yes?” said Parker. “He didn’t mention my name, by any chance?” - -“No,” said Dick. “You were quite clever there. But you forgot one thing. -Chetwind named Shesgren—but he described you.” - -“Really,” said Parker, “this is getting rather tiresome. I’ve got some -work to do. I’ll be glad to see you some other time, but as you haven’t -anything really important to say, perhaps you’ll leave me alone now.” - -“Then you refuse to admit that these things are so?” asked Dick, -pretending to be much cast down. - -“I can’t do anything else,” said Parker calmly, though his eyes showed -his delight, for he thought he had won. - -“Well, in that case,” Dick began, risingly slowly to his feet. “Oh, by -the way, can you lend me a knife? I want——” - -Unsuspiciously, Parked whipped his knife out of his pocket. In a moment -Dick had opened it—it was a single-bladed one—and slit open half a dozen -envelopes that he snatched from his pocket. - -Parker’s face went white with rage. - -“What are you doing with my knife?” he cried furiously, and sprang -forward, as if to snatch the knife away. But Bill Brady was in his path, -and he was sent sprawling to the floor. - -“Look here!” cried Dick triumphantly. - -He laid the registered letter by the side of the other envelopes that he -had opened with the knife. The cut was clean in each, save for a single -break, where, evidently, a piece had been nicked from the sharp steel. -And the knife blade, when it was compared with the paper, showed a break -that corresponded exactly. - -“You see?” cried Dick. “That confirms one, and the most important, part -of Shesgren’s story. You thought you were safe—but you overlooked a -detail that knocks your whole carefully built house of lies to the -ground. Will you confess now, or shall I send for a post-office -inspector? You’ve tampered with a registered letter—and you know what -that means.” - -Parker knew, and the knowledge cowed him, blustery as he had been when -he thought he held the upper hand. He was white and shaken as he rose -from the floor. - -“You win,” he said, snarling, with a look of hate for Shesgren, who eyed -him angrily, remembering his sleepless and agonizing night. - -“Write out a confession of this whole plot,” ordered Dick Merriwell. -“Also, you must withdraw as a candidate for the football captaincy. If -you will do those two things, I will undertake to keep this matter -quiet.” - -It was a bitter dose for Parker, beaten and disgraced just as he thought -himself on the threshold of success, to have to swallow. But there was -nothing for him to do—no way in which, at the time, at least, he could -renew the struggle. He was in Dick Merriwell’s power, and in a moment of -utter frankness with himself, he realized that he was fortunate. Some -men would not have let him off so easily. He sat down at his desk, and, -with the universal coach looking over his shoulder to see that he set -down the truth and the whole truth, he wrote out a confession of his -plot against Jim Phillips, and of the part he had forced Carpenter to -play in it. - -He followed this unpleasant task by writing a letter to the manager of -the football team, in which he asked that his name be withdrawn from the -list of those trying to win the captaincy, and then, snarling, turned on -his enemies. - -“Get out, now!” he cried, “and leave me alone. You’ve got what you want -this time. But some of you may be sorry yet that you’ve got me for an -enemy.” - -“Be careful!” said Dick warningly. “You’ve got off easily this time. -Your confession will be shown to the Harvard authorities, and then it -will be kept quiet. But you may find yourself in serious trouble if you -attempt any more dirty work.” - -Carpenter put up no such resistance as Parker had. When he found that -Dick Merriwell knew what he had done, he was only eager to confess and -to excuse himself, as best he might. He had repented already of his -wrongdoing, but, unlike Shesgren, he had lacked the strength of -character to defy Parker and tell the truth of his own free will. - -Jim Phillips found it easy to forgive his wretched classmate. After -Carpenter had written a hasty line or two, confirming all that Parker -had confessed, Jim lingered behind the others. - -“I don’t bear any ill will, Carpenter,” he said. “Let’s be friends, -after this. Come around when you have the time, and we’ll talk over the -work together. It will make it easier for both of us, I’m sure.” - -And Carpenter, surprised at such generosity, promised to do as Jim -asked. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - THE LAST RESORT. - - -The whole strength of the Yale baseball squad was to go to Cambridge, -and a great crowd of students went down to the station to give the team -a last cheer and wish it well. The students would start for Boston early -in the morning, going direct to the field, but they wanted to give the -team a great send-off. Full of confidence in its ability to repeat, at -the expense of Harvard, the victories it had won throughout the season, -the Yale students were wild with delight at the reinstatement of Jim -Phillips, which had been briefly announced. - -Dick Merriwell had, immediately after they left Parker’s room, gone to a -telephone, and called up Captain Bowen, of Harvard. - -“I have a confession that clears Phillips completely and in every -detail,” the Yale coach told the Harvard captain. “I will bring this -with me and show it to you to-morrow morning. Meanwhile, if you will -take my word for it, I’d like to announce that Phillips can play.” - -“Go ahead!” cried Bowen joyously. “That’s the best news I’ve heard since -I got my ‘H.’ I would have felt rotten about this series if Phillips -hadn’t been able to play. You don’t need to show me anything, Merriwell. -Your word is all any of us want. We know you and Yale too well not to -accept any statement you can make at its face value.” - -And, within an hour, Dick received from Bowen a long telegram, formally -withdrawing Harvard’s protest against Jim Phillips and expressing the -hope that he would be able to play against the crimson in the first game -of the series. - -“I certainly like to meet sportsmen like that,” said Dick heartily, when -he showed the telegram to Phillips and Brady. “We fight them hard on the -field, but there’s no hard feeling when the game’s over, and that’s the -way it ought to be among all the colleges.” - -So there was a tremendous ovation for Jim Phillips as the train pulled -out. The Yale special car was at the rear end of the train, and as many -of the baseball players as could find room on the observation platform -at the back of the car were there to wave their hands to the -enthusiastic crowd behind. - -“Well,” said Jim Phillips, as the train pulled out, “I’m certainly glad -that we’re through with this trouble. All we’ve got to do now is to play -baseball, and, as long as we do our best, it doesn’t make much -difference whether we win or lose. That’s one thing we can do, -anyhow—play baseball.” - -There was nothing eventful about the trip to Boston. The train arrived -on time, and the squad went immediately to a great hotel in the Back Bay -section, whence the drive to Cambridge the next morning would be a -comparatively short one, and one easily to be made without any untoward -incident. - -“It looks like a good day for the game,” said Jim, to Brady, after they -had unpacked their bags in the room they were to share for the night. -“Not a cloud in the sky—and everything deep blue. If there was a red -sunset, I’d be inclined to imitate Woeful Watson and say that that meant -a Harvard day to-morrow. But I guess we’re safe. Even the omens are -pulling for us to win.” - -“I guess we’ll do that, all right,” said Brady. “Let’s take a little -walk downtown. It isn’t bedtime yet—not for an hour, and we can sleep as -late as we like in the morning.” - -Jim agreed. He had never been to Boston before, and the old city, so -interesting to every true American as one of the places where -independence was first thought of and first fought for, appealed -strongly to him. They saw the famous library, the Old South Church, and -Faneuil Hall, and, after a good, swinging walk around the shopping -district, prepared to go home. But they had wandered further from their -hotel than they had thought, and Brady, seeing an errant taxicab, whose -chauffeur held his door open invitingly, suggested that they ride back. - -“I’ll stand treat,” he said. “And I want to go to a drug store, too. -Cabby, drop me for a minute at some good drug store. I forgot to bring a -toothbrush, and I’ve got to buy one to-night.” - -They drove, very slowly, as it seemed to Jim, until they reached a drug -store, and there Brady jumped out and went inside, leaving Jim to wait -for him in the cab. But, even as Brady jumped out at one side, Jim saw -the door on the other side open, and, at the same time, the cab started -away with a burst of speed, and left the drug store far behind. - -Jim, amazed and angry, cried out to the chauffeur, but a heavy hand was -pushed over his mouth, and a coarse voice commanded him to keep still. -He knew at once that there were two men in the cab with him, and, though -he struggled for a moment, it was useless. He was overpowered, and he -wisely, fearing some injury to his pitching arm, ceased struggling. Then -a light was flashed in his face and held steady for a moment. - -“Yes!” cried one of his captors triumphantly. “It’s him. I guess he -won’t do any pitching for Yale to-morrow.” - -Jim, knowing nothing of Boston, could make no guess as to their -destination. He only knew that the cab was traveling very fast, and he -judged, from the time occupied in the trip, that he was being carried -outside of the city. He was almost sure that he had recognized Parker’s -voice when the man had cried out that he knew him, but he could not be -certain. - -At last he was lifted out of the taxicab and allowed to stand on his -feet. The roar of surf was in his ears, and he knew that he had been -brought to some point on the seashore, probably twenty miles or more -from Boston. It was very dark, but as he looked around, he could see the -sea, and that he was on a beach. A number of low, squat houses were to -be seen in the neighborhood, but lights were visible in only one or two -of them. It seemed to be a desolate, bleak place, where there was little -chance of finding help. - -“If you’re Parker,” said Jim, to one of the men who got out of the cab -with him, “you ought to know that you can only get yourself into more -trouble by doing this.” - -The man he addressed, who wore a black mask over his face, laughed -harshly, but made no answer. Evidently he didn’t wish Jim to have -another chance of recognizing his voice. - -“Never mind who we are or what will happen to us,” said the other man, a -complete stranger to Jim. “We can look out for ourselves. You’d better -make up your mind to stay here till we let you go. You can’t get away, -and if you keep quiet and don’t bother us, you’ll come to no harm. We’ll -give you a place to sleep and all you need to eat, but if you try to get -away, you’ll be caught and brought back, and we’ll tie you up. That’s a -fair warning. See that you don’t make us do anything we and you would -both regret.” - -Jim gave no answer. His eyes were growing accustomed to the darkness, -and a flashing light off in the distance made him think that he might be -able to guess where he was. Jim had never been to Boston before, but he -knew the Massachusetts coast well, from a number of cruises he had made -in those waters, and he thought that the lighthouse would soon give him -a clew. Moreover, a wild suspicion was forming in his mind, and with it -a plan, daring, but still offering a chance to escape, and reach -Cambridge in time to justify Dick Merriwell’s faith in him, and the -hopes of his fellow students at Yale. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - TWO DESPERATE CHANCES. - - -Bill Brady, when he emerged from the drug store and saw no sign of the -taxicab in which he had left his pitcher, thought at first that Jim had -played a joke on him by ordering the driver to take him back at once to -the hotel. He had looked around for a few minutes, and had then, with a -promise to himself to exact due vengeance, taken another cab, and gone -back himself. But when he arrived, he found that Jim had not returned. -He waited a little while, and then, beginning to be vaguely alarmed, -sought Dick Merriwell, and told him what had happened. - -As hour after hour passed without a sign of Jim, the coach and the -catcher became deeply worried. All their efforts to trace the missing -pitcher were in vain. They consulted the police, but there had been no -report of any accident that might account for his disappearance, and a -search of all the hospitals failed to reveal the presence as a patient -of any one at all like Jim. - -Brady, naturally enough, had paid no particular attention of the number -of the cab, and there was thus no way of tracing it. - -After an almost sleepless night, Dick Merriwell and Brady resumed their -search in the morning. They had said nothing to the other players of -Jim’s strange absence, for Merriwell saw no need of worrying them, and -thus reducing their efficiency for the game when they could not possibly -do anything to bring Jim back. But, after breakfast, when Jim was still -missing, Dick had to take some of them, at least, into his confidence. -If Jim did not return, Bob Gray would have to do the pitching, and Dick, -without going into details, told the senior to be prepared, in an -emergency, to go into the box. - -When it was time to start for Cambridge, Jim was still missing, and by -that time the whole team, surprised and disturbed, knew that for some -reason he was not along. Dick Merriwell was pestered on all sides with -questions. - -“I think that Phillips will report at the field in time for the game,” -he said, in reply to all the questions that were showered upon him. “In -any case, we’re going to play the game, and I want you fellows to go in -there determined to win, with him or without him.” - -A great crowd had turned out for the game. The city of Boston is loyal -to Harvard teams always. But there were a great many old Yale men in -business there, who were ready to turn out to cheer for the blue. -Moreover, every Yale student who could scrape together the railroad -fare, had come on to Boston to see the game. The result was that the -biggest crowd the Yale team had seen all season was in the stand when it -was time for the two teams to begin their final practice. Jim Phillips -was still missing, and Gray and Taylor warmed up as the Yale battery, -while Bill Brady, in his uniform, sat dejectedly on the bench beside -Dick Merriwell, who blamed himself bitterly for not having taken -precautions to prevent such a thing. - -“Jim is the victim of some trick,” said Dick. “I’m sure of that. He -would never leave us in the lurch this way, without some word of what -was keeping him away, of his own free will.” - -Suddenly a murmur of excitement ran through the crowd. Far away, over -the Charles, winging in from the distant ocean, something in the sky was -causing heads to turn and necks to crane toward it. - -“By George!” cried Bowen, the Harvard captain, running over to the Yale -bench, “that’s a pretty sight! One of the aviators from Squantum, I -suppose, coming over to see the game. See him come down!” - -The two Yale men, hardly interested in such a sight now, though at any -other time they would have been as enthusiastic as Bowen himself, looked -up apathetically, and saw a biplane volplaning gracefully to earth from -a great height. It held a single figure, in dark clothes, and it was -evidently the aviator’s intention to land in the part of the enormous -Harvard field set aside for the use of motorists. There was plenty of -room there, and it was impossible for the crowd to hamper his descent. -Bowen led the way, and Brady and Dick Merriwell followed him, more for -something to do than because they were really deeply interested. But in -a moment their apathy was turned to joyous excitement. - -They could see the aviator plainly now. He wore neither goggles nor cap, -and, as he came nearer, they saw, to their intense amazement, that it -was Jim Phillips himself, who was speeding toward them through the air. - -He brought the machine gracefully to a stop, and, leaping out, was at -once beset by questions. - -“I was kidnaped,” he cried, seeking to explain in a word. “They thought -I couldn’t get away—never dreamed that I knew how to run one of these -machines. So they didn’t watch except in the distance. It was easy to -jump this machine and get over here. Am I in time for the game?” - -There was no time for further explanations. Ten minutes later, with just -five minutes to spare for Jim to warm up with Brady, Yale’s sophomore -star was in his uniform and on the field, and the Yale team, overjoyed -by his opportune appearance, was doubly determined to reward his pluck -and skill with such support that the victory was sure to be his. - -Yale was first to the bat, as the visiting team, and when Briggs, the -famous Harvard pitcher, who was relied upon by all the crimson rooters -to check the victorious career of Jim Phillips, wound up to deliver the -first ball to Tom Sherman, veteran of three series against Harvard, a -mighty cheer from the crowd on the Harvard side of the field rent the -air. The first ball was a perfect strike, cutting clean across the plate -with a sharp, jumping break, that made Dick Merriwell clap his hands -softly. - -“He’s a real pitcher,” he said, leaning back in his seat on the bench. - -There was no mistake about that. Sherman, Jackson, and Harry Maxwell, -who led the Yale batting order, were retired easily in the first inning, -and not one of them reached first base. But it was not time yet for the -Yale attack to cut loose. Briggs was a pitcher to be studied, and every -man on the Yale team, keyed up to a high pitch of enthusiasm and -excitement, was studying every motion of the Harvard twirler, to get -used to him, and be ready, when the time came, to deliver a crushing -blow. - -Jim Phillips, if Bowen expected to find that he was pitching as he had -done in the amateur game at Cambridge, must have disappointed the -Harvard leader mightily. No one could have told that he was the same -pitcher. Every ball was the result of careful planning and coöperation -between Jim and Bill Brady, and each was pitched with a deliberate -purpose. Jim wasted no strength in trying to pitch strikes, but the -effect was the same. The Harvard men, knowing themselves to be opposed -by a really great pitcher, were canny and cautious, but he was too much -for them, and inning after inning saw the crowd working up to new -heights of excitement, as the duel between the two pitchers went on, -with neither able to gain any advantage for his side. - -In the fifth inning, there came the first shift in the simple attack -that Harvard had been using. Dick Merriwell had given no specific orders -as yet for an attempt to make a run by strategy. He had a plan, but he -was holding it in reserve. The Harvard batters, too, had fallen easy -victims for Jim. The first two men in each inning had tried to hit the -ball out, picking out the first offering that seemed to them hittable; -the third, when two were out, had tried to outguess Jim and get a base -on balls by waiting. - -But, in the fifth inning, there was a change. Bowen batted third for -Harvard, and in the fifth inning he was the first man up. Instead of -letting the first ball, a cross-fire shot that swung sharply across the -plate, go by as a strike, Bowen just chopped it with his bat. The ball -trickled along toward Carter, at third, but, as it seemed sure to roll -foul, Carter let it alone. But Bowen had been practicing for weeks to -make that play, and the ball, instead of rolling over the base line, -spun round and round, and stopped finally, halfway between the plate and -third base, leaving Bowen safe. - -Bowen was a fast runner, and a tricky player as well. As Jim faced the -next batter, the Harvard captain darted away from first base. Jim -hesitated a moment, then threw to Sherman. As he did so, Bowen broke for -second base, and by the time Sherman had swung the ball down to Jackson, -Bowen was safe on a pretty delayed steal. Jim was angry at himself, for -he had been caught by a trick that he should have guarded against, but -many a big-league pitcher has been in the same hole, and Jim really had -little to blame himself for. - -He had to watch Bowen closely now, and the Harvard captain, quick and -alert as a cat, as he danced about second base, made him waste two balls -on Reid, the crimson shortstop, who was at the bat. This put Jim in the -hole, and when he had to pitch a straight ball to Reid, it was cracked -to Jackson, who, while he threw Reid out at first, was unable to keep -Bowen from getting to third. It was pretty, inside baseball that Harvard -was working, and Jim knew it. But he was not the sort to get rattled or -confused, and, with Bowen at third, he was less worried. - -Still, he had to be careful. From third, Bowen could score on a long -fly, or even on an infield out, if he got a good start. Hazlitt, batting -for Harvard, was more or less of an unknown quantity; but Jim thought he -could hit a straight ball. He thought, also, however, that he would hit -such a ball straight before him, on a line, and he took the chance. He -pitched the ball, and then ran backward. Just as he had expected, the -ball came straight for him, and, because he had run back almost to -second base, he was able to make a flying leap and catch the ball. Bowen -had figured on a safe hit, and a quick throw to Steve Carter disposed of -the Harvard leader on a snappy double play, that sent the Yale crowd -into a wild burst of cheering. - -But Harvard had proved its mettle. The attack, designed to bring home a -single run, had been well planned and well carried out, and it was not -in accord with preconceived notions of how Harvard would play. Dick -Merriwell had been right when he had said that there was danger that the -crimson would try to spring something new. - -At the beginning of the seventh inning, Dick decided that the time had -come for action. Carter was the first batter, and he went to the plate, -for the first time, with definite orders. - -“Hit everything he pitches,” Dick told Carter. “If you can’t make it -safe, foul them off. Better to do that than to try for a hit on his -first balls. Never mind getting in the hole. I want to worry him.” - -And, as a result, Briggs was pained and surprised to see his best curves -being wasted. Ten of them in succession were knocked back of him by the -determined Carter, and, in despair, Briggs began trying to tempt the -Yale man with wide curves that would surely land in a fielder’s glove if -Carter tried to hit them. From the bench Dick saw the change in Briggs’ -plan, and changed his own. He signaled Carter to let such balls go by, -and they swept into Bowen’s big mitt, to be called “Ball” by the umpire. - -Briggs was furious, and in a moment Carter had his base on balls. All -season, in such a situation, Yale players had at once tried to steal -second. Carter dashed from the bag now but stopped short, ten feet from -the base, and sped back, while the crowd laughed at Bowen’s futile throw -to second. Briggs had thus wasted a ball on Caxton, the Yale center -fielder, who followed Carter at the bat, and a big advantage had been -gained. - -Again Carter started from first with the swing of Briggs’ arm, and this -time Bowen snapped the ball to first. But Carter had not stopped, and a -mighty roar of laughter from the Yale crowd showed that the Harvard -captain had been fooled completely, for Carter was safe at second. -Thence, before the startled Harvard men could collect themselves, he -dashed for third, and stole that base also without even a throw to head -him off. - -Caxton struck out, but Dick was satisfied. He felt that he could trust -Brady for a long fly, at least, and he was right. The big catcher drove -the ball far out to right field, and Carter, waiting for the catch, then -sprinted home, and was safe at the plate in a cloud of dust, scoring the -first run of the game. - -After that, Briggs was invincible again. Dick’s best-laid plans to score -another run in the next two innings were of no avail. The Harvard men -saw through them and defeated them, and the ninth inning for Yale ended -with the score still one to nothing. Harvard had one more chance to win -the game, or to tie the score, at least, and it was up to Jim Phillips -to hold the advantage his side had gained, slender as it was. If Harvard -could not score, that one Yale run was as good as twenty. - -Farquar, Harvard’s most dangerous batter, was the first man up. Jim had -handled him well so far, and had struck him out twice, but Farquar was a -scientific and skillful batter and he had studied Jim so that to deceive -him was nearly impossible. He chose his time well, and, shortening his -bat, drove Jim’s third ball straight down the right-field foul line and -past Sherman, for two bases. It was the only clean hit made off Jim in -the whole game, but it was a dangerous one, indeed. Farquar was a fast -runner, and if the men who followed him did anything at all, there was a -good chance for him to score. His fine play won him salvos of applause -from the Harvard crowd, but Jim braced himself, with a smile for Brady, -and settled down to work. - -Jim was very willing for Renshaw, who followed Farquar, to hit the ball. -It would mean a chance to throw Farquar out at third. Renshaw tapped the -ball toward short and Morgan ran in to field it. Farquar raced toward -third, and the umpire on the bases, trying to get out of the runner’s -way without interfering with the fielder, did a thing that seemed fatal -to Yale’s chances. By pure accident, he got in the way of the ball, and -it struck his foot, bounding away from Morgan. Under the rules it was a -safe hit, and Farquar was privileged to go to third. - -That was hard luck for Jim Phillips. Through no fault of his own, Yale’s -position had become desperate. Renshaw stole second at once, and Brady -dared not throw to cut him off, lest Farquar seize the chance to come -home. - -But Jim held his nerve. He struck out the next batter easily, and then, -knowing that Bowen, who followed, was almost sure to hit the ball, even -if not safely, went in to consult Brady. - -“We can get them, if you’re game to take a big chance,” said Jim, under -his breath. “Listen!” - -Brady heard him out, grinned, and then said: “All right. It’s a big -chance, sure enough, but we’ll try it.” - -Jim, before he walked to the box, took off his cap, wiped his forehead, -and then threw his cap to a point a few feet behind Brady. - -And, on the next ball, he deliberately pitched wild. The crowd yelled, -for it seemed to make Harvard’s victory certain. But Brady, to the -amazement of every one, had run back as Jim pitched. He dashed to the -place where Jim’s cap lay on the ground, and Jim, rushing to the plate, -took the catcher’s throw. The ball had stopped right by the cap, for it -was a carefully planned wild pitch that Jim had made, and one involving -the most perfect control. Farquar, dashing for the plate, was easily -tagged out, and Renshaw, thinking it easy to reach third, was put out by -Carter. Jim had outguessed the Harvard team by taking a desperate -chance, and Yale had won the first game. - -Dick now cautioned the Yale players to keep themselves in the best -condition for the final game or games, for the universal coach felt that -the Harvard men would fight hard to win the second game, thus making -necessary a third game. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - A DANGEROUS ALLIANCE. - - -There was a good deal of excitement at Yale over the sudden withdrawal -of Wesley Parker, who had seemed likely to be the next football captain, -from the list of candidates. Parker gave no explanation of his -withdrawal, but simply announced that he would be unable to accept, -should he be elected, and, as a result, Jackson, the second baseman of -the baseball team, was chosen. - -Parker, a junior, had been extremely popular in a certain circle in -Yale. Many of his friends, who had expected great things from his -captaincy, were bitterly disappointed by his withdrawal. They had looked -for free tickets to the game, and one or two of them had expected him to -help them to win positions on the team and thus gain the coveted Yale -“Y,” which, unaided by some influence, they could not hope for. - -It was one of these disappointed ones, a member of Parker’s own class, -named Foote, who was the first to venture to speak to the big guard on -the subject. - -“I say, Wesley,” he said, “why aren’t you going to take the captaincy? -You had a cinch to beat Jackson. That delay was only a game of -Merriwell’s. They couldn’t have stopped you. Danby might have voted for -Jackson, if he could have come on for the election, because he thinks -this chap Merriwell is all right, but you would have had votes enough, -and the chances are Danby couldn’t get here.” - -Parker scowled at his friend. - -“I don’t know that I have to explain everything I do to you,” he said -savagely. “I changed my mind about taking the captaincy. I’m not sure -that I want to play, anyhow. The way things are here, with this -Merriwell as universal coach, there’s no special honor about being -captain of a Yale team any more.” - -Paul Foote, an undersized, ill-favored youth, who was smoking cigarettes -at a great rate, lighting one as fast as he finished the one before it, -whistled. - -“So it’s Merriwell, is it?” he said, with an unpleasant smile, that -didn’t make him look at all good-natured. “Funny how he bluffs all you -big men out! First Taylor and Gray—now you. And even old Steve Carter. -Steve used to be a good fellow. He trained with our crowd, and he was -all primed to run for the baseball captaincy. Now he stays home nights -and does his lessons, and he acts as if he thought Dick Merriwell was a -little tin god on wheels. I thought better of you, though, Wes; honest, -I did.” - -Parker got up and wandered morosely about the room. - -“If you think I’m scared of this fellow, Foote,” he said, “you’re jolly -well mistaken. I’m going to take him out some time and give him the -worst licking he ever had. But he’s got the whole college with him. -What’s the use of fighting him? No matter what I said, he’d have most of -the fellows with him, and I’d be powerless against that sort of thing. -You know that as well as I do.” - -“That’s the trouble with you big, beefy fellows,” said Foote -disgustedly. “You haven’t any brains. That’s the reason I haven’t any -use for you athletes—or most of you. I wouldn’t go across the street to -get a ‘Y’ myself. But my dad thinks it’s a great thing. He rowed on the -crew here twenty-five years ago, and he’s promised me a trip to Europe -after I graduate and an increase of a thousand in my allowance if I get -my ‘Y’ next fall. That’s the only reason I’ve gone in for football.” - -“Well,” said Parker, with a little satisfaction in being able to insult -this weakling, “you’ve got about as much chance of getting a ‘Y’ here as -I have of being president of the Y. M. C. A. So you can make up your -mind to go without that extra money and go to work as soon as you -graduate.” - -“That’s why I want you to do Merriwell up,” said Foote cheerfully. “It -can be done, you know. Make him look ridiculous. Get the whole college -laughing at him. Hit at him through his pets. Then you’ll draw his -teeth. And you can’t lick him in a fight, anyhow. He’s too good for -you—unless you wear knuckle dusters or something like that. -Strategy—that’s what you need to beat him. And you couldn’t think up a -scheme in a thousand years.” - -Parker was furious. But he had an idea that Foote was right. He had -tried his hand in a battle of wits with the universal coach, and had -been pretty badly beaten. Therefore, he was not anxious to repeat the -experiment unless he was sure of success. - -“You’re talking pretty big, Foote,” he said, but in a softer tone. “Have -_you_ got any ideas for doing him up that way? I’d be willing to help -you get that ‘Y’ if you could get rid of Merriwell.” - -“I haven’t been talking just for exercise,” said Foote, with a sneer. “I -knew you’d have to come to me if you wanted to get anywhere. There’s -only one way to beat this fellow—that’s to fight him without letting him -know that you’re doing it. The thing he’s got nearest to his heart right -now is to beat Harvard in this series, and it’s a tough job, even if -Yale has won the first game. He’s planning to use Gray and Taylor in the -game here on Commencement Day, and then come back with Phillips on the -last day, if Yale happens to lose here. I don’t believe Phillips is good -for the extra game here, and, if Gray can’t pitch, it will be a sure -thing for Harvard. See?” - -“Yes, but Gray will pitch,” said Parker. “And if he doesn’t, what -difference will it make?” - -“Suppose Gray didn’t pitch,” said Foote, grinning evilly. “Suppose it -was discovered that he couldn’t graduate? Suppose the discovery was made -by Merriwell himself, and he felt that he had to tell the dean what he -had found out? Wouldn’t that rather put him and the whole team on the -blink?” - -“Go ahead,” said Parker. “Talk common sense. I can’t make out what -you’re driving at now at all.” - -“Well, suppose Merriwell didn’t tell the dean what he knew,” said Foote. -“But suppose some one else did—just in time to spoil Gray’s chance of -pitching and getting his degree. Then, can’t you see? It would mean -Merriwell’s finish. And you can be sure that that’s just what would -happen. This Merriwell talks mighty big, but he’s no better than any one -else, and if he finds out something that would spoil his plans, he’ll -keep mighty quiet about it, just as any one else would.” - -“I begin to get you now,” said Parker. “But this is going to take a lot -of doing, my boy. I’ve been up against this chap Merriwell, and you’ve -got to get up pretty early in the morning to get down to breakfast ahead -of him. Have you got this little plan all worked out yet?” - -“Not quite,” admitted Foote, “but I’m getting there. Gray and Taylor -haven’t got as many admirers as you might expect. They dropped a lot of -their old friends early this year, you know, and some of them haven’t -liked it. Not so much men in college as some fellows in New Haven they -used to run around with. And the faculty isn’t any too sure of them -either. I happen to know that they were both on the ragged edge at the -last exams. They just got through, and there are some professors who -said then that neither of them had more than an outside chance of -getting through the final exams.” - -“What’s the game?” asked Parker. “Are they going to try to do some -cribbing?” - -“I don’t say they will, mind you,” said Foote, with a wink. “But I’m -going to keep my eyes open. And it may be I’ll see something that I’ll -feel it my duty to report in the quarters where it will do the most -good, you know. Will you go in on this with me? You’ll have to do what I -say, and not ask too many questions, you know. When you don’t know -what’s doing, you won’t be lying when you say so, remember.” - -“I’m with you,” said Parker, with an oath. “I’d do a good deal to get -even with Merriwell. And I’d rather show him up as a hypocrite than -anything else I can think of, too.” - -“Well, stick to me,” said Foote, “and you may have your wish.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - A DECLARATION OF WAR. - - -At Yale Field there was a spirit of optimism in the air that delighted -Dick Merriwell. - -The climax of the great baseball season was really at hand at last. -After several years, in which Yale baseball teams had completely failed -to uphold the prestige of the university in the national game, although -Yale had been doing well in all other branches of sport, Dick Merriwell -had, in one short season, brought the nine up to be a contender for the -national intercollegiate championship. - -The universal coach, after watching the aimless practice of the players -for a few minutes, walked over to the stand, where Jim Phillips and big -Bill Brady, his classmate, whose fame as a catcher was almost as great -as that Jim had won as a pitcher, were practicing a new curve that Jim -was trying to perfect. - -“Get that ball ready, Jim,” he said. “I hope you won’t have to pitch -another game for Yale this year, but it’s as well to be ready for -emergencies.” - -“That means Gray is to pitch for the team on Commencement Day, I -suppose, Mr. Merriwell,” said Brady. “I’m glad to hear it. It will be a -fine wind-up to his four years in college to beat Harvard on the same -day that he gets his degree.” - -“That’s the idea,” said Merriwell, smiling. “We’ll have to wait to see -whether he can do it or not. But I certainly hope he can. He’s worked -mighty hard, and he’s improved tremendously since the beginning of the -season. He and Taylor make a fine battery now, and I guess Taylor’s -learned a lot about catching from you, Brady.” - -“Not so much as you think, Mr. Merriwell,” said Brady. “He always was a -good catcher, and if he’s much better, it’s partly because he’s been -taking the game more seriously and looking after himself better.” - -“I wanted to speak to you two fellows,” said the coach seriously. “I’ve -been thinking a lot about this man Parker. He’s a fine football player, -and if he doesn’t play this fall, Yale will miss him badly. I don’t know -just where we can look for a guard to take his place. But I won’t have -him on the team if he hasn’t been playing fair. You remember that after -I proved he was responsible for that absurd charge that Jim Phillips was -a professional, he promised to behave himself. Now, what I want to know, -Jim, is whether you think he had anything to do with your being kidnaped -in Boston the night before the first Harvard game?” - -“I can’t say at all positively that he had, Mr. Merriwell,” Phillips -answered finally, after going over the whole affair in his mind. “I -thought I recognized his voice, but he only spoke once—the man I thought -was Parker, I mean—and I never got a look at his face. So I certainly -couldn’t make the positive statement that he had anything to do with -it.” - -“I’m pretty sure he had,” said Brady. “There was no one else who would -have had any reason for doing anything of that sort, you know, and -Parker could have managed it. He could have pointed us out to the -chauffeur of that cab, and they were probably willing to carry me off -along with Jim, you know.” - -“You’re out of this, Bill,” said Dick, with a smile. “I think as you do, -but we need more than thoughts to be sure, you see. I can’t punish -Parker unless I’m absolutely certain that he did take part in that -affair. I think we’re agreed that his loss of the football captaincy is -sufficient punishment for the business of the registered letter. As it -happened, that did no serious harm; though, of course, it was no fault -of his that we were able to defeat his plans. But you have to consider -the effect as well as the intention, and I think we can let that matter -drop. However, he was very defiant when we obtained that confession from -him.” - -“I can’t make any charge against him in that taxicab affair,” Jim -decided finally. “I haven’t enough evidence to satisfy myself, much less -some unprejudiced person. So, as far as I am concerned, I say, let the -thing drop. I’ll be careful hereafter. I’ll see that no one has a chance -to do anything of that sort again.” - -“There’s Parker now,” said Brady curiously, looking up into the stand, -where a score or more of students, who were not themselves players, had -assembled to watch the practice. - -“Good,” said Dick. “I’ll go up there and read the riot act to him, -anyhow. Whether he’s innocent or guilty, that won’t do any harm.” - -Parker looked up with unconcealed surprise and hostility when he saw the -universal coach making his way toward him through the rows of empty -seats. - -“What do you want?” he snarled, as Dick dropped into a seat beside him. -“You’ve got your way, haven’t you? Your man has been elected as football -captain. Can’t you let me alone?” - -“I don’t know, Parker,” said Merriwell, laughing. “That depends on you, -you know. I didn’t start the trouble between us, and I’m sorry that -there had to be any. It was you who tried to spoil Jim Phillips’ record -and cause Yale to enter the series with Harvard in a crippled condition. -I’ll let you alone as long as you give me no cause to interfere with -you. But if you make a move that seems to be unfair or is intended to -hurt any of my friends, I will use the confession you signed. That is -still in my possession, you know, and it will be enough to cause your -expulsion from Yale if I give the word.” - -“You forced it out of me,” said Parker. “I don’t think that a confession -extracted in that way is any good.” - -“Possibly not, if there’s no other evidence,” said Dick cheerfully. “And -there’s plenty in this case, you see. Carpenter confessed his part, and -Shesgren, as you know, refused to be your tool as soon as he found out -what you were doing. Now, there’s another matter. You know something of -what happened to Phillips in Boston. Just how much you do know I don’t -pretend to say, and I’m not going to ask you, either. But I’m going to -warn you to be careful. We are on the lookout; and if you are concerned -in anything more of this sort, the evidence of your first plot will go -to the dean at once. You know what would happen after that.” - -“I’m not admitting anything to you,” said Parker, as insultingly as he -could. “But I’m not afraid of you. I’m going to keep my hands out of -your affairs altogether. And if you don’t want me to report for football -practice in September, all you’ve got to do is to say so.” - -“I do want you to play football, of course,” said Dick, “provided that -you are willing to behave yourself. I don’t know much about you, Parker, -except for the episode of the registered letter. Put yourself in my -place. If that was all you knew about another man, you would be likely -to distrust him, wouldn’t you, and would want to feel sure that he was -powerless to injure you? That’s my only feeling. I don’t bear any ill -will. I’m perfectly willing to let the past go, and to consider only the -present and the future. - -“You’re a man who can do a whole lot for Yale if you will sink your -personal ambitions and make up your mind to work for the old college. I -would rather have you with me than against me. Why don’t you cut loose -from the old ways and try a new deal?” - -Parker was surprised at the apparent willingness of Dick Merriwell—whom -he regarded as his personal enemy—to be friendly. But he was self-willed -and obstinate, and it was very hard for him to get rid of a prejudice -once formed in his mind. - -“That sounds very fine,” he said, sneering. “But I might as well tell -you that I don’t take much stock in it. I’ll look out for myself. If you -don’t like the way I do things, you can do the other thing. And if the -football team can get along without me, I can certainly get along -without the football team.” - -He got up abruptly, and took himself off. But he was thinking hard as he -went. - -“Curse him!” he said, to himself, scowling. “I’ll never be safe as long -as he has that confession of mine. I’ll have to tell Foote about that, -so that he can work out some scheme for getting it away from him—the -sneak! He’d use that now, and ruin me, if anything happened, whether he -could prove that I was mixed up in it or not.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - AN UNSEEN WITNESS. - - -Parker lost no time in telling Foote about the confession that was in -Dick Merriwell’s possession. Bold as the football star had been in his -talk with the universal coach, he was far from being as easy in his mind -as he had been in his speech. He knew that the signed confession, as -long as Merriwell had it, was a constant menace to him. There was no way -in which he could escape the consequences if Dick chose to use it -against him. Carpenter, always a weakling, had been so terrified when he -found that Dick knew all he had done, that Parker’s hold upon him had -been completely lost, and Shesgren, as it had turned out, had never -really understood what was going on, and had deserted him as soon as he -got a hint of the real plot against Jim Phillips. - -Foote heard the story with disgust. - -“Just like you,” he said contemptuously. “That’s what you got for trying -to beat a man like Merriwell by yourself. He’s too clever for you, and -you ought to have known it before you started in. I wonder that you had -sense enough to keep them from recognizing you when you carried Phillips -off in Boston. That was a crazy stunt, anyhow. It’s a mighty good thing -for you he got away. If you’d kept him there until the game was over, -they would never have dropped the business until they had found out who -was responsible. It was only because it failed that they were willing to -let you off. That was one time when your foolishness was a good thing -for you.” - -Parker was really frightened, and he stood Foote’s abuse without a word -of protest. He had realized that he could, unaided, do nothing against -Merriwell, and he was afraid to take a chance of causing Foote to turn -against him. - -“I’ll have to get hold of that confession, of course,” said Foote. -“That’s for my own sake, as much as for yours. I may get more or less -mixed up with you, and if they feel like using that against you, it -might do me some harm. If I hadn’t made up my mind to work this thing, -though, I’d drop it right now. I’m afraid of you, Parker. You’ve made -such a mess of the business since you started in, that I don’t feel safe -with such a partner. - -“I haven’t any idea of running any chances myself, but I can’t tell what -you’ll let me in for. You’ve got to promise not to make a move without -consulting me hereafter, and you’ve got to tell me everything you’ve -done, too. Look at this business of the confession. You didn’t tell me a -word about that registered-letter business, though I’d guessed that you -had something to do with it. I don’t suppose you’d have peeped about it -now if you hadn’t been frightened by this fellow Merriwell.” - -Foote walked up and down the room, thinking hard, while Parker, who -really wanted to kick him out, waited anxiously. - -“What sort of paper did you write that confession on?” he demanded -finally. - -Parker went to his desk at once, and produced a pad of blue paper. -Foote’s face lighted up. - -“Good business!” he said. “That’s such unusual paper that our friend -isn’t likely to have another piece just like it about his rooms. Now -fold a piece of that just the way your confession was folded—see?” - -Parker obeyed. - -“All right,” said Foote. “You’ll have to make up to Merriwell. That was -plain idiocy you showed when you saw him to-day—defying him openly. You -can’t do a thing against him in the open. Now, I want you to go to his -rooms, to-night. Apologize. Tell him you’re sorry that you acted the way -you have. Explain that you’ve thought it all over, and have decided that -he’s right. Carry this with you.” - -He handed Parker the folded blue sheet. - -“And look around. If you can manage to be alone in his room for a minute -or two, try to substitute this for the other paper. He won’t be apt to -look at your precious confession unless he thinks he’s going to need it, -and then he won’t be able to prove who took it.” - -“I can’t bluff him into thinking I’m going to reform,” said Parker -sourly. “You said yourself he was too clever for me. He’ll see through -that in a minute.” - -“No, he won’t,” said Foote, with assurance. “He’d see through anything -you could think up yourself, but he doesn’t think you’ve got sense -enough to think of trying to fool him that way, and he’ll believe you, -especially if you don’t slop over too much. You do as I say. But -remember, you’ve got to bring that confession back here or I’ll drop the -whole business.” - -Parker growled, but obeyed. He took the blue paper, slipped it into his -pocket, and went off in search of Dick Merriwell. The universal coach -was in his rooms, and received him with perfect friendliness. But he -seemed a little surprised. - -“I’ve come to say that I behaved like a fool to-day, Mr. Merriwell,” -Parker began ungraciously. “I was wrong all through, and I want to tell -you that I’ve made up my mind to take my medicine and do the best I can -to play on the team in the fall.” - -The universal coach eyed him keenly. Dick, to tell the the truth, was -rather puzzled. He hated to distrust any one, and he had often proved -that when a man who had done wrong sincerely repented, he could count -upon his friendship and aid to keep straight afterward. Dick wanted to -think as well as possible of Parker, and to help him to undo the wrong -he had done to himself and to Yale, but it seemed to him that the -transition from the defiant, bullying Parker of the afternoon was a -little too sudden. - -“I’m glad to hear you say that, Parker,” Dick said finally. He had not -been able to glean much from his study of the football player’s face and -eyes. Parker was sullen in his appearance, but that was natural. He -might be sorry and ashamed, but still be embarrassed and sensitive. -“There’s room for all of us in Yale, and there’s plenty of work for all -of us to do. That’s why I was so sorry when it seemed to me that you -were putting your own desires and ambitions above the needs of the whole -college.” - -“Well, I’m through with that,” said Parker. - -His eyes had been wandering about the room, and protruding from a -pigeonhole in Dick’s desk, he had seen the edges of the hated blue sheet -on which he had written his confession. He could see it, but Dick was -seated at the desk himself, and there was no chance for Parker to -abstract it without detection. But his mind had a certain cunning, -though he was by no means as clever as Foote, and he evolved a plan for -getting the coach out of the room. - -“I thought, Mr. Merriwell,” he said, “that you might have a copy of the -changes in the football rules that were made at that last meeting in New -York. I wanted to study them a bit, and I’ve lost my copy.” - -“I can help you out there,” said Dick, jumping up hastily. “I’ve got an -extra copy, and I’ll be glad to let you have it. Just wait a minute, and -I’ll get it for you.” - -Dick went quickly into his bedroom. He welcomed this sign of a real -interest in the football team, the first which Parker had displayed, and -he was glad to be able to grant the junior’s request. - -No sooner had Dick left the room, than Parker hastened over to the desk -and, quickly snatching out the blue sheet that was exposed, put it in -his pocket and substituted the one he had carried. - -“That’s a good job,” he said to himself, with much inward satisfaction. -“He won’t look at that until to-morrow, and he’ll never be able to tell -how that paper was lost. And, gee! but it’s a relief to have that back!” - -Parker was intently absorbed in his task—that of a sneak thief, had he -stopped to give himself time to think. So absorbed that he had forgotten -that the door was open. And he never noticed at all the sound of quiet -footsteps that had come up to the door as he made his way to Dick’s -desk. But the footsteps had been there. And they had been those of Jack -Tempest, the Virginian, who was one of Jim Phillips’ closest friends in -Yale. - -Jack had seen the whole astounding performance. His first impulse had -been to rush in, seize Parker, and call to Dick. But he had been -learning caution and diplomacy. He made sure of what was going on, and -then, as silently as possible, passed on in the corridor outside the -room, until he was safe from observation. There he waited until, a few -minutes later, he heard Parker come out and pass down the stairs. - -Tempest had not had to wait very long. Parker waited a very short time -after the return of Dick Merriwell, with the leaflet the junior had -asked him for, and he had gone down the stairs, whistling merrily, to -the intense indignation of Tempest. One reason, perhaps, that Tempest -was so angry was that Parker had selected as the tune he chose to -whistle, “Marching Through Georgia,” a song that still has the power to -anger Southern listeners, though it is nearly fifty years since Sherman -spread ruin and devastation as he swept with his army from Atlanta to -the sea. - -Foote was still waiting when Parker returned. - -“I got it!” cried Parker, holding up the blue sheet. “Pretty quick work; -what?” - -“It was all right,” admitted Foote grudgingly. “I didn’t know whether -you’d have gumption enough—here, hold on! what are you doing?” - -But he sprang toward Parker too late. The junior had torn the sheet into -a hundred pieces, delighted at the chance to get rid of the -incriminating evidence of his former conspiracy. - -“What’s the matter with you?” cried Parker angrily. - -“You blamed fool!” yelled Foote. “What did you tear that up for without -giving me a chance to look at it? How did you know it was the right -one?” - -“Oh, shucks!” cried Parker. “Is that all? It’s the right one, right -enough. No mistake there. I suppose it would be nice for you to have -that. I guess I’d just about as soon let Dick Merriwell keep it as put -myself in your power by giving it to you.” - -He leered at Foote, and the other had no answer, for it was with some -thought of being able to control Parker that he had planned to possess -himself of the paper. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - A SHOCK FOR THE COACH. - - -Dick Merriwell had no connection with the faculty of Yale, in an -official sense. But his relations with the dean and with most of the -professors were cordial in the extreme. They were men who understood -fully that the work of teaching was supplemented by the athletics that -had grown to be so great a part of Yale life. Men studied and learned -the things the faculty had to teach; and, if they did that well, the -faculty had no further direct interest. But the professors who really -amounted to anything knew perfectly well that the men who went out of -Yale really well equipped for their careers, were the ones who, like -Dick Merriwell, had taken part in athletics and other activities of -college, and had so fitted themselves for their life work. - -So it was that Dick really had a good deal to do with the members of the -faculty. Many students who shone in athletics were likely, at certain -times, to neglect their work. The rules at Yale on this point are very -strict. Unless a man keeps up in his college work, he is not allowed to -play on the teams. So, when a team man showed signs of falling back in -his work, the dean would usually drop a little note to Dick Merriwell, -and the universal coach, skillfully and tactfully, would make the lazy -one understand that he must keep up in his work or forego the pleasures -of athletics. - -Dick was especially interested at this time in the seniors, so soon to -leave Yale and go out into the world for themselves. He wanted all of -them to graduate with credit—Sherman, Taylor, Gray, and the others who -had done so much to make the season a great one for Yale on diamond, -track, and river. Few of them gave him any concern at all. The period of -examination was nearly over, and he had no reason to believe that any of -the men in whom he took an interest were likely to fail in their -examinations. - -And it was a terrible shock to him, therefore, when, on the very eve of -commencement, as he sat in the baseball dressing room, Sam, the old -rubber, brought him some papers that he had picked up. - -“Doan’ know who all these hyah papers b’longs to, Marse Dick,” said Sam, -handing him a folded packet. “Ain’t nevah done learned to read.” - -“All right, Sam,” said Dick. “Some one dropped them, I suppose. I’ll see -who they belong to and give them to their owners. Thanks.” - -Idly, he looked at the papers. He had no intention of reading them, or -trying to find out their nature, but he had to look to see who should -receive them. He was dressing early after a brisk afternoon’s practice, -to keep an engagement that evening, and the players had not yet come in. -And, as he looked at the papers in his hand, his face went white. - -They were complete notes of a course in which the examination had been -held that morning, a senior course in history, arranged so that they -could be easily and conveniently referred to. He knew the way in which -they were arranged—it was a system of cribbing very old, but very seldom -used at Yale. And the thing that appalled him was the name at the head -of the sheet—for it was that of Sam Taylor. Swiftly he ran through the -other papers—they were simply a part of the same crooked device, and one -of the other sheets was marked as the property of Bob Gray. - -For a few moments Dick was stunned. He didn’t know what to do. He felt -that he might be able to excuse himself to himself for saying nothing -about his discovery. It had been made by accident. Perhaps he had not -even the right to take advantage of it. But Dick was not able, as so -many are, to compromise between right and wrong. He knew that the honor -system was supposed to prevail at Yale—that any student who discovered, -no matter how, that another was cheating, was required to report that -fact, and he felt himself to be bound by that. - -Suddenly his face cleared. - -“They must have just made these up as notes in preparing for the -examination,” he said, to himself. “This is no proof at all that they -did anything wrong. I am probably making a mountain out of a molehill.” - -Just then Sherman, the captain of the team, walked in. - -“Hello, Tom,” said Dick, with a cheerful smile. He was very fond of the -first baseman, who had made such a fine leader for Yale’s great baseball -team on the field. “How about exams? All through now?” - -“All through,” said Sherman, with a sigh of relief. “That modern history -this morning was the last. Gee! that was a stiff paper. I was worried -about Taylor and Gray, too. They had to take a chance on it without any -special preparation. But they seemed to go through swimmingly. Finished -before any one. Funny thing, too. Give a dog a bad name—you know the -rest. Well, about an hour after we got started, Canfield got suspicious, -I thought. Anyhow, he sneaked down the room, and got behind Sam Taylor. -Sam was looking at something, but when he felt Canfield behind him, he -held up a bit of paper to him to look at, and Canfield just grinned and -walked away.” - -Dick was mightily disturbed by what Sherman told him. It seemed to -destroy his hopes that the papers he had found were innocent. -Dejectedly, letting his engagement go by default, he waited for the two -seniors, who were to be Yale’s battery in the second game against -Harvard, to return. And when they did, waiting for Taylor to get -dressed, he called him aside. - -“Did you lose any papers, Taylor?” he asked him gravely. - -“Don’t think so,” said Taylor, with a laugh. “I never carry many.” - -But his hand went to his breast pocket, and suddenly his face went -white. He stammered, and then colored, in much confusion. - -“By Jove,” he said, “I don’t see—yes, I did lose something, Mr. -Merriwell. Or, rather, I remember leaving it in my room. Mighty careless -of me, too.” - -“What was it you lost, Taylor?” asked Dick, more gravely than ever. -Everything was working together to confirm the suspicions he had so -reluctantly formed. - -“I can’t tell you that, Mr. Merriwell,” said Taylor, looking a little -surprised, and rather angry. “It was a private affair—that’s why I was -rather annoyed at finding I had been so careless.” - -Dick suddenly held out the folded papers, still looking just as they had -when Sam handed the packet to him. - -“Was it this you lost?” he said. - -Taylor’s eyes lighted up as they fell on the packet, and he reached a -hand to take it. But suddenly he drew it back. - -“I thought for a moment—no, it isn’t,” he said. His confusion was -evident. Dick, looking at him with concealed sorrow, thought his -confusion was that of guilt. It certainly seemed so for the moment. - -Dick Merriwell was almost dazed as he left the dressing room, and, -catching a street car, made his way back to New Haven. The whole affair -puzzled and disgusted him. He had trusted Taylor implicitly of late. The -senior had aroused his anger and suspicion early in the year, but he had -proved himself sincerely repentant since then, and it cut Dick to the -quick to think that Taylor had proved himself, by the meanest of college -crimes, unworthy of the forgiveness Dick had given him so freely. - -“I’ve got to put this up to the dean,” he decided finally. “I may be -wrong, but there’s enough evidence here for me to feel that I would be -shirking my duty if I didn’t see to it that the whole business was -investigated.” - - * * * * * - -Parker and Foote had taken their dinner together at an eating house, -and, when the meal was over, they lighted cigars and walked toward the -campus. - -“I don’t see that you’re doing much,” sneered Parker. “You talked mighty -big about your plans, and about how you were going to queer Merriwell. -What have you done?” - -“I’m sorry for Merriwell,” said Foote, without giving a direct reply. -“He talks a lot about high standards of morality and all that sort of -thing. He’s got a nice little problem on his hands now, and he’s going -to decide it the way any other man would. He thinks it’s in his power to -spoil the chances of two of his precious team from graduating. And he’s -going to keep quiet. You mark my words. He doesn’t know, you see, that -I’ve taken steps to see that the dean and others know of the evidence -he’s got. - -“Every one will know about it by to-morrow morning, and he’ll be sorry -that he didn’t practice what he preached. He’ll find that by keeping -quiet he’s just got himself into a hole without doing his friends or his -team any good. And I guess that will be about the finish for Mr. Dick -Merriwell’s pose of being superior to every one in Yale. But, if that -isn’t enough, I’ve got another scheme that will settle it in a hurry.” - -“You’re blamed mysterious,” said Parker angrily. “Why don’t you tell me -what you’re doing? Hello! What’s the row about?” - -They had come to the entrance to Dwight Hall, and there they found an -excited crowd of students. They heard the news from half a dozen men at -once. - -An investigation was to be made of the senior examination in modern -history, held that morning, and it was rumored that charges of cribbing -had been made against Gray and Taylor. In any case, those two men were -suspended from the baseball team until further notice. No reason was -given for this action in the notice, signed by the dean, which had -announced the suspension, but every one seemed to be able to explain it. - -Foote’s jaw dropped as he turned to Parker. - -“By Jove!” he cried. “He fooled me there—he’s had sense enough to save -himself with the faculty. I didn’t think he’d go to the dean. However, -I’ll find some way to queer him yet.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - ONE BLOW IS PARRIED. - - -Foote was fairly well satisfied with the result of his plot so far as it -had gone. But, as a matter of fact, Dick Merriwell, by his determination -to do what was right, no matter what it cost him, had defeated one, and -the most important, of the junior’s objects. He had wanted to be able to -prove that Dick, rather than risk the defeat of the baseball nine, had -failed to reveal knowledge that he had obtained of cheating in an -examination. And Dick had made this impossible. There were other things, -too, unknown to Foote, that would have worried him a good deal had he -been aware of them. - -Dick had not gone to the dean immediately upon his return to New Haven. -He had gone to his own room first to think the matter over. And, the -more he thought, the more unlikely it seemed to him that his suspicions -were correct. He felt that he had not really given Taylor a chance to -explain. He had told the senior catcher nothing of his suspicions, and -Sam might, as a result, have felt justified in refusing to answer -certain questions that he would otherwise have replied to without -hesitation. So he had sent for Taylor and told him the whole story. - -Taylor took the paper Dick had found, and then, after examining it -closely, had laughed. - -“This is a fake, Mr. Merriwell,” he said. “And, what’s more, I think my -paper will show that I couldn’t have used this. If I’d had this with me, -I could have passed a perfect examination, and, as a matter of fact, -I’ll be lucky if I get through at all. That’s one thing. Another is that -this is not in my writing. Look here.” - -He wrote his name hastily a dozen times on a piece of paper, and Dick, -comparing the writing with that on the crib, saw that Taylor was right. - -“Look here!” cried Taylor suddenly. He was a shrewd, clever fellow, -really, and his mind had been hard at work. “There are a whole lot of -people here who don’t like me any more. Men I used to go with that I’ve -dropped since that business that Harding got me to go into. Don’t you -think it’s possible that they’ve planted this evidence against me?” - -“It’s certainly possible,” said Dick thoughtfully. “Suppose we go over -together and see the dean? He ought to be at his house by this time.” - -Taylor agreed, readily enough. But the dean was not at home. They were -told that some extra work had compelled him to stay late at his office, -to which place they hastened. - -The dean heard their curious story with interest. Then, smiling, he -picked up a letter. - -“Practically these same facts,” he said, “with the additional -information that they were known to Mr. Merriwell, came to me in this -letter. Ordinarily, I would not have received this letter until the -morning. I am not usually here at the time of the postman’s last -afternoon delivery. To-day I happened to stay late. There is a distinct -intimation in this letter that Mr. Merriwell willfully suppressed the -facts.” - -They all stared at one another. - -“It looks pretty plain to me, gentlemen,” said the dean. “Some one is -trying to kill two birds with one stone—hurt Taylor and Gray and make -trouble for Mr. Merriwell here. Don’t you see?” - -Dick saw, and he was furious. Moreover, he began to put two and two -together. He remembered what Tempest had told him after Parker’s visit -to his room, and it began to be apparent to him that Parker or some -friends of his had renewed the fight; choosing, however, to strike -through Taylor and Gray rather than through Jim Phillips, as they had -done before. - -“I think it will be well to let these people think they have succeeded, -Mr. Merriwell,” said the dean, “for the time, at least. If we show that -we know what they are doing, they will be on their guard. As it is, -however, they have accomplished very little, and you may be sure that -they are planning something much more likely to give you concern than -this. I will announce that an investigation is to be made of this -examination, and see what happens. Then, if they show their hands, you -will be in a position to defeat them completely. It is never well merely -to scotch a snake—it should be killed.” - -Dick agreed with the dean. And, as he and Taylor went off together, he -apologized to the senior for having suspected him. - -“I don’t see how you could very well help it,” said the catcher. “That -doesn’t worry me at all. But I’d like mighty well to know who’s after -me, and what the idea is. I know there are men who don’t like me, but I -never supposed they’d go as far as this. By the way, the papers I left -in my room were letters—from a girl.” - -Dick felt that he need no longer keep his promise of secrecy to Parker. -Parker had already violated the terms he had agreed to when the promise -was made, and so he told Taylor the whole story of the registered -letter, and of Parker’s recent visit to his room. - -“He came to get that confession, of course,” said Dick. “I was inclined -to distrust him, though I hate to seem to be hard on a man who is -sincerely sorry for what he has done, no matter how serious his offense -may seem to be.” - -“I don’t think there’s much danger of your being unjust to any one, Mr. -Merriwell,” said Sam. “I’ve got good reason myself to know that. You -certainly gave me more than a fair chance to straighten myself out.” - -“And I’ve had no reason to regret it,” said Dick, laying his hand on the -senior’s shoulder with a friendly gesture. “You had some wrong ideas—all -you needed was a chance to see for yourself that you had been mistaken.” - -Foote had caused the warning as to the history examination to be sent to -the dean, but he had not made the mistake of sending it himself. -Instead, he had worked through a new member of the faculty, an -instructor named Gordon, an old friend of his, to whom he had gone with -much seeming hesitation and told what he said he knew. Gordon, a -thoroughly honest and well-meaning young man, had readily promised not -to divulge the name of his informant, and had immediately made a written -report to the dean. But, even though he felt that his own tracks were -well covered, Foote was sorry that he had not waited to give Dick -Merriwell a chance to act. The very foundation of his whole plan -depended upon Dick’s falling into the trap by keeping silence about the -affair. - -Dick Merriwell had not done it. Thoroughly selfish himself, Foote could -not understand a man like Merriwell, who, if he saw that a thing was -right, would do it, no matter how his own wishes and desires might be -affected. He had known that Dick was set upon the success of the -baseball team; it had not seemed possible to him that he would willingly -sacrifice the chance of that success if it could only be attained by -doing something that was wrong and dishonorable. So Foote was nervous. -He thought that Merriwell must have been warned of his plan in some -manner, and have thought of a way to defeat it. - -He told this much to Parker, but Parker had more sense, in a way, than -Foote. Parker was not at bottom vicious. He was ambitious, and terribly -disappointed by his failure to be chosen as captain of the football -team. Because he thought Dick Merriwell was responsible for his defeat, -he hated the universal coach, and he wanted to be revenged upon him. - -“I don’t know about all this, Foote,” he said. “You don’t want to run -away with the idea that Merriwell would only have gone to the dean -because he got on to your little game. He might have done it because it -was the right thing to do. He’s inclined to be that way, you know. He -could have shown me up before the whole college if he’d wanted to, and -made it impossible for me to stay here; and I don’t see why he didn’t.” - -“He had some good reasons, you can depend on that,” scoffed Foote. “You -can’t make me believe that Merriwell’s as good as he tries to make out. -I know his kind. He’s like all the rest of us—trying to do the best he -can for himself. If he took a chance of breaking up his team, he had -some mighty good reason for doing it. I’m afraid of him now. We’ve got -to work out some new way of beating him. I guess it can be done, too. -One thing’s sure: Taylor will be able to disprove that charge. I’ve got -to work out some other way of keeping those two, or one of them, anyhow, -out of that game.” - -That was the night before the game, and the night before commencement, -too. Professor Canfield’s examination had been postponed on account of -his illness; for all other examinations were over, and the marks posted. -The papers were to be corrected hurriedly on the morning of Commencement -Day, but Canfield had been the more ready to wait thus until the last -minute because he was a professor who paid little attention to -examination papers. He judged men by their work during the terms, and he -had decided some time before that every man in this particular class had -done well enough to pass the course. Therefore, he had privately assured -the dean that no man would fail. But Foote didn’t know that. - -He turned to Parker finally with a look of determination in his eye. It -was very late, and the whole town seemed to be asleep. They were near -Dwight Hall. - -“I’ve got to get inside there for a while, Parker,” said Foote. “You -stick around out here, and if you see any one coming in—which there -isn’t one chance in a million you will—give the old whistle. I’ll hear -you and make myself scarce.” - -“What are you going to do?” asked Parker, suddenly going white. - -“Just make sure that we’ll win out on this,” said Foote. “We may not be -able to get Merriwell—this time—but we’ll get one of his pet seniors, -anyhow. And he won’t be able to find out about this stunt.” - -He took a bunch of keys from his pocket, and, to Parker’s surprise, had -no difficulty in gaining admittance to Dwight Hall, where the -examination in history had been held. Foote believed in being thorough, -if nothing else. He was inside for half an hour, and when he came out, -seemed to be delighted. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - A DEFEAT FOR YALE. - - -The brief sensation that had been caused the night before by the dean’s -announcement as to the history examination and the suspension of Taylor -and Gray, was not allowed to last long in the morning. It was announced -that Professor Canfield himself was thoroughly satisfied that everything -was all right, and the dean immediately revoked the suspensions. - -New Haven presented a lovely sight. The June day was perfect as to -weather, warm and bright, with just enough wind to make it cool and -comfortable. From all over the country the friends and families of the -seniors, who occupied the principal place in the day’s program, had -gathered to see the impressive ceremonies of the graduation. - -The seniors themselves, looking highly dignified and important in their -new caps and gowns, were to be seen on all sides, showing pretty girls -the sights of the college and the town; pointing out to proud parents -and sisters the various landmarks of which they had all heard so much -and so often; and, generally, making the most of their great day. - -Sometimes in a group there would be some man with white hair and beard -who had little need of his son’s guidance, and he would go to some old -classroom, and point out to his boy the desk where he had carved his own -name years before. - -For the great baseball game with Harvard, also, a mighty crowd had come -to town. The trains from Boston had poured out hundreds of enthusiastic -youngsters from Cambridge, their confidence not shaken a bit by the fact -that Yale had already won one victory, sure that this was Harvard’s day. - -And all over town, too, were old Yale men, back to celebrate the -anniversaries of their own departure from New Haven years before. Every -year scores of classes celebrate their reunions. Men, three, five, ten, -fifteen, twenty, twenty-five years from Yale, had hired houses and -floors of hotels, and there all sorts of meetings took place. Men who -had not seen each other for years, during which business cares had kept -them apart, rushed into each others arms and reminded one another of the -old days when they had been boys in Yale, where their own boys were now -students. And, after the formal commencement exercises, when the -diplomas had been given out with due solemnity, it was time to get ready -for the game. - -The classes back in New Haven for their reunions vied with one another -in improvising strange costumes for the occasion. One class was arrayed -in the garb of clowns, with painted white faces, baggy white trousers, -and all the paraphernalia of the circus. Another was dressed in -roughrider costume—that was the class of ’98, so many of whose members -had not stayed to graduate, but had rushed to enlist at the first sign -of the coming war with Spain. - -Then there were monks, and ballet dancers, and cooks, and men dressed -like little boys, in knee breeches and blouses, and all sorts of -fantastic costumes. All the classes assembled by the campus, near Dwight -Hall, and then, swinging into procession behind a band that blared out -Yale tunes all the way, marched gayly out to the field, singing and -shouting all the way, swinging back and forth across the street in the -famous old Yale march, so that girls who had never been there before -squealed with delight, and even the proud and pompous fathers of the -graduates had to laugh, to see men as old as themselves behaving like -boys again just because they were back at Yale, and wanted to show that -they still had the old Yale spirit. - -It was a great sight, and even Dick Merriwell, who had seen it many -times, and would that day, except for his more important duties as -universal coach, have been dancing along with his own class, dressed -like a Russian peasant, laughed as if he was seeing it for the first -time. - -Every one got to the field early, and the graduates took possession of -the diamond, with the band in the middle, and danced around, so that -every one could see them. And they didn’t seem to care how ridiculous -they looked. They were having a good time, and they were back at Yale, -to see a Yale team beat one from Harvard, so that was all they cared -about. Up in the stands, the pretty girls cheered them madly, and the -men from Harvard, who were perfectly willing for Yale to have all the -fun beforehand, so long as their team won and gave them a chance to have -a procession of their own afterward, cheered them, too. - -“Don’t you wish you were going to pitch, Jim?” asked Harry Maxwell, of -Jim Phillips, as they sat on the bench, waiting for it to be time for -the game to begin. - -“Not a bit,” said Jim heartily. “This is old Gray’s big day—it’s his -last chance, you know, and I want him to have all the glory there is -coming to him. Where is he, I wonder?” - -Others were asking that question, too, in sudden wonder. Taylor, the big -senior catcher, was there, but he had not seen Gray since the diplomas -had been handed out. Dick Merriwell, too, was absent, and Tom Sherman, -already nervous as he thought of his responsibilities as captain of the -Yale team that all these graduates had turned out to cheer so heartily, -grew more and more worried as time for the game approached. - -Jim himself was anxious. He was not by any means ready to pitch. He had, -under strict orders from Dick Merriwell, been resting his arm in -anticipation of the possible need of playing in New York on Saturday, -and he was stiff and unprepared for action. Entirely aside, therefore, -from his desire to see Gray pitch and establish his reputation, Jim was -unwilling to face the idea of filling in, for he was afraid that he -would be an easy victim for the Harvard batters, and would be quite -unable to rally in time for the game on Saturday, should he lose. - -But five minutes before it was time for the game to begin, Dick -Merriwell, hot and flushed, suddenly appeared. He called Sherman, Jim -Phillips, and Bill Brady, and Winston, the substitute pitcher, to talk -to him. - -“Gray has been forbidden to play by the faculty,” he said abruptly. “It -seems that he turned in a blank examination paper in the history course -yesterday morning. Canfield is furious, and won’t listen to Gray’s -statement that he did nothing of the sort. The dean is inclined to think -that there is something that Gray doesn’t know about, but he says that, -if it is true, he will be required to return his diploma. And, anyway, -he can’t play to-day. I haven’t time to explain more now. Winston must -pitch, and do his best. You’re in no condition, Jim, and we’ll have to -take a chance to-day. Run the team, Sherman. I’ll be back as soon as I -can.” - -Winston, confused and nervous at the sudden demand upon him, was still -more flurried by the groan of surprised disappointment that went up from -the crowded stands when he went into the box instead of Gray or Jim -Phillips. Every one had supposed that one of the veteran twirlers would -be sent in to pitch this highly important game, and Winston’s -improvement under Dick Merriwell’s coaching had not become generally -known. - -After a little consultation, it had been decided that it would be better -for Brady to do the catching. The big sophomore was famous for his -ability to steady pitchers who were likely to go up in the air, and he -did his best to encourage Winston, who was certainly in need of all that -could be done in that way. - -The Harvard captain, Bowen, made a quick shift as soon as he found that -Winston was to pitch for Yale. It had been felt at Cambridge that a -victory in this game was absolutely essential, and, therefore, after -some hesitation, they had decided to send Briggs in to pitch, although -he had had only a short rest after the terrific game in Cambridge, which -Harvard had lost by the closest of scores. But now Wooley was chosen, -for it was felt that he was more than a match for Winston, and Briggs -could thus be saved for the deciding game. - -The effect of the sudden change in Yale’s battery was twofold. It -restored the waning confidence of the Harvard men, who were now certain -that they could win, and thus prolong the struggle for the championship; -and it depressed the Yale players, who had no such confidence in the -skill of Winston as both Gray and Jim Phillips had been able to inspire. - -Winston made a bad start, too, to help along the work of destroying what -little confidence he had in himself. The first man up for Harvard made a -lucky single, and when the next batter stood up at the plate, Bill Brady -signaled for a swift outcurve, meaning to get a chance for a quick throw -to second in case of an attempted steal. He was ready to catch such a -curve, but Winston misunderstood him, and pitched to the other side of -the plate. The ball got away from Bill, and the Harvard runner, who had -started to steal second, easily reached third. Before the inning was -over, in spite of Bill’s best efforts to steady him, Winston gave two -bases on balls and hit a batsman, and, altogether, three Harvard men -scored. - -All through the stands, Harvard men were rejoicing; and the Yale -rooters, just before so enthusiastic and happy, were cast down in -anticipation of a crushing defeat. With such a start, there wasn’t any -limit to the score Harvard might well pile up. - -“This is Harvard’s day,” sang thousands of loyal Harvard men all around, -and it certainly looked as if they were right. But Winston had good -stuff in him. He got rid of his stage fright in the first inning, and, -after that, obeying the signals from Brady implicitly, he proved himself -simply unhittable. He had speed, control, and good judgment, and, try as -they would, the Harvard men were unable to get on the bases as the game -went on. Moreover, in the third inning, coming up with two out after -Bill Brady had smashed out a two-bagger, Winston did much to redeem his -poor pitching at the start by driving out a beautiful single that sent -Brady home with Yale’s first run. - -There was a tremendous cheer for him when he made that hit, and, -although he had to come in without scoring himself when Sherman drove a -long fly to the left fielder, poor Winston felt much better. There was -still a good chance to win, he told himself, if he could keep Harvard -from further scoring. Surely the team behind him ought to be able to -make up those two runs that formed the Harvard lead. Anyhow, he settled -down, and pitched his very best. - -Meanwhile, Jim, after a moment’s talk with Sherman, had gone back under -the stand with Taylor to limber up his arm. He felt that if there was -need for it, he could safely pitch a couple of innings toward the end of -the game, if Winston showed signs of tiring; and that might be enough to -save the game yet, and win the championship for Yale in spite of the -hard luck that had cost her the services of Gray when they were most -needed. - -The spirit of the Yale crowd soon turned. It saw that Winston, in spite -of the handicap, was making good, and pitching well, despite his bad -beginning, and it turned in and gave him support and applause just as -hearty as would have fallen to Gray or Phillips. The team, too, took new -courage, and went after the Harvard pitcher. In the sixth inning, -Sherman led off with a hit, and, aided by his own fine base running and -a hit by Carter, scored a run that left Yale only one tally behind. But -to get that one extra run that would tie the score was the problem, and -Wooley, with Briggs always in reserve, seemed able to prevent it. - -Harvard was batting first, and in the ninth inning began a determined -effort to increase its narrow lead. Bowen was afraid of the margin, and -called on his men to try hard for at least another run. - -Winston was tired. He had to pitch hard to hold the crimson team down, -and Bowen was quick to notice the signs of his distress. In two minutes -the game changed again from one of extraordinary closeness to the -semblance of a Yale rout. Two hits and a base on balls filled the bases, -and not a man was out. Then, suddenly, as Winston, tired out, but game -to the end, prepared to pitch to Bowen himself, who was determined to -clinch his team’s victory, there was a wild roar from the Yale crowd. -Dick Merriwell had suddenly appeared at the bench and waved the battery -to him. Thunders of applause drifted up to the skies from the packed -stands, for Gray and Taylor, eager and ready to do their best, had -appeared, and took their places in the field. - -No one asked for an explanation of Gray’s absence or of his sudden -reappearance. It was enough that he was there. Foote and Parker, -seemingly as enthusiastic as any of their fellow students, were the ones -most amazed by the sight of Gray, but they could say nothing without -betraying themselves. And Gray, while Foote, trembling, wondered how his -plan could have miscarried, proceeded to accomplish a baseball feat that -put him almost on a level with Jim Phillips himself. For, without -seeming effort, he struck out the next three Harvard batters, and, amid -a roar of cheering such as Yale Field had never heard before, left the -three runners stranded high and dry on the bases. - -But Harvard was still a run ahead, and, try as they would, the Yale -players could not tie the score. Gray’s brilliant feat was all in vain, -and Harvard’s victory left the series tied, with another game needed to -decide the championship. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - HOW THE PLOT WAS FOILED. - - -It was in Dick Merriwell’s rooms that night that Jim and Bill Brady -learned the story of what had happened that afternoon. They heard from -the universal coach of Canfield’s belated discovery of the blank -examination paper marked with Gray’s name. The professor, it was -explained, had reported all the men in the course as having passed -without having marked a single paper, and Gray had, therefore, received -his diploma. But later, when Canfield had gone over the books that -contained the answers to his questions, he had discovered the blank -pages in Gray’s, and had been furious. He told the dean that he regarded -the thing as a personal insult to himself, and had demanded instant -action. The dean had had no other course than to yield to the request, -and had hastily summoned Gray, at the same time sending word to Dick -Merriwell. - -Gray had been unable to deny that the writing on the cover of the book -was his. But he insisted that he had answered every question, although -he could not say how nearly correct his answers had been. The evidence -was all against him, however, and it had seemed to be convincing. -Certainly the book contained nothing but blank pages now. - -It was Dick Merriwell who had made the astonishing, but simple, -discovery that had offered a solution. Examining the book closely, he -suddenly pointed out to the dean that the cover had been changed. It was -a simple exercise book that was used, with blue paper covers, and Dick -showed that there were marks on the inside pages of other staples that -had been torn out. - -“Canfield said that no one could have meddled with the books,” said the -universal coach then, as he went on with his explanation, “and suggested -that we ought to find the pages that had been torn out. He said that the -books had all been put in his room in Dwight Hall, and that the place -had been locked up as soon as he left it yesterday afternoon, and not -opened again until this morning. But I was able to prove that some one -had tampered with the book, because of one thing he had overlooked. He -hadn’t washed his hands.” - -“Finger prints?” exclaimed Brady and Jim Phillips, together, deeply -interested. - -“Exactly,” said Dick. “The hands of the man who made the change were -dirty, and his finger tips left marks all over the white and blue paper. -We got a man from police headquarters who understood the science of -those things, and he took an impression of Gray’s fingers. That showed -at once that he wasn’t the one who had handled the book, for the marks -were entirely different. Then we went at the problem of trying to find -other traces, and we found marks on other objects in the room that -showed plainly that some outsider had been in there. - -“Fortunately, the room had been closely watched, and Canfield could tell -us every one who had been in there, or, rather, every one who had had -any business to be in there. We got finger-print impressions from all of -them, and they didn’t fit the one who had handled the book at all. Both -Canfield and the dean accepted that as conclusive evidence that Gray was -all right, and the charge against him won’t even have to be made public. -He had to miss pitching that game, but he certainly made up for that -when he did have a chance.” - -“But how about the one who really did it?” exclaimed Brady. “Have you -caught him? Do you know who it is?” - -“No,” said Dick, more vindictively than any of them had ever heard him -speak before. “But he’s left evidence that will convict him as surely as -if he had been seen. There’s only one man with fingers that could have -made the prints we found—and we’ve got impressions of those that will -last forever.” - -“All you’ve got to do, then,” said Jim, “is to find the man who fits -those prints?” - -“Yes,” said Dick, a little dryly, “that’s all. But that’s quite enough, -you know. It’s probably some Yale man, but we can’t take the finger -prints of every man in Yale. We’ve got to keep our eyes mighty wide open -for the next day or two, and trust to the idea that the man, whoever he -is, won’t be satisfied to admit himself beaten. If we keep quiet about -this, and don’t tell him we’re on the track, he’s likely to give himself -away sooner or later. Those people usually do.” - -“Well, we’ll have to hope for the best,” said Brady. “But this chap, -whoever he is, seems to be cleverer than some of those who have tried to -make trouble for us in the past. That’s the reason I’m inclined to leave -Parker out of this. He wasn’t clever at all; he left a trail a mile -broad behind him when he tried to make trouble. This chap hasn’t been -able to accomplish anything, but he hasn’t made it at all easy for us to -find him out. It’s one thing to block one of their games, and that’s -necessary, of course. But it’s another thing, and certainly quite as -important, to make it impossible for them to try something else. This -chap’s free to do anything that comes into his head now.” - -“That’s perfectly true,” said Dick Merriwell, “but I don’t believe that -he’ll be able to do much. We’re all on our guard now, and it ought to be -possible to defeat any plans that he evolves. Keep your eyes open, of -course, and if you see anything suspicious, let me know about it right -away. We go to New York to-morrow night, as usual, to sleep there the -night before the game. - -“I don’t need to say what an important game this is. It settles the -championship, and they’ve got Briggs ready to come back at us and try to -beat us. I know that we know more about his pitching than we did last -week, but you want to remember that he also knows a good deal more about -our batters, and the style they have. That will help him, and so will -the seasoning of a really important game. He’d never had that before, -but he did surprisingly well, in view of that. In fact, I was surprised -when we won that game, after Jim’s rough experience. We want him to be -ready to pitch the game of his life on Saturday, with nothing to worry -him and disturb him.” - -“I’m ready to do my best,” said Jim. “I never felt better in my life -than I do right now, and this afternoon, when I let out some steam with -Taylor, my curves were breaking better than they have all season. I -seemed to be able to put the ball just where I wanted it every time.” - -“How about the captaincy next year?” said Brady. “I suppose it’s pretty -well settled that Jim here is to get it? Carter isn’t going to run, and -Jackson’s got the football job. I can’t think of any one else who’s in -line for it.” - -“You’re too modest, Bill,” said Jim, with a laugh. “What’s the matter -with your being captain yourself? You’d make a better one than I ever -would.” - -But Brady only laughed. - -“Me?” he said. “I’m not gunning for any trouble of that sort. It’s too -much like work. I’d rather play under some one else and watch them -struggling with all the worries of that job. Look at old Sherman. He -worries about the team the whole time. I bet he’s lost ten pounds, and -he’s been lying awake nights, planning out ways to make the team -better.” - -“Sherman’s a good captain,” said Dick Merriwell. “I’ll be well pleased -if Phillips is elected, but I don’t take sides in that sort of thing. -It’s for the team to choose the captain, and for me, after he’s chosen, -to work with him to turn out the best possible team for Yale. That’s -what Parker couldn’t seem to understand.” - -“There’s a lot of things he hasn’t understood yet,” said Bill Brady -grimly. “But I guess he’ll find them out before he’s much older, and I -think he’s just about enough of a man to come out and admit that he’s -been wrong when it’s brought home to him. He’s got a wrong start, but he -isn’t such a bad fellow when you get right down to cases with him. It’s -more a case of being foolish than anything else with him.” - -“That’s what I thought,” said Dick. “I’m glad to hear you say that. He’s -done good work for Yale already, and I hope he’ll do a lot more before -he gets through. He’s the sort that ought to turn into a useful citizen, -and a credit to the college.” - -“We ought to get along without all this trouble between Yale men,” said -Jim Phillips. “I hate to see it. It’s bad for the college, and it never -does any one any good. I’m not looking for trouble here, and I’m going -to do all I can to keep out of it hereafter.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - A NEW CONSPIRACY. - - -Foote had been so supremely confident of the success of his plan to -disgrace Gray, that he had inspired an equal degree of confidence in -Parker. When, therefore, they saw the senior go out in the last inning -of the game with Harvard and perform his remarkable feat of striking out -the whole Harvard side, they had been completely staggered. They were -nervous, too, and, as soon as the game was over, made their way back to -New Haven. - -“You’re a false alarm, Foote,” said Parker bitterly. “You make promises -as fast as you can talk, but I notice that you’re not so quick when it -comes to making good on them afterward. I thought you said you had it -fixed so that Gray couldn’t possibly pitch. You took enough chances, -going into Dwight Hall that way last night—that’s one sure thing.” - -“You’re a lot of use,” stormed Foote. “You stand around and talk about -what I do, but I notice you never start anything yourself—and, when you -did, you got caught at it. I’ve got enough on my hands to worry me now, -without listening to you. If that plant went wrong, it means that they -got onto the fact that Gray hadn’t turned in a blank paper, after all, -and that means, too, that they must know that some one switched his book -around.” - -“For Heaven’s sake!” said Parker, almost admiringly. “You had your nerve -with you, all right. Was that what you did?” - -“Yes,” growled Foote, “and I’ll be in a nice pickle if they catch me, -too, won’t I? I suppose you’ll step up and take your share of the -blame—not! I can just see you doing a decent thing like that.” - -“I guess I’ll go as far in that direction for you as you would for me,” -said Parker angrily. Parker had plenty of courage, of the animal sort. -It was morally, not physically, that he was weak. And Foote, who was -really terrified at the failure of his scheme, was playing on this -weakness of Parker’s. - -“I want to get those leaves back,” said Foote. “I didn’t want to have -them on me, in case of any accident, so I hid them in Dwight Hall. Now -I’m afraid they’ll find them, if they think there’s any reason to look -for them, and then the fat would be in the fire for both of us.” - -“You were a fool to leave them there,” said Parker, glad of a chance to -reproach Foote for something, as Foote had been reproaching him since -they had formed their sneaky and treacherous alliance. “How do you -expect to get them back?” - -“I can’t go after them myself,” said Foote. “It would be too risky. You -stand in all right with Merriwell now—he doesn’t know that we’re working -together. Why can’t you try to get them? That would be the best of all. -I’ll tell you just where they are.” - -Parker, loathe at first to do anything of the sort, was finally -persuaded, as Foote knew he would be. And, as Foote explained matters, -there was little risk. Foote, with a cunning and cleverness worthy of a -better cause, had not hidden the leaves he had torn from Gray’s book in -any elaborate fashion. He had remembered that when a search is being -made the obvious places are the ones most likely to be overlooked, and, -seeing on Canfield’s desk an old Yale catalogue, of several years -before, not at all likely to be looked at at this time, he had simply -put the leaves inside of it, trusting to luck to give him a chance to -get them away without suspicion later on. - -Parker really saw no risk in it. A call at Dwight Hall was nothing to -excite remark, and for him to turn the leaves of an old catalogue, as -Foote pointed out, wouldn’t make any one pay any attention to him. So -Parker went. - -He was not gone long. But when he came back, his face was rather white. - -“I got at the catalogue, all right,” he said, “and no one saw me do it, -either. But either you’re mistaken about where you put that stuff, -Foote, or else there was some one ahead of me, for it wasn’t there.” - -For the moment Foote was dismayed. But he braced up when he had thought -it over. - -“That’s just cursed bad luck,” he said. “It explains how Gray cleared -himself, too. Some one must have been inspired to go to that book and -open it up, and, of course, found those leaves. That disposed of the -case against Gray, but I don’t see that it gives me anything to worry -about. If they suspected any one of being concerned in this, it would be -you. They’ve got no reason at all to fix on me, although they must know -by now, of course, that some one was mixed up in a deal. But, as long as -they don’t get onto me, it’s all right. They might suspect you, but they -couldn’t prove anything, so that wouldn’t do any harm.” - -But lightly as he took it, Foote wondered who had actually got -possession of those stolen pages from Gray’s examination book. He would -have given a good deal to know, for the knowledge might well have been -useful. Foote, as soon as he was relieved from fear for his own safety, -was all anxiety again to work out some plan for the undoing of Dick -Merriwell. Gray and Taylor were beyond his reach now, and he turned -naturally to Jim Phillips as the victim most likely to serve his -purpose. He had nothing against Jim, nor, for that matter, against -Merriwell, but he needed Parker’s help to attain his own objects, and -there was only one way to make that available, as he well knew. - -“Is it at all certain that Phillips will be elected captain of the -baseball team?” he asked Parker. - -“It’s just as certain as that you’re looking at me now,” said Parker. “I -tried to put him out of the running twice last week. If he had been -found guilty of taking money for playing, he couldn’t have been elected, -and when that failed I thought I could manage it by making him miss the -game at Cambridge. If he hadn’t turned up to play, every one would have -thought his story of how he was kept away pretty fishy, and it might -have turned the crowd against him. I thought it was a good chance, -anyhow. But now he’s solid, and there isn’t any one to fight it out with -him. Jackson and Carter are both out of it, and they are the only -ones—juniors, I mean—who are sure of holding their jobs next year. They -might take Brady, if Phillips were out of it, but I’d just as soon have -Phillips as that big stiff.” - -“If Phillips didn’t pitch against Harvard on Saturday, there might be -some trouble, I should think,” said Foote slowly, as if he were thinking -hard. - -“Yes,” said Parker, with a laugh. “But what are you going to do about -that? You told me that if I’d managed to keep him away from that -Cambridge game they’d never have let up until they found out the truth. -Wouldn’t that go just as much for anything you tried?” - -“Suppose there wasn’t any way for them to find out?” said Foote. - -Foote got up and walked around the room. A new idea had just come to -him, one that seemed to promise absolute success, with no risk at all -for himself. He was debating with himself as to whether he should tell -Parker about it or not. He decided that he would not. It was too -dangerous. He was inclined to distrust Parker. Moreover, he did not know -how readily Parker would enter into this particular plan that he was -evolving. It was a plan so devilish and so filled with danger for its -intended victim that he was inclined to think he had better carry it out -by himself, which he could easily do, since he needed no help. - -“I’ve got the plan we need,” he told Parker finally. “I’m not going to -tell you what it is, but it’s a good one—take that from me. Mr. Jim -Phillips won’t be able to pitch against Harvard on Saturday, and he’ll -never be able to prove, either, that it wasn’t his own fault that he was -away. Whether it will hurt Merriwell or not I don’t know. The thing to -do now, as far as I can see, is to put Phillips out of the running. We -can settle Merriwell’s hash some other time.” - -“I want to know what you’re going to do,” said Parker sullenly. “We’re -working together here, and you expect to get a lot out of me. I don’t -like going into things in this blind fashion.” - -“Stay out, then,” snarled Foote. “I’ll tell you this much: Phillips will -go to the station to-morrow night to start for New York. But he won’t -get there with the rest of the team.” - -Parker’s most insistent urgings couldn’t make Foote tell him anything -more. But Parker was determined to find out, if it was at all possible, -and he treasured the hint as to the station. It was all he could do. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - - LOCKED IN A FREIGHT CAR. - - -Fate played into Foote’s hands the next afternoon, when he had planned -to resort to his last ruse against Jim Phillips. His plan was one, he -was convinced, that would, if he could only work it out, make his -victory complete. But the problems involved in actually accomplishing -his purpose were numerous and varied. However, Jim himself, with no -intention of doing anything of the sort, paved the way for his enemy. He -had felt a little sluggish on the day after the commencement game with -Harvard, the natural result, as Dick Merriwell told him, of the -excitement of the game, and the universal coach had advised him to get -out on the water. - -“Don’t row yourself,” he had advised. “That might be bad for your arm. -Lie in the back of the boat and steer, and just take it easy. There’s no -need for you to practice to-day. Be at the station in time for the -train.” - -So Jim, with Woeful Watson, his classmate, known to the whole of Yale as -the sophomore pessimist, had taken a boat and gone up the river after -luncheon. - -“I’ll do the rowing,” said Watson. “I’m not reckless, like most of our -crowd, Jim, and I’ll do my best to get you back safe. I’ve got a hunch -that something’s going wrong to-day, and I’ll be on the watch for it.” - -It was still early when Watson had looked at his watch? and decided that -it was time to turn around and get back to the station. - -“What’s the use of going back so soon?” asked Jim, who was enjoying his -rest. “We’ll only have to wait an hour or so at the station.” - -“Better do that than miss the train,” said Watson relentlessly. “I’m -responsible for you to-day, Jim, and I’m not going to let anything -happen to you. You’ve got to obey my orders now, you know. I represent -Mr. Merriwell.” - -So Jim laughed, and gave in, knowing the folly of arguing with Watson -when the pessimist had once made up his mind. - -It was just as Jim had predicted. They found themselves at the station -an hour before train time. It was a hot, lazy summer afternoon. Few -people were around. Lessons were over for the year, and most Yale men -had scattered. A great many were in New York, waiting for the game with -Harvard. Others had gone to New London, to visit the oarsmen, and -practically the whole college would assemble there the following week, -in preparation for the boat race with Harvard. So the station was pretty -well deserted. - -“I’m going uptown,” said Jim to Watson. “I don’t want to wait around -here.” - -“You’re going to stay right here,” said Watson firmly. “I’ve got you -here, and here you’ll stay until I deliver you, in good order, to Mr. -Merriwell, and get his receipt for you. Then you can do anything you -blame please. If you want relaxation and something to look at, I’ll go -down to the freight station with you.” - -“All right,” said Jim. “Gee! Watson, you’d make a fine coach. You’re a -regular tyrant. I’m glad I’m not under you all the time. I’ll ask for an -easier keeper the next time.” - -Laughing, they wandered away from the station and down the tracks to the -freight depot, where the only activity in the neighborhood seemed to be. - -But, although they did not know it, they were not the only Yale men -around. For every move they had made had been observed by Foote, who, -scarcely able to believe in his luck, had seen Jim appear, practically -alone, for he took little account of Watson. Now he saw how to work his -plan with what little chance of failure and discovery there had been -before eliminated. When they had got out of sight, he followed them -cautiously, making it impossible for them to know that they were being -tracked, and he was not far behind them when they got into the maze of -the tracks of the freight yard, where the numerous cars enabled him to -stalk them and get close to them without exciting their suspicion in any -way. - -On one of the tracks a long train of empty freight cars was being made -up. The cars had brought freight to New Haven from points all over the -United States, and they were now being prepared to start on their long -journey back to their starting point. Jim and Watson wandered along this -long train. An engine was backing up to one end of it, and, at the back, -the brakemen were taking their places in the caboose. The run to New -York would mean little work for them. They had tobacco, pipes, and -cigarettes, and one of them, standing on the track, held up a pack of -cards. - -“Big game to-day,” he shouted. “Got a pinochle deck here. Who’s in?” - -“Pretty soft for them,” said Watson. - -“Sometimes,” answered Jim, with a smile. “But if you’d ever braked on a -freight out West in the winter, in the middle of a blizzard, when -they’re crossing the divide, you wouldn’t think it was an easy job. -Grades that you’d have a fit just to look at, and brakes to set when the -temperature’s away below zero. They have it hard about as often as they -have it easy, I guess.” - -“Hello!” exclaimed Watson. “What’s that?” - -From somewhere near by there came the cry of a child—a baby. It seemed -to be in distress of some sort. The cry was very faint, but clear and -unmistakable. They both stopped to listen. - -“Sounds like a hungry kid,” said Jim. “My young sister used to yell just -that way when she was a baby. I wasn’t much older, but I can remember -that much.” - -“It sounds that way to me, too,” said Watson. “Let’s see if we hear it -again.” - -In a moment the cry came to them again. - -“We ought to see if we can find it,” said Jim. “I’ve heard of things -like that. Kid might be lost—or some one might have wanted to get rid of -it, and dropped it around here somewhere. Gee! It might starve to death -if no one found it. This is a pretty lonely place.” - -“It’s right up this way,” said Watson, running toward the caboose of the -freight train. - -“No,” cried Jim. “It’s the other way, Woeful.” - -But Watson paid no attention to the pitcher. He was sure he was right, -and he darted along, looking into car after car. Jim, on the other hand, -ran toward the engine. For several seconds the cry was not repeated. -Then he heard it again, and this time it seemed to come from a car -immediately in front of him. With a quick jump, he swung himself up and -inside the car, leaving the door open behind him. Even with the open -door, it was dark in the big freight car. He could see that it had held -grain of some sort. The smell, pleasant and summery, although rather -dry, was evidence enough, without the grains of wheat that still clung -to the floor. - -But there was no sign of a child. A minute’s examination served to show -that. He turned to the door, to look in the next car. But, even as he -did so, the door was slammed shut in his face, and he was locked in the -car. - -He beat on the door, and shouted. Listening, he could hear nothing -outside for a moment. Then, very faintly, and as if he were hearing a -voice from a great distance, he heard what sounded like a mocking laugh. -For a moment he thought Watson had played a joke on him, though such -jokes were not at all in the line of the class pessimist. It would have -been more like Brady or Maxwell. - -He beat on the door again, and shouted until he was hoarse. It was very -dry and hot inside the car when the door was shut, and his voice soon -lost its power, so that he stopped shouting. He knew that it was -useless. - -Then he stood still by the door, expecting every moment that the joker, -whoever he was, would release him, and enjoy a good laugh at his -expense. He was prepared for that, and willing to submit to it. But the -minutes passed, and he was still there. There was no sign of a move to -release him. He began to grow anxious, and to fear that he would miss -the train for New York. - -Suddenly he heard something that made him renew his beating on the door -and his useless shouting. There was a creaking, groaning sound that he -knew only too well, and in a moment his worst fears were confirmed. The -train was beginning to move, and he was still locked in. - -Fury succeeded to his amusement at the joke he had supposed to be -intended. They were carrying it too far. Then he was almost -panic-stricken. He had heard of men, locked in freight cars, who had -traveled hundreds of miles before being discovered, with neither food -nor water, and even of some who had been dead when found. And this car, -as he knew, was being sent back West. Being empty, it would move slowly, -and no one was likely to open it until the end of the trip. He realized -suddenly the full danger of his position. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - - THE FINGER PRINTS. - - -When Dick Merriwell, walking with big Bill Brady, and a little ahead of -the rest of the team, arrived at the station, it was to find Watson, -with a white face, terrified, and scarcely able to talk. Jim Phillips -had suddenly disappeared, he told them, trembling, and he could make no -guess at what had happened. He told of the cry they had heard, and of -how they had separated in the effort to find out whence it had come. -After that, he could tell nothing of any value. - -He had failed to find any trace of a crying child, and, turning back to -look for Jim, had seen no sign of him. None of the men about the big -freight train had seen the pitcher. They could give no help, although, -up to the very moment when their train had started, they had helped -Watson to search for his friend. But the search had been in vain. - -Dick and Brady looked at one another in great concern. It was plain that -something very serious had happened to Jim. They wasted half of a -precious hour in looking for him, telephoning to his rooms, and to every -other place in New Haven where he could possibly have gone, and, when -the baseball men had all arrived, Dick told them to go on to the city in -charge of Tom Sherman, promising to come down himself later on, with -Brady and Phillips. He did not want the players to know that there was -any reason for anxiety as to Phillips. - -With Watson, the coach and the big catcher searched all around the -station. They could find no one who had seen Jim. Suddenly Dick had an -inspiration. - -“The freight train!” he cried. “He must have got locked in one of the -cars.” - -He turned and raced for the office of the freight agent. That official -could give them only very cold comfort, however. He promised to do all -he could, but he said that to look for a man locked in one of the cars -of that train would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, since it -had been broken up at Bridgeport, and the cars scattered into a dozen -different trains made up there for dispatch to points all over the -country. But he promised to make the wires burn with messages, and to -let them know if he heard anything likely to be of value. - -The three of them left his office with darkened faces. They were -seriously worried, not only over the game of the next day, but over -Jim’s personal safety. Like Jim, Dick and Brady knew of many cases when -death or serious illness had been the result of such an adventure, and -they had grave fears of Jim’s fate unless he were speedily rescued. They -knew that he was alert and resourceful, and that in any ordinary -emergency he could be trusted to look after himself, but there was -nothing ordinary about this case, and the chances of escape from such a -prison, if he were really caught in that way, were pretty slim. - -“He never was locked in that car accidentally,” said Brady. “We can be -sure of that. Some one who knew exactly what he was about, and had -planned the whole thing out ahead is responsible for this outrage. If I -get my hands on him, he won’t be in condition to do anything of the sort -again in a hurry. I’ll promise him that.” - -“You’ve got to catch him first,” said Watson, sadly shaking his head. - -Suddenly Brady gave a cry, and, darting behind a coal car, reappeared a -moment later dragging a reluctant captive by the scruff of his neck. - -“Parker!” cried Dick Merriwell, as he recognized the defeated football -man. “What are you doing here?” - -“That’s my own business,” said Parker angrily. “I’ve got as much right -here as you have, I guess.” - -“If you can prove that you had nothing to do with locking Jim Phillips -up in a freight car in which he may starve to death before he’s rescued, -perhaps that’s so,” said Dick. - -Brady kept his hold on Parker’s collar all the while, in spite of the -big guard’s frantic efforts to wrench himself free. He was no match for -the catcher in strength, although he had supposed that there was no man -in Yale who could equal him in any physical encounter. - -“What’s that?” cried Parker. “You say Phillips is locked in a freight -car?” - -He ceased struggling, and stood still, in Brady’s grip. Dick Merriwell, -who prided himself on his ability to tell whether or not a man was -lying, was sure that Parker was truthful in the expression of his -surprise. He had evidently not known of Jim’s fate, no matter what part -he might have played in the conspiracy. - -“Tell me about this,” he said. There was a note of furious anger in his -voice that escaped neither Merriwell nor Brady. Watson, who knew nothing -of what had happened, and wondered why they had jumped on Parker in this -fashion, stood there with round eyes, gazing at the picture. - -“Tell him what you know, Watson,” ordered Dick. And Watson obeyed, -telling of the crying child and the manner in which Jim had disappeared -from sight. - -“The infernal scoundrel!” cried Parker, as if overcome by what he heard. - -“You’d better tell us all you know, Parker,” said Dick sternly. “It’s -easy to see that you know something of this, though I don’t believe that -you did understand what was actually being planned. I still have your -confession, though, in trying to steal it from my rooms, you did get -away with a private paper of no value to you or any one but myself.” - -“You know that?” exclaimed Parker. His jaw dropped, and he stared at -Dick in stunned amazement. He remembered he had not looked at that paper -before tearing it up. - -He waited a moment, reflecting. - -“I can make a guess what’s happened,” he said finally. “I wouldn’t split -on a friend, as a rule, but, good heavens! that’s a terrible thing, -taking a chance of leaving a man in a locked freight car for days and -days! Remember, this is only a guess that I can make. But I know a man, -who was pretty sore at the way I was treated. And he’s often, just for -our amusement, showed me what he could do as a ventriloquist. He could -make his voice sound as if it came from different parts of the room, and -even from down in the street, when the windows were opened.” - -“The child’s cry!” exclaimed Dick. “I never thought of that solution. -That would account for Jim’s being trapped in the car. It was a clever -scheme—but a murderous one. Who is this man, Parker? Your only chance -now is to tell the whole truth and help us to undo the mischief you have -made.” - -“It’s Foote,” said Parker. “If you want anything else, you’ll have to -get it out of him. I won’t tell you anything more.” - -He had turned sullen again. - -“That’s all we need from you now,” said Dick. “Let him go, Bill. We can -get him any time we want him. Now we’ll have to find Foote.” - -It took another hour to find Foote, but he had to be found, for without -him they could do nothing more. The railroad authorities were doing all -they could to trace the cars that had been in the train; but, without -knowledge of the exact car in which Jim had been locked, it would be -only a lucky chance that would lead to his discovery. And finally Foote -was run down. He had not gone back to his own room, or to Parker’s, but -was in Moray’s, eating a well-chosen supper with much relish. He paled -slightly when Dick Merriwell and Brady appeared, but he assumed an air -of bravado. - -“Won’t you join me?” he said. - -“There’s no use in trying to bluff us,” said the universal coach -sternly. “We’ve found out that you had something to do with sending Jim -Phillips off in an empty freight car this afternoon. You’d better -confess, unless you want to find yourself charged with murder.” - -Foote was as resourceful as he was utterly unscrupulous. He was -frightened, but he intended, if he could, to brazen it out. - -“I don’t know what you’re talking about, even,” he said indignantly. “I -don’t know anything about Jim Phillips.” - -Dick Merriwell was thinking hard. He stared at Foote for a moment -without a word. Foote, nervous, picked up a piece of soft bread and -pressed it flat between his fingers. Suddenly Dick snatched it from him. - -“Go and get Jones,” he commanded, and Brady, understanding, hurried out. - -“Then how about the business of the false evidence against Gray and -Taylor?” asked Dick. “And the examination book, with the leaves torn -out? You thought we wouldn’t find those leaves, but we did. Will you -confess to that?” - -Only Foote’s eyes showed how terrified he was by this revelation of what -Dick Merriwell knew or suspected. If it was only a suspicion, Foote felt -that he might still escape. But if Parker, as he began to fear, had -confessed the earlier offenses, he was in a serious position. - -“I deny your right to ask me insulting questions of this sort,” he said. -“You’re universal coach here, Mr. Merriwell, and there’s no question of -your authority in athletic matters. But I hadn’t heard that you have -been appointed censor of the whole college. I’m going away. I refuse to -stay and listen to such nonsense as you have been talking.” - -He got up, but Dick Merriwell’s hand, strong as a steel chain, fell on -his shoulder. - -“Sit down, Foote,” he said. “I know you’re lying—and in a minute I’ll -prove it. I’ve got a witness you can’t refute.” - -“You mean Parker?” cried Foote furiously. “My word is as good as his.” - -“You gave yourself away there, Foote,” said Dick. Had he not been so -worried over Jim, he could almost have laughed. “No, it’s not Parker. -The only thing he told us was that you were a ventriloquist. You’ll see -the witness I mean in a minute. He’s of your own making.” - -They had not long to wait until Brady returned with Detective Jones, of -the New Haven police department. Jones carried a little bundle of -photographs. - -Dick Merriwell handed him the bread that Foote had been playing with. - -“See if these fit, Jones,” he said, and the detective at once began a -close comparison of the photographs he had brought and the bread, which -contained the record of Foote’s nervous fingers. He produced a -microscope and with it examined the piece of bread. - -“These prints on the bread and the prints we found on those papers and -on the other articles in Dwight Hall were made by the same person, Mr. -Merriwell,” he presently announced. - -“There’s my witness, Foote,” said Dick sternly. “There can be no going -back of that evidence. It proves that you were concerned in the other -plots. And I don’t need to tell you, what you already know, that when -that car is found, there will be the same sort of evidence to prove that -it was you who locked the door.” - -Foote indeed knew that better than Dick Merriwell himself. For he knew, -what Dick did not, that the door of the car into which he had enticed -Jim had been covered by some sticky substance that must have caught the -most perfect possible record of his finger prints. The game was up, and -he knew it. - -“All right!” he said, giving up all at once. “I’ll confess. You’ve got -me. What are you going to do about it? Have me arrested?” - -“Not if you’ll help us to rescue Phillips,” said Dick. “Have you the -number and line of the car?” - -Foote took a bit of paper from his pocket. - -“Yes,” he said. “I wasn’t going to let him starve to death. I took the -number so that I could see that it was opened some time to-morrow. Here -it is—number thirty-four thousand five hundred and seventy-six, of the -Big Four Road.” - -But, even with that clew, it was many hours before Dick Merriwell was -able to trace the car. There had, by some freakish mischance, been a -mistake in billing several of the cars, and Dick and a railroad official -chased it almost to Philadelphia before they found they were on the -wrong track, and, retracing their footsteps, finally located it at -Kingston, New York, on the West Shore Railroad. - -Jim Phillips, exhausted, but happy in his release, reached New York at -four o’clock in the morning, to be greeted with delight by Dick -Merriwell. The coach had stayed up himself, but had made Brady go to -bed, in order that he might be fit for the game. - -“Well,” said Dick, “it’s a good thing, after all, that Gray didn’t pitch -on Thursday. As it is, he’ll be able to go in to-day.” - -“Why can’t I pitch?” asked Jim. “I’m willing enough to give way to Gray, -but I’m also ready to go in and pitch.” - -“You can’t be in any condition to do that,” said Dick. “I’m delighted to -have you back, but I couldn’t ask you to do anything like that in your -present shape. That would be altogether too much.” - -But Jim insisted that if he were needed he would be able to do it. - -“There’s only one chance,” said Dick. “You’re probably tired out, but -you can’t get enough sleep in an ordinary bed to rest you. We’ll go to a -Turkish bath, and that may steam you out.” - -And when Dick and Jim joined the rest of the team at the hotel just -before noon, Jim looked like a new man. Dick’s prescription had worked -wonders for him. But the universal coach was very doubtful as to his -ability to go through the game. He had decided to let him start, -however. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - - THE CHAMPIONSHIP FOR YALE. - - -Not for years had the baseball championship of the colleges come down to -so narrow an issue. For the first time it was a really national title -that was at stake, for the defeat of Michigan, the recognized leader of -the West, by Yale, had made it impossible for any team to dispute the -honors to be won by the victor of this final battle between Harvard and -Yale. It was a fitting test, too, and thousands without an interest in -either college rejoiced at the thought that the historic rivals should -finally have come to fight it out between themselves. Princeton for -years had been the most formidable baseball college in the East. There -had been none to dispute successfully the claim of the Tigers to the -premier honors for a long time, and the general public was glad to see -the Princeton monopoly invaded at last. - -That was the reason for the tremendous crowd that filled the famous Polo -Grounds. It was a crowd bigger than any that had ever assembled there, -except for a professional world’s championship contest. The great arena -was a riot of color, and a very bedlam of sound long before the game -began. Those who had not been lucky enough, or gifted with sufficient -forethought to buy reserved seats, had to come early, in order to get a -place, and even out on the bleachers, where the peanut-eating fans sit -through the long summer afternoons, pretty girls, glad even of so -exposed a place to view the struggle, appeared in swarms. - -And in the covered grand stand, where all the seats were reserved, the -crowd was just as big, and came just as early. The people there were -sure of their seats, but they wanted to see the crowd, to hear the -college songs and cheers, and to watch the practice. It was a thrilling -and unusual spectacle, certainly, and none of those who had bolted early -luncheons, or gone without their mid-day meal altogether, to be at the -grounds early, at all regretted their sacrifice when once they had -arrived and taken their places. - -From one side of the great grand stand, behind third base, and all the -way out to left field, the Harvard cheer came constantly—nine long -’rahs, and a long Harvard at the end. That side was a mass of crimson, -too. Girls in crimson dresses, crimson hats, with red flags and great -red sleeve bands, were to be seen in abundance. And the cheer leaders -from Cambridge were busy constantly, urging their fellow students in the -stands to renewed efforts, so that the fellows on the field, practicing -diligently, might know that the college was with them, rooting as hard -as it could for them to win the coveted championship. - -Yale was opposite, behind first base and right field. There were just as -many Yale men and Yale girls there as Harvard had sent, and it seemed as -if they made even more noise. Both teams had had splendid seasons, but -the odds favored Yale a trifle. For Harvard, although facing Yale’s -weakest pitcher, save for part of one inning, in the great Commencement -Day game, had been unable to make any real superiority plain. It had -been all that Harvard could do to bat out a victory over Dick Winston, -despised as the poorest sort of a match for either Briggs or Wooley -before the game began, and the Yale men, who knew that, if only Winston -had been able to begin well, he would have won his game, had no idea -that Harvard would be able to do anything against the strong right arm -of Jim Phillips, and the best efforts of the team that Dick Merriwell -had coached so brilliantly through the preliminary season, with its -victories over Cornell, Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Princeton to prove -its class. - -Dick Merriwell himself, sitting quietly on the bench while the players -of the two teams ran through their final practice, was confident of -victory; but he had anxieties, too. He knew, what the cheering crowds -above him did not, that Jim Phillips had been through enough in the last -two days to make it impossible for any ordinary pitcher to do himself -justice. But he knew, also, that Jim was by no means an ordinary -pitcher. The rest of the team was all right, and Dick felt that Jim -could count upon it for perfect support. - -While the fielders chased batted balls, getting used to the playing -surface of the field, entirely different from that at New Haven, Dick -watched Jim shooting curve balls over a practice plate to big Bill -Brady. Look as closely as he would, Dick could see no signs of -nervousness or distress in Jim’s face. The sophomore pitcher—really a -junior, now, since commencement was over, and the classes had all been -promoted—had his usual perfect control, and he smiled and joked with -Brady as he pitched. Dick gave a sigh of relief, and went out to give a -few last orders to the players. - -Harry Maxwell, as the most dependable outfielder on the Yale team, had -been shifted to right field for the game, since right field is the -hardest of all to play at the Polo Grounds. The new concrete stand makes -the trouble. A ground ball, hit to right, bounds off the fence at most -peculiar angles, and Dick, taking a bat, drove a dozen balls against it, -that Harry might learn to judge the probable direction of all such hits. -The knowledge might easily save the game, later on, Dick felt, by -keeping a hit that an unwarned fielder would allow to be good for two -bases, to a single. It was by just such foresight and preparedness that -Dick had enabled Yale to win many games that, under another coach, the -team would have lost. - -In the press box a bell rang abruptly, and in a moment the great crowd -settled back tensely to watch the beginning of the contest. The bell was -the signal for play to begin, and the blue-clad umpires appeared -punctually to the minute, one from each of the two great major leagues, -assigned to arbitrate this most important of college games. - -Captain Bowen, of Harvard, already arrayed in his chest protector and -wearing his big catcher’s mitt, went to the plate to arrange final -details with Captain Sherman, of Yale, playing his last game for the -blue, and one of the umpires spun a silver quarter in the air. - -Sherman called the turn, and sent Harvard to the bat. Jim walked slowly -and confidently to the pitcher’s box, and, with one mighty roar of -delight from the crowd, the game was on. - -Well as he looked, and strong as he undoubtedly was, Jim was tired. His -muscles ached, and his eyes hurt as the glare of the sun struck them. -But he was determined to win, and he felt that nothing could keep him -from doing it. The honor of Yale was in his keeping, and he intended to -make no Yale man regret it. - -Behind him, as he faced Reid, the first Harvard batter, he heard a -rapid-fire chatter from the infielders. Sherman’s deep bass calling, -“Steady, old boy, make them work!” was echoed by Carter’s excited -falsetto, cheering him on. And the others, Jackson, and Horton, the -shortstop, added their voices. But he paid little attention to them. His -eyes were fixed on Brady’s hands, playing aimlessly, as it seemed, first -with his mask, then with his glove, but really, to those who knew the -Yale code of signals, giving Jim his decision on the sort of ball to be -pitched. - -Thud! The first ball split the plate before it landed in Brady’s big -mitt, and as the umpire’s hand went up and he yelled “Stri-i-i-ke one!” -the whole right side of the stands, where the Yale rooters were massed, -burst into a sea of waving blue flags, while ten thousand throats were -split with a wild Yale yell. It was a good start. - -But Reid, smiling, his jaws working mechanically as he chewed the gum -that baseball players use to keep their nerves steady, was unconcerned. -He was too old a hand to be impressed by a single ball, and he knew that -in this game a single run was likely to settle the issue. He had faced -Jim before, and knew how fine a pitcher he was, and he was determined to -wait for the sort of ball he could hit, even if he struck out three or -four times before it came to him. Reid was a fine, scientific batsman, -too good to care about his average, as long as he made hits when they -would count toward runs; and Jim’s reputation worried him no more than -did the enormous crowd. He even forgot the crowd—his whole concern was -for the diamond, for the pitcher, and for the fielders in front of him. - -Jim followed his first strike with a wide curve, but Reid only smiled as -it broke away from the end of his bat, outside of the plate—a ball, and -so counted against the pitcher. He would never play into Jim’s hands by -striking at such a ball as that. - -Then came a teasing, floater of a ball, that seemed sure to cut the -plate right at the line of his waist. But again Reid smiled. He had been -fooled twice by that ball at Cambridge, and he knew that, if he struck -at it, his bat would swing through the empty air. For it was pitched so -that at the last moment, just above the plate, it would stop dead and -drop. That was just what it did this time, and again the umpire called -“Ball!” - -The next ball puzzled Reid. It was almost straight, and, as it came, he -exulted. It looked like the sort of a ball he could hit, but he wanted -to be sure. He was willing to sacrifice a hit now to get information for -use later in the game, and he swung awkwardly, missing the ball by six -inches or more. But he exulted inwardly, though a strike was called on -him, and he knew that he had practically put himself at Jim’s mercy, for -he had seen exactly what sort of a ball that was—and the next time he -struck at it he wouldn’t miss. The next ball was a curve that fooled him -completely, cutting in and across the plate so that he couldn’t hit it, -and he struck out, but he was entirely contented. And so, when he went -back to the bench and made his report, was Bowen. - -Dick Merriwell knew exactly how tired Jim was. Also, he expected Harvard -to play a waiting game, and trust to a fierce attack in the closing -innings to produce a victory. He wanted to see Yale score and take the -lead as early as possible, and he was prepared to take stiff chances for -that purpose. If Jim were in the lead, Dick felt, it would be easier for -him to stand up under the fierce strain of the game. Harvard, behind, -would have to play a different game. And, therefore, when the Yale team, -after Harvard had been blanked in the first inning, came in to take its -turn at the bat, a plan of campaign, daring and aggressive, had been -mapped out. - -Sherman, batting first, looked hard at right field. He was known to the -Harvard men as a right-field hitter—that is, it was almost certain that -if he hit the ball at all, it would travel in that direction. He stood -up to the plate, too, and, as Briggs delivered the first ball, swung -viciously at it, with a full, free swing, and missed it. The Harvard -infielders drew back, and the right fielder swung clear over to the -fence, ready to make the catch if the ball went in that direction. But -it didn’t. Even as the next ball left Briggs’ hand, the Yale captain -shortened his grip on his bat, poked it forward, and bunted beautifully -toward third base. - -Sherman was a real sprinter, and there was a wild yell from the Yale -crowd as he raced down to first. The Harvard third baseman was taken -completely by surprise. It was the last thing he had expected Sherman to -do. By the time he got his glove on the slow-rolling ball, Sherman was -within a yard of first base, and the throw was hopeless, since there was -no chance to make a put-out. But he threw, nevertheless, and then there -was a sudden outbreak of excited, shrill yelling from all over the field -and the stands. - -Sherman, instead of stopping at first, had just touched the bag with his -foot, and kept right on for second. Bowen ran angrily out in the -diamond, shouting to the first baseman, who was also confused. He -juggled the ball a moment, and then threw low to second, so that Sherman -slid safely in, credited with a two-bagger on a bunt that hadn’t gone -forty feet after it left his bat. The play was a masterpiece of planning -and brilliant execution, daring in the extreme, and successful just -because it was so daring that no one would have looked for it. - -When Jackson came to the bat, the Harvard infield played close. It -wasn’t going to be caught again by a bunt, and certainly this really -looked like the time for a quick sacrifice play. Sherman took a long -lead off second, ready to make a swift dash for third if Jackson hit the -ball, but he was cautious, and, though Briggs threw twice to second in -an effort to catch the Yale captain, Sherman got back safely to the base -each time. - -And then Jackson, who had tried to bunt at the first two balls pitched -to him, but clumsily, and without success, got a ball that was just -right, and pushed it right over the third baseman’s head for the -prettiest of Texas Leaguers. Had the infielders not been drawn in to -field a bunt, that seemed so likely to be the play, the ball would -certainly have been caught; but, as it was, there was no chance for it -to be reached, and Sherman raced home with the first run of the game, -while Jackson got to second base on the left fielder’s hurried throw to -the plate in a vain attempt to catch Sherman as he slid home. - -Dick Merriwell, quiet and self-contained as he usually was, could not -refrain from throwing his hat into the air as he sat on the Yale bench, -and the enthusiasm of the Yale crowd may be guessed. Dick had planned -the play out; but, unless he had had good, well-trained men on the team -to take advantage of his plans, not all the planning in the world could -have scored that run. He was proud of his team, and of the spirit with -which it obeyed every order he gave, no matter how unlikely those orders -seemed to be to produce a winning result. - -But he wanted more than one run out of this inning. He could see that -the Harvard team showed signs of going up in the air. Briggs, nervous -and flurried, came in to consult with Bowen, and, in the infield, the -men were quarreling, and trying to show how all the trouble could have -been avoided if only some one else had done something in a different -way. The confidence that had made the crimson team so dangerous before -the game was being dissipated; and, knowing that Bowen, as soon as he -had a chance, would be able to pull his team together, Dick wanted to -strike while the iron was hot, and make the lead as big as possible. - -Harry Maxwell was the next batter, and his orders were simply to tire -Briggs out. - -“Foul off as many balls as you can,” Dick told him. “I don’t want you to -make a hit—at least, I don’t care whether you do or not. Just tire him -out.” - -Harry obeyed his orders to the letter, and Briggs, furious, and getting -more nervous every minute, had to pitch nearly thirty balls before -Bowen, by a wonderful sprint, finally managed to get under one of those -towering fouls, right in front of the Yale bench, and hold it as it came -down. And then, making use even of that chance, Jackson had time, after -the catch had been made, to sprint to third base, so that Harry was -credited with a sacrifice. - -Bill Brady, the next batter, having been moved up, had orders to hit. -Briggs, tired out after his struggle with Maxwell, hot and thirsty, lost -his control for the moment, and Bill’s smashing drive bounded out from -the left-field fence, to the confusion of the Harvard outfielder, who -hadn’t, as Dick had made the Yale players do, spent any time in studying -the peculiar angles and rebounds of that new concrete wall. Jackson -scored easily, and Brady himself reached third, whence it was an easy -matter for him to score while Steve Carter was being thrown out at first -base. That made three runs, and Dick Merriwell was well satisfied with -the harvest. Horton was an easy out, and the inning was over, but it had -been a mighty fruitful one, and Dick felt that there was no reason, with -such a lead, why Yale should not win. - -But, as the players started to take the field, he warned them against -being overconfident. - -“Briggs will be all right after a five-minute rest,” he told them. “And -we won’t catch them asleep that way again. There was a whole lot of luck -in the way we got those three runs, and they’ll be watching us like cats -for the rest of the game. Anything more we get, we’ll have to earn—be -sure of that. But that won’t matter—if they can’t do any scoring. You’ve -got enough runs to win this game right now—see that they don’t creep up -on us and tie the score.” - -There isn’t any record of what Bowen said to his team after that -disastrous first inning, but it had the effect he wanted. The Harvard -team seemed to have been turned into a machine. Every trick Yale tried -was met and defeated, and Briggs, rallying, pitched like the master of -the game that he really was. But Jim Phillips, too, was at his best. -Tired he might be, and sore, but there was nothing in his pitching to -let the Harvard players know it. He wasted none of his remaining -strength as the game went on, but there were few men on the Harvard team -who studied him as Reid did, and they kept on biting at wide curves that -were meant to fool them with a break that came after they had thought it -impossible for a ball to desert its straight course. - -Reid outguessed him in the fourth inning, and got a base on balls, but -there were two out at the time, and it made no difference. And Bowen -himself, a batter who could at times hit any sort of a ball, even if a -Mathewson had pitched it, got a long two-bagger in the sixth frame, when -no one was out. But he was held at second, a brilliant catch by Bill -Brady of a twisting foul and hard work by Jim himself disposing of the -next three batters. - -More and more, as the game went on, the crowd was forced to think that -its result had been decided in that one tumultuous first inning, when -Yale strategy and Yale pluck—though the Harvard people called it the -proverbial Yale luck—had produced three runs. But the Harvard team kept -on fighting, never willing to admit itself beaten. And the Yale men on -the field, like Dick Merriwell, watching every move from the bench, knew -that Yale could not claim the championship until the last Harvard man -had been put out. It was a glorious struggle—one worth coming hundreds -of miles to see, as many had done. - -The ninth inning began, and it was Harvard’s last chance. Bowen, almost -ready to admit that his team was beaten, was first at the bat, and, -frantic with the determination to save the day, began with a slashing -drive to left that put him on second. Jim Phillips smiled at Brady, not -a bit concerned, but the next play went wrong. The Harvard batter -bunted, and Sherman, running in, saw a chance to catch Bowen at third. -He threw to Carter, but the throw was the fifth of a second too late, -and both runners were safe. A clean steal put the man on first on second -base, and Reid, smiling and cheerful, was the next man up. - -Jim knew him for the most dangerous batter on the whole Harvard team. He -pitched five balls to him, and at their end the count was three balls -and two strikes. Reid had refused to bite on any one of the three -curves—he had not struck at either of the strikes, because he had seen -what they were too late. The next ball would settle matters. Brady, more -disturbed even than Jim, walked out to speak to him. They had to get -close together to be able to hear, for the din from the stands was -deafening. - -“You fooled him on that cross-fire ball in the first inning,” said -Brady. - -“That’s a dangerous ball,” said Jim, shaking his head. “I think he’s -just waiting for me to use it again.” - -“Try it,” Bill insisted. - -And Jim, against his better judgment, and because he deferred always to -Bill’s signals in such an emergency, pitched the ball that Brady wanted. - -It was the ball Reid wanted, too. He had anticipated such a chance since -the very beginning of the game. He saw it coming, recognized the swing -of Jim’s shoulders as he pitched, and he bared his teeth in a happy grin -as he saw it approaching. Then, squaring his big shoulders, he put all -his power into the drive, and sent the ball hurtling far over the centre -fielder’s head. - -The Harvard crowd went mad. Round and round the bases the crimson legs -twinkled, Reid racing as if he were pursued by demons. Two men scored—if -Reid got home the score would be tied. But he had to stop at third. The -score was three to two in Yale’s favor—a man was on third, and none was -out. Dick Merriwell groaned. It was the tightest hole that Jim had ever -been in. Briggs, as fresh as when the game began, looked good for a -dozen innings more, while Jim, already very tired—and no wonder!—could -hardly last for a tenth. - -But Harvard had not tied the score yet. Jim, calmly confident, grinned -at Brady, stricken by remorse for his error of judgment, and settled -himself down to work. - -Bowen had raced back, as soon as he had scored, to the coacher’s box -behind third base, where he could take control of his team and see to it -that the most was made of the sudden chance to win the game, a rally at -the eleventh hour, when all hope seemed to be gone. - -Jim was studying the batter with the utmost care. He felt that -everything depended upon him. But as he pitched, a thrill of agonizing -pain shot through his arm, beginning at the tired shoulder muscles and -running down to his wrist. He found his control completely vanished. -While the Harvard crowd went mad, the next two batters walked to first, -and the bases were filled. Dick Merriwell, seeing what was wrong, had -sent Gray to warm up with Taylor, and now Brady came out and begged Jim -to give way. But Jim shook his head resolutely. - -“I can get them yet,” he said. “My arm’s better now. I’ve just been -lobbing them over.” - -Suddenly he remembered something—the game he had pitched against -Pennsylvania. - -“Quit stalling!” yelled the Harvard men, as he called Brady out again. -They thought he was playing for delay. - -“I’m going to finish with my left arm, Bill,” he said. “They’ll never -look for it. I’m going to pitch this fellow a drop—he’ll be so surprised -that he can’t do more than chop it.” - -Bill saw a dim chance to save the game. - -No one on the Harvard team suspected what was coming. They knew nothing -of Jim’s ability to pitch with his left hand. And when, with a sudden, -deceptive motion, he shifted the ball and pitched it, the Harvard -batter, as he had predicted, swung wildly. But he didn’t chop the ball. -He hit it full—but on a line. Jim swung up to meet the ball, caught it -with his extended left hand—he had discarded his glove—and then raced -for third base. Reid was struggling to get back, but Jim’s throw to -Carter beat him, and Carter, with a lightning toss, threw to Jackson at -second, completing a wonderful triple play that ended the game and gave -Yale the championship. - -For a moment the crowd was dazed. The play had been so swift, so -paralyzingly sudden, that very few had seen it. But as the Harvard -players, stunned, ran from the field, the great crowd realized to the -full what had happened. And the Yale men gave Jim a demonstration such -as few players had ever had. Wild with joy, they carried him on their -shoulders to the dressing room, and the Harvard crowd, after it had -cheered its own gallant team, was not slow to honor the great Yale -pitcher who had saved the day. - -Once safely inside the dressing room, and away from the frantic crowd -that was still cheering outside, Sherman sprang to a bench. - -“Now, fellows,” he shouted, “we’re all here. It’s as good a time as any -to elect next year’s captain. What do you say?” - -There was a roar of delight. Then Carter sprang to his feet. - -“I nominate Jim Phillips,” he cried. - -A dozen voices seconded the nomination. There was no other candidate, -and in two minutes Jim had been unanimously elected captain of the team. - -And when he got outside, where the news had spread, the first man who -was waiting to congratulate him was Parker—who had seen, at last, what -it meant to be a Yale man. - -The next great event in sports in which Yale men were to take part was -the Yale-Harvard boat race. And for this important battle on the water, -the busy universal coach now hastened to New London to give final -instructions to the crew, which had long been at work under his -coaching. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - - THE TROUBLE WITH THE CREW. - - -Dick reached New London, and was at Gale’s Ferry, the Yale rowing -quarters, before the assistant coaches who had been left in charge of -the crew had smoked their final pipes for the night. The oarsmen were -all in bed, early hours being the strict rule for them. But, on the -porch of the cottage in which the coaches lived, Dick found Hargreaves -and Benton, his two graduate helpers, deep in talk. - -“By Jove, I’m glad to see you, Mr. Merriwell!” cried Benton. “We heard -that motor boat puffing up the river, but I hardly thought you’d get -here before to-morrow. See any signs of mourning as you passed Red Top?” - -They all laughed. Red Top was the name of the little cluster of cottages -and boathouses half a mile or so below, where the Harvard oarsmen had -for years made their quarters. - -“No,” said Dick, with a smile. “I suppose they don’t feel very cheerful. -Still, they’ve got a chance to come back at us. If they win here, -they’ll be willing to let us have the baseball title to ourselves, I -guess, without feeling very bad about it.” - -Benton pointed to a smoldering fire not far away. - -“We had a little bonfire here ourselves when we heard the news,” he -said. “Gee! I’d like to have seen that game. That ninth inning must have -been enough to give you heart failure.” - -“I haven’t got over it yet,” admitted Dick Merriwell, as he settled -comfortably back in his chair. “I suppose you haven’t heard many -details.” - -“Just the bare score by innings,” said Hargreaves. “I called up a couple -of chaps at the club in New York, but they were so hoarse from yelling -that they couldn’t make me understand. They tried to describe it to me, -but all I could hear was that we won by a triple play in the ninth -inning, when the bases were full, with none out.” - -“Well, that was the gist of it all,” said Dick. “It could be told in a -lot more words—but that’s what’s important.” - -However, they would not be satisfied until he had described the whole -game for them, telling how Jim Phillips, the newly elected captain of -the varsity baseball team, had managed, although worn out and almost -exhausted, to save the day for Yale when a Harvard victory seemed -absolutely certain. - -“Now,” he said, when he had finished, “tell me about the crew. I’m -anxious to hear about that. I should have been here last week, but the -baseball championship seemed mighty important, and I knew the crew was -in good hands as long as you two were on the job.” - -The two assistants seemed much pleased by the compliment. They were -young graduates, both captains of Yale crews in their time, and -thoroughly versed in the Yale stroke and the Yale system of rowing, as -Bob Cook and John Kennedy had, in different ways, developed it. Dick -Merriwell, himself a fine and powerful oarsman, was also an expert in -technical watermanship. He had studied the rigging of a shell for an -eight-oared sweep race under the greatest masters: Courtney, of Cornell; -Rice, of Columbia, and men of similar stamp; and he had evolved for this -year’s Yale crew a stroke rather different from that of any of its -predecessors. - -He had felt willing to do this because he had tried the stroke out the -year before with the freshman crew, with good results, and some of the -members of that same freshman crew were on this year’s varsity. -Murchison, the stroke, who captained the crew, was a veteran, and so was -Flagg at number seven, the seat immediately behind that of the stroke, -and the second man in the boat in importance. - -In an eight-oared shell, such as the varsity races of to-day are rowed -in, each man handles a single oar, and four are on one side of the boat, -four on the other. Stroke sets the pace for the men who swing on the -same side of the boat directly, and, in a way, for all eight rowers. But -the men on the other side must take the beat from number seven, who -must, therefore, be able to follow stroke with the utmost exactness, for -the speed of a shell depends altogether upon the unison of the oarsmen. -They must row in time, or the boat will drag and check badly. - -Going at racing speed, a boat should cover its own length, of about -sixty feet, in something like four seconds. A single break may make that -time five seconds more, so it is easy to see how important it is for -every man to row in time. - -There was some hesitation, as Dick Merriwell could see, in the answer of -Benton and Hargreaves to his question about the condition of the crew. -Each seemed to hang back to let the other answer, and Dick was -immediately much concerned. - -“Is there anything wrong?” he said. “If so, you should have let me -know.” - -“Nothing exactly wrong,” said Benton finally. “But we’re a little -puzzled, and there’s no use denying that. We had a time trial last -Wednesday, as you know. We took them downstream, from quarters here to -the railroad bridge, using the flags for the course. Four of us caught -them in twenty minutes twenty-one seconds, which was remarkable time. -The tide was good, of course, but it was very hot. I never saw a Yale -crew work better. The best we’ve heard of Harvard, under conditions -that, if anything were better, was twenty-one minutes flat for the -course—also downstream. Murchison was right up to top form—the whole -crew worked like a machine. But here’s the sequel.” - -Hargreaves broke in excitedly. - -“Yes,” he said, “here’s the sequel! The Harvard people had a day off -this afternoon, to get returns on the game. I thought, and Benton agreed -with me, that it was better not to let the fellows get their minds on -the baseball game too much. So we took the freshmen and the varsity out -and gave them a two-mile brush, at full speed, racing start and all -racing conditions, to the navy yard—the same course the freshmen will -row next week. And—the freshmen finished three lengths ahead.” - -“What?” exclaimed the universal coach, in amazement. “What was the -time?” - -“Ten minutes fifty-nine seconds,” said Benton gloomily. “And the varsity -made the two miles in their trial row last Wednesday in ten -thirty-three. Now, how are you going to account for that?” - -“That time’s all right for the freshmen,” said Dick slowly. “They’ll -take a lot of beating if they do as well as that against Harvard. But I -don’t understand the varsity. Of course, it’s not a two-mile crew—but -they ought to have done as well as in their time trial. How were the -water conditions?” - -“Not more than twenty seconds slower for the whole course,” said -Hargreaves. “I rowed over the course in a pair oar with Murchison later, -to see how it was.” - -“Anything wrong?” asked Dick. “Any one man off his form?” - -“No,” said Benton. “They rowed just as well as they did before. Form all -right—stroke absolutely correct. Simply didn’t have the speed and the -steam that the freshmen put in. They worked hard. The boat seemed to -hang more than it did—that was enough to account for the slower time. -What I can’t account for is the check. There was almost no run at all -between strokes. It’s got us guessing. That was why we were so glad to -see you heave in sight when you did to-night.” - -Dick looked at his watch. - -“Time to turn in,” he said. “I’m not strong for Sunday rowing, but we’ll -have to have them out to-morrow and see what’s wrong. It certainly -sounds like a Chinese puzzle, to hear you describe it. But I guess -there’ll be some way to explain it when we get right down to cases.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - - THE HATCHING OF THE PLOT. - - -New London is not a great city, but it is a busy and prosperous one, -and, especially about boat-race time every year, it presents a scene of -great activity and one with a good many elements of the picturesque. It -has the finest harbor on the coast between New York and Boston, and is a -favorite place for yachtsmen. Before the annual regatta between Yale and -Harvard on the historic Thames River, the harbor begins to fill up with -yachts of all sorts and sizes, which, on boat-race day, line the course, -and provide a splendid vantage ground for those fortunate enough to be -invited to witness the race from their decks. - -On this Saturday night, with the race still five days distant, the -harbor was already well filled with craft. Two revenue cutters, assigned -to guard the course and prevent accidents on the day of the races, as -well as to give the racing shells a clear path of water for their -contest, lay at anchor near the eastern point, and further in the anchor -lights of two score small vessels already showed. First come, first -served, is the rule in assigning stations along the course for the race, -and few owners cared to take chances by a belated arrival. - -One of these boats was very different from its neat, trim neighbors. It -looked more like a fishing vessel than a yacht, and it flew the burgee -of no well-known yacht club. Its decks were slipshod and messy; its -spars were in bad order, and dirty sails, untidily stowed away, bore -testimony to the carelessness of its crew and the loose ways of its -skipper. The boat, named the _Marina_, and hailing from Gloucester, -Massachusetts, was a fairly large one, schooner rigged, but evidently -making little use of its sails for getting around. It had a powerful -gasolene motor to serve as an auxiliary engine, and was, therefore, -independent of its sails if their use was not desired. - -This vessel had taken up an anchorage a little way below the railroad -bridge, and nearer the heart of the town than most of the other yachts. -Many of these were clustered near the New York Yacht Club station, and -all had apparently sought to be as near the cottage colonies on the two -points as possible, in order that their parties might go ashore quickly -to take part in the numerous festivities that had been arranged. - -A single look at the group that was gathered about the big table in the -main cabin of the _Marina_ would have explained why she had chosen her -anchorage where she did. The men seated there were not at all the sort -to be invited to parties at the cottages of the New London colony. The -saloons in the neighborhood of the station were more likely to be their -resorts while on shore, and the cabin, filled with smoke, and -suffocatingly close, was not a pleasant sight. A big man, with yellow -mustache and blue eyes, was doing most of the talking. - -“I don’t know anything about the people that are involved,” he said. -“All I know is that the plan is a good one. It’s a plan that will work -and that will enable us to make a lot of money. We found that out this -afternoon. I’m not afraid of this man Merriwell you speak about. I don’t -know anything about him—and I don’t want to. He can’t find out what -we’re doing. It’s physically impossible. So why worry about him?” - -“That’s all right, Captain Svenson,” said another member of the group. -“I’m glad to hear you talk that way. But there’s a lot of money -involved, and I don’t like to risk my cash unless I’m sure everything is -perfectly safe. Yale is a top-heavy favorite for this race. If we can -plunge on Harvard and Harvard wins, we’ll make a big killing. I should -say that we ought to clean up about twenty or thirty thousand dollars. -These Yale people will bet at odds of five to three, or even two to one, -and they’ll go pretty hard, if they’re managed right. But I’m not -familiar with all the arrangements, and I feel a little leery about -going in without knowing more than I do.” - -“We can’t tell you any more than we have, Dennison,” said the third man. -“You ought to be satisfied. I’ve put up five thousand dollars, and -Svenson has mortgaged this boat to get two thousand to go into the -scheme.” - -“I suppose that’s pretty good evidence that you think it’s all right,” -said Dennison, though still in a doubtful voice. “But the thing that -makes me hesitate is that old Bill Harding wouldn’t go into it with -you.” - -“Harding’s a quitter,” said Barrows, the other man, impatiently. “He -said he didn’t have the money, but the truth is that’s he’s afraid of -Merriwell. He admitted that much to you. He has tried to put one or two -things over on this fellow Merriwell, and he’s either had bad luck or -made an awful mess of the job each time. Anyhow, he thinks that -Merriwell’s got the Indian sign on him now, and he’s lying back, waiting -until he sees Merriwell leaning out of a high building or something of -that sort. You ought to be able to stand on your own feet, Dennison. -You’re old enough.” - -“Well, if you say it’s positively all right, I suppose it is,” said -Dennison, still reluctant, as it seemed, to commit himself to the -enterprise they had planned. He took a big drink of whisky, and the -stimulant seemed to revive his courage somewhat. - -“Of course, it’s all right,” said Barrows. “You held a watch on that -crew this afternoon, didn’t you?” - -“Yes,” said Dennison. - -“Well, that was just a sample,” said Barrows. “That’s a pretty good Yale -crew, but there’s no knowing positively, in spite of the odds, that it’s -good enough to beat Harvard, even in a straight race. As it stands, with -us to pull the ropes for Harvard, Yale hasn’t got a chance. I haven’t -got any sentiment in a thing of this sort. I’d just as soon see Yale win -as Harvard—but the odds are on Yale, and there’s more profit in throwing -the race to Harvard.” - -“I don’t think much of those odds,” said Svenson suddenly. “Look -here—why can’t we shake them up a little bit? The Harvard crew is going -to have its last time row to-morrow. You know the way they’ve been -talking. They’re going to row in public, and let any one at all hold a -watch on them. Well, let’s give the people something to talk about.” - -“Say,” cried Dennison, “that’s a great idea. We ought to be able to jack -those odds up to four or five to one. The Harvard men won’t do any -betting at all at any odds, and the Yale fellows will be so cocksure -that they’ll give any sort of odds we ask for. You’ve got a real head on -you, Svenson.” - -He got up and left the cabin to get a breath of fresh air on deck. -Svenson, an able captain, who had of late found it difficult to get a -ship because of certain things he had done that were far from being to -his credit, though he had managed, so far, to prevent the loss of his -master’s certificate, looked after him contemptuously. - -“How about that bird?” he asked Barrows. “I don’t like his looks.” - -“Neither do I,” said Barrows. “But we need his money. Harding sent him -along.” - -Barrows, like Harding, was a professional gambler, but he was a more -determined fellow, and, in some ways, less of a villain. His appearance -was not unattractive, his eyes being his worst feature. They were set -close together, and small; and a student of faces, looking at him, would -have distrusted him on their evidence alone. - -“This Dennison,” he said, “is one of those crooks who pretends he isn’t -crooked. He’s always looking for something for nothing—but the other -fellow’s got to do the dirty work. He’s the sort who would go in on a -wiretapping game, to steal money from a pool room, and then squeal to -the police when they took his own roll away from him. But we can’t get -along without him.” - -“I suppose not,” said Svenson. “All right—we’ll let him in.” - -They shook hands on it, and then went on deck to rejoin Dennison. But he -had decided that the yacht was too dirty for his fastidious taste, and -had gone ashore to the hotel. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI - - THE HARVARD CREW ALSO SUFFERS. - - -At Gale’s Ferry, on Sunday morning, the scene was one of great activity. -Men who turn into bed at nine o’clock, or ten by the latest, get all the -sleep they want by a pretty early hour in the morning, and six o’clock -saw the Yale oarsmen tumbling out of bed, and shouting merrily to one -another as they got into their bathing suits. Then there was a quick -rush down to the float, and, one after another, they leaped overboard -and splashed around in the water, enjoying their morning dip hugely. - -Dick Merriwell and his two assistants were not far behind them, and for -fifteen minutes there was a wild carnival in the river. The water was -cold. For the time was June and the water had not had time to warm up -thoroughly. But the young athletes didn’t mind that. Their bodies were -hardened to water a good deal colder than that by their six months of -vigorous training for the race that was now so close at hand. On the -coming Thursday, they would know the result of all their labor. Then, in -twenty minutes or so, the work they had been doing for so many weary -months would be put to the test, and the greatest athletic event of the -college year would be decided. - -More than a hundred and fifty men had answered the first call for crew -candidates the previous October in New Haven, when Dick Merriwell had -first called the men out for work. Then they had been divided up into -squads of eight and set to work on machines in the tank, pulling at oars -that were rigged so as to resemble exactly the arrangement of the oars -in a racing shell, though all their pulling didn’t advance them an inch. -Dick and the other coaches, working carefully, had hammered into all of -them the principles of the Yale stroke, and, then, after the actual -rowing practice, had come the long cross-country runs, beginning with a -mile or two at first, and ending with ten-mile runs through the -surrounding country, to perfect the wind. - -Gradually, as time wore on and the effects of the coaching showed, the -squad had been reduced. When spring training opened, as soon as the -winter broke up, in New Haven harbor, a good many of the less promising -men had been dropped, and the final cut had been made just before the -crews came to Gale’s Ferry, three weeks before the day of the race. Now -there were about thirty-seven oarsmen left in the squad. There was the -first varsity crew, eight men, who represented, in the opinion of Dick -Merriwell and the other coaches, the very pick of all the oarsmen in -Yale, trained now to the very minute, and ready to do battle with eight -men of Harvard, who had been selected after a similar ordeal. - -To give this crew practice, there was the second varsity, eight men -nearly as good. From this second crew, in case of any accident, -substitutes would be picked for the first shell; and, under Dick’s -coaching, it was almost as good as the varsity, and good enough, as all -Yale men felt, to beat almost any other college crew in the country. - -Next in importance to the varsity eight was the varsity four, scheduled -to race for two miles with four men from Harvard, after the freshman -eight had rowed its race against the Harvard youngsters. The Yale “Y” -went to the members of both the four and the eight. And the oar he pulls -in a race is thereafter the most valued possession of every college -oarsman. He longs, as did these Yale men that Sunday, to have a stained -and worn shirt to drape over it, trophy of victory, for it is an -immemorial custom for the losers to toss their rowing shirts to the -victors after the race, when both crews lie on their oars for a minute -to rest before pulling away to quarters. - -The Yale oarsmen finally emerged from the river and dashed up to the -house to dry and get into other clothes. A quick rubdown with a rough -towel, that set the blood tingling in their veins, then a hasty -dressing, in tennis shoes, flannel trousers, and soft shirts—plenty of -costume for such athletes in such a climate. And then came breakfast—a -breakfast as big as they had earned. Great pitchers of milk, as many -eggs as they could eat, steaks, and everything else of healthy food that -they wanted. But no coffee and no tobacco. - -The oarsmen themselves shared the wonder of the coaches at the poor -performance of the varsity in the previous day’s brush with the -freshmen. They knew that they had rowed well, but they knew also that -they had not got the proper speed out of the shell in view of the -strength of their efforts. And, after breakfast, while Dick Merriwell, -whose arrival they had all hailed with joy, went into consultation with -Benton and Hargreaves, they gathered around in groups to discuss it. - -“Did you have any trouble following my pace?” asked Murchison of Flagg, -who had the seat immediately behind him. - -“Not a bit,” said Flagg. “I was pulling my arms out, but I could feel -the blooming boat drag between the strokes every time. I can’t make it -out at all.” - -“You were rowing all right,” said little Rogers, the coxswain. “There -wasn’t a thing the matter with the rowing anywhere in the boat—and you -can bet I was watching pretty closely when I saw how those freshmen were -pulling away from us. It was about the weirdest thing I ever saw—and -I’ve sat in the coxswain’s seat often enough not to be surprised by most -things that I see a racing crew do.” - -“Well, Mr. Merriwell’s here,” said Flagg. “We’ll be all right now. If -there’s anything wrong he’ll find out what it is. We can leave the -worrying to him. Jim Phillips is some pitcher, isn’t he? I hope he gets -here soon. I want to see him and shake hands with him. I’m glad he’s -captain.” - -“So’m I,” said Murchison heartily. “He’ll be a good one, and we ought to -land another championship next year.” - -Meanwhile, while the oarsmen talked and rested after their breakfast, -Dick Merriwell and the other coaches were sitting at the far edge of the -float, talking over the whole situation. - -“I’ve looked over the shell,” said Dick, “and there’s not a thing wrong. -The changes in the rigging that you told me you had made for Harper, at -bow, are all right. His legs are longer than those of most men of his -height, and it’s much better as you’ve fixed it. I thought for a moment -there might have been some sort of funny business by some one who wanted -to injure the crew.” - -The other two were surprised. So Dick, suppressing details, and making a -long story short, told them of the startling incidents of the week -preceding the last games with Harvard. - -He told them how an attempt had been made to prove that Gray and Taylor, -the members of the senior battery, had cheated in an examination, that -they might be prevented from playing against the crimson, and of the -desperate trick by which Jim Phillips, Yale’s chief reliance in the box, -had been lured into an empty freight car and locked in, so that he had -been carried off in the car when the train had moved away. They -exclaimed in surprise and disgust when he told them of the long chase -after Jim, and his rescue just in time to get back and pitch Yale to -victory, despite his exhaustion. - -“We haven’t seen anything of that sort around here,” said Benton, “but, -then, we haven’t been looking for it, either. We’ll have to keep our -eyes open. Still, I don’t see how that thing yesterday could have been -due to anything of the sort. It’s simply inexplicable, so far as I can -see. Will you take the crew out to-day, Mr. Merriwell, and see what you -make of it?” - -“Yes,” said Dick. “We’ll take them out for a spin about eleven o’clock. -Who’s this?” - -There was a sudden put-put, and around the bend in the river a motor -boat came puffing along. - -“That’s the _John Harvard_,” said Hargreaves. “There’s Neilson in the -bow. Coming to make a call, I guess. Nice chap, Neilson. Pity he went to -Harvard.” - -Neilson, the Harvard coach, hailed them from the bow of the Harvard -coaching launch. - -“Hello, Merriwell,” he said. “Glad to see you. I see you’ve put it up to -us to score over Yale this spring. Good work—though I’m sorry, of -course, that Harvard couldn’t have won the game. I came to see if one of -you coaches didn’t want to go out and watch our time row this morning. -Plenty of room in the launch—and we’re pretty tired, at Red Top, of all -this secrecy about practice.” - -“Thanks,” said the Yale coaches, in unison. - -“Benton,” said Dick, “suppose you go along? I’ve got to get a look at -our own crew, Neilson, or I’d accept for myself. I’ll be glad to take -one of your fellows out in the _Elihu Yale_ if any of you care to come.” - -“All right,” said Neilson, “I’ll send Thompson. Don’t feel you have to -reciprocate—but I think this work of trying to conceal times and all -that sort of thing is rot. It doesn’t fool any one, anyhow.” - -“I’m with you there,” said Dick. - -So Benton got into the _John Harvard_, and Thompson, one of the younger -Harvard coaches, jumped ashore, and took his place in the Yale coaching -launch half an hour later. - -“Varsity and freshmen out!” called Dick, and the sixteen oarsmen, -lifting their shells shoulder high, soon had them in the water, and took -their places in the frail skiffs that were to carry them in the races. - -“They’re a good-looking lot, Merriwell,” said Thompson, as he inspected -the two crews critically. - -They pulled slowly out from the float into deep water, obeying the -orders of the coxswains, and then, at a word from Dick, swung out, with -a long, powerful stroke, across the river, to the starting point on the -opposite shore, close to the bank. - -“Got a watch?” Merriwell asked Thompson, and lent him his own stop watch -when he found that the Harvard man was not provided with a split-second -timepiece. - -“I’m going to give them a brush for a couple of miles,” said Dick, “and -I want some sort of a rough idea of their time. If it isn’t too much -trouble, I’d like to have you keep tabs on them——” - -“Glad of the chance,” said Thompson, grinning. “This isn’t much like old -times. I remember when I was a freshman we had the most complicated -system of spies for getting times of your rows you ever saw. Used to -have men stationed all along the bank, where we thought they couldn’t -see us.” - -Dick laughed, and then watched the two shells as they lined up. - -“Ready, varsity?” he called. “Ready, freshmen? Ready all? Go!” - -Sixteen oars met the water all at once, as it seemed, and in a moment -the two shells were off. For a mile it was a pretty race. Then weight -and experience told. The varsity drew steadily away from the freshman -crew, and at the two-mile mark the big crew was a good two lengths in -the lead. - -“Ten forty-nine,” said Thompson, snapping his watch. “That’s good enough -to beat us, Merriwell, and I don’t mind saying so. Murchison didn’t go -above thirty-four to the minute at all, except for half a minute at the -end.” - -“I’m satisfied,” said Dick. “That’s a pretty good crew.” - -He wondered more than ever what could have been the matter the day -before. There had been no sign of any of the trouble that Benton and -Hargreaves had spoken of. Thompson knew nothing of that, of course, and -Dick saw no reason for telling him of it. He took the Harvard man down -to Red Top in the launch, while the crew paddled back to quarters -easily, and at the Harvard boathouse, he picked up Benton, who had been -watching the Harvard trial. - -“Well, what seems to be the matter?” asked Benton, who was laboring -under some suppressed excitement. - -“Not a thing,” said Dick. “They rowed like record breakers. I don’t see -how the dickens there could have been all that trouble yesterday.” - -“Well,” said Benton, “I’ve got another surprise for you. That Harvard -crew was up against exactly the same sort of trouble to-day that we were -yesterday. They rowed beautifully, but their boat just naturally stood -still between the strokes. It was bad in the first two miles. Then, in -the third, they got better, but toward the end it was simply rotten. -Neilson was half wild. He couldn’t make it out at all. It’s enough to -give you the willies. If they had done any bad rowing, I could -understand it. But it was just the same as with us. Their rowing was -simply perfect.” - -The two coaches looked at each other hard, without speaking for a -minute. They were both thoroughly experienced oarsmen, but the -experiences of the two crews was something that nothing they had ever -seen enabled them to account for. - -“There’s something funny going on here,” said Dick, a worried frown -between his brows. “I can’t see any light now, but I’m going to keep on -looking until I do. It’s the strangest thing I ever heard of in my whole -experience as an oarsman—and that extends over several years.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII - - WHAT THE BETTING SHOWED. - - -The astonishing result of the public time trials of the two crews that -were to meet in the great four-mile race on the Thames on Thursday soon -had its effect on the supporters of the rival colleges. New London was -already tilling up, and, while the students at Yale and Harvard did -little betting themselves, a great deal of wagering was recorded by -others less directly interested in the outcome. - -Trains from New York brought up graduates, who were anxious to back the -crew of their own college, but, with all conditions pointing to a -Harvard defeat by a crushing margin, even the most loyal Harvard men -were chary of betting. They were willing to back their own crew, but to -bet after such an exhibition of slow running as the Harvard crew had -given, looked like throwing money away. Yale men, on the other hand, -were naturally eager to bet, and they offered odds with the utmost -liberality, feeling that they were justified in giving any sort of -inducements. - -On Sunday afternoon a number of visitors appeared both at Red Top and -Gale’s Ferry. There was to be no work for the oarsmen, and parties were -made up from both camps for sails on the sound; invitations enough to -take care of twice as many men as were present, having come from the -graduates, whose yachts were at anchor in the harbor. - -At Gale’s Ferry, Dick Merriwell, still puzzled by what he and Benton had -seen, was delighted at the arrival of Jim Phillips and big Bill Brady. -Jim looked as if he had been resting for a month; and Dick, who had -feared that the pitcher might suffer some bad effects from the terrible -experience he had undergone while he was locked in the freight car, was -much relieved. - -“I’ve been feeding him up, Mr. Merriwell,” said Brady, with a grin. “His -appetite is all right—I can testify to that. We’re gentlemen of leisure -now—come up for a loaf, and we want to watch these oarsmen do the work.” - -“All through work for the season, Bill?” asked Dick, with a smile. “How -about you, Jim?” - -“Oh, I’ll take a hand if there’s a good game in sight, any time,” said -Jim. “But it’s a relief to have the strain of that championship over. -I’ll admit that.” - -“How about the weights, Brady?” asked Dick. “Have you ever thrown the -hammer?” - -“Gee!” said Brady, looking alarmed, “I thought I could make people -forget that. Yes, I used to throw the twelve-pound hammer a little when -I was in school. But I’ve never tried the sixteen-pound thing.” - -“Well,” said Dick, looking a little maliciously at the big catcher, -“they’re very anxious for weight throwers on the team for the Olympic -games. In fact, the committee’s in rather a hole for men for several -events. Some of the big men can’t manage to get away, and some of those -who were counted on find that they have gone off a good deal since that -last meet in London. So it looks as if a good many of us who hadn’t -thought much about it will have a chance to go to Sweden after all.” - -“Count me out of that,” said Brady positively. “I’m going up to my dad’s -cottage on the Maine coast and just loaf all summer. The responsibility -of helping to look after Jim Phillips all spring has worn me to a -frazzle. I’m losing weight; I can’t sleep; and, in fact, I’m just being -wasted away to a shadow.” - -Every one laughed except Woeful Watson, who had appeared, and now stood, -looking sadly at Brady. - -“What’s the matter with you?” asked Brady, with assumed fierceness, and -staring savagely at his classmate. - -“You are thinner, and that’s a fact,” said Watson seriously. “You want -to look out, Bill. It’s the big, husky chaps like you that find it -hardest to recover if they manage to get sick in some fashion. I’m just -warning you for your own good.” - -“Stung!” cried Jack Tempest, who had come up with them from New Haven. -Jack had won the intercollegiate championship in both the sprints, and -the ten points he had thus gathered had done much toward making it -possible for Yale to round out a great athletic year by winning the meet -in which colleges from all over the United States take part. Also, he -was picked in advance as a sure selection for the American Olympic team, -since no sprinter was in sight who had a chance to beat him in either -the hundred-yard or the two-hundred-and-twenty-yard dashes. - -“You’re stung, Bill,” said Tempest, again. “Old Watson here has called -the turn on you. We’ll have to start feeding you up on cod-liver oil, -eh, fellows?” - -There is strength in numbers. Bill Brady was a match, and more than a -match, for any man in Yale in a single-handed combat, but the combined -efforts of a dozen of the men who were gathered around him on the float -soon subdued him, and, to the vociferous delight of all present, the big -catcher was forced to swallow a great spoonful of the cod-liver oil -which some one found in the training quarters. It was a medicine Bill -had particularly hated since his childhood, and he emerged, choking and -gasping for breath, when his captors finally decided the joke had gone -far enough. - -“I’ll get even with some of you fellows for that,” he promised, when he -had rinsed his mouth out with fresh water and felt a little better. But -he could appreciate a joke, even when he was its victim, and he dearly -loved to play them on others. - -“I met a Harvard man in town,” said Tempest presently, “and we had a -little argument about the crews. He seems to think they’ve got a chance, -even after that trial this morning, but he wouldn’t bet until I gave him -three to one. At that I understand that the professionals were offering -as much as that, and, in some large bets, five to one. That was at the -Iroquois House. That’s where they’re all gathered. I’ve got a fine room -there with Harry Maxwell. Only eight dollars a day—regular rates, too. -That’s not so bad, though. If you waited until Wednesday night, you’d be -lucky to get a chance to sleep in the billiard room, on top of a pool -table.” - -“I reserved a room for Brady and myself three weeks ago,” said Jim -Phillips, “and there weren’t many left, even then. I think that’s pretty -reckless betting, Jack. Three to one, on a boat race, is plain -foolishness. There’s too many things that might happen.” - -“If you ask me,” said Woeful Watson, “those Harvard fellows were just -rowing under a pull this morning, with the idea of sending the odds up a -bit. They’ve done better than that, and they’ll do it again in the race. -I’ve heard of things like that before. My idea is that we’ll be pretty -lucky to beat them at all.” - -Dick Merriwell was doing a lot of thinking just then, and had no part in -the conversation. But he heard Watson’s prophecy, as well as the howl of -derision that greeted it from the others, and he was struck by the -possibility that the class pessimist might be right. He found it almost -impossible to take the things he had seen with his own eyes seriously, -for he knew that eight men, rowing as those Harvard men had done, should -have been nearly two minutes faster over the course than they had -actually been. It was not possible to deceive Dick, or any other man who -knew as much about rowing as he did, about the pace that certain efforts -should give. - -He wandered off to see Benton, and found that his aid agreed fully with -him. - -“I don’t see how there can be anything in the idea that they were -holding back,” said Benton. “We could see the way they were rowing, and -you know as well as I, Mr. Merriwell, or, probably, a good deal better, -that they were doing everything in the best possible way. That’s the -best Harvard crew I ever saw on the river here. It’s been better coached -and has learned more about rowing than any Harvard crew I’ve ever seen. -They hardly ever expect to win that race with Cornell that they row on -Decoration Day, because they’re never coached for a two-mile race, and -their condition for practice don’t touch those that Courtney has up at -Ithaca. But I saw the race this year. The Charles was rotten that -day—for them, but it might have been made to order for Cornell. And -still Harvard won only by about half a length. There’s something funny -going on, and I’d like to know what it is.” - -“I’d think less of it except for what you told me about our own crew’s -work on Saturday,” said Dick. “No one much knows about that, and I’m -just as glad. It gives us a chance to investigate quietly, if that seems -to be necessary. Neilson invited me to go out with him again to-morrow -morning, and see what his fellows do, and I guess I’ll take him up this -time. I’ll leave the practice to you. If there’s anything queer afoot, -I’ll stake my word on it that Neilson hasn’t anything to do with it, nor -any one else officially connected with the Harvard crew. They’re good -sportsmen, and I think they’d rather lose the race than sanction -anything that wasn’t absolutely square.” - -“I agree with you there,” said Benton. “Neilson’s all right, and I -happen to know that he doesn’t believe at all in betting on college -sports. I think it’s something that ought to be stopped, myself—among -the students, at least. Of course, there’s no way of controlling alumni -and outsiders. You can ask them not to bet, but if the anti-gambling -laws of three States won’t stop them, I guess it would be pretty hard -for us to do it.” - -“Betting will spoil any sport that it gets a hold on,” said Dick. “It’s -ruined horse racing, so that now they have to quit the racing when they -can’t bet, and it would have ruined professional baseball if the leagues -hadn’t united to make it impossible for the betting to be done in the -baseball parks. I’m very much afraid that there’s something crooked -afoot here, but I can’t make out yet what they’re driving at. However, -we’ll find, I think, that betting’s at the bottom of it, if anything of -the sort is going on.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII - - PICKING UP THE TRAIL. - - -That night, after the oarsmen had returned, Dick Merriwell made an -inspection of the whole course of the race. In the _Elihu Yale_ with him -were the two assistants, Benton and Hargreaves, and Jim Phillips and -Bill Brady. Dick, after a little debate, had told the two baseball -players, now become juniors, of what had happened, and of his -suspicions, vague as yet, but well fixed in his mind. - -“I don’t know what we’re looking for,” he said, as they started out, -“and, frankly, I hardly expect to find it to-night. But sometimes, if -you go over ground that is likely to contain a clew, even if you have no -notion of what that clew may be, you will hit upon something helpful—get -into the spirit of your search, so to speak. That’s why I suggested this -trip.” - -First the launch ran swiftly down the river to the railroad bridge. -There Dick, who was at the wheel, started to spin around to go over the -course slowly, but Bill Brady called on them to listen. - -“Something doing on one of those yachts,” he said. “Funny sort of a -crowd to be here.” - -The pop of corks and the sound of voices raised in song came over the -water. It was a strange affair for that place and on that night. There -were family parties, for the most part, on the yachts, and, even though -one of them were made up of men alone, Dick thought it unlikely that any -men from either Harvard or Yale were likely to disturb the peace of -their neighbors in such a fashion. - -“Suppose we run down and see what vessel it is that’s making all the -trouble,” he said quietly. “It may seem like eavesdropping, but if -they’re all right, there’ll be no harm done, and we can sheer off -again.” - -There was no protest against this suggestion. A sudden tense feeling had -come over all the men in the swift power launch. They felt that they -might be in a fair way to stumble thus by accident on some hint that -would help to clear up the mystery that was oppressing them all. - -Sounds carry far over water, especially at night, when quiet reigns. In -New London there are a number of saloons and low drinking places near -the waterside, and from some of these there came noises that were a good -deal like those that had already attracted the attention of those in the -launch. For a moment, indeed, after they shot through the arches of the -bridge and hung on the black water—for there was no moon—Dick thought -that they might have been mistaken. But then there came again, and -unmistakably this time from the water, a burst of revelry, and the motor -was started again. It took a few minutes to locate the vessel, which was -explained, when, as they stole up to within a cable’s length of her, by -the fact that she showed only anchor lights. - -It was the _Marina_ from which the noise came. Once they were near her, -there could be no mistake about that. But, probably with the idea of -making it hard for any one who became interested in the din to locate -it, her cabin lights were masked by tightly drawn curtains, and she -looked, as she lay there, swinging easily with the tide, as if her whole -complement, passengers and crew, had turned in. Which was far from being -the case. - -On board the _Marina_ there was a sharp division. One party, with -Svenson—whose tremendous capacity to punish wine and liquor would have -served to explain one reason why so competent a navigator had had to -lower himself to mix up with those whose plans were, to say the least of -it, shady—at its head, filled the cabin, drinking, singing, laughing, -and generally enjoying itself. Prominent, too, in this choice company, -was Dennison, whose money was being used for the wagers on which his -associates expected to clear such a handsome profit. - -But on the deck, entirely sober, and very thoughtful, were two men who -had other things to do than befuddle their minds with drink. One was -Harding, the notorious gambler who had so often tried to ruin Dick -Merriwell and his friends; the other was the one whose brains were -responsible for the present enterprise: Barrows, who had lost his chief -means of livelihood with the closing of the race tracks around New York, -after gambling was forbidden by law. - -“I don’t see why you don’t come in on this deal, Bill,” said Barrows, -almost pleadingly. “It’s a sure thing. It simply can’t fail. And the -pickings are immense. Those Yale men think they’ve got the race won -already. They’re just counting the money they’re going to have to spend -when the bets are settled, and we got down a thousand this afternoon at -the Iroquois at four to one. It’s as safe as a government bond.” - -“Keep it all to yourself, old top,” said Harding, with a sneer. “I know -the man you’re bucking better than you do. He’s a tough nut, and you -need to be almighty slick to put anything over on him. You’re all right -yourself. I wouldn’t want a better partner. But that gang you’ve picked -up is the other side of the limit. Take Dennison, for instance—a -weak-minded, white-livered sneak, who would turn on you and quit the -first time there was a sign of danger. Svenson’s all right—if he’s -sober. The rest don’t count. They’ll do what they’re told, or you -wouldn’t have picked them out for this job. Mind, I’m not criticizing -you. You’re doing the best you can, and in nine cases out of every ten, -I’d expect your scheme to work out according to your own schedule. But -listen to them now—letting the whole harbor know there’s something off -color about this boat. That’s where you take your big chance.” - -In the launch that was hovering near, protected from ready sight from -the _Marina’s_ deck by the shadow of a great steam yacht in which it -lay, nothing that was said aboard the schooner could be heard. But the -murmur of voices from her deck was plain enough to the trained ear of -Dick Merriwell, well used to letting nothing escape his hearing when -there was a chance that it might prove well for him to hear it. And the -fact that he was almost sure that he recognized the voice—of one of -those who were doing the murmuring—as that of Bill Harding, quite -dispelled any feeling Dick might have had against listening. - -But Dick, at that distance, could not be sure that it was Harding’s -voice—much less could he make out the actual words that passed between -the two on the schooner. And the mere fact that there were men on her -deck was sufficient reason for not venturing any closer. - -“That sounds like Harding,” said Jim Phillips, much excited, after they -had waited in silence for a few minutes. - -“Jove, yes!” said Brady, listening again. “That would sort of justify a -few little suspicions, wouldn’t it? It seems to me that whenever Harding -comes in sight, it’s a good idea to lie low and keep your eyes and ears -open.” - -“Some one is going ashore from that boat pretty soon,” said Dick -Merriwell. He had made out, bobbing up and down by the gangway of the -_Marina_, a small boat, evidently used by some one who had come out to -pay the schooner a visit. “Suppose we just wait here and see who it is.” - -They had not long to wait. They heard a shout on the _Marina’s_ deck, -and a few minutes later two figures climbed down the gangway, and got -into the small boat Dick had seen, which then began put-putting for the -landing stage near the station. - -“I want to get an eye on that fellow,” said Dick. “But we can’t get -ashore at that landing without his seeing us. I’m going to run in on the -other side of the pier—I think a man can jump ashore there. Then, Jim, -if you’ll do it, you could easily find out about this fellow who’s been -out there. Get a good description of him fixed in your mind if you don’t -know him. But I’ve got a hunch myself that it’s Harding.” - -Jim agreed to this suggestion, and, two minutes later, leaped nimbly -ashore, and ran around to where he could get an unobstructed view of the -arrival of the launch, and the disembarkation of her passenger. He was -to go on to his hotel after that, leaving the rest of the party to carry -out the original plan of an inspection of the course, but he and Dick -arranged a code of signals between them. Jim was an expert in imitating -the calls of birds and animals, and they agreed that the call of an owl -was unlikely to arouse suspicion. If it was not Harding, that was to be -the signal. If Dick’s guess turned out to be right, Jim was to give an -imitation of the cry of a prowling cat. These details arranged, the -launch bore out into the stream again, and lay, quietly, waiting for the -signal. - -It came, after a delay of perhaps five minutes, which seemed endless to -those in the launch. Like the wail of a lost soul was the cat’s howl -that Jim emitted, and they all laughed. - -“I thought so,” said Dick Merriwell, with a sigh. “Well, Harding has -tried to put a number of things over lately, and hasn’t succeeded very -well. I don’t know just what his game is this time, but there’s one -thing: forewarned is forearmed. I’ll have to get time to talk this over -with Neilson. It’s morally certain that some sort of an attempt is being -made to tamper with the odds on this race, and there’s no telling what -may not be done to interfere with the race itself.” - -“They can’t do anything there, I guess,” said Benton. “In the first -place, the course is well guarded. In the second, unless they got at -some man in one shell or the other, I don’t see what they could hope to -accomplish, anyhow.” - -“They’ve accomplished something already, with both crews,” said Dick -gravely. “That’s proof enough that they’ve got something dangerous up -their sleeves. And the mere fact that they’ve done their best to make -Harvard’s chances look as poor as possible, looks as if they wanted -Harvard to win. The longer the odds, the bigger their winning will be if -they bet on Harvard to beat us when every one else wants to bet the -other way. I think that’s the nigger in the woodpile just now.” - -“I’ll admit that those two practices are rather puzzling,” said Benton, -“but I’m by no means sure yet that the whole thing wasn’t accidental. -There might have been something wrong with both the crews that would -cause a poor showing. They may be a little bit stale and overworked—they -usually are, in fact, at this stage of the game. But that doesn’t mean -they won’t pick up. In fact, our fellows showed they were all right this -morning in that trial.” - -The launch was picking its way gently up the river now, and, once past -the navy yard, Dick began looking attentively about him. - -The race, owing to tidal conditions, was that year to be rowed upstream, -at six o’clock in the evening. With that arrangement of the course, the -shells get over almost directly under the wooded western shore of the -Thames after passing the navy yard, and the finish of the race is almost -opposite Gale’s Ferry. - -Dick, as they passed along, noted carefully every house or cottage on -that side of the river. There were not many, but he had them all mapped -in his mind before they had gone very far. He could not rid his head of -the notion that there was danger of some outside interference on the day -of the race, almost impossible though he knew such interference to be, -and he plied Benton and Hargreaves with continuous questions when he -himself did not at once recognize a house, or had forgotten who owned it -or lived in it. - -But, beyond the knowledge that Harding was in New London, and a renewal -of his old-time familiarity with the course, Dick accomplished little by -his trip that was evident to his companions, who were beginning to get -sleepy. He himself, however, was well satisfied. He had seen a number of -things, and he had drawn deductions from some of them that would have -surprised both Barrows and his own friends and associates. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX - - A TWO-SIDED TRAP. - - -Carefully as the arrangement for discovering who the belated visitor to -the _Marina_ was had been carried out, it had not served to prevent -Harding from learning that some one was interested in his movements. An -honest man would probably have been deceived. Knowing that he had -nothing to conceal, he would have thought little of the sudden -appearance of a launch just as his own boat approached the landing -stage. But Harding, who was so used to treading lightly and avoiding -exposure, was disturbed, even though he knew that he had done nothing of -late for which the law could lay hands on him. - -In fact, Harding seldom ventured on any step that rendered him liable to -arrest and trial. If a man is a great enough rascal, and a clever enough -one, he can usually find means of cheating his fellows that are within -the law. He cannot keep that sort of thing up indefinitely; for, as his -misdeeds increase, his reputation leaves him, and honest men come to -know him as a cheat and a scoundrel, with whom it is unsafe to have -dealings if they do not want to be defrauded. - -So the men who begin by preying on others with safety for themselves, -find, presently, that they have to break the law to ensnare the victims -necessary to give them the money they think they must have. Harding was -in this class. But, except in New York, where his enormous political -influence made him safe, he had never yet put himself within actual -reach of the law. - -That was the real reason for his refusal to join Barrows in this -enterprise. He was ready to admit that it looked safe, and it was -obvious that if it were successful, the profits would be great. But -Harding, who had once enjoyed political favors in Connecticut almost as -great as those extended to him in New York, no longer had any “pull” in -that State. His father, long the boss of New Haven, was dying in an -insane asylum, and Harding was afraid to risk an encounter with the New -London police, always on the alert at the boat-race time. - -Moreover, he knew that the police department in New York had lent the -New London department a couple of detectives, expert in the recognition -and detention of notorious pickpockets, since a flood of these crooks -always went about the country, gathering wherever great crowds and a -rich harvest were to be expected. In the city these detectives had to -let Harding alone, for they knew that his political power was enough to -make them lose their jobs if they angered him; but in New London he -would be at their mercy. - -He had no idea of who was in the launch that he had seen, but he knew -enough of Dick Merriwell to leap instantly to the idea that the -universal coach might already have suspected something. In fact, he had -lectured Barrows sharply for giving Merriwell reason to be suspicious at -all, and had told him plainly that he was likely to regret the -greediness that had inspired the effort to make the odds on Yale mount -so high. - -He was not deceived at all by the cry with which Jim Phillips announced -his discovery to those waiting off shore in the launch, but understood -the maneuver at once. - -“Pretty clever,” he said, to himself. “It’s just as well I’m out of -this. But I don’t mind pushing Barrows’ game along for him a bit. I’ll -get all the money away from him later, anyhow.” - -He walked away from the dock with firm footsteps, as if he had no -suspicion at all that he was being watched. But as soon as he turned the -first corner, he stopped. He beat time with his feet, so that any one -who was trailing his footsteps might think that he was still walking on; -and then, after giving his pursuer time to come up to the corner, dashed -around it. A cry of triumph burst from his lips, which changed to a -snarl of hatred as soon as he recognized Jim Phillips. - -“It’s you, is it?” he snarled. - -He looked swiftly around. There was no one in sight. It was a good -chance to get some sort of revenge for the way in which Jim had beaten -him in every past encounter. He sprang at the Yale baseball captain. - -Jim was taken by surprise for the moment, and Harding, in his first -swift rush, bore his lighter opponent down by sheer weight. But his -advantage lasted only for a moment. Harding was strong, but he was -self-indulgent, and took no care of his really fine body, smoking and -drinking as much as he liked, and it took only a couple of minutes for -Jim to reduce him to complete submission. - -“I thought you’d have enough, Harding,” said Jim, panting a little, but -quite unhurt, and completely master of the situation. “What did you -expect to gain by attacking me in that fashion?” - -“I wanted to give you the thrashing that’s coming to you,” said Harding -viciously. “You’ll get it some day, never fear, even if you’ve escaped -now. Let me up. I won’t try to hurt you now.” - -“I know you won’t,” said Jim cheerfully, releasing him, and dusting -himself off with absolute unconcern. “You know you can’t—that’s the -reason. You’d better clear out of town, Harding, now that we know you’re -here. You can’t accomplish anything, with the watch we’ve put on you, -and I warn you that the next time you get caught in one of your -conspiracies, you won’t get off so easily as you have in the past. Mr. -Merriwell is a patient man, but you’ve tried him too far.” - -“I’m not afraid of Merriwell or you, either,” said Harding, with a -coarse laugh. “You’re four-flushers, both of you. But you can’t bluff me -out. You haven’t got anything on me, and you never will have, that will -do you any good in a court, and you know it as well as I do.” - -“Well,” said a new voice, “I don’t know about that. Assault and battery -isn’t a hanging offense, of course, but I guess they’d send you to jail -for ten days or so, even at that. And you wouldn’t like that, you know.” - -Harding’s first instinct was to run away. But he didn’t obey that -instinct. The reason was that the hand of big Bill Brady was firmly -fixed in his coat collar, and that he couldn’t have got away if he had -been even stronger than he was. - -“Where did you spring from, Bill?” asked Jim, in great surprise. - -Harding was speechless with rage and astonishment. He was fairly -trapped. - -“Oh, I just thought I’d drop around,” said Brady, who was enjoying -himself hugely. “I thought, perhaps, our little friend here might not be -alone, and I didn’t want you to get hurt, Jim. I got here just in time -to see him rush you. You settled him rather nicely, I thought. Know -where the town lock-up is?” - -“Oh, I say,” protested Harding, with a whine, “you’re not going to press -a charge against me, are you? I’m not doing any harm. I’m just here to -look on this time.” - -“If you swore you had a broken leg, Harding,” said Bill Brady, amiably -enough, “I wouldn’t believe you unless you brought a doctor along to -testify to it. We sure do mean to press the charge. The inside of a jail -is a darned sight too good for you, but I can’t think of anything that -would please me more than to see you there for ten days or so. I’ll come -and bring you nice, improving books to read, too, so that, when you come -out, you’ll reform and decide to live a sober and virtuous life ever -after; just the way the bad men do in the stories.” - -Jim Phillips laughed openly. He could not help it. Brady was so -obviously enjoying himself, and Harding was so evidently scared by the -picture of himself in jail. - -Harding was scared, as a matter of fact. Ten days in jail did not appeal -to him particularly. If he could have served such a sentence under an -assumed name, he wouldn’t have minded it so much. But he knew that if -Brady carried out his threat, which he certainly had the power to do, -the story would go all over the country, and that his friends and -cronies would never be done laughing at the story of his discomfiture by -two college boys. - -His influence would be gone, for, once a man is laughed at, people are -not likely to go on being afraid of him; and Harding knew this. He had a -certain crowd of hangers-on, who at present admired him immensely, -though the continual defeat of all his plans to undo Dick Merriwell had -rather alienated some of his most loyal supporters. - -“Oh, drop this,” he said finally. “What do you want me to do? It won’t -do you fellows any good to make trouble for me here. I don’t believe you -can do it, anyhow. But, even supposing you can, what object have you? -There’s nothing in it for you. Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll -do it. That’ll be better for you than trying to get me sent to jail.” - -The two Yale men looked at each other. Brady’s look was dubious; he was -questioning Jim with his eyes, as he had so often done in a critical -moment of a baseball game. And Jim nodded his head, as he used to do -from the box when he approved of Brady’s signal for some particular -ball. - -“If we let you go,” said Brady, “will you promise to leave New London -and stay away until the boat race is over? There’s a train down to New -York in about half an hour. You’ll have to get off at the Harlem River, -and take the elevated down, but I guess that’ll be better than the town -jail here. They tell me that isn’t a very comfortable place—no private -baths with the cells, and a very poor table for the boarders.” - -“Sure I will,” said Harding. “You’ve got me where you want me, and I’d -be a fool not to admit it. I’ll get you some time, but this isn’t the -time, and I can see as far into a stone wall as the next fellow.” - -Secretly, Harding was elated. He was not at all unwilling to quit New -London. He had seen Barrows, and there was nothing to cause him to stay. -Moreover, he saw that the two Yale men thought that he was at the head -of whatever plot they thought was stirring, and he saw a chance to throw -them off their guard, and, through them, to remove any suspicions that -Dick Merriwell had formed. Altogether, he decided, the luck had turned. -So long as he got his revenge, he didn’t care at all whether he got it -himself or whether some one else did the work. It was the result, not -the method, that interested him. - -So they saw him off, and got a mocking laugh as the train went out. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXX - - CAPTURED BY THE ENEMY. - - -“I think we’ve checkmated that lad for once,” said Bill Brady, with much -satisfaction. “Good thing I thought to come ashore and see what -happened. Not that you needed any help—you’re a pretty handy lad in a -scrap, James. But if I hadn’t been on hand, there wouldn’t have been any -witness to the assault, and I don’t suppose we could have had him -arrested just on your complaint, without some sort of evidence to back -you up.” - -“I guess not,” said Jim. “I’m certainly glad you came along. I can’t -make out what his game is, but I don’t believe he can do much of -anything without being here himself. And, if he comes back, we can have -him locked up and get rid of him that way. We want to keep our eyes -open, though, so that he can’t sneak back without our seeing him.” - -In the morning they reported their adventure with Harding to Dick -Merriwell. The universal coach was thoughtful, but he was very pleased. - -“It seems to me he quit too easily,” he said. “Harding usually puts up a -pretty good fight—a better, longer one than that. However, I suppose he -thought it would rather spoil his reputation among his friends, who have -peculiar standards for judging their associates, if he landed in jail, -even on such a charge. The only law those people observe is the one -about not being found out. They don’t mind breaking all the Ten -Commandments themselves, and they don’t care how often their friends -break them, as long as they don’t give any one else a chance to punish -them for it. I’m glad he’s gone, anyhow.” - -“We ought to be able to tell something after the men get out and row -to-day,” said Brady. “I understand, of course, that there won’t be any -regular time trials, but the shells could speed up a bit, I suppose, and -see how it went.” - -That test was eminently satisfactory for both Harvard and Yale. There -was a representative from each college in the other’s launch when the -crews went out, and the shells swept along at high speed for a while or -so of hard rowing, enough to show that whatever had made the trouble -before was not any longer in evidence. - -“If it is over,” said Dick Merriwell, to Benton, “it’s certainly a good -thing. I don’t think it’s worth while, as matters are now, to say -anything to Harvard about it. There’s really nothing we can tell them, -except a lot of vague suspicions, and, even to explain those, we’d have -to go into a lot of ancient history that it’s better not to mention at -all.” - -Benton was still doubtful. He knew the methods of Harding of old, and, -like Dick himself, he was inclined to think that the gambler had -surrendered too easily. - -“We haven’t accounted for it having happened at all yet,” said Benton -nervously. “If it’s happened once, it may happen again. That’s the rub. -If we knew exactly what had been done, and how they had managed it, we -could guard against anything of the sort in the future. As it is, we are -helpless. It’s as plain as daylight. If some one, outside of the boat, -and outside of the two training camps, can affect the speed of those -shells, so that no matter how well the men row they can’t get the speed -out of the boats, that race can be settled just as the man who’s doing -the dirty work likes. And the profitable thing for any one of that sort -to do would be to make Harvard win. The heavy betting, at long odds, is -all on Yale.” - -“You’re right there, Benton,” said Dick anxiously. “But I don’t see just -what we can do. You see, the trouble is that we haven’t got the -slightest sort of a clew to what agency they’re employing to check our -speed. I’ve been over every foot of our shell, and, if I thought it -would do any good, I’d tell Neilson, and examine the Harvard boat with -him. - -“But, unless they show their hands a bit more openly than they have -done, I’m afraid we’re doomed to trust to luck and the fact that Harding -had to leave town. It’s certainly a good thing that Phillips and Brady -got rid of him. Even if he still tries to carry out any plot, he’ll have -to trust to his assistants to do the work, and they’re not at all likely -to be as clever as he is himself.” - -But in all that day and the next there was no sign of any further -activity. Even the betting in New London fell away. The Harvard men were -by no means ready to put up their good cash when, as they were -convinced, their boat had no chance of winning, and the activity of the -gamblers who had infested the place, seizing at once the chance to cover -the bets at long odds, which enthusiastic Yale men offered, was -apparently at an end. - -On Tuesday night, too, Brady learned something that reassured him -mightily. He was in the lobby of the Iroquois when he saw a familiar -face, that led him to sit up and take notice. It was Barnes, Harding’s -agent and companion in two or three nefarious plots that had come to -nothing. But Barnes, though he had a big wad of money, was not trying to -bet on Harvard. Instead, he was offering liberal odds on Yale, and -finding it hard to get any takers. - -“Hedging their bets,” commented Brady, to himself. “They must have made -up their minds that they can’t work their scheme, and they’re trying to -make sure that they won’t lose, by betting enough on Yale to offset -their losses if Yale wins a square race—which we probably would. I bet -he’ll find it hard to cover, too, even if he does offer to bet five to -one.” - -This was, as a matter of fact, the most convincing evidence that had yet -been obtained as to the probable course of Harding and any allies he -might have, and Dick Merriwell was almost satisfied. - -“That certainly looks as if Harding had decided to keep his hands off -this time,” he said. “But I would certainly like to find out just what -they were up to. And, by the way, Bill, have you noticed that that big -schooner, the Marina, that Harding was going ashore from when we spotted -him, is still in the harbor? We know that he had friends aboard her. And -I must confess that the fact that they are still around New London makes -me feel uneasy. Harding is a dangerous customer. I think we ought to -make sure that he’s not on board of her now. He might have managed to -sneak back in the dark, or even have come in on a small boat of some -sort, without being observed.” - -Brady saw the possibility of that. - -“We might try a little search party,” he said. “If it’s cloudy to-night, -as seems likely, we might be able to get hold of some pretty valuable -information without their knowing we were anywhere near them. It’s worth -trying, it seems to me, anyhow.” - -So, late that night, after all the oarsmen at quarters were in bed, and, -presumably, asleep, Dick Merriwell, Bill Brady, Benton, and Jim Phillips -in the _Elihu Yale_, slipped quietly away from Gale’s Ferry, and went -silently down the river, to where the black bulk of the _Marina_ loomed -up ominously at her mooring, below the railway bridge, and in the very -heart of a fleet of pretty white yachts that formed a sharp contrast to -the dingy, slovenly craft that was such a fitting setting for the dark -deeds that were being planned by Barrows, Svenson, and their associates. - -Hargreaves had been indignant when he was told that he was not to be one -of the party, but Dick had persuaded him to stay behind. - -“We’re going to try to clear up this whole mess to-night,” Dick told -him, “and there’s no telling what sort of trouble we may run into before -we get through with it. The crew has got to row Harvard the day after -to-morrow, you know, whatever happens, and some one has got to stay with -them and take charge. I’ve picked you for that because you’re older than -Benton, and understand what’s needed better than he, not because I think -there’s any choice between you if it comes to trouble. So that’s your -part of the job.” - -Hargreaves was a good coach, in the making, and he saw the wisdom of -what his superior said. Before a man can enforce discipline and induce -others to obey his orders, he must submit to the orders of those above -him, and Hargreaves, though he was bitterly disappointed, stayed behind, -and wished them “good luck” with a cheery wave of his hand as the _Elihu -Yale_ slipped quietly off through the dark water, on the errand that -they all hoped would solve the perplexing mystery that had bothered them -so much. - -Only the harbor lights showed on the _Marina_ when the launch slowed -down abreast of the schooner. Her sails were untidily furled, and there -was no sign of a watch on deck. Moreover, this time, as they approached, -there was the silence of the grave on board. No sounds of revelry came -from the dark cabin, and there was no boat alongside. The whole fleet -was wrapped in silence and in darkness, for it was after midnight. The -parties on the other vessels had long since come away from whatever -festivities they had been attending on shore, and, as they looked over -to Point Griswold and Pequot Cove on the other side, there were only a -few scattered lights to be seen in the cottages, where tired youngsters, -already keyed up to concert pitch in anticipation of the great spectacle -of Thursday, were getting ready for bed. - -“It’s too quiet,” whispered Merriwell to Brady and Benton. They were in -the stern, and Jim Phillips, with sharp eyes peeled, was in the bow. -“It’s too quiet,” Dick repeated. “I have a feeling that these people on -the _Marina_ aren’t as sound asleep as they want us to think. They may -try to spring something on us.” - -“I’m going aboard her,” Dick said, when the _Elihu Yale_ finally touched -gently the black side of the schooner. “You can come along, Jim. Benton, -you and Brady stand by in the launch and be ready to make a quick start -if you see us coming. You can tell better what to do, if anything goes -wrong, after it’s happened. There’s no use making plans now, because -they wouldn’t be a bit likely to fit whatever happened.” - -And a moment later, his feet cased in rubber shoes that made no sound, -he swung himself lightly up the rope ladder that dangled from the -_Marina’s_ side, and, with Jim at his heels, dropped lightly to her -deck. - -They looked around at the litter that covered the deck, hoping to find -some clew, but there was nothing to be seen. The only thing at all out -of the ordinary was the sight of three small motor boats, lashed -insecurely to the deck, a surprisingly large number of tenders for any -yacht, and especially for one of the size of the _Marina_. There was a -big whale boat, too, and Dick, looking into her, saw that she was -equipped with an engine. That boat alone would have served amply as a -lifeboat in case of any accident to the vessel. She was big enough to -carry a dozen men comfortably, and Dick thought it most unlikely that -the _Marina_ would have a larger crew. She was an easy vessel to handle, -and, knowing what he did of Svenson, Dick thought that the mess on her -decks indicated that she was very short-handed. - -Jim was peering into the little motor boats, while Dick examined the -whaleboat. - -“Look here,” he said, holding up a coil of wire that he had found in one -of them. “What do you suppose this is?” - -Dick looked at it curiously. The wire was very thin, and was wrapped -around a core of some solid metal. - -“I don’t know,” he said. “Queer-looking thing to have in a boat like -that. Looks like a regular coil—but I don’t see what it’s used for.” - -They looked in the other motor boats, and each was similarly equipped. -Otherwise they were very ordinary boats of their type. - -Suddenly, from above, a flash of blue flame attracted their attention, -and in the same moment a crashing splutter of sound assailed their ears. - -“Wireless!” cried Dick, and Jim, all attention, listened intently to the -crashing of the heavy spark. They had not noticed a wireless -installation on the vessel before. - -“Specially tuned,” said Jim, as he listened. “Marconi and United -Stations wouldn’t catch that spark at all—not so they could read it. It -would mess up their receiving if they were in the right area, but that’s -all. Some one’s calling this tub, too. I can read the call—Ma, Ma, Ma.” - -“Look out,” called Dick sharply. “They’re coming up to answer.” - -There was a rush of feet from below. - -The two Yale men made for the side, where the two they had left in the -launch were looking up anxiously. - -“Get into the launch and away,” whispered Jim, “I’m going to drop into -the water and listen to whatever message they get. I can read that stuff -if I can hear it. I’ll swim toward shore when they get through, and you -can pick me up. It’ll be better if they don’t know we’re here.” - -He dropped silently over the side and into the water as the launch stole -away, her engine muffled, so that no one should hear her. And then, -supporting himself in the cold water by hanging to a rope, while he -kicked off his shoes and rid himself of his coat, Jim stayed under the -_Marina’s_ side and listened to the crashing of the wireless spark while -a message from Harding to Barrows—a name unknown to Jim—was received. - -Shivering in the water, which was far from warm, though not so cold as -it would have been had the tide been coming in instead of going out, as -he reflected, Jim grasped the sense of the message. Fortunately for him, -the senders had relied on the tuning of the wireless apparatus on the -_Marina_ for secrecy, and the message was sent in plain English, -although, of course, in Morse. - -When a wireless message is sent through the air, the pitch may be -determined at the sending station. The principle is the same as that of -tuning a violin. In an orchestra, all the violins are tuned to the same -pitch, or else discord is the result. It is the same with wireless. All -regular, legitimate stations are attuned to the same pitch, so that each -can receive any message sent by any of the others. For their own evil -purposes, the owners of the _Marina_ and those who were sending the -message had chosen a different pitch. - -“Tell Barrows,” the message ran, as Jim spelled it out, “Barnes betting -on Yale to make Merriwell think O. K. Tell him to be careful—think -chances for killing good. Can make big bet New York morning of race—will -not then arouse suspicion. Know of Yale syndicate offering five thousand -at five to two. Ask Barrows if he can cover.” - -There was a moment of delay, while, as Jim supposed, the message was -being translated to Barrows, whoever he might be. In the sudden silence, -he heard sounds of activity on one of the near-by revenue cutters, and -also the wash of the water against the _Elihu Yale_, which was not far -away. - -Cra-a-sh! The wireless was working again. - -“Barrows says O. K. Thanks. Will cover Thursday a.m.” - -Deep silence succeeded the roar of the wireless spark. It was broken -only by low voices from the deck of the _Marina_, and the soft wash of -the waves as the tide ran lazily out. Jim, making sure of his bearings, -let go of his rope and began to swim as quietly as he could for the -launch, where, he was sure, Dick and the others were anxiously waiting -for him. But suddenly he found himself in the midst of a glare of white -light. At the same moment, a cry arose from the deck of the schooner he -was leaving behind—then not more than twenty feet behind him. - -Jim realized at once that he was detected. An inopportune flash of the -searchlight from the cutter, disturbed by the sound of the wireless, -which did not make sense to her apparatus, had given him away. Even as -the light winked away from him, he struck out vigorously, hoping to get -to the launch, but in that instant a rope struck him, and, a noose, -settling about his shoulders, he was dragged back through the water to -the _Marina_ and pulled up to her deck. - -“What are you doing here—spying on us?” asked a man Jim had never seen -before. It was Barrows. The gambler was furiously angry, and the glaring -countenance of Svenson, who had been drinking, convinced Jim that he -was, as Harry Maxwell would have said, “strictly up against it.” - -But in the fact that he was unknown to Barrows lay his temporary -salvation. Barrows himself would not in any case have sanctioned -violence, but Svenson was of a different mold. The skipper, inflamed as -he was with drink, might have perpetrated some great villainy had he -known who Jim really was and what he had been about to tell Merriwell. - -But Jim held his ground. He saw that Barrows was puzzled as well as -angry. - -“I fell overboard from a launch,” he said, “and I was trying to find a -boat with some one on board awake when you picked me up. Would it be -troubling you too much to ask you to put me on shore?” - -Barrows hesitated a moment. He did not know what Jim might have heard. -He knew that he had been incautious in talking to Svenson—but Jim, as a -matter of fact, had heard nothing of that. The gambler finally decided -to treat Jim pleasantly, for the moment, at least. - -“You’d better stay with us till morning,” he said. “I can’t very -conveniently put you ashore now—and you’d better turn in, anyhow, after -your ducking, with a hot whisky, and get between some blankets. I’ll -show you to a cabin.” - -There was no fault to be found with the man’s manner. It seemed pleasant -and hospitable. Jim thought, too, that he might, if he stayed aboard, -get some more valuable information. But he wished there was some way in -which he could get word of his safety to his friends. However, there was -no help for it. He went below, and found himself in a roomy cabin, -practically a prisoner. - -He had to laugh, however, as he thought of the expressions that had -chased themselves over the face of Barrows as he stood looking at him. -He gave little heed to Svenson, estimating, and rightly, that the -Scandinavian skipper’s interest in the affair was the use of his boat. -Then he went to the window and looked out. And, stealing along, not far -away, he saw the _Elihu Yale_, and Dick Merriwell’s anxious face. They -had come to try to rescue him. - -“I’m all right,” he called softly. “I’m going to stay here and see if I -can’t find out what the game is. They don’t know who I am. Keep -away—they may be keeping a watch now. I’ll get away without any trouble -whenever I want to. Harding was bluffing—the wireless was from him. He -isn’t in this—not directly.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXI - - DISCOVERY—AND AN ESCAPE. - - -Jim wondered, when he awoke in the morning, if they would really let him -go ashore. He thought it unlikely, and yet, he decided, Barrows might -well hesitate at showing his hand, which an effort to detain him against -his will would surely require. Personally, Jim was not disposed to put -up much of a fight against staying on board the _Marina_, for the -present, at least, because he was decidedly anxious to learn everything -there was to learn about the plot that menaced the success of Yale in -the coming race. This was different from a baseball game, because the -direct responsibility was not on his shoulders, and yet Jim felt that, -so long as he had the chance, he was quite as much charged with the duty -of bringing the victory to Yale as was Murchison or any other man on the -crew. - -He knew, too, that, even if Barrows had not recognized him, he could not -be sure of escaping detection indefinitely. Anything he accomplished -would have to be done quickly. If they found he was Jim Phillips, his -chance of making a discovery would be gone, and, in addition, he was -pretty certain to be detained securely until the race was over. - -Harding might come back, though that seemed unlikely. But he knew that -Barnes, who, of course, knew his face perfectly, was in New London, and -would probably visit the _Marina_. Moreover, a good many newspapers had -printed pictures of the famous Yale pitcher, and Jim, while he took -little stock in such fame, realized that there must be some one on board -able to recognize him as a result of these pictures, some of which had -been excellent likenesses. - -Barrows came to his room while it was still early, and brought with him -Jim’s clothes, dried now, and ready for use, except for his coat, which -was lost, of course, with his shoes. But the gambler offered a jersey as -a substitute for the coat, and had found some canvas shoes, which Jim -found were a sufficiently good fit, so that he was able to go on deck -soon after the sun was up, and look around with genuine pleasure at the -lovely sight. Two yachts, glistening white in the rays of the early sun, -were steaming slowly in between the points, and the soft haze of the -summer morning seemed to transfigure the whole scene. - -Svenson, heavy-eyed, with the traces of a debauch the night before still -plain on his face, greeted Jim with a surly nod, and the Yale man found -that the three of them had the deck to themselves. The three small motor -boats had gone from the deck, but one of them was still lying close to -the _Marina_, and Jim, looking at her idly, and with pretended -indifference, saw that the great coil he and Dick had seen was still -there. But its position had been changed, and it was attached now, by -delicate wires, to what looked like a big electric battery. - -That gave Jim the shadow of a clew at once. He was no engineer, but he -could see that the coil was part of a powerful electromagnet, and -wondered why they had not guessed that the night before. That fitted in -perfectly, too, with a theory that he and Bill Brady had evolved, which -was, actually, though they did not know it, one of those on which Dick -Merriwell had been basing his ideas. - -“We’re not very shipshape,” said Barrows, “as you can see. But, the fact -is, we’re very short-handed, and we weren’t expecting any visitor. So -you’ll have to excuse all this mess about the decks. We’re not going to -take the _Marina_ up for the race. Svenson and I will go up in a small -boat, and take our view that way. We couldn’t make the lane of yachts -look any more picturesque, I’m afraid, and we can see just as well from -a small boat. Now, we’d better have some breakfast. I’m afraid you’ll -have to accept our hospitality until later in the day. But we’ll get a -chance to put you ashore then.” - -That was no more than Jim had expected. He had passed the first ordeal -with flying colors. In the clear morning light, neither Barrows nor -Svenson had recognized him, and he breathed a sigh of relief as they -went below. - -At the table, where they had an excellent breakfast, served by a -Japanese steward, who had, it seemed, also cooked the meal, a good deal -of constraint was noticeable. Jim was, naturally, somewhat nervous. He -wanted to find out all he could, but he was also anxious to get away, -and he wondered how he should manage it, if, after he had found out all -he could, Barrows tried to keep him there. Svenson was surly and -ungracious, eating like an animal, and taking no part in what -conversation there was, and Barrows was the only one of the three who -was completely at his ease. - -“You can put me ashore after breakfast?” suggested Jim finally. - -“Surely,” said Barrows. “But I can’t say just how soon. I hope you won’t -mind the delay. It’s too bad to hold you up this way, but the fact is, -this isn’t exactly a pleasure trip, as you can guess by looking at this -craft. We’re doing some advertising work—going to distribute circulars -during the race, and, soon afterward, to the yachts and among the -crowds. So our boats are all away just now, and I’m not sure of what -time they’ll return.” - -Jim admired such cleverness. In case he suspected anything was wrong -from the presence of the extra supply of tenders, here was a plausible -explanation. He was ready to admit that Barrows was clever—he was only -afraid that he might be so clever that, in spite of the information -already obtained, and the confirmation of their suspicions, he might -succeed in causing the defeat of Yale by unfair means and the loss of a -great deal of money by Yale men. - -Barrows made several excuses to keep Jim below after breakfast, and -seemed inclined to stay with him. But Jim was greatly relieved, finally, -to hear Svenson’s roaring voice calling his host on deck. And, as soon -as he was alone, Jim began to explore the cabin. - -The first thing he found was a government chart of the Thames. Red -markers showed the buoying of the course for the Harvard-Yale boat race, -with the flags marked every half mile, all the way up the river. And, as -Jim studied the map, certain blue crosses also attracted his attention. -There were three of these—one about a mile from the start, another at -the navy yard, where the river bends slightly, and the third almost -opposite Red Top, under the western shore of the Thames, and at a point -where the Central Vermont Railway and the observation train pass for a -few hundred feet out of sight of the racing shells. - -Jim puzzled long over this map, trying to make out the significance of -the three blue crosses. That they were important he was quite sure, and -he lost no time in fixing their locations in his head, so that he could -point to the spots marked in case the need for doing so arose. He was -afraid to take the map, although he would have had no conscientious -scruples against doing so, because he was afraid that he might be -searched, and he wanted to maintain his pose of complete innocence and -ignorance until he was off the boat. - -He stole to the ladder that led to the deck and listened to see if -Barrows were returning. But he heard the gambler’s voice lifted in loud -conversation with Svenson, and, returning to the cabin, found that he -could still hear their voices so plainly that he would have warning, -from the cessation of the talk, of any impending return to the cabin. - -Then, feeling that he was free, for the moment, to pursue his search, he -went on. And in a few minutes he made a discovery that laid the whole -secret bare to him. Accidentally moving a sofa cushion, he found that it -concealed the model of a racing shell, and he fell to studying the model -closely. It was a beautiful piece of workmanship, apparently made to -scale, so that it was a perfect reproduction, in a small compass, of the -boats in which Harvard and Yale would test each other’s mettle the next -day. - -Jim held the model attentively in his hand, admiring its beauty and the -clever workmanship. But for the life of him he could not see what its -use had been to these men. Suddenly, as he was running his hand again -over the slender, delicately made keel, it came away in his hand, and he -saw a cunningly contrived groove, filled with iron. - -He almost shouted in his surprise and exultation. Here was the key to -the mystery, and, with the key, the means of defeating it. - -But he had to get away first. And, as he moved toward the ladder again, -he heard a new voice, that made him realize that one of his fears had -been realized. It was Barnes who was talking. - -“That’s just what Harding was afraid of,” Barnes was saying. “He knew -you’d mess the thing up. This chap you picked up was, undoubtedly, one -of Merriwell’s gang. You did the right thing when you snaked him in, but -why did you let him bluff you? You ought to have tied him up and kept -him from snooping around. The chances are, if it’s Merriwell himself or -Phillips, that he knows the whole game by this time.” - -Jim could not hear what Barrows said in reply; but there was a growling -curse from Svenson. - -“We’ve made Mr. Harding and his crowd respect us, anyhow,” said Jim, to -himself, with a grin. “They didn’t take us so seriously at first. -However—this isn’t any joke. I think that fellow Svenson would just as -soon drop me overboard with a weight tied to my feet as not, if he -thought he could get away with it. He’s an ugly customer.” - -He debated with himself as to what he should do. To go on deck was to -court instant recognition by Barnes, and he knew that, if that happened, -he would never be allowed to escape in time to tell Dick Merriwell what -he had discovered before the race. Then some knowledge he had picked up -in a Gloucester fishing-schooner trip some time before came to his help. - -He turned away from the deck, and, two minutes later, he was safely -hidden, between the lower deck and the ship’s bottom, highly -uncomfortable, but reasonably safe from detection. The trick worked, -too, for as he lay there, he could hear the searchers passing right over -his head, and their lurid language when they discovered that the bird -had flown. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXII - - THE ESCAPE FROM THE “MARINA.” - - -Dick Merriwell was almost frantic when the day of the race dawned -without a sign of the return of Jim Phillips. He was convinced that some -harm had befallen the baseball captain, and not for a hundred boat races -would he have had that happen. He blamed himself bitterly for allowing -Jim to undertake the reckless adventure of staying aboard the _Marina_ -to get further information as to the plans of the conspirators. Until -dark on Wednesday night, he had not been much alarmed, for it had been -long after midnight when he had last spoken to Jim. But when the whole -day passed with no sign of Jim, Dick was frantic. - -Bill Brady tried to reassure him, although he was himself far from easy -in his mind. - -“They wouldn’t dare do him any harm,” said Bill. “Those fellows know -that as long as they just try these crooked gambling games, the worst -that can happen to them is a year or two in jail. But murder, or hurting -a man seriously, is another matter, and they’re not at all likely to -take any such risks as that to put old Jim out of the way. I’m afraid -they may have got onto him and tied him up to keep him from getting to -us with whatever it is he’s learned. But, even if that’s so, they’ll -turn him loose when the race is over, and he’ll be none the worse. As to -your blaming yourself, that’s nonsense. It was Jim’s idea to stay in the -water, and to stay on board, too, when he could have dropped into the -launch.” - -But Dick had spent a sleepless night, and the big catcher could do -little to make the universal coach feel better, try as he would. - -Finally, on Thursday morning, Dick, taking Brady in the launch with him, -ran down to Red Top and told Neilson, the Harvard coach, the whole -story. - -Neilson looked very serious as he heard what the Yale coach knew and -what he suspected. - -“I’ll admit, of course,” he said, “that we thought the sudden slowing up -of the crew mighty peculiar—and we didn’t know then that you’d had the -same experience. Of course, there’s one thing settled. If there’s any -skulduggery about the race to-day, and it’s discovered, we’ll be -perfectly willing to call it no race and row it over, in case Yale lost -through one of those mysterious experiences we’ve both had. What are you -going to do about Phillips? I suppose that, as a Harvard man, I ought to -be glad to hear he’s lost, but I’m going to do my level best to help you -rescue him.” - -Dick Merriwell gripped his rival’s hand hard. - -“Thanks,” he said. “I knew you’d feel that way about it. I’m going down -to that cursed _Marina_ and see whether they mean to hold Jim. I think -I’ve got evidence enough to justify me in getting official aid, and I -know the captain of the revenue cutter _Claremont_. I think she’s in his -jurisdiction, now.” - -Neilson went along, and, an hour later, armed with a warrant of search -from the United States court, and with a Federal marshal along, the -_Elihu Yale_ boarded the _Marina_. - -Svenson, cursing, had to yield to the power of Uncle Sam, which even he -dared not refuse to honor. But he and Barrows both swore that they had -seen nothing of Jim Phillips, and that he was certainly not then on -board. They seemed willing, even eager, for a search to be made, and the -search was begun at once, with no ceremony. - -But, as it went on, and Barrows and Svenson, with puzzled, but -triumphant looks, followed the Yale men and the officers around, it -became plain that it was bound to be fruitless. Svenson and Barrows, as -a matter of fact, had been over the whole ship, as they thought, for -themselves. They had searched everywhere on the _Marina_ that seemed to -offer a possible hiding place, and when the party finally came on deck -again, the searchers had to apologize to the captain and the offended -Barrows, who talked largely of suits for damages, until Brady stepped up -to him with a scowling face. - -“That’ll be about all from you,” said Bill menacingly. “You may have -fooled us this time, but we know that Phillips was aboard this ship, and -we’re going to get him. When we do, you’d better look out for yourself. -And, if you’ve injured him, or done away with him, the earth won’t be -big enough to keep me from seeing that you’re punished, if it takes a -million dollars to find you.” - -Slowly, angrily, the Yale men and Neilson, with the two deputy marshals, -who seemed to think that they had been brought on a fool’s errand, went -over the side and into the launch. - -“Looks like checkmate,” said Neilson gloomily. “I hope those scoundrels -haven’t hurt Phillips. I say, Merriwell, suppose we postpone the race, -anyhow? I don’t feel like going through with it while things are in this -state.” - -“That’s a last resort,” said Dick gravely. “There are an awful lot of -people here, Neilson, and some of them have come a long way just for -this day. It seems pretty rough on them. Let’s wait a little while, -anyhow.” - -Suddenly there was a tremendous commotion on the deck of the _Marina_. A -man had run up to Svenson and told him something that sent the big -skipper, cursing wildly, in his native Norse tongue, rushing below, and, -at the same time, Dick, accustomed as he was to shipping, saw that -something was very seriously wrong with the schooner. She was settling -by the head. - -“She’s sinking!” he cried. - -Fascinated, they watched for a moment the scene of wild disorder on her -decks. There was no danger for any one on board, for she was going down -slowly, and there was plenty of time for all to leave her. But the -spectacle was remarkable. The crowded harbor was surely a strange -setting for such a wreck. - -“They oughtn’t to let her sink out here,” cried Merriwell. “She’ll block -navigation.” - -“Here’s a tug,” said Neilson, and a minute later two tugs were -struggling to pull the _Marina_ to the side of the channel, where, if -she sank, she would not obstruct the passage of other vessels. They were -just in time. She touched bottom some distance from the eastern shore, -and her masts stuck out of the water. - -Neilson, Brady, and Merriwell looked at one another with one thought -uppermost in all their minds. - -“Phillips?” said Neilson, faltering. “You don’t suppose he could be on -board her somewhere?” - -And the next moment they all three jumped as if a ghost had appeared -before them. For, climbing into the launch from the water, safe and -unharmed, appeared Jim Phillips himself. - -They started to ply him with questions, but Dick interrupted. - -“The first thing to do is to get him to a place where he can get into -dry clothes,” he said. “We’ll drop these gentlemen”—he nodded to the two -marshals—“and then go up the river.” - -“And get me some food, for Heaven’s sake!” cried Jim. “I haven’t had -anything to eat since yesterday morning!” - -They wrapped him in overcoats and sweaters that were in the launch. A -five-minute stop served to put the marshals ashore and to provide hot -coffee and sandwiches for Jim, and then came the swift run to Red Top, -which was nearer than Gale’s Ferry. There Jim was dried and provided -with dry clothes, and, sitting in a comfortable chair, he told his -story. - -“When I got into the hold there,” he said, “I thought I was pretty safe -from being discovered. And I counted on getting out when it was dark, -and swimming ashore. But they were too foxy for me. They didn’t know -where I was, but they figured I must be somewhere on board, and they -made it impossible for me to get away as I had planned. I was pretty -hungry, but I didn’t want to go out and give myself up. I don’t like to -quit when I once start something. - -“Finally I realized that there was only one thing to do. I had my knife, -and I found an old mallet down there that some ship’s carpenter had -lost. So I started in to make a hole in her side. I knew she’d sink, but -I thought that I was justified, seeing the game they were up to. -Moreover, I knew there would be no danger for any of them, for, even -with a big hole in her, a boat of that sort sinks slowly, and I timed it -so they would be out of bed and on deck. - -“I heard what I thought was your crowd going through her this morning, -but I was afraid of taking a chance, for fear that it might be Svenson -and his precious crowd again. So I didn’t call out, though, of course I -was tempted to do it. But I was pretty nearly ready to drop out of the -hole I had made then, though first I had to figure out some way of -preventing the suction from dragging me back. That was something fierce, -and I don’t believe any one could have swum out without rigging up the -sort of a shield I fixed up before I finally got out. But I managed -that, after a while, and then I just got away from her and struck out -under water, so that I wouldn’t come up too soon. I hung on to the -launch for a few minutes after I picked you up, resting and listening to -you.” - -So far they had been too excited over Jim’s remarkable escape and the -pluck and resource he had shown to remember the reason for it all. But -Brady brought them back to that. He knew Jim. - -“I suppose you got what you were after, Jim,” he said quietly. - -“Great Scott!” cried Jim, “I’d forgotten! I should say I did!” - -And he told them of the model shell he had found, with the cunningly -hidden metal in the groove above the keel. - -“It looks to me,” he said, “as if they’d managed to get at those shells. -There’s a magnet coil in each of those motor boats they had.” - -“Come and look at our shell,” cried Neilson. - -Two minutes served to show that Jim’s suspicions had been correct. The -metal was there, under the boat, concealed by the keel. - -“I don’t know how they expected to affect one shell and not the other,” -said Dick Merriwell, “but I suppose they had some means of doing that -worked out. I’m off to Gale’s Ferry to look at our shell. What will you -do, Neilson? I think we’ve got time to get old shells rigged for the -crew. It may mean a slow race, but it ought to be as good for one as for -the other.” - -“Just exactly as good,” said Neilson. “There’s nothing else to do. We -can get them rigged and ready in time, by hard work. And I guess the -race will be just as good—and it will be rowed on its merits, too.” - -“Could they have reached your shell?” Dick Merriwell asked Neilson. - -“Easily,” replied the Harvard coach. “We never have kept any very -special watch on the shells. We’ve guarded them against fire, but we -never supposed that anything else was necessary.” - -“That’s how it was with us,” said Dick. “It could have been done here, -or before we left New Haven. And it’s only sheer good fortune that -enabled us to find it out.” - -“I’m no shark in physics,” said Neilson, “but I suppose that the iron in -the two shells may be magnetized in a different degree, so that one -current in the magnet would attract one shell and not the other.” - -“That seems plausible, anyhow,” said Dick. “They could vary the magnet -by regulating the strength of the current.” - -At Gale’s Ferry, conditions were the same as those that had been -discovered at Red Top. By dint of tremendous work by the riggers and the -coaches, the new shells, or, rather, the old ones, were adjusted to the -men who were to sit in them, and by two o’clock in the afternoon, -without the knowledge of the oarsmen, the change had been effected. The -first race, that between the varsity four-oared crews, was to be rowed -at three o’clock, upstream. The freshman race was to follow at once, and -then, at six o’clock, the great race of the day, between the varsity -eights, was scheduled. - -Jim Phillips, gradually being restored to his full strength, and fearing -no bad effects from his fast and his immersion, stood on the float with -Brady, looking at the gay scene that was developing on the river. Scores -of small boats were about, and the spirit of carnival was in the air. - -“Well, I guess you’ve done your share toward winning this boat race, if -we do win it,” said Bill. “The rest of it is up to the crew.” - -“They’ll win, all right,” said Jim, with supreme confidence. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIII - - THE PLOTTERS REFUSE TO QUIT. - - -One thing both Harvard and Yale could agree on. There couldn’t have been -a better day for the race. The water at the mouth of the Thames never -reaches the degree of mirrorlike smoothness that exists nearly always at -Poughkeepsie, where the other great college boat race is rowed each -year; but the oarsmen get used to the little chop of the water that is -never entirely absent, and don’t mind it at all. - -The day was warm, but not excessively so, and little fleecy clouds, -chasing themselves across the blue sky, showed that the wind was a light -one, quartering over the river from the northwest. That gave the crew -that won the toss, and elected to row the last mile of the race under -the shelter of the bank of the shore by choosing the westerly course, a -slight advantage. Harvard won the toss, and took that course for the two -eight-oared races, leaving it to Yale for the four, but the advantage -was too slight to make it at all likely that it would be a decisive -factor in the race itself. - -The Thames is comparatively narrow, for an American river, at New -London, but there is plenty of room for all the yachts that want to take -up positions along the course. Now a double line of vessels, large and -small, white and black, all gayly decked out with lines of flags, and -bearing, as a rule, a great banner between their masts, to show whether -their owners loved best the blue of Yale or the crimson of Harvard, was -stretched along the river from the finishing point, near Gale’s Ferry, -down to the navy yard, two miles away. There was no room for yachts at -the finish itself, except on the outside, or eastern side of the course, -but they were packed there in glorious array. The big white steam yacht -that carried the judges of the finish was anchored directly opposite the -finishing line itself, which was marked by two flags, and on board of -her were the men who were to give the word for firing the guns that -marked the finish, first for the winners, then for the losers. - -Up and down the course, racing excitedly from one point to another, went -the referee’s boat, with Billy Meikleham, the veteran Columbia oarsman, -who had for years been the arbiter of all possible disputes between Yale -and Harvard crews, standing in the bow with his megaphone, and stopping -at Gale’s Ferry and Red Top to assure himself that all was well with the -two crews, and that they were ready for the great race. - -In New London, every train was adding to the crowds that surged through -all the streets near the station. Pretty girls in abundance flaunted the -crimson or the blue. Bill Brady, surveying them as he looked for his own -party, decided that all the prettiest ones wore the blue, as was only -proper, in his eyes. Bowen, the Harvard baseball captain, who bore no -ill-feeling for the defeat of his team, and had come up to see the race, -disagreed with Brady, but Angell, the former Michigan runner, who, after -a year at Yale, was going back to finish his course at Michigan, said he -was impartial now, and voted for the Yale girls. - -The great problem of the early part of the day was getting something to -eat. New London, if you visit it at an off season, when there isn’t a -boat race on, will entertain you royally. The hotels will strike you as -excellent, the food as both cheap and plentiful. But it is different on -boat-race day. Then, at the hotels, they establish a line for the dining -room early in the morning, and people wait for an hour or two before -they can get in at all. However, no one minds minor privations of that -sort. - -Down by the station, crowded all day, as parties of friends united or -came all together by the arriving trains, all eyes turned first to the -two great observation trains. One of the things that makes the New -London course the finest in the world for a boat race, is the fact that -there is a railroad on each side of the river, so that two trains at -once can be drawn along to provide moving grand stands for the -spectators, who can thus see every stroke that is pulled in the race. -There are about forty cars on each train, flat freight cars, with a -section of seats, like those in the bleachers of a baseball field, built -on each, and a canvas awning over the seats to protect the spectators -from sun and rain, if the weather man is unkind enough to let it rain on -boat-race day, which, to do him full justice, he very seldom is. - -Presently these trains, with an engine at each end of them, would pull -out, loaded to their utmost capacity with pretty girls and excited men, -a mass of waving color, riotous in the bright sunlight, with cheers -rocking them from end to end. But that was to come later. In the morning -they simply served as reminders of the great race that was to come. - -But it wasn’t all joy in New London. To most of those who had seen or -heard of it, the sinking of the _Marina_ was a mysterious incident, to -be discussed for a few minutes, and then forgotten. But to Svenson, -Barrows, and their companions it was a stunning blow, almost crushing in -its effect, and utterly inexplicable. They had no difficulty in making -their escape from the sinking vessel, and, safe, but bewildered and -furious, had fore-gathered some time later at an obscure and dirty -saloon in a low part of the town. - -“That’s that devil Phillips,” said Barnes, with a certain gloomy -satisfaction. “I told you you were making a fool of yourself, Barrows. -He’s been too clever for you.” - -Svenson, who had been drinking as fast as his glass could be -replenished, was in a furious rage. - -“What about my boat?” he cried furiously. “It will cost a thousand -dollars to make her seaworthy again. And there’s no insurance.” - -“Never mind your boat,” said Barrows. “We’ll clean up enough to fix her -up, and we’ll divide the cost equally.” - -“Clean up nothing,” said Barnes sarcastically. “You’re skunked, Barrows. -Your scheme is knocked into a cocked hat. Don’t you know enough to know -when you’re beaten?” - -“Beaten?” cried Barrows. “I guess not. We didn’t need the _Marina_ to -put that through. We’ll be all right, I tell you. The plan goes through -without any change at all. Everything will work all right. There’s no -way they can have got on to us. It’s a bad thing that Phillips, if he -was the one, got away, and worse that he sank the _Marina_, if he did. -And I suppose he must have. But there’s no reason why we should curl up -and quit like a lot of whipped curs.” - -“Have it your own way,” said Barnes, with a sneer. “All I know is that -old Bill Harding expected something of this very sort to happen. He’s a -wise guy, Bill. He’s well out of this, and he saw that early in the -game.” - -“Do you seriously think there’s a chance to put it through still?” asked -the trembling Dennison, who had joined them in the saloon. “I thought it -was all up when I heard you had lost the _Marina_.” - -“Why should it be?” asked Barrows, with a curse. “We’ve still got the -motor boats, haven’t we? I’ll take one of them, Svenson another, and -Bascom, the wireless man, the third. Bascom’s all right. He’s down, -watching the boats now. I guess we can make that race come out just -about as we want, even now.” - -“Who wants to quit?” snarled Svenson. “I’ve got to put this through now, -or I’ll never get the money for my boat. I don’t suppose any of you -cheap skates are going to make that up to me unless I do it for myself. -And you’ve forgotten the other thing, too, Barrows.” - -“I haven’t forgotten,” said Barrows. “But I’m the only one who can work -that. Barnes, I thought you had some nerve. I didn’t think you had a -yellow streak big enough to make you quit at the first sign of trouble. -That’s not the way you used to work for Harding.” - -“I’m no quitter,” said Barnes, flushing. “You’re up against a cold deal -here, but I’ll stand in with you to the finish. What do you want me to -do?” - -“Take one of the motor boats,” said Barrows. “You know how to work that -end of it. That will leave me free in case anything goes wrong with that -plan.” - -“All right,” said Barnes. “Count me in. Are you going to monkey with the -two early races—the freshman and the four, or will you stick to the big -race?” - -“Just the big race,” said Barrows, looking satisfied. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIV - - WON IN THE LAST STROKES. - - -Jim Phillips, in the light of the surprising discovery of the loaded -keels of the two shells, had not forgotten what he had seen on the -marked map. As he went down the river before the four-oared race, which -was to start at the bridge, he looked eagerly at the points along the -course that had been indicated on the map, but he could see nothing to -arouse suspicion. However, that did not fully convince him that they had -drawn all the teeth of the plotters by changing the shells in which the -race was to be rowed. It was unlikely that there would be any attempt to -interfere with the minor races—Barrows and his crowd would, undoubtedly, -confine themselves to the varsity contest. - -The three Yale coaches, with Jim Phillips and Bill Brady as specially -invited guests, were in the _Elihu Yale_ to watch the race between the -four-oared shells, following behind the referee’s boat, so as not to -interfere in any way with the oarsmen. The four, though it had been -under the general supervision of Dick Merriwell, like all the other -crews, had been the especial charge of Hargreaves, who was very proud of -the quartet he had trained, and fully confident of their ability to beat -the Harvard crew, although the latter had been a favorite up to the very -hour of the race, being the same crew that had established a new record -for two miles for four-oared crews the year before. - -At the sound of the referee’s pistol, Harvard got away slightly in the -lead, rowing fast and at a high stroke. But Hargreaves had coached his -men for just such a start. He was not afraid of any lead Harvard got in -the first mile, and the Yale four, rowing in perfect form, was content -to keep its own pace and let Harvard open up clear water before the -first flags were reached. The Harvard enthusiasts in the two trains were -wild with delight, for it looked like an easy victory for Harvard. But, -at the mile flags, the aspect of the race began to change. The Harvard -crew was rowing as well as ever, but Yale began rapidly to overhaul it, -and soon the twinkling space of clear water was wiped out. Inch by inch, -then, Yale crept up, and a quarter of a mile from the finish there was a -tremendous Yale cheer as the prow of the Yale shell showed in front for -the first time in the race. - -It was hammer and tongs then to the finish, but Yale had the pace of the -Harvard boat, and, when the first gun boomed out, it was as Yale crossed -the line, winner of a desperate race by a margin of less than two -seconds—half a length or less. It wasn’t much, but it was a victory. -First blood for Yale, and a good omen for the bigger race later on. - -“Good work!” said Merriwell, as the coaching launch swept up alongside -the tired oarsmen, who were splashing each other and looking lovingly at -the shirts their friendly rivals had tossed them. “That’s the idea—show -the varsity how to win.” - -But there was little time for talk. The four-oared crews got their -breath, then paddled over to the eastern shore and swung up together, to -reach the finish of the course and see how the freshmen fared. And the -freshmen eight-oared crews, ready for their own two-mile race, were -awaiting the referee’s gun. It came, and the race began. - -But this wasn’t a race very long. Harvard started well enough, and was -always game, but the Yale freshmen were a remarkable crew, and they won -as they pleased, with ten lengths of open water behind them and before -the Harvard crew at the finish. - -Yale’s enthusiasm was unlimited. Here was the best of starts. Now every -Yale rooter on the trains was shouting for a clean sweep of the river, -for the winning of all three races. It had been done before—why -shouldn’t Dick Merriwell’s crews repeat the feat? - -Harvard was grimly determined. True, two races were gone beyond recall, -but the biggest one of all remained. If the big varsity crew could win, -the defeats in the minor races would be forgotten. Yale was welcome to -them—if only Harvard’s crimson waved triumphant at the end of the -greatest contest of all. - -Jim Phillips was very thoughtful as the launch went back to quarters -after the freshman race. The varsity oarsmen, who were elated by the -result of the first two races, were all ready now for their own test. -They were superbly confident of their ability to finish the task the -others had begun so well. But Jim himself was consumed by anxiety. He -could not believe that that map had had no sinister meaning. And Barrows -had impressed him as a man not likely, if care could prevent accident, -to leave anything to chance. - -Finally he told Dick Merriwell of the map. - -“I’ve decided what to do,” he said. “Brady’s people have a hydroplane -here that can make thirty-five miles an hour easily, and I know enough -about that sort of boat to run it. It’s impossible to tell which of -those marked places is the danger spot, but I should say the one nearest -the finish. They won’t know until late in the race that their magnet -coil won’t work. Now, if I have that hydroplane, I can run right along -behind or level with the race, and make sure that there’s no mischief -afoot. How does that strike you?” - -“It’s a good plan,” said Dick. “But be careful. Don’t take any more wild -chances. Remember that I’d rather lose this race and every other that -I’m ever going to be interested in, than see anything happen to you.” - -“I’m safe enough,” said Jim, with a laugh. “But I’ll be careful, too. -You needn’t worry.” - -The hydroplane was down the river, near the starting point, and Jim went -immediately to get aboard, the _Elihu Yale_ carrying him down. It was -five o’clock, and in an hour the race would begin. So Jim felt there was -no time to lose. But, to get a last look, he tore up the course in the -hydroplane, startling every one by the swift rush of the tiny boat with -the huge engine, which skimmed along, half out of the water, and kicking -up a tremendous wash. - -Coming back, he slowed down, and looked most carefully for any signs of -danger at the third point marked on the map, near Red Top. But there was -none. Further down he saw the three motor boats that had belonged to the -_Marina_, and recognized Svenson and Barnes with a chuckle. They, at -least, were harmless, he reflected, no matter what they might think of -their power to affect the outcome of the race. It was just as well they -didn’t know, he decided, that their plan had been defeated. - -When he returned to the starting point, the two crews were already -there, climbing gingerly out of the coaching launches and into the frail -shells that were to carry them in the race. Getting aboard a racing -shell from a launch is a delicate affair, but these men were all -practiced in the art, and when the referee’s boat finally steamed into -position behind the stake boats, the two crews were already there, -aligned for the start, with a man in each stake boat, holding the stern -of the shell before him. - -Jim had to forego much of a sight of the start. He had to edge far over -to the eastern shore with his noisy, tempestuous little craft, and the -yachts were in his way. But, as he hung there, below the railroad -bridge, he heard the sharp crack of the pistol, then a mighty roar from -the train on the bridge above him, and he knew that they were off. - -Swiftly, keeping well ahead of the oarsmen, but going not more than half -speed, even so, to reduce the wash, Jim shot his hydroplane to the mile -mark, and looked to see if there was any explanation there of the mark -on the map. There was none. He would look at the course here, and he -edged over as near as he could. He could not suppress a cry of joy at -what he saw. The two racing shells were speeding toward him, and Yale -led. - -Yale was ahead by nearly a quarter of a length—a great margin in such a -race. On the other side of the course he could see one of the _Marina’s_ -motor boats, but he did not recognize its passenger. All the same, he -laughed. - -“He’s on the wrong side of the course,” he reflected. “He’s nearer to -Harvard.” - -The man in the motor boat stood up to get a better view, and then Jim, -who was equipped with a powerful glass, saw him bend over and throw a -switch. There was not the slightest effect on the progress of either of -the shells, and the man in the motor boat, looking astonished and -distressed, stood up again. Jim laughed again, but he could not wait. -Again he sped up ahead of the shells, and, at the navy yard, Yale still -led by about the same margin as at the mile. It was still a race that -either crew might win. They had settled down to a steady pace now, -rowing about thirty-four strokes to the minute, and Jim knew, as well as -the oarsmen themselves, that the crucial phase of the struggle had not -yet arrived. - -They were waiting for the last mile, in which, when crews that are so -evenly matched as were these two, met, the issue is nearly always -decided. Yale had the advantage, for she was ahead, and so could wait -for Harvard to challenge her lead. All the blue needed for a victory was -to hold her own. Now, when the final test came, it was for Yale to meet -each added Harvard stroke, to come back with an extra pound of power for -every one that Harvard applied, and so maintain her slender lead. - -Once they were past the navy yard, and halfway through the race, Jim -called sharply to the mechanic who was behind him. - -“Take the wheel, now,” he said. “Keep her as I tell you. I don’t know -what I may have to do, but I want to be ready for anything that comes -along.” - -Barrows’ last chance to interfere with the race would soon be at hand, -as Jim well knew. Two of the places marked on the map had been passed, -but the third remained, and Jim felt that there matters would be -decided. He was willing to see Harvard win fairly, though it would -disappoint him. But he was not going, if there was any way in which he -could prevent it, to allow a crooked scheme to destroy Yale’s chances. - -Now the red buildings of Red Top showed close before him, and the yachts -were growing more numerous as the finish line approached. He kept his -eyes wide open, and at last he saw what he was looking for. In front of -him, but nearer the course than he was himself, was a small boat, an -ordinary launch, such as can be cheaply hired at any seashore resort. -And in the launch, shading his eyes as he stood up and peered eagerly -down the course, was Barrows. - -“Get as close as you can to that launch,” Jim commanded. And the -hydroplane, going very slowly now, crept up. The racing boats were still -a quarter of a mile away. Jim could not be sure, but it looked as if -Yale still led—as if Harvard had not yet begun her final attempt to cut -down that tiny lead. - -Jim, studying Barrows closely, saw him looking in surprise and anger at -the crews that were approaching. Then the gambler’s face lighted up, and -Jim, following his gaze, saw the third of the _Marina’s_ motor boats, -containing Svenson, behind him. He had missed her as he came up the -river. - -Svenson bent down and threw his switch. But, of course, there was no -effect on the Yale crew. Barrows threw up his hands with a gesture of -anger, then dropped swiftly below the gunwale of his launch. Jim could -not see what he was doing, but he stood up in his own frail craft, tense -and poised for anything that might be needful. - -And then, just as the two shells were abreast of him, Barrows lifted -something over the side of the craft and dropped it into the water. - -Like a flash, at Jim’s sharp order, the hydroplane shot forward twenty -yards, then stopped, as Jim dived over and came upon the thing that -Barrows had launched toward the Yale crew. Under the water, he turned -its course, and a moment later saw it strike, harmlessly, against the -side of the launch whence it had started. It was a miniature torpedo, -containing no explosive, and run and steered by clockwork. Jim had seen -them before, used in shipyards as models. He knew how to stop the -mechanism, and in a moment he had it in the hydroplane, and was tearing -up to the finish to see the result of the race. - -It was a magnificent drive that Harvard made. But Yale met every attempt -to rob her of her hard-won lead, and, in time that was a new record for -the course, Yale shot over the line a winner, less than two seconds -before the second gun boomed for the Harvard crew, beaten, but game to -the end, after one of the greatest races ever rowed. - -“Here was Barrows’ last card,” said Jim, after the race, when every one -was back at Gale’s Ferry. “This thing is a model torpedo. It’s worked by -clockwork, and it would have made an awful mess of our shell. It -wouldn’t have damaged it much, but it would have thrown the men off -their stroke, and would certainly have cost us the race.” - -So the scheme that Barrows had evolved was spoiled. Svenson lost his -boat; Dennison and Barrows lost the money they had put up, and they had, -moreover, to admit that Harding had been right. - -As for Jim, among those who learned of the way in which he had saved -Yale from defeat, he was more popular than ever. And one of those most -hearty in his congratulations was Neilson, the Harvard coach, who took -defeat splendidly, and simply said he hoped for better luck the next -time the crews met. - -Dick Merriwell, on his return to New Haven with the team, hinted slyly -that there would be one more baseball game to conclude the season. The -men of the team were curious, and asked who the game was to be played -with, but Dick was noncommittal and merely said to them: - -“Wait!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXV - - BOSTON WANTS ITS REVENGE. - - -A good many Yale men returned to New Haven after the boat race at New -London. The college year was over, it was true, but there was still -plenty to do around the old college town, and Yale men are particularly -loyal to the campus. They hate to go away, especially in the pleasant -warm days of June. Packing for the trip home for the long vacation is -made to consume several days, as a rule, and there were odds and ends of -various tasks to be completed. - -The last weeks of the spring term had been so eventful, and so -thoroughly filled with exciting athletic events, that Jim Phillips, the -newly elected varsity baseball captain, and a number of his friends, -found that they had no choice about returning. - -So they were there, in Jim’s rooms in York Street, when the little -gathering was thrown into a state of pleasurable surprise by the -entrance of Dick Merriwell, the universal coach, under whose tutelage -Yale teams had just completed the greatest year of athletic triumphs in -the history of the college. - -“I see you can’t keep away,” he said, laughing. “It is a hard place to -get away from. I’ve found that out a good many times before any of you -ever came here to college at all.” - -“I thought you were going up to Maine,” said Bill Brady. “That was what -we heard after the boat race.” - -“So I am,” said Dick. “But that’s later. There’s a whole lot to be done -yet before I can get up there. Things that won’t keep. My business up in -Maine will do very well when I get back from Stockholm.” - -Jim Phillips sat up in sudden interest, and Bill Brady groaned -comically. - -“Were you serious in what you said at New London, Mr. Merriwell?” asked -Jim. “Is there really a chance for some of us to get taken to Sweden on -the Olympic team?” - -“There’s a good deal more than a chance,” said Dick. “It’s rapidly -becoming a matter of sheer patriotism for some of us to go. America has -won every Olympic meet that has been held, you know, since the first -revival of the old games at Athens in eighteen-ninety-six. That was the -first time our athletes ever were taken seriously on the other side. -They thought the little team we sent over for that meet was a joke. No -one regarded us as serious competitors for the Englishmen. But we beat -them there; we beat them in Athens again in nineteen-six, as we did in -Paris in nineteen hundred, and you all know how our fellows cleaned up -the meet in London in nineteen-eight.” - -“Tempest, of course, we all expected to go,” said Harry Maxwell, who was -strictly out of Olympic discussions. He was a good baseball player, but -not in line for any track or field events. - -“I know Tempest is the best sprinter in America,” said Dick, “and I’m -inclined to think that he’s the best short-distance runner, up to the -quarter mile, in the world. But there are several men here who can do -good work. You, Brady, ought to shine in the hammer-throwing event. Jim, -I expect you to try for the broad jump, certainly, and perhaps for some -other events. And I think I’ll go into training myself.” - -Dick Merriwell was no longer eligible to compete for Yale, but that he -was out of college did not at all bar him from the Olympic games. Jim -and some of the others had forgotten that fact. They were so used to -regarding Dick as the master coach that they were likely to forget that -this knowledge of all sorts of sports had been gained by active practice -of them. He was a practical expert, as well as a master of theory. - -“I say,” said Brady, sitting up, “I guess those Swedes are going to -learn a few things about American athletics, even this year. What?” - -“It’s going to be a mighty close meet,” said Dick. “The Anglo-Saxon race -has been at the top of the heap a long time, but some of the other -nations are beginning to wake up. They’ve got a fine jumper in Germany; -the Swedes have great long-distance runners, and you want to remember -that an Italian won the half-mile race at the last meet. Another Italian -won the Marathon, but he was disqualified, too. This isn’t going to be a -dual meet between England and America by a good deal. It will be a whole -lot more.” - -The talk continued along these lines for a few minutes. Then Dick -Merriwell spoke up again. - -“I didn’t come in to talk about the Olympics, though,” he said. “There’s -time enough for that. But there’s something a lot nearer home. I was -noncommittal about this matter the other day when you asked me about it, -but now I am going to tell you all about it. You fellows may remember -that we had a game here a while ago between the New Haven Country Club -and the Boston Athletic Association, in which Jim Phillips pitched. -Well, the Boston people weren’t very keen about taking their licking -without trying to come back at us, and they’ve challenged for another -game. They’ve got practically the whole Harvard team as members, and -Briggs and Bowen will be their battery. They think it would be -interesting if another game was arranged, with as many Yale players as -possible playing for New Haven. It would really, if their desires were -met, be practically another Harvard-Yale game. - -“I promised to see what could be done, and the country club people -appointed me to act as captain of a team, if it could be picked. I may -play myself—I haven’t played a real game of ball for some time. What do -you say?” - -The suggestion met with an enthusiastic response. - -“You fellows never will let well enough alone,” said Woeful Watson, -bound to be pessimistic. The idea that his classmates and friends were -enthusiastic over any idea was enough to set Watson against it. “You -licked them once. Now they’re asking for another chance, when they’ll -know what they’re up against, and you’re all ready to give it to them. -Foolish, I call it.” - -But they were far too accustomed to Watson’s peevish ways to be even -disturbed, much less influenced, by his croaking. Instead, all the -baseball players there began at once discussing the arrangements for the -game. - -“I’m delighted to have another chance with Briggs,” said Jim Phillips. -“The first game, up at Cambridge, was all right, but there was a lot of -luck about the way we won that second one, down in New York. I’d like to -run up against Briggs some time when conditions were exactly right.” - -“I don’t mind playing baseball,” agreed Brady. “But this talk about -throwing the hammer or putting the shot gets on my nerves. I think I’ll -fake when it comes to the trials, and then they won’t have me, anyhow.” - -“Come off, you old faker!” said Jim affectionately. “You know you’ll -work your head off, when it’s a case of doing something for the flag. -That’s even bigger than a chance to work for Yale. Only a few of us in -this country are Yale men, after all, but we’re all Americans; and in -these days, when war’s going out of fashion, games are the only means of -keeping up the old international rivalries.” - -“That’s true,” said Dick Merriwell, “and it shows that we’re really -getting civilized. In the old days, when a nation’s blood got hot, the -way it’s bound to, sometimes, the only way of letting off steam was for -a lot of people to go out and kill a lot of other people they didn’t -have any grudge against at all. Now they send their picked men, and race -or jump with the other people, and it’s all settled in a friendly way. I -think the peace funds ought to be used in promoting international -athletics. The one thing that’s done more than anything else to reduce -interest in prize fighting is the spread of all sorts of amateur -athletics.” - -“You’re not opposed to boxing, are you, Mr. Merriwell?” asked Harry -Maxwell, who knew that the universal coach was himself an expert boxer, -and had taught Jim Phillips nearly, if not all, that the pitcher knew -about the art of self-defense. - -“Not to boxing, no,” said Dick, with a smile. “But I’m opposed to a good -many phases of modern prize fighting. I think every boy who is to grow -up into a manly, healthy man ought to learn to use his fists. But he -ought to learn to fight without losing his temper, and to take a -licking, when he gets it, in the right way. - -“Professional boxing is all right, too, when it is carried on in the -right way. But nowadays there is too much thinking about the money and -the moving pictures. The game has been brutalized, too, and it ought not -to be allowed when it is not properly controled by the State or city -government.” - -“About this game,” said Jim Phillips. “If you play, Mr. Merriwell, you -will pitch, I suppose?” - -“No,” said Dick, “I’d rather leave that to you, Jim. My arm may be all -right still, but I haven’t had much practice of late, and I think I’d -rather see you and Briggs fight it out again. Sherman has sailed for -Europe with his family, so there will be a hole to fill at first base. I -think I can play that position still, and that will do very well for me. - -“You and Brady will be the battery; Carter will play third; Jackson -second; Green, of the country club, who was on the team here a few years -ago, short; Maxwell, Brayson, and Tuthill, of the country club, in the -outfield. That will give us a first-class team, I think, and I doubt if -the Boston people can put a better one in the field. I’ll telegraph -Bowen to-night that we can play. We ought to have neutral grounds, I -think, and the New Haven league team will let us use their park.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVI - - THE GAMBLER’S TRAP. - - -There were others in New Haven as well as the Yale athletes who had been -obliged to return. Foote, the associate of Parker in the attempt to -prevent Yale from winning the big series with Harvard, was one of them. - -Foote had neglected his work sadly in the last term. And now his father, -who would otherwise have shown leniency toward such an offense, had told -him that unless, by hard work in the summer, with attendance at the Yale -summer school to help him, he conformed to all his conditions, he would -have to go to work, and shift for himself in the fall. - -“I’ve made a mistake with you, my boy,” his father had said to him. “I -supposed you were old enough to be allowed a certain liberty, and I find -that you’ve been abusing it. I realize that it’s partly my own fault. -You’ve had too much liberty and too much money to spend. - -“That’s going to stop. I’ll give you a chance to mend your ways and make -good from now on; but there must be no skulking and no more crooked -work. You’re young yet, and you can live down the mistakes you’ve made. -But you’ve got to settle down and help yourself; for, if you don’t, -neither I nor any one else can do it for you.” - -Foote took his father’s kindly warning in the wrong spirit, as he had -the efforts of Jim Phillips and Dick Merriwell to set him on the right -path after his outrageous treatment of them. He felt that he was -misunderstood and abused, and his mother, a weak and foolish woman, -simply helped to keep him in the wrong path. She thought, as mothers -will, that her son was about the best son on earth, and she was sure -that if he had made mistakes it was because he had been led astray. -Finding her arguments of no avail with her husband, she had made the -grave mistake of sympathizing with her boy, and of supplying him, in -secret, with the money which no longer flowed like water from his -father. - -Parker, who had frankly and with a certain degree of manliness, admitted -his fault and made such amends for it as he could, thus winning full -forgiveness from both Dick and Jim, had tried to reason with his former -ally. - -“There’s no use, Paul, old chap,” he said. “We were wrong, and I can see -that now. I didn’t know what you were doing about that freight car, or I -wouldn’t have stood for it, but I didn’t make any effort to get out of -it on that score. I admitted that I was just as much to blame as you -were, and I straightened myself out with Merriwell and Phillips. - -“Why don’t you go to them and start a new deal? You’ll find them willing -to forget the past, and they’re better people than the ones we’ve been -running with. That’s a rotten crowd—that gambling, drinking set. They -don’t stand by you when you’re in trouble.” - -“You can quit and be good if you want to,” said Foote, sneering. “As for -me, when I start something, I see it through, if there’s any way that it -can be done. Those fellows have won the first deal. But there’s more -coming, and I guess I’ll land on top before I’m through. Then they’ll be -sorry they ever got themselves into my bad books.” - -Parker gave him up as hopeless after that. - -On the very same night as that on which Dick Merriwell and his friends -arranged the details of the team that was to play against Boston, Foote -left his rooms and went to a gambling house in New Haven, whose owner -had grown rich on the money he had made by plucking foolish Yale men, -who had more money than was good for them. Foote had played roulette -there more than once, and he had been allowed to win just often enough -to encourage him to keep on in the hope of making a big killing some -day. There he had spent and thrown away money given to him for the -payment of his college bills for clothes and books. - -Despite his generous allowance, he was always in debt, and his father, -although his eyes had been opened by the story of the exploit with the -freight car, had no suspicion of the way his boy had been squandering -his money. Now that there had been a partial exposure, Foote lived in -constant fear that his creditors, by appealing to his father for -payment, would reveal what he had managed thus far to keep hidden; and, -having some money that his mother had sent him, he decided to try to -double the sum at least, instead of using it to appease the most -insistent of his creditors: his tailor and his shoemaker. - -It wasn’t much of a place that Foote went to. Many people who have never -seen the inside of a gambling house think that they are veritable -palaces, but that is not often so. There may have been a few such -places, years ago, at Saratoga, at Long Branch, and even in New York. At -Monte Carlo, and a few other protected and legalized gambling places in -Europe, the fittings are very luxurious. But it is not so in this -country, as a rule. - -In this house, in the business part of New Haven, cunningly arranged so -that any one passing in the street would have been far from suspecting -its nature, Foote was ushered—after passing the rigid inspection of the -man at the door—into a large room, the air of which was heavy with stale -smoke. - -At one end were three tables arranged for roulette, with a tired, -heavy-eyed man idly twirling the balls around at one of them. The season -was practically over, with the ending of the college year, and soon the -gamblers would flit to other parts, where new victims were to be found. -In another part of the room was a buffet, with a few bottles of whisky, -and some unappetizing sandwiches. Some pictures of stage favorites were -on the walls, and that represented the whole effort to make the place -luxurious and attractive. Only foolish boys like Foote, without the -sense to penetrate the sham and pretense of the place, could be deceived -by such methods. - -A short, dark man, with a bulldog jaw and a pair of watery eyes, stepped -forward to greet Foote when he appeared in the gambling room. - -“How are you, Mr. Foote?” he said, with little attempt to be pleasant. -Foote had been plucked for about all he was worth, and Marsten, the -gambler, knew that very well. It was his business to make no mistakes in -such matters. And, according to his lights, he was a good business man. -“I hear you’ve been getting into trouble,” he continued. “Bucking up -against the pride of the Y. M. C. A.—Mr. Merriwell?” - -The gamblers who infested New Haven hated Dick Merriwell because they -knew that his influence among Yale men was all against their trade. Dick -had driven Harding, one of their number, from his profitable pastime of -fleecing Yale men at poker, and they knew that, so long as he was in -control of Yale athletics and the most popular man about the college, -their activities would be limited. They had always managed to come out -ahead in their struggles with the Yale faculty, but Dick Merriwell had -proved a far more dangerous opponent. - -Foote was surprised and alarmed at the knowledge of his affairs the -gambler showed. He had supposed his trouble with Merriwell a closely -guarded secret. - -“How did you hear about that?” he flamed out. “You know too much, it -seems to me!” - -“There’s precious little you boys do that doesn’t reach me sooner or -later,” said Marsten, with an evil grin. “If you’d come to me and got -some advice, I might have been able to help you out so that you wouldn’t -have got caught. Now, you see, you’re in bad yourself, and you haven’t -hurt the man you went after. That’s a poor way to do. You took too many -chances.” - -“Well, never mind that,” said Foote. “I came here to take some of your -money away with me. Start the little ball rolling.” - -“Hold on a bit,” said Marsten. “I’ve got a lot of your paper now, my -buck, and I’d like to see some of your cash before I go in any deeper.” - -“You’ve seen all I’ve had since Easter,” said Foote bitterly. “However, -I’ve got two hundred and fifty here to play with to-night. Will that -satisfy you?” - -“Right-o!” said Marsten. “Hand it over, and you can go up to four -hundred to-night on the strength of it. If you use up this little wad, -you can sign a note for the rest.” - -Foote played cautiously at first, and won a little. Then he lost, and, -playing more recklessly, soon struck a losing vein that he could not -seem to escape. Had he been as wise as he thought himself, he would have -known that he did not have a chance; that a wire was concealed in the -table leg, and that the man behind the wheel, by touching various -buttons beneath his feet, which were hidden by the carpet, could make -the ball fall so that he could not win. - -The last of his money and his extended credit was exhausted before -midnight. And, plead as he would, Marsten would not let him play any -more on credit. He had thought to mend his fortune; he was, instead, -deeper in debt than ever. - -“See here,” said Marsten brutally, “I can’t wait any longer for my -money. Either you pay me up within a week or I go to your father with -your notes. You can’t defend against them on the ground that they’re for -gambling debts. You fixed that when you signed them.” - -Foote was terror-stricken. - -“I can’t get the money,” he pleaded. “If you give me time, you’ll be -paid. You’ll ruin me if you go to my father. And he’ll fight to the end -before he pays them.” - -“He’ll pay them, all right,” said Marsten grimly. “He won’t want all -this in the papers. And as to its ruining you, you ought to have thought -of that before you ran into debt. That’s not my lookout, you know.” - -“You said you’d never use them that way,” said Foote. “You told me that -signing the papers was only a matter of form.” - -“That’s when I thought you were square and meant to pay if you lost,” -said the gambler mercilessly. “I’ve given you plenty of time. There -aren’t many would have treated you as well. You’d better get ready to -pay up, for I shan’t change my mind. You’re a piker—a bum sport. I hate -your kind.” - -“Here, go easy on the kid, Bunny,” said a new voice, that of a man, who, -sitting in a darkened part of the room, had not been noticed before by -Foote. “I like his looks. He looks as if he had plenty of nerve. Why not -give him a chance?” - -Marsten spun around and faced the speaker. - -“Go ahead,” he said. “If you think so well of him, talk to him. If you -want to guarantee his notes, I’ll hold off a while longer.” - -“This is Mr. Barrows,” Marsten said then to Foote, by way of -introduction. “You’re in luck if he’s taken a shine to you. He can pull -you out, if any one can. You’d better see what he wants.” - -Foote was too relieved at the sign of a chance for escape to think of -how obviously prearranged the whole scene was. - -“Are you game to go in with me on a big deal, kid?” asked Barrows. “If -you help me to pull it off, I’ll pay up your notes here and give you -five hundred beside. How does that strike you?” - -“I’ll do anything,” said Foote. “I can’t let my father hear of this. -He’d turn me off without a cent. I know he would. He’s down on me -already, and this would be the last straw. I’m game for anything you -want me to do.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVII - - SPITE PROVES TOO STRONG. - - -The appearance of Barrows in New Haven was due to the failure of his -great coup at New London, when, instead of winning a great sum as the -result of his plan to cause the defeat of Yale in the annual boat race -with Harvard, he had been disastrously defeated by Dick Merriwell and -Jim Phillips, who had spoiled all his most cherished plans, and dealt -him a severe blow. - -“What happened to you, Pete?” asked Marsten, after Foote, committed to -the service of Barrows, had left the gambling house. “I thought you were -all fixed. The way I heard it you had a gold mine in that race. I wanted -to get in on it with you, but I didn’t hear about it in time.” - -“Good thing you didn’t,” said Barrows. “You’ve got more money now than -you would have had if you’d tried to horn in on that game. It was -something fierce, Johnny. Harding warned me of Merriwell and his crowd, -but I don’t know yet how they got onto us. We’ve lost Stevenson’s boat -for him, and he swears he’s going to shoot me the first time he sees me. -He’s mad enough to do it, too, specially if he gets drunk.” - -“What are you going to do now?” asked Marsten. - -“Rustle for a stake,” said Barrows bitterly. “I’m cleaned out, Johnny. -That business at New London set me back about six thousand. It was the -worst thing I ever bumped into. And the worst of it all is Harding. He -warned us before we went into it, and now he’s gone around New York, -blowing about it and telling every one how this bunch of kids broke up -my game. I’m afraid to show up there broke. They’d laugh at me for a -month.” - -“Being broke is tough, Pete,” said Marsten. “I’d like to help you out, -but I’m on my uppers myself. Lots of paper, but precious little of the -ready cash.” - -“I don’t want anything from you,” said Barrows. “You’re all right, -Johnny. But I’m not borrowing. Never did—unless I was down to hardpan. -And I’ve got a couple of hundred in my belt still. That’s enough to work -a game I’ve got in mind. What I want is a couple of rooms here for a day -or two. I’ve got the cleverest guy working in with me now you ever saw. -He’s a chap called Bascom, that used to be a wireless operator on a -liner. He never could make his fingers behave around the money drawer. -That’s what started him with me. But as an electrical expert, he’s got -Tesla and all those people lashed to the mast. He’s the one that doped -out the stunt with the electromagnet. He’s wise, all right. Now we’ve -got to do a little strong-arm work. Tell me about the banks here. Ain’t -there some trusted teller or cashier that’s been bucking your game?” - -“Sure there is,” said Marsten. “Riggs, paying teller of the Elm -National. I’ve been watching him pretty close. He’s been playing here -for a year, pretty easy. But I’ve been getting ready to string him along -for a big play. He’s made it now. Not the wheel—he’s too clever for -that. The races are his lay. He’s got a thousand of the bank’s money -now, and if I say the word he’ll have to jump through a hoop. He knows -blame well I’ve got the goods on him.” - -“Fine and dandy!” said Barrows. “That is all I need. We can pull this -off all right. Safe as a church, Johnny, and if you let us use your -place here, you divvy a quarter of the loot with us. Say, if the banks -in this country knew as much about Bascom as I do, they’d pay him a -hundred thousand a year to go and live in the Sandwich Islands—and -they’d be saving money at that.” - -“What’s the idea of using this fool kid Foote?” asked Marsten, who -hadn’t agreed yet to do what Barrows wanted. The idea of some easy -money, no matter how it was obtained, appealed to Marsten, but he wanted -all the details. - -“I heard you talkin’ to him about a row he had with this Merriwell,” -said Barrows. “Johnny, my reputation is at stake. I’ve not only got to -get a bank roll—I’ve got to do Merriwell up, good and proper. I haven’t -doped out the way to do it yet, but that will come later. And I figure -this kid will fit into my plans pretty nicely. You can hold off on him -till I get through using him, can’t you? I won’t need him very long, if -I use him at all. Then you can do what you like with him, for all I -care.” - -“Anything to oblige a pal,” said the accommodating Mr. Marsten. “Finish -up with him as soon as you can. I think I can bleed his dad for the -notes I hold. That’s about three thousand, and it will come in handy. -Looks like a long, hot summer, with darned few pickings.” - -“You can spend it on a private yacht at the north pole if this game goes -through,” boasted Barrows, “on your share of the winnings. The way I -figure it, we’re due to cop off a couple of hundred thousand at least. -And there won’t be a chance of a come-back, either—not for a long time. -We can make a clean get-away.” - -“Talk’s cheap,” said Marsten sententiously. “Come across with the goods. -I don’t play with my eyes shut. I want to see the whole hand laid out. -Then I’ll decide whether I want it or not.” - -“All right,” said Barrows. “I don’t mind telling you—but remember, -you’re going to forget it as soon as you’ve heard it, see?” - -They talked in low tones for a few minutes after that. At first Marsten -seemed to be incredulous. Then the doubt that showed in his face cleared -away gradually, and he looked as if he were more ready to accept what -Barrows was telling him at its full face value. - -Finally he jumped up and held out his hand. - -“Count me in,” he declared. “It’s the swellest little scheme I ever -heard of. You sure struck a gold mine when you picked up this lad -Bascom. I should think Harding would be green with jealousy when he -hears about it.” - -Barrows’ face darkened. - -“Harding makes me sick,” he growled. “If he’d stuck to me in that last -deal, the trouble would never have hit us, because he’d have recognized -Phillips as soon as he saw him. And now he’s trying to queer me with the -gang. I’m going after him some day, when I get my roll, and you’ll see -the feathers flying then.” - -“Look out that they’re not yours,” said Marsten warningly. “Harding’s -all sorts of a skunk—I’ll admit that. But he’s got a big pull, and he’s -a pretty handy man when any one starts trouble in his neighborhood. And, -say, if I were you, I’d let this chap Merriwell alone. You don’t need to -drag him into this game, and if you do, you’re likely to spoil your -pickings. Why don’t you take what you can get and make your get-away? -You can come back after him some other time. There’s no use spoiling a -good plan just to get revenge. The money’s the thing.” - -“I’ll run this game my own way,” said Barrows. “You’re all right, -Johnny, but you don’t know how it feels to be stuck by a gang like that. -And it’s up to me to come back at him. The way Harding and his gang are -talking, the whole story will be known all over the country in a few -days. I couldn’t go on a track or in a saloon, from here to Seattle, -without getting the laugh from somebody. I’ve got to make good there, or -I’ll lose my pull. Can’t you see how it is?” - -“I guess so,” admitted Marsten. “But, just the same, I think I’d wait.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVIII - - CORRUPTING THE BANK CLERK. - - -In smaller cities, like New Haven, banks are not so thoroughly organized -as in a city like New York or Chicago. There is less business, and the -duties are not divided up with such exactness among the employees. -Moreover, every man employed in a bank like the Elm National, of New -Haven, is known personally to depositors and bank officials alike. All -are trusted, and they have opportunities to do many irregular things, if -they are inclined to take advantage of the chances. - -Riggs, the paying teller of the Elm National, had stolen a thousand -dollars from the bank. He had told himself, as have so many before him, -in similar circumstances, that he was only borrowing the money. He -intended to bet it all on a certain horse, and he was sure the horse -could not lose. Marsten had been the tempter. - -“Sure, I’m giving you the right steer,” Marsten had said. “Ain’t I -always treated you right? You know me. You don’t make that bet with me. -I take your money, and get it down for you in a big room in New York, -just as a favor. If you lose, I don’t get the money, see? It goes to the -room. Now, I tell you this gee-gee is going to win at three to one. If -you win, I expect you to slip me a couple of hundred for the tip, see? -And cheap, at that. Now, who do I want to see win—you, or the pool room? -If you win, I get two centuries. If you lose, I don’t get nothing. -Figure it out for yourself!” - -Riggs could do what he liked with figures, but human nature was too much -for him. He figured it out as Marsten wanted him to, and “borrowed” the -thousand dollars from the bank, intending to replace it a day or two -later, before there was any chance of a discovery of his theft. He was -safe from discovery in any case for three weeks, as he understood -matters, because there would be no inspection of the bank before that -time. So he fell into the trap that has yawned so often before men in a -position like his own, and his love of gambling turned him into a thief. - -The race in which he had wagered this thousand dollars was run, and, to -his horror, his horse, that Marsten had told him was sure to win, ran -last. He could not know that Marsten had simply pocketed the money. In -giving him the tip, Marsten had picked the one horse in the race that -had not one chance in a thousand of winning. - -Had the horse, by some miracle, won, Marsten would have paid the bet out -of his own pocket, knowing that he would get the money back two or three -times over as the result of the inspiriting effect of this one victory. -But the miracle hadn’t occurred—it very seldom does—and poor Riggs, -knowing the truth, and that in a short time he was sure to be branded as -a thief in the town where he had spent his whole life, was almost -determined to end his troubles by suicide. - -Had it not been for the appearance of Barrows with his scheme, Marsten -would have let Riggs kill himself, and would not even have been -conscience-stricken by the act. Gamblers harden themselves to things -that would turn the stomach of the ordinary man if he thought he was -responsible for them. But there was a use for Riggs; so Marsten, -professing great regret, sent for him and gave him a chance to talk to -Barrows. - -“By Jove, Riggs!” he said. “I’m sorry about that. A thing of that sort, -a perfectly straight inside tip, doesn’t go wrong once in a thousand -times. I suppose it was just our bad luck that made us strike the -thousandth time. Better luck next time.” - -“There’ll be no next time for me,” said Riggs, almost crying. “If I -don’t get that thousand back, I’m a ruined man. My heavens, this is -awful!” - -“You don’t mean to say you took the bank’s money?” exclaimed Marsten, as -if the idea were a complete surprise. - -“That’s just what I did,” said Riggs. “You said it was a sure thing, -Marsten. I thought there was no risk at all. Can’t you help me out?” - -“I wish I could,” said Marsten, shaking his head sadly. “I’d do it in a -minute, if I had the money. But I lost pretty heavily on that tip -myself. I thought it was safe, just as you did. However, there may be -some way of working this out. I’ll call a friend of mine here who may be -able to suggest something.” - -And he came back with Barrows. Barrows heard the story with deep -attention. - -“You can’t raise this money, I suppose?” he said. “You haven’t anything -put away?” - -“On my salary?” said Riggs. “I should say not.” - -“That’s just the trouble,” said Barrows. “It’s the fault of the bank, -for not giving a man a living wage. They’ve only themselves to blame if -anything goes wrong like this. That’s what has turned me into a -socialist. When we get control, the men who oppress the poor and make -men work for starvation wages won’t be allowed to keep their ill-gotten -gains. It may be a long time before we can win in a national election. -But in the meantime we are at work quietly. There is an organization -that makes it its business to adjust the balance of wealth in all the -countries of the world. I am at the head of it in this State. The law, -made by capitalists, calls what we take stealing, but that won’t last -long. - -“Perhaps, if you will work with us, we can help you in this matter. We -cannot make the directors of your bank give up their unearned profits, -but we can take them away from them. The money we get is used for the -cause, and no one really suffers. We do not take from the poor. Instead, -we give to them. We help strikes and relieve distress.” - -“Do you mean you’d rob the bank?” asked Riggs, in horror. He had been -too long a banker not to be appalled by such a suggestion. - -“Call it that, if you like,” said Barrows, who was enjoying his task of -playing socialist to fool Riggs, who was an innocent, weak-minded little -man. “That’s what most people would call what I’m suggesting. But you -want to remember that it’s just what you’ve done. Stealing is stealing, -whether you take a thousand dollars or two hundred thousand. And our way -is safe from detection. No one will ever put us in jail—which is what -they will do to you as soon as they find out what you have done.” - -For the first time Riggs seemed to realize where he stood. He had -convinced himself so thoroughly that he was only borrowing, that the -idea that he was a thief was difficult for him to grasp. - -“What do you want me to do?” he asked, shuddering. “I don’t see what -good I can be to you.” - -“We won’t ask you to take a cent,” said Barrows, almost pitying the -little bank clerk, so abject was his terror. “But we’ll need you in the -work of enforcing a division of the spoils of these men you work for, -who are the real robbers. We will want you to tell us all about the -construction of the bank; to give us the combination of the vault and -the safes, if you can, and to help us in other ways. You will be -perfectly safe. The thousand you took will appear to have gone with the -larger sum that we shall take, and I will see that you get, as your -share, another thousand dollars.” - -The fear of arrest hung over Riggs. He could not bear the idea of public -disgrace. At another time he would have been able to see how ridiculous -were the sentiments that Barrows was setting forth. It was not -socialism, except in a distorted and absurd form, that Barrows was -preaching to him. But Riggs wanted to be convinced. He was like a -drowning man, clutching at a straw, and the chance to escape the -detection that had seemed inevitable was too much for him. - -When he had taken the thousand dollars, he had been able to convince -himself that he was not stealing it. He was still, in his own eyes, -honest. His theft, as he saw it, was only technical. And now it was the -same. Before he could agree to what Barrows might demand, he had to -convince himself that his employers had treated him badly, and that in -helping these men to rob them, he was taking part in the fight for human -rights. A thorough weakling, easily impressed and guided by a stronger -will, Riggs did not find it hard to do this. He did not think very long -before agreeing to what Barrows wanted. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIX - - BARROWS LAYS THE MINE. - - -Dick Merriwell, at this time, was full of plans. He was interested in a -lumbering enterprise in the Maine woods, which he had always loved, and -he had talked much to Jim Phillips and Brady, among others, of this -business. One of his associates in this business was Chester Arlington, -the engineer who had won such a brilliant success in Valdivia, to whose -sister, June, Dick was devoted. - -“There has been a terrible waste of our woods,” said Dick. “Out West, -thousands of square miles of forest land has been completely ruined, -long before it was needed for agriculture. One result is that there have -been terrible floods in the spring, and the damage done in that way is -simply irreparable. Then they have cut the wood so unwisely that fire -traps have been made, and millions of dollars and hundreds of lives have -been needlessly lost, as a result. There’s one Yale man who has done a -lot toward teaching people how to use the forests properly—that’s -Gifford Pinchot. And it’s still possible to make money out of the -forests without wasting them and ruining them completely.” - -“That’s mighty interesting work,” said Jim Phillips. “I’d like to get a -closer look at it some time.” - -“I’ll give you the chance,” said Dick, with a laugh. “I’m going up there -as soon as we get back from Sweden, and I shouldn’t wonder if you’d come -in pretty handy. There are some people up there who don’t like me or my -system of using forest lands, and they may try to make trouble. So, if -you want to come along, I’ll be glad to have you, and Brady, too. You’ll -be in fine condition for football after you get through, too, I can -promise you. There’ll be lots of work, and just enough play to keep you -feeling good.” - -“Always talking about work,” said Brady sadly. “Which reminds me, Jim, -that you seem to have lost all idea of how to keep that cross fire of -yours within reach of any catcher whose arms are less than six feet -long. If you’ll get a ball and come out with me, we’ll have a little -lesson in that.” - -And Bill, who was always calling himself lazy, and bemoaning the -necessity of practice before games, wondered at the laugh that went up. -As a matter of fact, he never neglected a chance to perfect a play, no -matter how much practice it required, and he was the first to help Dick -Merriwell in keeping every man on a team up to the mark. - -“You practice better than you preach, Bill,” said Dick Merriwell, much -amused. “I guess you’ll find that Jim will be all right on that ball -when he has to use it in the game. His arm is just a little bit stiff, -that’s all. I wouldn’t do any more work to-day. Just take it easy, and -pitch a little each day until the game. All you fellows are in good -condition, and you just want to stay that way. No use getting stale and -overtrained. - -“That Boston team is coming down here primed to give us the licking of -our lives, and we went to be all ready for them. They’ve been going -around ever since the first game, I understand, telling every one in -Boston and Cambridge that would listen to them that it was just an -accident. Bowen told me that. He didn’t have any part in it, and he -tried to make all his friends understand that it was a fair, stand-up -game, and that the best team won. But he’s had trouble doing it, from -what he tells me. So if they lose this time, too, they can’t make any -excuses; while, if they win, it will look as if they had been right -about the first game.” - -“By the way,” said Brady, “who do you suppose I saw in town to-day? That -chap Barrows, that faced us down so on the _Marina_ until I called his -bluff and told him what would happen if Jim had been hurt. He pretended -that he didn’t see me, but he did all right. In fact, I had an idea that -he had been looking at me pretty closely, and trying to figure out what -I was doing.” - -“I wonder what he’s doing here,” said Dick, with a frown. “I should -think he wouldn’t be anxious to show up around New Haven very much after -that trouble he ran into at New London. That must have cost those -fellows a pretty penny. - -“I understand they haven’t got enough money to repair the _Marina_, and -they must have lost a great deal if they bet at all heavily on Harvard -to win the race, even at the odds they got. I understood that our boys -and the alumni won about forty thousand dollars altogether on the race, -and I don’t believe the Harvard men themselves bet very heavily. It -looked as if they were hopelessly beaten after that time trial. But they -put up a wonderful fight. I never saw a closer, better race.” - -“I was in the Elm National,” said Brady. “It’s a secret so far, but my -father has just bought practically all the stock of that bank. He’s -interested in a number of Connecticut enterprises, and he needed a very -close banking connection up here. So he has picked up all the stock -pretty quietly, and I guess he’ll soon reorganize it and go to work to -make a big bank of it.” - -“That’s where I keep my account,” said Dick. “I’m glad to hear your -father is interested in it, Brady. He’s the sort of a man to inspire -confidence in those who deposit in any institution that he controls.” - -“I don’t believe any one has ever lost a penny through any enterprise -the governor was connected with,” said Brady, with pardonable pride. -“He’s never believed in taking chances with the money that other people -have intrusted to him, like some of these high financiers, and I guess -he’d rather lose some money than do it. Anyhow, it was while I was in -there that I saw Barrows. He was hanging around on the other side of the -street, and he seemed to be rather interested in my movements. I went in -there to cash a check—they don’t know, in the bank, except for some of -the high officials, that my father’s connected with it at all.” - -“Maybe he’s planning to rob the bank,” said Watson. - -“Hardly,” said Brady, with a smile. “They’ve got a really modern system -of vaults and safeguards in there. It’s only been installed for about -two years, and the biggest house in the country put them in. It’s -practically impossible for any burglar to break in there. The detective -company that protects the bank says it’s the best and safest -institution, physically speaking, outside of New York and Chicago, in -the whole country. And that’s a pretty high compliment from them.” - -“I guess that bank is reasonably safe from that sort of danger,” said -Dick Merriwell. “In fact, I’ve heard that some of the other banks here, -when they have unusually large sums of money on hand, use its vaults for -greater safety.” - -“I don’t think Barrows is the type of the bank robber, anyhow,” said Jim -Phillips. “He might try forgery, or something of that sort, but the -regular work of going into a building at night and blowing a safe, or -something of that sort, requires a sort of a courage he hasn’t got—or, -at least, didn’t show when I saw him on the _Marina_. - -“He was pretty sure, for instance, that I had overheard something that -endangered his plans that night. Yet he was afraid, when I bluffed him, -to tie me up. Svenson wanted to drop me overboard, I think, and fix me -so that I wouldn’t come up again very easily, but Barrows wouldn’t stand -for it. He just made excuses to keep me on board, and he was mighty -anxious to avoid anything that would even look like a fight. I think -he’s a coward. He’s a dangerous man, and he’s certainly a clever one, -but he hasn’t got the animal courage of Harding. Another thing I’ve -noticed about these gamblers, since they’ve been bothering us, is that -they are very anxious, especially when they get outside of the big city, -to keep on the safe side of the law. Harding was really terrified in New -London when he thought that Brady and I were going to have him sent to -jail for assault. I rather believe that it injures their prestige among -their companions to be sent to prison.” - -“I think that’s just it,” said Dick Merriwell. “It isn’t that they mind -the disgrace, but it makes them look as if they couldn’t take care of -themselves. None of these fellows work alone. They have to have a lot of -lesser criminals that will do what they tell them, and those fellows -depend upon their employer to keep them out of trouble. It’s like that -poor little rat of a burglar that Harding sent here to rob Jim’s rooms. -He seemed to be perfectly willing to tell all he knew until Harding -showed his power with the politicians by getting himself released at -once. Then he lost his nerve at once, and the police down there couldn’t -get a thing out of him that would incriminate Harding.” - -“Still,” said Brady, “there’s no telling what he would do under the -present conditions. I guess he’s pretty nearly broke—and that must be -almost as humiliating for those fellows as going to jail.” - -Jim Phillips chuckled suddenly. - -“Of course,” he said, “I don’t want to see the bank robbed, but I was -just thinking of what our friend, Detective Jones, of the New Haven -Police Department, would do if he had a bank robbery to handle. He’s -always complaining of the absence of a chance to distinguish himself -here in New Haven, because they don’t have any sensational and important -crimes. I think he’d be tickled to death at the chance to show his real -powers. He’s firmly convinced that he could give the United States -Secret Service and the New York Detective Bureau all sorts of hints on -the proper way to solve any sort of a mystery, from an Italian kidnaping -to a big smuggling case.” - -“He’s a well-meaning little chap,” said Dick Merriwell, “and not at all -a bad detective, really. I think he’d do pretty well with a little more -experience.” - -Dick got up then, after looking at his watch. - -“Nearly three o’clock,” he said. “I’ve got to go over to that bank and -deposit some money. I intended to go up to Maine, but this game with -Boston has made that impossible. So I’m going to deposit this five -thousand dollars I’ve got with me, and get a bank draft to send up -there. It’s a safer way to send money, anyhow.” - -He counted out the money, in shining, new hundred-dollar bills, -glistening with their yellow backs, and Harry Maxwell sighed enviously. - -“Gee!” he said, “I’d have knocked you on the head myself, I think, if -I’d known that you had that much with you.” - -“I’ll appoint you all a bodyguard to go with me while I deposit this,” -said Dick, laughing. “Brady, you’d better keep a sharp eye on Maxwell.” - -Laughing, they all went out together to make the trip to the bank. It -was a hot day, and they walked slowly. Moreover, they were all talking -among themselves, and they did not happen to notice that their progress -attracted the close attention of Barrows himself, who walked along, a -large Panama hat shading his face, on the other side of the street, and -waited in the doorway opposite the bank until they had completed their -business and emerged. They all went down to the water, intending to take -a little trip to cool off with a swim at a near-by beach later on. But -Barrows did not follow them. Instead, as soon as they had passed out of -sight, he entered the bank, and signaled to Riggs, who was making a -bundle of the yellow bills that Dick had deposited. - -“Did Merriwell make a deposit?” asked Barrows peremptorily. He had -caught Riggs in his landing net now, and there was no longer any need to -be polite and diplomatic with him. - -“Yes,” said Riggs. “Fifty hundred-dollar bills.” - -“You are required to make a note of the numbers of such bills, are you -not?” asked Barrows, who seemed to know a good deal about the banking -business. - -“Yes,” said Riggs. “I’ve got the note here.” - -“Give it to me!” commanded Barrows. “And enter up series numbers for -those bills well ahead, do you see? So that no one can trace the real -ones properly. Keep a note of the false numbers that you enter up, and -give that to me to-night. And, when you come to-night, bring all the -other information I asked for. At half past ten, remember, at Marston’s -place.” - -“All right,” said Riggs, trembling. He was nervous, though there seemed -a chance for him to escape. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XL - - THE COMBINATIONS AT THE BANK. - - -For the pursuit of ways that are dark and tricks that are vain, which -Bret Harte once attributed to his famous “Heathen Chinee,” Barrows -couldn’t have selected a better place than those back rooms in Marsten’s -house. Marsten’s place cost him a hundred dollars a month in rent, which -was about twice what a house in that locality in New Haven is worth to -the ordinary, law-abiding citizen. But Marsten never felt that he was -paying too much. It was a house that was very hard to get into, for one -thing. - -From the street it looked like an ordinary place. True, the windows were -nearly always dark, but that was the owner’s own business. The front -door looked very innocent. If you wanted to get in, you found an -ordinary wooden door, which was open. Behind that was a panel of shaded -glass, through which nothing of what went on inside was visible, -although a strong electric light shone down on any visitor who rang the -bell. That bell was a work of art in itself. It established an electric -current which resulted, by a complicated and most ingenious system of -mirrors, in revealing, to an observer carefully stationed for the -purpose within the house, the appearance of whoever rang it. If the -guard was made suspicious, the door was not opened, no matter how hard -the bell might be rung. - -A few favored visitors, for greater convenience, were intrusted with a -code way of ringing that bell, which secured immediate admittance, at -any hour of the day or night, for Marsten had friends who were likely, -at almost any time, to require a quick and readily available hiding -place. For Marsten was in the habit, when gambling profits were a trifle -slow, of doing some extra business in the way of receiving stolen goods. -He was very careful about this, and Detective Jones and the other -shining lights of the New Haven police had not even suspected this phase -of his activities as yet. - -This secret signal for gaining quick admittance to the house was changed -every few days, by way of precaution, lest, in some manner, some person -hostile to Mr. Marsten and his way of making a living should discover -it. Riggs, Foote, Barrows, Bascom, and a few others knew of it, and at -half past ten promptly on the night of the day on which Dick Merriwell -made his deposit of five thousand dollars in the Elm National Bank, -Riggs pressed the button twice in long rings, and then three times in -very rapid succession. It was the right code signal, and he was admitted -at once, to be greeted with a smile by Marsten. - -“You’re very lucky, Mr. Riggs,” said Marsten. “There are times when I am -afraid that my friend Barrows is misguided, but he has been greatly -moved by the wrongs and sufferings of men in your position. As long as -his motives are good, I know of no reason why I should take it on myself -to criticize the means he uses to reform bad conditions. Follow me. I -will take you to him.” - -Riggs, when he was taken upstairs, had to wait a few minutes for -Barrows. He found himself in what looked like a miniature machine shop. -There were several peculiar instruments around. One resembled a vacuum -cleaner. Then there were a number of delicate tools, all attached to -lengths of insulated wire, with plugs at the other end, evidently -adapted to use with an ordinary electric-light circuit. In one corner of -the room, a young man bent over a desk, industriously plying a very fine -camel’s-hair brush. He had half a dozen of these brushes, of incredible -delicacy, each resting on a little dish of paint, of different colors. -This young man, who might have been recognized as Bascom, the wireless -operator of the _Marina_, had Jim Phillips been there, paid no attention -at all to Riggs. He seemed to have plenty to keep him busy without -displaying any idle curiosity, and he worked as if he were fascinated by -his task, and took an artistic pride in doing it as well as it could be -done. - -Then Barrows entered, brisk, confident, looking more like the man who -had been so sure of success before the defeat of his plans for making a -killing on the boat race at New London. - -“All right, Riggs,” he said. “I think it looks pretty well. Now we want -to get right down to business. There’s no use wasting time here. They -might make an inspection of your books before you expected them, you -know, and the sooner things are straightened out so that you have -nothing to fear, the better you will feel. Have you got those numbers?” - -“Yes,” said Riggs, taking a notebook from his pocket. “Here is a record -of every bank note above ten dollars in value that was in the vaults -to-night. And here are the numbers that I substituted in the official -record. I passed up all that are likely to be used in the course of -business to-morrow, and worked simply with the reserve cash, that would -not be touched except in an emergency. All our customers make it a point -to give us a few days’ notice, when possible, before making a large -withdrawal, so that we can be ready for them without any trouble. But -there is nothing of that sort in sight for several days.” - -“Good,” said Barrows. “Now we shall be able to arrange that part of it -all right. Bascom, I want you to listen with me now, to the questions I -shall ask Riggs and to his answers. This is your part—and it is the -hardest part of the whole business, in a way.” - -“All right,” said Bascom, looking up for the first time. “You needn’t -worry about my part of the game. I’ll be there with bells on. I’m tired -of needing money. This will set me up for life.” - -“Now, in the first place,” said Barrows, “is there a watchman in the -bank?” - -“No,” said Riggs, “they trust so much to their new safety and -burglar-proof devices that they’ve changed that. There’s a man who -patrols the whole block that the bank is in. He passes up and down in -front every fifteen minutes. He goes around behind, too, and can look -right in through the barred windows at the room that leads into the -vault. There’s always a light in that room.” - -“That’s bad,” said Barrows. “I suppose he passes there every fifteen -minutes, too. That wouldn’t give you time enough, Bascom. We’ll have to -get rid of him for an hour or two.” - -“Leave that to me,” said Bascom coolly. “We won’t let a detail like that -interfere with our plans. Not if I know myself.” - -“How about the combinations?” asked Barrows, next. “And the key to the -front door? Could you get those?” - -“I’ve got an impression of the front-door key,” said Riggs. “I couldn’t -get one of the keys, though. I was afraid I’d make them suspicious if I -asked for one, and I didn’t dare take a chance. As for the combinations, -I’ve got some, but not all of them. Here is the combination for the gate -of the vaultroom. I’ve got it for the outer door of the vault, too. The -inner door of the vault I couldn’t get. And, once you’re inside the big -vault, there’s an old-fashioned safe; that’s about the only one of the -old things they kept. That’s used to lock up currency. The packet of -hundred-dollar bills that Merriwell deposited to-day is in that.” - -Barrows turned to Bascom. - -“Can you manage on that?” he asked. - -“What’s the type of that vault?” asked the wireless expert tersely. - -Riggs told him. - -“All right,” nodded Bascom. “I probably couldn’t open it if I didn’t -have the outer combination. But those people make their inner and outer -doors on the same principle, and I can find out what the inside -combination is in ten minutes, if I’ve already opened the outer gate. As -for the safe inside, there isn’t a safe made before nineteen hundred -that would fool me for ten minutes on the combination. I can get that by -listening to the tumblers. Those old soft-iron safes were hard to break, -but easy to open if you had good ears and understood the principles of -combination locks.” - -“Then it’s going to be a regular burglary?” asked Riggs. - -“Of course it is,” snapped Barrows. “How else did you suppose we were -going to work it? It’s going to be a regular burglary—but a darned sight -different from the ordinary ones you read about. You can go down to the -bank the morning after it’s been pulled off, and you won’t hear a word -about it. Thanks to you, we’ve been able to take precautions that will -delay detection for several days.” - -Riggs, fascinated, seemed to want to hang around. But Barrows had sucked -him dry, and had no further use for him. So Riggs had to go, still in -the dark as to when the burglary was to be attempted. - -“That deposit of Merriwell’s is a bit of luck,” said Barrows, turning -with a smile to Bascom when they were alone. “Makes it a lot easier for -us to queer his game. I know what it’s for, too. He’s made some friends -of mine pretty sore by the way he’s threatened their lumber interests up -in Maine. We’ll be killing two birds with one stone if we land him.” - -“Oh, let up on Merriwell,” said Bascom angrily. “You’ll queer this game -yet if you insist on dragging in your personal quarrels, Barrows. You -ought to be content to work the plant and let it go at that. You’ll have -money enough after this business to do Merriwell up without half trying. -Hire some one to do it for you and keep out of it yourself. No use -taking unnecessary risks.” - -“I’m not going to,” said Barrows. “That’s what I roped this lad Foote in -for. He’s going to pull my chestnuts out of this fire for me, though he -doesn’t know it, and if he gets burned doing it, it will be his lookout, -not mine.” - -“I forgot about Foote,” conceded Bascom. “Still I wish you’d stick to -one thing at a time. This business is delicate enough, without mixing up -a lot of other things with it that don’t belong at all. You may see that -when it’s too late, and be sorry you were so rash.” - -“You’re as bad as Harding,” said Barrows angrily. “I’m just holding -Foote in reserve if anything goes wrong with the plan. This looks like a -first-class game, and a safe one. But that business at New London taught -me not to leave anything to chance. That watchman worries me. If we fall -down at all, it’s going to be on account of him. But I guess we can -guard against that. I’ll see Foote to-night, and we’ll put it over -to-morrow night. That give you time enough?” - -“Sure,” said Bascom. And so it was agreed. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XLI - - THE SILENT SHOT. - - -Barrows had talked about chance, and the way in which it might affect -the most carefully laid plans. It usually does, as a matter of fact. The -plan that is so carefully worked out that it depends upon the favorable -combination of a great number of circumstances, is the one least likely -to succeed. The best plan is the one that will not suffer if it has to -be changed at the last moment; for so many things may happen to require -a change that the man who makes a plan in an important matter should -really expect and look for accidents. He is sure to encounter them. - -On the night following the visit of Riggs to the gambling house that had -ruined him, Jim Phillips, after going to bed early, had been called out -again. A friend of his, in whom he had always taken a deep interest, had -had an attack of typhoid fever just before the examinations began, and, -after a severe illness, was beginning to recover slowly. He had found -himself, this night, unable to sleep, and had asked Jim to go to see -him, which Jim had done readily enough. He had stayed with his friend -until one o’clock, and then, making his way home through the deserted -streets of the quiet college town, quieter than ever now that most of -the Yale men had gone home, had stumbled upon a surprising affair. - -He was in the block above the Elm National Bank when he was attracted by -the sound of the night watchman’s footsteps. He himself was wearing a -dark rain coat, and his feet were clad in rubber-soled shoes, so that he -was hard to see in the darkness, and almost impossible to hear, also. - -He looked at the watchman, and was amazed to see him suddenly throw up -his hands and fall to the ground. It looked as if the man had been shot, -but there had been no report, and Jim was amazed at the whole -circumstance. Without a moment of hesitation, he ran toward the fallen -man, and, as he neared him, still moving silently, he almost cried out -at the sight of a stealthy pair of figures that emerged from the door of -the bank building and dragged the victim in with them. - -The door was shut when he reached the bank. On the sidewalk where the -watchman had lain was a spot of blood. Inside there was deep silence. -The whole thing was mysterious and terrifying. Jim could make no sense -of what he had seen. The spot of blood, still wet, showed him that he -had made no mistake; that he had actually seen a man shot. Except for -that, he would have been inclined to think that he had imagined the -whole extraordinary affair. But that left no room for doubt. - -Jim tried the door, but without success. It seemed to be locked. But -behind it, he well knew, some dark thing was going on. He had seen what -might prove to be murder; it was likely that robbers had done it, and -that they were even now engaged in completing their task by robbing the -bank. He remembered the discussion they had had on that very subject, -and then the need for action struck him. - -He must find a policeman and get help. But that was easier said than -done. The very presence of the private watchman in that block had -decreased the vigilance of the regular police. They had been inclined to -leave the duty of protecting property in that neighborhood to him. - -Jim raced around the block, and came, as he ran, to the rear of the bank -building. He could see the entrance to the great vault, in the light -that burned in the room, and a man working at its lock. - -He shouted for help then, but no one seemed to hear him. And, determined -to do what he could for himself, and by himself, he returned to the -front of the bank building, and tried the door again. This time he found -it yielded. He was inside the bank in another moment, and stumbled at -once over the body of the watchman. Jim was no surgeon, but he saw at -once that the man was not badly hurt. Moreover, he had been looked -after. He was gagged, and his wild eyes stared up at Jim, but his wound -was only in the fleshy part of the leg, and a tourniquet had been -roughly applied to relieve him of his only serious danger, that of -bleeding to death. - -Jim slipped the gag out of his mouth; then dashed for the rear of the -bank building. A shout told him that he had alarmed the robbers, but he -didn’t hesitate a moment. It was a reckless, foolish thing to do, for he -should have stopped to think that they would be able, in a fight, to -overpower him. But Jim was thoroughly aroused, and he had no thought for -his own danger. - -Suddenly a man rose in his path. Jim gasped as they clinched. They -struggled all over the floor of the room that led into the great vault, -and, though the robber fought hard, Jim was getting the best of him. The -thief was no match for the Yale athlete, and, wasting his breath as he -did in vain curses, he was succumbing fast to Jim’s superior strength. -But help came for him. Bascom, who had been inside, heard the struggle, -and in a moment, Jim was felled by a heavy blow that descended on his -head from behind. He lay unconscious on the floor while Barrows -struggled to his feet. - -In his hand Bascom held a bundle of yellow-backed bills. His face was -livid with rage as he heard the outcry that the watchman, freed from his -gag, was making in the front room. He kicked savagely at Jim’s -unconscious form, lying on the floor before him. - -“This game’s up,” said Barrows, as he got his breath back. “We’ll have -to make a quick get-away. Slug that infernal watchman as you go by, and -make him stay quiet for a while. I think he’s still roped up. No time to -take him away as we planned. We’ll have to go some to get away -ourselves.” - -“I’ve still got this,” exclaimed Bascom, waving his bundle of bills. -“Better than nothing. Gee, what tough luck! Just when everything looked -so good, too.” - -“No use thinking of that,” growled Barrows. “Hang on to that and come -along. Listen to that watchman. If he’s loose, we’ll never get out of -this. Hurry!” - -They had to pass the watchman to get out of the bank. He cursed them -volubly as they approached on the run, but a terrific blow from Bascom’s -slingshot, the same weapon with which he had felled Jim, silenced him -effectually. Suddenly Barrows turned and ran back to the room where the -vault was. - -“Where are you going?” cried Bascom. “Come on—are you crazy?” - -“I’ll be back in a minute,” cried Barrows. “See that the coast is clear. -We’re safe enough yet.” - -What Barrows had to do in the vaultroom did not take him more than two -minutes. When he returned, Bascom was still looking in fright up and -down the street. But not a soul was in sight. The peace that reigned all -over the town was complete. There was no one to interfere with them. -Barrows breathed a great sigh of relief. - -“We can still make some trouble,” he said. “Here—give me a hand. We’ve -got to get this hulk down to the cellar. It’s summer, and they’re not -using the heating plant. We may still be able to stall them a while. -They won’t find him down there right away.” - -Bascom grumbled, but he could see the wisdom of the idea. The longer -their start, the greater their chance of escape would be. And, with the -collapse of their scheme, Bascom had become completely subservient to -Barrows. He was a genius in certain ways, but without Barrows to direct -him, he was worthless. Even now he did not fathom the new plan that -Barrows had conceived on the spur of the moment. - -They threw the watchman, still unconscious, into a dark part of the -cellar, and, regardless of the suffering they were imposing on him, -gagged him again. Then, convinced that they had done all they could, -after another careful scrutiny of the street, they emerged into the soft -summer night, and made their way slowly to the station. - -Down in the freight yards there was some sign of human activity—the -first they had seen since they left the bank. - -“I’m glad this isn’t New York,” said Barrows, with a shiver. “Up here -folks go to bed early, and stay there till the alarm clock starts -ringing in the morning. Good thing for us. Not even a cop in sight.” - -A freight train was pulling out as they slipped, unobserved, through the -tangle of box cars. There would be no passenger train for hours, as they -knew, and this freight was a Heaven-sent opportunity that they were not -slow to seize. They swung aboard, and soon they were traveling fast, on -tracks cleared of passenger traffic, bound for New York and freedom. - -Barrows and his fellow villain, dirty, unshaven, needing clean clothes -and a bath, dropped off their freight train in the Harlem River yards -soon after seven o’clock. The big city was astir, and going about its -business. No one had a word or a serious thought for the two tramps, as -they appeared to be. A railroad detective looked at them as they neared -the street, but decided that they were game too small for his notice. - -Barrows had a flat far downtown that served as a nest for him. Thither -he took Bascom. The wireless man slept, but Barrows still had work to -do—work that took him to the long-distance telephone. - -“Well,” said Barrows, in the evening, when both were fresh and clean, -“we’ve got something out of this. Twenty-five hundred apiece. Marsten -can whistle for his share now. Let’s go look up our friend Harding.” - -They reached Harding’s flashy hotel in due time, and went quietly into -the barroom. Harding was there. He was telling a group of his particular -friends, with great relish, of the way in which Barrows had been beaten -in New London. - -“He wouldn’t take my advice,” he ended, “and now he’s up in the tall -timber somewhere, broke and looking for a stake. He’ll find it, too, I -don’t think.” - -“Hello, boys,” said Barrows, breaking in at that moment. “Have one on -me. Open up as many bottles of wine as the crowd can drink, barkeep. I -guess this will settle the bill.” - -And, taking out a roll of bright new yellow bills, he threw down a -hundred-dollar bill on the bar. Then he glanced triumphantly at Harding, -who was both astonished and crestfallen. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XLII - - THE DISCOVERY IN THE VAULT. - - -Dick Merriwell got up early in the morning that Barrows and his precious -friend, Bascom, arrived in New York. He had an engagement with Jim -Phillips for an early breakfast at his rooms, to be followed by a swim. -When eight o’clock arrived, with still no sign of Jim, Dick was -tremendously surprised. Jim was usually the most punctual of men, and -the universal coach was inclined to think that something very serious -indeed had happened to make Jim break his engagement without sending any -word. - -When he inquired at Jim’s rooms, he was at first relieved. He learned -there of the call Jim had received from his sick friend, and decided -that the pitcher, probably finding his friend worse than he expected, -had stayed the night with him, and, possibly, overslept, as a result of -having been so long awake. But when he went to the other man’s rooms he -learned that Jim had left there at one o’clock to go home. There was no -accident reported that might have accounted for Jim’s mysterious -absence. And Dick, very much perturbed, visited every place in New Haven -where Jim, by any imaginable vagary, might have gone. Bill Brady was one -of the first of those he looked up, and Bill, quite as anxious as -himself, joined the search at once. - -But the morning passed without a sign of the missing baseball captain. -Harry Maxwell, Watson, Carter, and others had helped to look for him, -but none of them had found a trace of his movements after he had left -his friend’s rooms to go home. - -“He’s the last man in the world to disappear this way,” said Brady, -puzzled and disturbed. “I can’t account for it at all. I know there was -nothing to bother him. He hasn’t had any telegram or call from home—some -sickness in the family was the first thing I thought of. Anyhow, if it -was anything ordinary, he’d have found some way to let us know that he -was going. He wouldn’t leave us to worry about him if he had had any way -of preventing it.” - -They were all in Merriwell’s rooms at that time, having given up the -search as fruitless, and every one there, except Dick himself, was -advancing some theory to solve the mystery. Suddenly there was an -excited voice to be heard downstairs, asking for Dick, and a moment -later Detective Jones burst into the room. - -“I’ve just come from the Elm National Bank,” he cried. “They’ve found a -Yale man, Phillips, the baseball captain, I’m told, in the big vault, -and they sent for an officer to hold him while they searched the place -to see if there has been a robbery. I thought you would want to know -about it, Mr. Merriwell.” - -“Come on, Brady,” shouted Dick Merriwell. “The rest of you stay behind. -We’ll let you know as soon as anything is discovered.” - -At the bank they found that the detective’s astounding statement was -true. Jim, pale and shaken, and indignant at the presence of a -policeman, obviously sent there to guard him, sat in a chair, and in a -few words told his friends the story of the robbery he had interrupted, -which the president and cashier of the bank had already heard. Riggs, -tremendously excited, and in a state of panic, hovered about, trying to -hear everything that was said, and the whole place was in an uproar. - -“You can’t blame us for thinking that this a very queer story, Mr. -Merriwell,” said the president, Joseph Bromlow, an old and respected -citizen of New Haven. “We have not been able to find any trace of the -watchman. He is not at his home, and he has not been taken to any of the -city hospitals, as would certainly be the case had he been injured, as -Mr. Phillips says. Moreover, the statement that Mr. Phillips saw the man -fall, as if shot, and afterward found a bullet wound in his leg, -although he had heard no report, is curious, to say the least.” - -“Did you never hear of a Maxim gun silencer?” asked Dick, rather -abruptly. He was much upset, and almost as indignant as Jim himself at -the suspicion with which the bank officers had received the pitcher’s -story. - -Bill Brady took Mr. Bromlow aside. - -“Look here, Mr. Bromlow,” he said, “you know, of course, that my father -practically owns this bank. Now, I can tell you that any idea that there -was anything wrong about the presence of Phillips in that vault is -absurd. I don’t care what he says about it, or how improbable his story -may seem to be, you’ll only waste time unless you take his word -absolutely. You’ll find out, sooner or later, that he is telling the -truth, and if any criminals escape because of neglect to follow up any -clew that Phillips gives you, my father is not likely to overlook it.” - -“I am fully accountable to your father, Mr. Brady,” said the president, -with some heat, “but I am not aware that he has delegated his authority -to you. I am competent, I think, to look after the interests of this -bank. I have done so for a number of years. And I must ask you not to -interfere.” - -Brady shrugged his shoulders. He knew that Bromlow was in the right, -technically, and that he had no power to act, but he decided to remedy -that as soon as might be, and went out to send a long telegram to his -father. He smiled as he sent it, for he knew that his father trusted -him, and that neither Mr. Bromlow nor any one else would be able to say -that he lacked authority when he found another occasion to intervene. - -In the bank the scene was one of great confusion. Jim was not under -arrest, for there was, as yet, no evidence that a crime had been -committed. Experts had been sent for to go over the books and count the -money, and all through the force of employees there was a tense and -strained attitude. Riggs was almost crazy with fear and suspense, and -Brady, who had been attracted by his nervous manner, watched the little -teller closely. It seemed to him that Riggs, if he could only be induced -to tell all he knew, might reveal a great deal. - -Jim Phillips, angry and confused, watched the progress of the search. He -felt that he was being very badly used. He had risked a good deal to -prevent a robbery of the bank; had been locked all night in the vault, -after suffering injuries more or less serious. By way of thanks for his -pains, he was suspected of stealing money from the bank, and of being -concerned in the plot he had foiled. - -He expressed himself thus to Dick Merriwell, who, while he was himself -indignant, could still see that the bank officials were not altogether -to blame in the matter. - -“They’ve got to protect the bank, Jim,” he said. “You have to remember -that. I know that what you’re saying is true; so do all your friends. -But these men don’t know you, and they’re acting as trustees for the -money of a great many other people. So don’t be too hard on them. -They’re only doing what they think is their duty.” - -Jim saw the justice of the universal coach’s appeal, and laughed. - -“I haven’t been quite myself,” he said. “That rap on the head hasn’t -done me any serious harm, but it left me pretty well confused. I can see -now that these people are all right. I’m sorry I let myself show that I -was annoyed.” - -“It was natural enough,” said Dick Merriwell. “I knew you’d look at it -the right way as soon as I explained it to you.” - -“I don’t think they’ll find that anything at all has been taken,” said -Jim. “Of course, they’ve got to make sure. But I was in here very soon -after they got in themselves, and I’m pretty sure that they didn’t have -time to accomplish anything. What I should investigate, if I were the -bank officers, is how the thieves got through those doors as quickly as -they did. They didn’t do any dynamiting, and they would, if I hadn’t -butted in, have left no traces at all behind them. That’s what would -worry me if I were Mr. Bromlow, it seems to me.” - -Dick Merriwell and Brady, who heard this, looked very thoughtful. - -“It certainly looks like an inside job,” said Brady. “That’s the police -term, I believe, when some one inside helps the robbers. It looks as if -those fellows were pretty familiar with details of bank management that -ought not to be known outside of the working force. But they’re -pig-headed. They’re not taking any stock in Jim’s story—I can see that. -We’re going to have a lot of trouble here before we get through, I’m -afraid.” - -Jim got up, and, though his head was still spinning, went over to speak -to Mr. Bromlow. - -“Mr. Bromlow,” he said, “you don’t seem to think that I have told you -the truth about my experiences here. But I wish you would go so far, no -matter what you believe, as to investigate along the lines that you -would follow if you were convinced that what I told you was the truth. -That could surely do no harm. You will not find that any money is -missing here. There was no time for the thieves to get away with -anything. You will find that out sooner or later. But, in the meantime, -some effort should be made to trace those men. The sooner they are -arrested and brought back here, the sooner this mystery will be cleared -up.” - -Mr. Bromlow was ordinarily a courteous and kindly man. But his nerves -were raw. He was greatly upset by the fact that anything had happened at -his bank to call for any action by the authorities, and he answered Jim -brusquely. - -“I am doing what I think right to safeguard the interests of the bank, -Mr. Phillips,” he said. “If you care to follow my advice, you will wait -until questions are asked before you try to answer them, and you will -not make the effort then without a lawyer to advise you. Your bitterness -against these robbers seems strange to me. I will remind you of an adage -that may or may not apply to the present case. It is: ‘When thieves fall -out, then honest men may get their rights.’ Now, if you will excuse me, -I am busy.” - -Jim was furiously angry, but he had seen that Bromlow was in no -condition to be held accountable for all he said, and he managed to -refrain from making any retort to this uncalled for and insulting reply -to his honest attempt to give aid. - -In a few minutes the investigation was complete. Riggs, terror-stricken, -realized suddenly what seemed bound to happen. The cash in the vaults -was reported to be all right—but there was a shortage of a thousand -dollars, and only Riggs could be held accountable for that. - -They turned around to look for him, but he had disappeared. - -“He can’t be gone very far,” said the cashier, to Bromlow. “There are -special officers outside, guarding the doors. I instructed them not to -allow any employee of the bank to leave the building without my personal -authority. We’re still supposed to be doing business, you know. I saw no -reason for taking the whole city of New Haven into our confidence in the -matter. That would mean that the whole story would get into the -newspapers—and we’re not ready for that yet.” - -“Certainly not,” said Bromlow. “You were quite right, Hastings. I will -find Riggs myself. I have no doubt that he can explain this matter in -the most satisfactory way. He is a man I trust implicitly. He entered -this bank when he was fifteen years old, and he is above suspicion—quite -above suspicion.” - -Brady, who heard this talk, did not share this opinion. The scared, -worried face of Riggs had been haunting him for an hour. And he followed -the president into the banking room just in time to see Paul Foote end -an earnest conversation with Riggs and pass out of the the gate, closely -scrutinized by the two special officers in plain clothes who stood -there, although they made no move to stop him. - -Bill Brady whistled as he saw this. - -“I’m beginning to see daylight,” he muttered, to himself. “I guess Mr. -Merriwell and I may be able to do a lot of explaining before this thing -is cleared up.” - -He looked at his watch, and put it back in his pocket with an impatient -gesture. - -“It’s time I heard from the governor,” he said. “He isn’t usually so -slow about answering an important telegram. However, it may have been -delayed in reaching him.” - -Then he turned to Riggs and Bromlow. - -“Riggs, my boy,” said the president, laying his hand on the clerk’s -shoulder with a paternal gesture. “We’ve got to ask you to explain an -item in your books that isn’t quite clear. There seems to be a shortage -of a thousand dollars. I’m quite sure that it is all right, and that you -will be able to make the whole matter clear, eh?” - -“It’s a shame he doesn’t act that way with Jim Phillips,” said Brady, -under his breath, and with some indignation. “He’s trying his best to -make a man who is surely innocent appear guilty, and to clear a man who -seems to be guilty. I’m afraid he’s about outlived his usefulness as a -bank president.” - -“I have not had time to get my books properly up to date,” said Riggs. -“Usually, at this time of the year, I put in quite a lot of time working -at night to catch up, but I have been delayed by illness. But I’m sure, -sir, that there can be nothing wrong that a little work will not -straighten out.” - -“You can have all the time you want, Riggs,” said Bromlow. “I have every -confidence in you. If there is an error, it is probably only technical. -Go back to your work now. We will straighten out the matter of the -thousand dollars later.” - -Brady noticed that the worried look that Riggs had worn had given way to -one of elation, as if he had been relieved of any fear he might have -entertained. If that was the case, it must be Foote who had worked the -change in him, Brady was sure. Bromlow had been kind, but if Riggs were -really guilty, the president’s words had contained only a respite. Brady -knew enough about banking to understand that. - -In the room near the vault there was now a feeling of redoubled -surprise. The bank officials, to their amazement, had found that Jim -Phillips was right, and that whatever else had happened in the night, -there had certainly been no robbery. The cash in the reserve vault was -intact. - -“I suppose that we need no longer feel that Mr. Phillips is under -detention,” asked Dick Merriwell, rather coldly. - -“No,” said old Bromlow, sadly puzzled. “I must apologize to him for -intimating that his word was not to be accepted at once. But you will -admit that the whole affair is very extraordinary, and that it is hard -to credit his story of how he was found in our vault.” - -“The truth is often the hardest thing in the world to believe, and -sometimes to prove,” said Dick Merriwell. “Had he been dishonest in his -motives, I think he could easily have invented a more plausible story -than the one he told you.” - -“No doubt,” said Bromlow, “no doubt. Now, if Mr. Phillips will come into -my office, and dictate his story, in the form of an affidavit, to which -he can swear before a notary public, that will be all that we shall -require of him. I need not say that if his story, surprising as it is, -turns out to be the true one, this bank is greatly indebted to him.” - -“That is quite obvious,” said Brady dryly. “But it seems to me that the -bank has been rather a long time in realizing that fact.” - -They all filed into the room where Mr. Bromlow transacted his private -business, and there Jim Phillips dictated his story of the night’s -happenings, giving every detail that seemed to him to possess any -bearing on the case. It did not take long, and, when he had signed the -document, he prepared to leave. But there was a sudden interruption. -Hastings, the cashier, rushed in, his face white, and spoke to President -Bromlow, but aloud, so that all could hear. - -“Riggs has explained his shortage,” he said. “And the bank appears to -have lost five thousand dollars. A deposit of five thousand dollars was -made yesterday. Riggs handled the money. Later, in making up his -accounts and going over his cash, he was amazed to discover that ten -hundred-dollar bills were counterfeit. He withdrew them at once, -substituted good bills, and held these counterfeit notes out to make an -investigation and secure good ones in their place if possible. - -“Now we discover that there were not ten, but fifty counterfeits. -Consequently this bank now holds five thousand dollars in worthless -money. And a sight draft was given in exchange for this money, so that -we have no recourse—that draft, presumably, being already in the hands -of some one who can enforce its payment, as an innocent holder. Riggs -expected to be able to adjust the matter without difficulty, having -reason to think that the depositor was honorable and likely to remedy -the matter. But the whole affair now assumes a very serious aspect. The -man who deposited this money was Mr. Merriwell—and his relation with Mr. -Phillips are well known.” - -Dick Merriwell, his face darkening, sprang to his feet. But he -restrained himself by a mighty effort, and waited for something more to -be said. - -President Bromlow, so confused by the rapid rush of events, which had -caused more of a break in his peaceful routine than had befallen him -before in twenty years, looked in a dazed fashion at Hastings, the -cashier. - -“Explain yourself, Hastings,” he said. “What do you mean?” - -“It looks plain enough to me,” said Hastings bitterly. “Mr. Merriwell, -whom we trusted implicitly, has deposited this counterfeit money, as is -absolutely proved. Then his friend and associate, Phillips, attempts to -take it away, so that the loss will be charged to robbery.” - -“Not a word, Jim!” cautioned Dick hastily; as Jim Phillips sprang to his -feet to refute the charge. “There’s plenty of time to disprove this—as -whoever put this game up ought to have sense enough to know, it will be -an easy matter to do so. I know where I got that money, and it will be -simple to prove that it was all right. But this makes it more certain -than ever that Brady was right—that this was an inside job.” - -“I shall have to ask for the arrest of both of you,” said Bromlow to -Dick Merriwell. - -“You need not,” said Brady, who had just received a telegram. “The bank -will investigate this matter further before taking any steps. And I will -myself be responsible for the appearance of Mr. Merriwell and Mr. -Phillips whenever they are required.” - -“By what authority are you doing this?” inquired Hastings angrily. - -But he was silenced as soon as he saw the telegram that Brady held out -to him. It was from the big catcher’s father, and it gave him authority -to act for his father in all matters pertaining to the bank. - -“You will receive confirmation of this,” said Brady, to the old -president. “In the meantime I shall engage detectives to investigate the -whole matter, and to see that whoever is guilty does not escape.” - -There was no further opposition when the three Yale men undertook to -leave the bank building. Dick Merriwell gripped Brady’s hand to thank -him for his timely interference. - -“The whole thing’s rot, of course,” said Brady. “But it’s so infernally -clever and so well managed that I’m not sure that you can blame Bromlow -and Hastings very much for being deceived.” - -“I’m sure you cannot,” said Dick. “I don’t need to tell you that I can -prove myself to be all right without trouble. But that won’t settle it, -by a good deal. There’s some queer influence back of this whole thing.” - -“Well, Foote’s part of the influence,” said Brady. “He was in there, -talking to Riggs, that little clerk they scared almost to death, and I’m -willing to bet that he could tell a whole lot if we could only make him -do it.” - -“I’m about ready to use force to clear this thing up,” said Jim -Phillips. “It’s certainly a mighty queer business.” - -“What you need is a good sleep,” said Brady. “And I’ll see you get it, -too.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XLIII - - THE ROBBERS’ FALSE STEP. - - -It was at the last moment, truly, that Barrows had found a use for -Foote. He had changed his mind about abandoning Riggs to his fate, not -because he had developed any sudden sympathy for the poor little bank -clerk who had done wrong, but because he had seen a chance, although -defeated in his main object, that of possessing himself of a large sum -by the cleverly planned robbery of the Elm National, to do great harm to -Dick Merriwell and Jim Phillips. Foote kept him in touch, by -long-distance telephone, with the developments of the morning at the -bank, which he was able to learn of through his friendship for a -bookkeeper there, and Barrows had managed, by the slenderest of margins, -to get a thousand dollars in good money back to Riggs, which had been -substituted for ten of the counterfeit hundred-dollar bills. - -Dick Merriwell’s deposit had been taken by Bascom, but to delay -detection of the theft, clever counterfeits, their numbers corresponding -to the false numbers that Riggs had entered up in the books, had been -put in their place in the safe. That had been the essence of the -remarkable plan that Bascom and Barrows had arranged. They knew that -close inspection of the reserve notes would not be made very often, and -they trusted to the fact that a hasty glance at the piled notes would -not reveal their true character. Thus they could hope to get the stolen -money into circulation before efforts to trace it were made, and, owing -to Riggs’ manipulation of the record of the numbers of the genuine -notes, tracing would, even when the record of the substitution was -discovered, have been almost impossible. - -Barrows felt that he was, moreover, killing two birds with one stone, as -he had told Marsten he would do. There are certain high financiers who -do not hesitate very much to associate with men of Barrows’ stamp when -they can use them to their own profit, and it happened that one of these -gentry, a man called Phelps, was one of the bitterest opponents of Dick -Merriwell and Chester Arlington in their Maine lumber partnership. - -Barrows, when he had learned of the deposit made by Dick, and the sight -draft that he had purchased against it, had not been slow in putting two -and two together. He had, therefore, when he arrived in New York, -communicated with Phelps, and told him something of what was afoot. - -“You can’t trap Merriwell in any such way as that,” said Phelps. “That’s -the weak spot in your plan, Barrows. Merriwell will have the numbers of -those notes, or be able to get them, and that will dish you at once. I -don’t think you’re running much risk personally, as it is, but I’d let -Merriwell alone.” - -“He’s not a business man,” said Barrows scornfully. “He won’t have those -numbers at all. Take that from me. What’s it worth to me to put him out -of business on this deal? I should think you’d be glad to have him out -of the way.” - -“I would be,” said Phelps. “I’d be glad to the extent of about five -thousand dollars, I think. How does that strike you?” - -“Well enough,” said Barrows. “You can go ahead and figure as if he was -out of it altogether. This thing will ruin his credit with that New -Haven bank. They may not be able to prove anything against him, but -they’ll have an awful lot of mighty healthy suspicions, and that won’t -do him any good around the country when he tries to do any banking -business. You can see that for yourself, without my telling you anything -about it.” - -“Go ahead,” said Phelps. “It’s your own funeral. If I were you, I -wouldn’t go after Merriwell that particular way. He’s no easy man to -lead into a trap. I expect to have things ready to give him and his -partner a pretty warm reception up in the woods when they once get -there, but I’m perfectly willing to have you take the job off my hands, -as long as I don’t appear in it. If you succeed, I’ll pay you five -thousand dollars. But you’ve got to take my word for it, with nothing to -give you any hold on me. I won’t sign any agreement of any sort under -the circumstances.” - -“I’ll take a chance on that,” said Barrows. “I think you’ll be grateful -enough to come through when I deliver the goods.” - -It was Foote who had taken the money to Riggs, just in time for him to -effect the exchange that had given such a bad appearance to the presence -of Jim Phillips in the vault. Foote did not thoroughly understand what -was in the air, but he knew that there was trouble brewing for the men -who had exposed him and caused his present detention in New Haven, and -he was glad. Moreover, he had to do what he was told, for he knew that -he was at the mercy of the two gamblers, and that his father would never -forgive him if it became known that he had lost so much money at -Marsten’s gambling house. - -Barrows had laid his plan well, but he had made a mistake in this use of -Foote. Brady’s discovery that the Yale man, who had a grudge against -Dick Merriwell and Jim Phillips, was acting as a messenger for some one -who had occasion to communicate with Riggs, directed his suspicions -toward the little teller, and that was the worst thing that could have -happened to Barrows just then. - -With his new authority as his father’s representative, Bill Brady went -into consultation with the experts who had been going over the books, -and found that the expert was far from sharing President Bromlow’s -opinion as to the innocence of Riggs. - -“That money wasn’t taken yesterday, Mr. Brady,” said the expert. “He’s -worked it carefully, and in another day there’d have been no chance for -us to trace the defalcation. But now it’s as plain as daylight. It seems -obvious to me that this Riggs took the money, probably intending to put -it back, and then, at the last moment, seeing a chance to get clear, -tried to make use of that counterfeit money in the vault to conceal his -own shortage. We came on him before he was ready—and I think, myself, -he’d have been wiser not to monkey with that counterfeit money at all. -It looks very fishy to me, if you want my opinion.” - -Bill Brady took the result of his investigation to Dick Merriwell at -once. - -“Here’s the net result, you see,” he said. “That old fool Bromlow thinks -that they’ve discovered a motive for Jim to rob the bank—the utterly -absurd one that he’s in league with you to cover the deposit of -counterfeit money. He doesn’t seem to see that his own theory is full of -holes. That money is pretty well made, but, while it would deceive me, -and almost any one else not especially trained to watch money, I don’t -think it would fool a banker for a minute. Now, Riggs took that deposit -from you. Entirely aside from the fact that you and I know that the -money was deposited was all right, why didn’t Riggs at once discover -that it was not real money, if it was not? He had to go over the money -as he counted it, so his explanation that it didn’t occur to him that -anything could be wrong with the money you handed in falls down.” - -“It looks to me,” said Jim Phillips, “as if this Riggs held the key to -the whole mystery. If he actually stole a thousand dollars from the -bank, it was his interest to cover that theft, and he would have been -able to do that had a larger sum been taken. I know that that was the -idea of those men I surprised there—they were out to make a big haul.” - -“I can explain Mr. Bromlow’s feelings, I think,” said Dick Merriwell -quietly. “You must know, Brady, that he has been in financial -difficulties of late. That is one of the reasons why your father was -able to buy the control of his bank. Mr. Bromlow very foolishly became -associated in a lumber deal with a man called Phelps. - -“I discovered this not long ago, when I tried, in behalf of the company -in which Chester Arlington and I are interested, to renew one of the -company’s notes in that bank. Mr. Bromlow refused to renew the note, -although the security, as he himself admitted, was first class. It was -simply annoying—we had little difficulty in getting the money we wanted -elsewhere. But it showed the way the wind was blowing.” - -“Now, there’s the matter of Foote,” said Brady, darkening. “He isn’t a -principal—whatever he’s done has been under orders from some one else. I -think the same thing applies to Riggs. He probably went into the game -because he saw a chance to escape the consequences of a crime that he -knew was bound to be discovered within a week or two, at the outside.” - -They were in Jim Phillips’ room. As Jim spoke, there was a knock at the -door, and Detective Jones appeared. - -“They’ve found the watchman, Mr. Phillips,” he said. “He was trussed up -in the cellar of the bank. He’s in a pretty bad way—not dangerously -hurt, but pretty sick. They’re bringing him here.” - -“Good,” cried the three Yale men together. “That ought to settle it.” - -The watchman came in, supported by two plain-clothes officers. Jones, -who had unhesitatingly cast in his lot with the Yale men this time, -because he had had experience with the sagacity of Dick Merriwell -before, smiled. - -“That’s him,” cried the watchman wildly, pointing to Jim Phillips. “He’s -one of the gang. He hit me over the head.” - -Dick Merriwell cried out incredulously, then looked hard at the -watchman. The man’s cheeks were burning with fever, his eyes were those -of a madman. - -“You can’t take this man seriously in his present condition,” Dick -cried. “He should be in the hospital and receiving proper care.” - -“He will be provided for, Mr. Merriwell,” said old Bromlow, who arrived -in time to hear that. “In the meantime, I must demand the arrest of -Phillips. Mr. Brady, I am still a sworn officer of this bank. I can no -longer humor your views.” - -Brady’s indignant protests were useless. Jim Phillips was placed under -arrest, but he was released at once on bail, and Jones, who had -reluctantly made the arrest, was very angry. - -“It won’t take you long to clear this up, Mr. Merriwell,” he said to the -universal coach. “And I’m here to help you do it, too.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XLIV - - THE TRUTH COMES OUT. - - -By herculean efforts, the arrest of Jim Phillips was kept as a close -secret. Bromlow, despite his conviction, which was honest enough, that -Jim was guilty, dared not oppose Brady too far, and was willing enough -that the matter should be kept quiet, moreover, for the sake of the bank -itself. But one of the few persons who heard about the arrest was -Barrows, who chuckled grimly. He expected that Dick Merriwell would also -be involved, and he felt that he could already spend the extra five -thousand dollars that Phelps had promised him. - -“We’re not getting as much as we expected out of this,” he said to -Bascom. “But we can go back for the rest later. And, in the meantime, -Riggs is all right, still in the bank, and still able to serve us if we -want him again. Merriwell and Phillips are in a hole they’ll never be -able to crawl out of, and we’ve got ten thousand dollars.” - -“Are you sure this money we’ve got is all right?” asked Bascom. “I -understand, of course, that the bank hasn’t got the numbers of the real -notes, but how about Merriwell himself? He may have the numbers?” - -“Wouldn’t he have said so, to clear himself long before this?” asked -Barrows. “The thing has worked out better than I thought was possible. -That was why I took the chance of getting that money back to Riggs. -Otherwise, I’d have let him go, and made a quick jump out of here after -getting what I could for these notes. It’s a good thing our plan didn’t -work out, really. We’re better off than we expected to be.” - -Barrows, complacent and self-satisfied, enjoyed his triumph over Harding -to the full. He strutted around the other gambler’s haunts, making a -lavish display of his money, and spending it liberally. His old friends, -who had shown signs of deserting him after the disaster that had -overtaken him in New London, returned at once, and Harding felt himself -discredited and ridiculous in the eyes of his friends. Barrows had -turned the tables neatly. - -Even some of the politicians who backed Harding were inclined to laugh -at him. - -“You seem to have raised a husky chap in this fellow Barrows,” said one -of them. “Poor work, Bill. You saved him from going under a year ago—and -now he’s making you look foolish. There’s nothing on him now.” - -“If there is, let them do what they like to him,” growled Harding. “He’s -too fresh. He thinks he’s the whole cheese now, just because he’s -managed to get a stake. I bet there’s something crooked about the way he -got it, too. Give the bulls the tip to soak him if they get a chance, -will you?” - -“Sure thing,” said the politician. “He’s nothing to me. But I guess he’s -got his tracks pretty well covered.” - -“He hasn’t got sense enough,” said Harding. “He was up against it hard -after that break he made at New London, and he took any way he could to -make a stake.” - -Even had Barrows known of this conversation, it would not have worried -him. Like Harding’s political friend, he thought that he was safe from -pursuit. He spent his money as he liked, without a thought of the -careless way in which he was changing hundred-dollar bills. And, less -than thirty-six hours after he had reached New York with Bascom, he was -offering one of his yellow bills in payment for a handful of cigars, -when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and a detective, well known to -him by sight, told him that he was under arrest. - -“Quit your kidding!” said Barrows. “You can’t arrest me. You’ve got -nothing on me.” - -“I’ve got a warrant, issued on the request of the New Haven police,” -said the detective, with a grin. “This is the time you’ve missed your -guess, Barrows. The warrant charges the robbery of five thousand dollars -from the Elm National Bank.” - -Bascom escaped. But Barrows, despite his best efforts, was forced to -believe that there was no chance for him. His political influence had -disappeared—Harding had seen to that—and he found that it was useless to -fight his removal to Connecticut, where a jail sentence was sure to be -his portion. The New York police are excellent workers. When they are -free from political influence, against which, in the old days, they were -helpless, they are efficient and fearless. And in this case, the words -of Bromlow, meant to apply to Jim Phillips, were the death knell of his -hopes. Two thieves had fallen out, and it was time for honest men to -reap the rewards of their honesty. - -The proceedings in New Haven were simple and direct. Dick Merriwell had -kept the numbers of all the bills that he had deposited in the New Haven -bank, a simple precaution not always taken even by business men when -they are handling large sums, but never neglected by him. And the -evidence that he gave was ample to show that the money he had deposited -was perfectly good. Suspicion, thus directed toward Riggs, showed the -extent of the plot. It was soon made plain that Riggs had falsified the -numbers of all the bills in the vaults of the bank, and it was plain -that it had been the intention of Barrows and his fellow plotters to -substitute counterfeit money for all of that huge sum. Thus detection of -the theft, one of the greatest ever planned, would have been delayed -long enough to put the stolen money into circulation all over the -country, and it would have been impossible to trace any of it, since the -bank had none of the numbers of the genuine bills. - -Riggs, seeing the evidence piling up, confessed his original theft, and -his share in the greater conspiracy, and thus the New Haven police -secured evidence which resulted in the closing up of Marsten’s gambling -place and his swift departure for parts unknown. The New Haven police -had long hunted for evidence against him, but had never before been able -to get any that was worth anything in court. Foote, too, appalled at the -extent of the conspiracy thus revealed, confessed, and the notes signed -by him and held by Marsten, which had been abandoned in his hasty -flight, were destroyed. - -In view of the valuable evidence he was able to give against Barrows, -Riggs got only a suspended sentence for his own robbery, and Brady’s -father, urged by his son and Dick Merriwell, saw that the teller -received a place where he would be removed from temptation to steal. -Barrows was sentenced to five years in prison, being convicted without -difficulty, since the complete collapse of his plans left him friendless -and powerless. - -Jim Phillips was completely cleared when the watchman, after treatment -in the hospital, was again called upon to identify him, his story being -confirmed in every detail. The watchman told of Jim’s effort to release -him, and of as much of the fight as he had seen, and even Bromlow was -forced to admit that Jim’s baseball training had saved the bank. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XLV - - THE PITCHER’S FINAL TEST. - - -“I’m afraid those Boston fellows are due to get their revenge, all -right,” said Bill Brady, on the morning of the Fourth of July, the day -for the game in which Briggs, of Harvard, and Jim Phillips, of Yale, -were again to measure their abilities as pitchers. “We’ve had a little -too much on our minds this last week to do much practicing.” - -“We’ll give them a fight for it, anyhow,” said Dick Merriwell. “We’ll be -off for Sweden, pretty soon, those of us that are going, and I’d like to -celebrate the glorious Fourth here first in the right way. I suppose -it’s Harvard’s holiday just as much as it is ours, but I remember that -our ancestors did pretty well in spite of difficulties and things that -were enough to discourage most people. If they hadn’t stuck to their -guns through anything that came up, we wouldn’t have much celebrating to -do nowadays, you know.” - -The fact that the game with the Boston team was scheduled for the great -national holiday insured an enormous crowd to witness it. Not enormous, -perhaps, compared with some games that Jim had pitched in, for he had -seen the Polo Grounds, in New York, crowded more than once when he -played there, but still very large for New Haven. And the news that Dick -Merriwell himself was to take part had added enormously to the -attractiveness of the game. Dick had not been seen in a regular game for -a long time, but his reputation had endured and had, naturally, only -been enhanced by his remarkable success as a coach. Old Yale men had -come up for the game, and a great crowd had also come down from Boston -to cheer the team from the cradle of independence on to victory. - -“Those Harvard men are doing a lot of talking about the way Harvard men -started the revolution,” said Bill Brady, with a grin. “But we Yale men -can remember Nathan Hale and a few others that did their share. So I -guess we can just arrange to fight this game out on the line of what is -going to happen to-day, rather than of what the old fellows did a -hundred years ago or so. We were even with them then, but I think we’re -a little ahead of them this year.” - -Dick Merriwell, by unanimous consent, was acting as captain of the New -Haven team, and in the practice before the game it was at once evident -that this contest was likely to be a much more scientific one than the -first meeting between the two teams. The presence of so many of the -players of the two best college teams of the year insured a well-played -game, and as the cheers went up from the crowded stands at every good -play, the crowd settled itself down in anticipation of a rattling game, -close, and fought out to the last minute. - -Jim Phillips, as he warmed up, felt that he was in good condition. He -felt that he had taken the measure of Briggs, and, while he had an -intense respect for the powers of the noted Harvard pitcher, he was sure -that he was his master. Confidence is half the battle in any sport, and -there was nothing boastful about Jim’s feeling. He knew just what he -could do, and he thought he knew, also, what Briggs could do. - -But when the game began, he found himself in difficulties at once. The -first inning was easy. The Harvard men went out in one, two, three -order, but he saw Reid, who had batted first, looking curiously at him -after he had been retired on a screaming line drive, that Harry Maxwell -caught, and he knew the reason. - -“I don’t know what’s the matter,” he said to Brady, as they sat on the -bench, “but my arm seems to have gone back on me altogether. I feel all -right, but I couldn’t get the ball breaking right. Did you notice it?” - -“There wasn’t any jump on the ball,” admitted Brady. “I couldn’t make it -out. Never mind—you’ll be all right when the game gets going.” - -“I hope so,” said Jim. “It’s a good thing those Harvard people didn’t -get on to me in that inning, though. If they’d only known it, they could -have knocked those balls I pitched all over the lot. They just thought I -was pitching the way I had before. But that won’t keep up. I’m due for -an awful lacing unless I can get that ball going right pretty soon. Reid -is on to it already. Did you see him edge right over to Bowen after he -sent that fly to Harry?” - -Harry Maxwell, in Sherman’s absence, now led the batting order, and he -began with a crashing single to right. - -Dick Merriwell, facing Briggs for the first time, sent the crowd wild, -for he landed on the first ball pitched, and drove it clean over the -center-field fence for a home run. Three runs for New Haven, with Jim -Phillips in the box, looked like a sure victory. - -But Jim knew that his arm was bad. The second inning passed safely, -although his control was still so poor when he pitched a curve ball that -he contented himself with fast, straight balls, that deceived the -Bostonians simply because they didn’t expect them. - -Reid came up again in the third inning, when one man was out. Jim had -thought that he was going to get safely through that session, but Reid -wasted no time at all. He saw a straight ball coming, and sent it -whistling past Carter, on third, for a three-base hit. It was the -beginning of the deluge. Jim’s curves would not break, and five hits in -rapid succession gave Harvard four runs. Jim steadied then for a moment, -and struck out a batter, but he was still in trouble, although he felt -that he was beginning to find himself anew, and before the inning was -over three more Harvard men had scored. - -“Whew!” whistled Dick Merriwell. “You’ve been a long time coming to it, -Jim, but you certainly have got an awful lot out of your system all at -once. I was beginning to think you never were going to have one of those -historic bad innings.” - -“I was afraid it was coming,” said Jim. “My arm hasn’t been right since -the game began. But, as a matter of fact, I was pitching better, when -they were slugging the ball so hard, than I had before. They simply -didn’t get on to how easy I was. If they had, they could have made all -those runs before.” - -“Want to go out?” said Dick, looking at him keenly. He knew, although, -perhaps, Jim himself did not, that this was the real test of Jim’s -quality as a pitcher, long delayed, but to be faced, now that it had -come. For the first time, Jim was in a bad hole, and had no one to blame -for it but himself. He had faced pinches before, but always with the -steadying remembrance that it was errors that had made the trouble. Now -he had to look to himself for the cause. - -Jim looked up at the universal coach. - -“I think I can do better now,” he said, “if you let me stay in to finish -it. That’s up to you, of course, Mr. Merriwell. But my arm got -straightened out, I think. I don’t know what was the matter. But I feel -as if I could stop them now.” - -“Good boy,” said Dick Merriwell heartily. “That’s what I wanted you to -say. Go in and do the best you can. It isn’t getting beaten that does -the mischief—it’s the way you take it. Every pitcher has bad days. -You’ve been wonderfully lucky not to have had that experience earlier in -the year.” - -Reid was facing Jim when the New Haven team had to take the field again, -and there was a murmur of surprise when it was seen that Jim was to -continue pitching. - -“They must be looking for trouble,” said one man to another, near the -New Haven bench. “When a pitcher gets a lacing like that, it’s time to -send him to the scrap heap.” - -“What’s the difference?” asked the other man. “With Briggs pitching the -way he is, they’ll never make up that lead, anyhow, and they might as -well let this chap Phillips take his medicine. Just proves what I’ve -said all season—he’s the most overrated pitcher in any of the colleges.” - -They were Harvard men, those two. But they did not quite understand -Jim’s true caliber. - -Reid was sure that he was going to make another hit. But he didn’t. He -tried hard enough. Jim was too much for him. - -All Jim’s cunning seemed to have returned; and, after a pretty duel of -wits between them, Reid was worsted, and trotted back to the bench, a -victim on strikes, filled with new admiration for the Yale pitcher. - -“That chap never knows when he’s beaten, anyhow,” he said to Bowen. “He -didn’t have a thing with him but his glove in the last inning. And now -he’s smoking them over just as if he didn’t know what it was to have one -of his benders hit.” - -“He’s got nerve,” agreed Bowen. “That’s what counts. All the skill in -the world won’t do a pitcher any good if he’s yellow. I thought he’d -gone up in the air in that last inning. But I guess it’s a good thing we -hit him while we had the chance. If I am not mistaken, we’ll have our -own troubles getting another hit off him in this game.” - -And, to the surprise of the crowd and both teams, Bowen was right. Jim -grew stronger and better as the game wore on, and inning after inning -saw the Boston team retired without a hit or a run. In the fifth inning, -Briggs wavered for a moment and gave a base on balls to the man who -preceded Brady at the bat. Big Bill, sore and angry at the pounding Jim -had suffered, swung his big bat with terrific effect, and New Haven had -one more run as the result of his slashing triple. But he was left on -third himself, and the score was still seven to four in favor of Boston. - -It wasn’t at all the sort of game the fans had looked for. A victory for -one team or the other by a score of one to nothing, or two to one, had -been anticipated, and the course of the game was a stunning surprise, -for neither Briggs nor Jim Phillips had been half as effective as their -friends had expected them to be. - -With the long lead the Boston team had taken, Dick Merriwell had decided -on straight hitting as the best means of snatching a victory. But, in -the seventh inning, he decided that a change in tactics was necessary. -Briggs had improved, and was making it almost impossible for the Yale -men to hit him safely. - -“We’ve got to try to fool them,” said Dick. “They think now that we’re -going to hit out at everything. So we’ll start in by trying to bunt. It -may not work at first, but if you keep that sort of thing up long -enough, it is apt to disorganize any team not especially prepared for -it.” - -In the seventh inning, the Bostonians met the new tactics successfully, -and repelled the attack. The first three men up for Yale, Brady, -Phillips, and Harry Maxwell, all bunted, and all were thrown out at -first, though it was a close decision on Maxwell, and one that any -captain less sportsmanlike than Dick Merriwell might well have objected -to. - -“Never mind!” said Dick. “We’ll keep on with it. It didn’t work then, -but it may come out better next time.” - -Jim, pitching with terrific speed, disposed of the Boston team easily in -the first half of the eighth inning, and then it was Jackson’s turn at -the bat. His bunt was a beauty, a slow, trickling, deceptive teaser of a -bunt, that crept along the third-base line, and gave him plenty of time -to reach first. - -“Bunt,” said Dick, to Carter, as he lifted his own bat. “We’ll keep -right on.” - -Obeying the signaled order, Jackson sprinted for second as Carter bunted -gently in front of the plate. Briggs thought there was a chance to catch -Jackson at second, and threw there instead of making the easy and -certain play at first. His throw was a second too late, and both runners -were safe. - -“Bunt, when you come up,” said Dick Merriwell, to Green, who followed -him. - -Then he stepped to the plate himself, and the Boston infielder, sure -that he would try to drive in a run, backed out. But Dick smiled -quietly, and bunted down the third-base line. Too late the fielder came -in for the ball. The bunt had been perfectly placed, and the bases were -full, with none out. - -Again was the same trick worked. A bunt, with the bases full and none -out, looked like suicide, but it was not. Jackson raced for the plate as -the ball left Briggs’ hand, and was on top of it when Green chopped the -ball toward first base. The Boston first baseman, confused and rattled, -made a foolish attempt to catch him at the plate, and again all hands -were safe, with the bases full—and one run in. - -Now Dick Merriwell shifted his tactics, choosing the exact moment for -the change. Bill Brady was at the bat, and as the Harvard players crept -in on the grass of the infield, ready to break up any attempt at a bunt -and turn it into a double play, Bill pushed the ball gently over the -shortstop’s head. It rolled with tantalizing slowness to the outfield, -and, before it was returned, Carter and Dick Merriwell had scored, and -New Haven was only one run behind. Brayson, the next batter, smashed out -a sharp single, and Green crossed the plate with the tying run. - -Tuthill hit into a sharp double play, the result of a wonderful stop by -Briggs and Bowen’s lightning relay to first, and then Jim Phillips came -to the bat. Brayson had reached third, and Jim, thirsting with the -desire to put his team ahead, had a great chance. The crowd was wild -with excitement. - -Jim was patient. He waited until Briggs sent up a slow ball that failed -to break just right. Then he hit hard, and raced toward first. The -Boston shortstop made a great stop, and Jim, as he sped toward first, -knew that the play would be close. He ran as hard as he could, but the -ball was a step before him, and, just as he touched the bag, he heard -the thud of the ball in the fielder’s mitt. He was out—and the score was -still tied. - -But there was a wild yell from the crowd. He heard the umpire yell -“Safe!” - -“But I wasn’t safe,” he said to himself, as he turned back to the base. -His teammates were jumping up and down by the bench. The Boston players -were looking dejected. Deliberately, Jim left the bag and walked toward -the umpire. - -“You were mistaken,” he said. “The ball reached first before I did.” - -The Harvard first baseman, amazed, followed him, the ball still in his -hand. Accidentally he touched Jim’s shoulder with the ball. The umpire -saw it. - -“I called you safe before,” he said, “but you’re out now. You left the -bag, and you’ve been touched. Batter up!” - -“Oh, I say,” cried the Harvard first baseman, “I don’t want to take -advantage of a technicality.” - -“It’s all right,” said Jim. “He can’t reverse himself, I suppose. And it -comes out all right. I _was_ out, you know.” - -“We’ll win, anyhow,” said Dick. “I’m afraid Briggs is up in the air.” - -It was true. Jim had no difficulty in blanking the visiting team in the -first half of the ninth inning, and when the New Haven team came to the -bat, singles by Maxwell and Jackson, followed by a long two-bagger by -Carter, quickly sent the winning run over the plate. New Haven was the -winner of the game, eight to seven. And Jim Phillips had proved, not -only that he was as good as ever, but that, after losing his grip, he -could come back—the hardest thing of all to do. - - - THE END. - - -“Dick Merriwell at the Olympics,” by Burt L. Standish, is the next -title, No. 212, of the MERRIWELL SERIES. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - BOOKS THAT NEVER GROW OLD - - Alger Series - - Clean Adventure Stories for Boys - - - The Most Complete List Published - -The following list does not contain all the books that Horatio Alger -wrote, but it contains most of them, and certainly the best. - -Horatio Alger is to boys what Charles Dickens is to grown-ups. His work -is just as popular to-day as it was years ago. The books have a quality, -the value of which is beyond computation. - -There are legions of boys of foreign parents who are being helped along -the road to true Americanism by reading these books which are so -peculiarly American in tone that the reader cannot fail to absorb some -of the spirit of fair play and clean living which is so -characteristically American. - -In this list will be included certain books by Edward Stratemeyer, -Oliver Optic, and other authors who wrote the Alger type of stories, -which are equal in interest and wholesomeness with those written by the -famous author after whom this great line of books for boys is named. - - - ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT - ────── - By HORATIO ALGER, Jr. - - 1—Driven from Home - 2—A Cousin’s Conspiracy - 3—Ned Newton - 4—Andy Gordon - 5—Tony, the Tramp - 6—The Five Hundred Dollar Check - 7—Helping Himself - 8—Making His Way - 9—Try and Trust - 10—Only an Irish Boy - 11—Jed, the Poorhouse Boy - 12—Chester Rand - 13—Grit, the Young Boatman of Pine Point - 14—Joe’s Luck - 15—From Farm Boy to Senator - 16—The Young Outlaw - 17—Jack’s Ward - 18—Dean Dunham - 19—In a New World - 20—Both Sides of the Continent - 21—The Store Boy - 22—Brave and Bold - 23—A New York Boy - -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, 1929. - - 24—Bob Burton - 25—The Young Adventurer - -To be published in February, 1929. - - 26—Julius, the Street Boy - 27—Adrift in New York - -To be published in March, 1929. - - 28—Tom Brace - 29—Struggling Upward - -To be published in April, 1929. - - 30—The Adventures of a New York Telegraph Boy - 31—Tom Tracy - -To be published in May, 1929. - - 32—The Young Acrobat - 33—Bound to Rise - 34—Hector’s Inheritance - -To be published in June, 1929. - - 35—Do and Dare - 36—The Tin Box - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - NOW IN PRINT - - By EDWARD STRATEMEYER - - 98—The Last Cruise of The Spitfire - 99—Reuben Stone’s Discovery - 100—True to Himself - 101—Richard Dare’s Venture - 102—Oliver Bright’s Search - 103—To Alaska for Gold - 104—The Young Auctioneer - 105—Bound to Be an Electrician - 106—Shorthand Tom - 108—Joe, the Surveyor - 109—Larry, the Wanderer - 110—The Young Ranchman - 111—The Young Lumberman - 112—The Young Explorers - 113—Boys of the Wilderness - 114—Boys of the Great North-west - 115—Boys of the Gold Field - 116—For His Country - 117—Comrades in Peril - 118—The Young Pearl Hunters - 119—The Young Bandmaster - 121—On Fortune’s Trail - 122—Lost in the Land of Ice - 123—Bob, the Photographer - - - By OLIVER OPTIC - - 124—Among the Missing - 125—His Own Helper - 126—Honest Kit Dunstable - 127—Every Inch a Boy - 128—The Young Pilot - 129—Always in Luck - 130—Rich and Humble - 131—In School and Out - 133—Work and Win - 135—Haste and Waste - 136—Royal Tarr’s Pluck - 137—The Prisoners of the Cave - 138—Louis Chiswick’s Mission - 139—The Professor’s Son - 140—The Young Hermit - 141—The Cruise of The Dandy - 142—Building Himself Up - 143—Lyon Hart’s Heroism - 144—Three Young Silver Kings - 145—Making a Man of Himself - 146—Striving for His Own - 147—Through by Daylight - 148—Lightning Express - 149—On Time - 150—Switch Off - 151—Brake Up - 152—Bear and Forbear - 153—The “Starry Flag” - 154—Breaking Away - 155—Seek and Find - 156—Freaks of Fortune - 157—Make or Break - 158—Down the River - 159—The Boat Club - 160—All Aboard - 161—Now or Never - 162—Try Again - 163—Poor and Proud - 164—Little by Little - 165—The Sailor Boy - 166—The Yankee Middy - 167—Brave Old Salt - - 175—Fighting for Fortune By Roy Franklin - 176—The Young Steel Worker By Frank H. MacDougal - 177—The Go-ahead Boys By Gale Richards - 178—For the Right By Roy Franklin - 179—The Motor Cycle Boys By Donald Grayson - 180—The Wall Street Boy By Allan Montgomery - 181—Stemming the Tide By Roy Franklin - 182—On High Gear By Donald Grayson - 183—A Wall Street Fortune By Allan Montgomery - 184—Winning By Courage By Roy Franklin - 185—From Auto to Airship By Donald Grayson - 186—Camp and Canoe By Remson Douglas - 187—Winning Against Odds By Roy Franklin - 188—The Luck of Vance Sevier By Frederick Gibson - 189—The Island Castaway By Roy Franklin - 190—The Boy Marvel By Frank H. MacDougal - 191—A Boy With a Purpose By Roy Franklin - 192—The River Fugitives By Remson Douglas - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - NICK CARTER STORIES - - New Magnet Library - - Not a Dull Book in This List - - ALL BY NICHOLAS CARTER - - -Nick Carter stands for an interesting detective story. The fact that the -books in this line are so uniformly good is entirely due to the work of -a specialist. The man who wrote these stories produced no other type of -fiction. His mind was concentrated upon the creation of new plots and -situations in which his hero emerged triumphantly from all sorts of -troubles and landed the criminal just where he should be—behind the -bars. - -The author of these stories knew more about writing detective stories -than any other single person. - -Following is a list of the best Nick Carter stories. They have been -selected with extreme care, and we unhesitatingly recommend each of them -as being fully as interesting as any detective story between cloth -covers which sells at ten times the price. - -If you do not know Nick Carter, buy a copy of any of the New Magnet -Library books, and get acquainted. He will surprise and delight you. - - - ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT - - - 901—A Weird Treasure - 902—The Middle Link - 903—To the Ends of the Earth - 904—When Honors Pall - 905—The Yellow Brand - 906—A New Serpent in Eden - 907—When Brave Men Tremble - 908—A Test of Courage - 909—Where Peril Beckons - 910—The Gargoni Girdle - 911—Rascals & Co. - 912—Too Late to Talk - 913—Satan’s Apt Pupil - 914—The Girl Prisoner - 915—The Danger of Folly - 916—One Shipwreck Too Many - 917—Scourged by Fear - 918—The Red Plague - 919—Scoundrels Rampant - 920—From Clew to Clew - 921—When Rogues Conspire - 922—Twelve in a Grave - 923—The Great Opium Case - 924—A Conspiracy of Rumors - 925—A Klondike Claim - 926—The Evil Formula - 927—The Man of Many Faces - 928—The Great Enigma - 929—The Burden of Proof - 930—The Stolen Brain - 931—A Titled Counterfeiter - 932—The Magic Necklace - 933—’Round the World for a Quarter - 934—Over the Edge of the World - 935—In the Grip of Fate - 936—The Case of Many Clews - 937—The Sealed Door - 938—Nick Carter and the Green Goods Men - 939—The Man Without a Will - 940—Tracked Across the Atlantic - 941—A Clew from the Unknown - 942—The Crime of a Countess - 943—A Mixed-up Mess - 944—The Great Money-order Swindle - 945—The Adder’s Brood - 946—A Wall Street Haul - 947—For a Pawned Crown - 948—Sealed Orders - 949—The Hate that Kills - 950—The American Marquis - 951—The Needy Nine - 952—Fighting Against Millions - 953—Outlaws of the Blue - 954—The Old Detective’s Pupil - 955—Found in the Jungle - 956—The Mysterious Mail Robbery - 957—Broken Bars - 958—A Fair Criminal - 959—Won by Magic - 960—The Piano Box Mystery - 961—The Man They Held Back - 962—A Millionaire Partner - 963—A Pressing Peril - 964—An Australian Klondike - 965—The Sultan’s Pearls - 966—The Double Shuffle Club - 967—Paying the Price - 968—A Woman’s Hand - 969—A Network of Crime - 970—At Thompson’s Ranch - 971—The Crossed Needles - 972—The Diamond Mine Case - 973—Blood Will Tell - 974—An Accidental Password - 975—The Crook’s Double - 976—Two Plus Two - 977—The Yellow Label - 978—The Clever Celestial - 979—The Amphitheater Plot - 980—Gideon Drexel’s Millions - 981—Death in Life - 982—A Stolen Identity - 983—Evidence by Telephone - 984—The Twelve Tin Boxes - 985—Clew Against Clew - 986—Lady Velvet - 987—Playing a Bold Game - 988—A Dead Man’s Grip - 989—Snarled Identities - 990—A Deposit Vault Puzzle - 991—The Crescent Brotherhood - 992—The Stolen Pay Train - 993—The Sea Fox - 994—Wanted by Two Clients - 995—The Van Alstine Case - 996—Check No. 777 - 997—Partners in Peril - 998—Nick Carter’s Clever Protégé - 999—The Sign of the Crossed Knives - 1000—The Man Who Vanished - 1001—A Battle for the Right - 1002—A Game of Craft - 1003—Nick Carter’s Retainer - 1004—Caught in the Toils - 1005—A Broken Bond - 1006—The Crime of the French Café - 1007—The Man Who Stole Millions - 1008—The Twelve Wise Men - 1009—Hidden Foes - 1010—A Gamblers’ Syndicate - 1011—A Chance Discovery - 1012—Among the Counterfeiters - 1013—A Threefold Disappearance - 1014—At Odds with Scotland Yard - 1015—A Princess of Crime - 1016—Found on the Beach - 1017—A Spinner of Death - 1018—The Detective’s Pretty Neighbor - 1019—A Bogus Clew - 1020—The Puzzle of Five Pistols - 1021—The Secret of the Marble Mantel - 1022—A Bite of an Apple - 1023—A Triple Crime - 1024—The Stolen Race Horse - 1025—Wildfire - 1026—A Herald Personal - 1027—The Finger of Suspicion - 1028—The Crimson Clew - 1029—Nick Carter Down East - 1030—The Chain of Clews - 1031—A Victim of Circumstances - 1032—Brought to Bay - 1033—The Dynamite Trap - 1034—A Scrap of Black Lace - 1035—The Woman of Evil - 1036—A Legacy of Hate - 1037—A Trusted Rogue - 1038—Man Against Man - 1039—The Demons of the Night - 1040—The Brotherhood of Death - 1041—At the Knife’s Point - 1042—A Cry for Help - 1043—A Stroke of Policy - 1044—Hounded to Death - 1045—A Bargain in Crime - 1046—The Fatal Prescription - 1047—The Man of Iron - 1048—An Amazing Scoundrel - 1049—The Chain of Evidence - 1050—Paid with Death - 1051—A Fight for a Throne - 1052—The Woman of Steel - 1053—The Seal of Death - 1054—The Human Fiend - 1055—A Desperate Chance - 1056—A Chase in the Dark - 1057—The Snare and the Game - 1058—The Murray Hill Mystery - 1059—Nick Carter’s Close Call - 1060—The Missing Cotton King - 1061—A Game of Plots - 1062—The Prince of Liars - 1063—The Man at the Window - 1064—The Red League - 1065—The Price of a Secret - 1066—The Worst Case on Record - 1067—From Peril to Peril - 1068—The Seal of Silence - 1069—Nick Carter’s Chinese Puzzle - 1070—A Blackmailer’s Bluff - 1071—Heard in the Dark - 1072—A Checkmated Scoundrel - 1073—The Cashier’s Secret - 1074—Behind a Mask - 1075—The Cloak of Guilt - 1076—Two Villains in One - 1077—The Hot Air Clew - 1078—Run to Earth - 1079—The Certified Check - 1080—Weaving the Web - 1081—Beyond Pursuit - 1082—The Claws of the Tiger - 1083—Driven from Cover - 1084—A Deal in Diamonds - 1085—The Wizard of the Cue - 1086—A Race for Ten Thousand - 1087—The Criminal Link - 1088—The Red Signal - 1089—The Secret Panel - 1090—A Bonded Villain - 1091—A Move in the Dark - 1092—Against Desperate Odds - 1093—The Telltale Photographs - 1094—The Ruby Pin - 1095—The Queen of Diamonds - 1096—A Broken Trail - 1097—An Ingenious Stratagem - 1098—A Sharper’s Downfall - 1099—A Race Track Gamble - 1100—Without a Clew - 1101—The Council of Death - 1102—The Hole in the Vault - 1103—In Death’s Grip - 1104—A Great Conspiracy - 1105—The Guilty Governor - 1106—A Ring of Rascals - 1107—A Masterpiece of Crime - 1108—A Blow for Vengeance - 1109—Tangled Threads - 1110—The Crime of the Camera - 1111—The Sign of the Dagger - 1112—Nick Carter’s Promise - 1113—Marked for Death - 1114—The Limited Holdup - 1115—When the Trap Was Sprung - 1116—Through the Cellar Wall - 1117—Under the Tiger’s Claws - 1118—The Girl in the Case - 1119—Behind a Throne - 1120—The Lure of Gold - 1121—Hand to Hand - 1122—From a Prison Cell - 1123—Dr. Quartz, Magician - 1124—Into Nick Carter’s Web - 1125—The Mystic Diagram - 1126—The Hand that Won - 1127—Playing a Lone Hand - 1128—The Master Villain - 1129—The False Claimant - 1130—The Living Mask - 1131—The Crime and the Motive - 1132—A Mysterious Foe - 1133—A Missing Man - 1134—A Game Well Played - 1135—A Cigarette Clew - 1136—The Diamond Trail - 1137—The Silent Guardian - 1138—The Dead Stranger - 1140—The Doctor’s Stratagem - 1141—Following a Chance Clew - 1142—The Bank Draft Puzzle - 1143—The Price of Treachery - 1144—The Silent Partner - 1145—Ahead of the Game - 1146—A Trap of Tangled Wire - 1147—In the Gloom of Night - 1148—The Unaccountable Crook - 1149—A Bundle of Clews - 1150—The Great Diamond Syndicate - 1151—The Death Circle - 1152—The Toss of a Penny - 1153—One Step Too Far - 1154—The Terrible Thirteen - 1155—A Detective’s Theory - 1156—Nick Carter’s Auto Trail - 1157—A Triple Identity - 1158—A Mysterious Graft - 1159—A Carnival of Crime - 1160—The Bloodstone Terror - 1161—Trapped in His Own Net - 1162—The Last Move in the Game - 1163—A Victim of Deceit - 1164—With Links of Steel - 1165—A Plaything of Fate - 1166—The Key Ring Clew - 1167—Playing for a Fortune - 1168—At Mystery’s Threshold - 1169—Trapped by a Woman - 1170—The Four Fingered Glove - 1171—Nabob and Knave - 1172—The Broadway Cross - 1173—The Man Without a Conscience - 1174—A Master of Deviltry - 1175—Nick Carter’s Double Catch - 1176—Doctor Quartz’s Quick Move - 1177—The Vial of Death - 1178—Nick Carter’s Star Pupils - 1179—Nick Carter’s Girl Detective - 1180—A Baffled Oath - 1181—A Royal Thief - 1182—Down and Out - 1183—A Syndicate of Rascals - 1184—Played to a Finish - 1185—A Tangled Case - 1186—In Letters of Fire - 1187—Crossed Wires - 1188—A Plot Uncovered - 1189—The Cab Driver’s Secret - 1190—Nick Carter’s Death Warrant - 1191—The Plot that Failed - 1192—Nick Carter’s Masterpiece - 1193—A Prince of Rogues - 1194—In the Lap of Danger - 1195—The Man from London - 1196—Circumstantial Evidence - 1197—The Pretty Stenographer Mystery - 1198—A Villainous Scheme - 1199—A Plot Within a Plot - 1200—The Elevated Railroad Mystery - 1201—The Blow of a Hammer - 1202—The Twin Mystery - 1203—The Bottle with the Black Label - 1204—Under False Colors - 1205—A Ring of Dust - 1206—The Crown Diamond - 1207—The Blood-red Badge - 1208—The Barrel Mystery - 1209—The Photographer’s Evidence - 1210—Millions at Stake - 1211—The Man and His Price - 1212—A Double-Handed Game - 1213—A Strike for Freedom - 1214—A Disciple of Satan - 1215—The Marked Hand - 1216—A Fight with a Fiend - 1217—When the Wicked Prosper - 1218—A Plunge into Crime - 1219—An Artful Schemer - 1220—Reaping the Whirlwind - 1221—Out of Crime’s Depths - 1222—A Woman at Bay - 1223—The Temple of Vice - 1224—Death at the Feast - 1225—A Double Plot - 1226—In Search of Himself - 1227—A Hunter of Men - 1228—The Boulevard Mutes - 1229—Captain Sparkle, Pirate - 1230—Nick Carter’s Fall - 1231—Out of Death’s Shadow - 1232—A Voice from the Past - 1233—Accident or Murder? - 1234—The Man Who Was Cursed - 1235—Baffled, But Not Beaten - 1236—A Case Without a Clew - 1237—The Demon’s Eye - 1238—A Blindfold Mystery - 1239—Nick Carter’s Swim to Victory - 1240—A Man to Be Feared - 1241—Saved by a Ruse - 1242—Nick Carter’s Wildest Chase - 1243—A Nation’s Peril - 1244—The Rajah’s Ruby - 1245—The Trail of a Human Tiger - 1246—The Disappearing Princess - 1247—The Lost Chittendens - 1248—The Crystal Mystery - 1249—The King’s Prisoner - 1250—Talika, the Geisha Girl - 1251—The Doom of the Reds - -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, 1929. - - 1252—The Lady of Shadows - 1253—The Mysterious Castle - 1254—The Senator’s Plot - -To be published in February, 1929. - - 1255—A Submarine Trail - 1256—A War of Brains - -To be published in March, 1929. - - 1257—Pauline—A Mystery - 1258—The Confidence King - -To be published in April, 1929. - - 1259—A Chase for Millions - 1260—Shown on the Screen - -To be published in May, 1929. - - 1261—The Streaked Peril - 1262—The Room of Mirrors - -To be published in June, 1929. - - 1263—A Plot for an Empire - 1264—A Call on the Phone - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - TALES OF THE ROLLING PLAINS - - Great Western Library - - By COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM and W. B. LAWSON - - Thrilling Adventure - - -For many years we have been urged by readers who like Western stories to -publish some tales about the adventures of Diamond Dick. Therefore, we -decided to have a new series of stories based upon the adventures of -this famous Western character, and to put them in a line called GREAT -WESTERN LIBRARY, together with stories about Buffalo Bill, by Col. -Prentiss Ingraham. - -Thus, in this line two of the most famous of all American characters -join hands. The so-called society stories with a kick in them come and -go, but these clean, wholesome tales of the West give a clean-cut -picture of the lives and characters of the men who carried the advance -banners of civilization westward. - -There are Indian stories, cowboy stories, outlaw stories, all sorts of -stories of adventures out West. Each one is clean and decent, even if it -is thrilling. - - - ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT - - 1—Diamond Dick’s Own Brand By W. B. Lawson - 2—Buffalo Bill’s Honor By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 3—Diamond Dick’s Maverick By W. B. Lawson - 4—Buffalo Bill’s Phantom Hunt By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 5—Diamond Dick’s Man Hunt By W. B. Lawson - 6—Buffalo Bill’s Fight with Fire By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 7—Diamond Dick’s Danger Signal By W. B. Lawson - 8—Buffalo Bill’s Danite Trail By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 9—Diamond Dick’s Prospect By W. B. Lawson - 10—Buffalo Bill’s Ranch Riders By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 11—Diamond Dick and the Gold Bugs By W. B. Lawson - 12—Buffalo Bill’s Death Trail By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 13—Diamond Dick at Comet City By W. B. Lawson - 14—Buffalo Bill’s Trackers By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 15—Diamond Dick and the Worthless Bonanza By W. B. Lawson - 16—Buffalo Bill’s Mid-air Flight By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 17—Diamond Dick’s Black List By W. B. Lawson - 18—Buffalo Bill, Ambassador By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 19—Diamond Dick and the Indian Outlaw By W. B. Lawson - 20—Buffalo Bill’s Air Voyage By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 21—Diamond Dick and Gentleman Jack By W. B. Lawson - 22—Buffalo Bill’s Secret Mission By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 23—Diamond Dick at Secret Pass By W. B. Lawson - 24—Buffalo Bill’s Long Trail By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 25—Diamond Dick’s Red Trailer By W. B. Lawson - 26—Buffalo Bill Against Odds By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 27—Buffalo Bill’s Bid for Fame By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 28—Buffalo Bill’s Bonanza By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 29—Buffalo Bill’s Swoop By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 30—Buffalo Bill and the Gold King By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 31—Buffalo Bill’s Still Hunt By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 32—Buffalo Bill’s Traitor Guide By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 33—Buffalo Bill and the Doomed Dozen By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 34—Buffalo Bill’s Border Duel By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 35—Buffalo Bill’s Triumph By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 36—Buffalo Bill’s Body Guard By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 37—Buffalo Bill’s Prairie Scout By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 38—Buffalo Bill’s Death Call By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 39—Buffalo Bill’s Double Surprise By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 40—Buffalo Bill, the Border King By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 41—Buffalo Bill’s Raid By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 42—Buffalo Bill’s Bravery By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 43—Buffalo Bill’s Trump Card By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 44—Buffalo Bill’s Pledge By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 45—Buffalo Bill’s Vengeance By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 46—Buffalo Bill’s Iron Grip By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 47—Buffalo Bill’s Capture By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 48—Buffalo Bill’s Danger Line By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 49—Buffalo Bill’s Comrades By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 50—Buffalo Bill’s Reckoning By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 51—Buffalo Bill’s Warning By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 52—Buffalo Bill at Bay By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - -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, 1929. - - 53—Buffalo Bill’s Buckskin Pards By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 54—Buffalo Bill’s Brand By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - - -To be published in February, 1929. - - 55—Buffalo Bill’s Hot Chase By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 56—Buffalo Bill’s Redskin Ally By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - - -To be published in March, 1929. - - 57—Buffalo Bill’s Treasure Trove By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 58—Buffalo Bill’s Hidden Foes By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - - -To be published in April, 1929. - - 59—Buffalo Bill’s Crack Shot By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 60—Buffalo Bill’s Close Call By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - - -To be published in May, 1929. - - 61—Buffalo Bill’s Ambush By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 62—Buffalo Bill’s Outlaw Hunt By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 63—Buffalo Bill’s Spy Trailer By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - - -To be published in June, 1929. - - 64—Buffalo Bill, Deadshot By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - 65—Buffalo Bill’s Buckskin Bravoes By Col. Prentiss Ingraham - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - Round the World Library - - Stories of Jack Harkaway and His Comrades - -Every reader, young and old, has heard of Jack Harkaway. His remarkable -adventures in out-of-the-way corners of the globe are really classics, -and every one should read them. - -Jack is a splendid, manly character, full of life and strength and -curiosity. He has a number of very interesting companions—Professor -Mole, for instance, who is very funny. He also has some very strange -enemies, who are anything but funny. - -Get interested in Jack. It will pay you. - - - ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT - ────── - By BRACEBRIDGE HEMYNG - - 1—Jack Harkaway’s School Days - 2—Jack Harkaway’s Friends - 3—Jack Harkaway After School Days - 4—Jack Harkaway Afloat and Ashore - 5—Jack Harkaway Among the Pirates - 6—Jack Harkaway at Oxford - 7—Jack Harkaway’s Struggles - 8—Jack Harkaway’s Triumphs - 9—Jack Harkaway Among the Brigands - 10—Jack Harkaway’s Return - 11—Jack Harkaway Around the World - 12—Jack Harkaway’s Perils - 13—Jack Harkaway In China - 14—Jack Harkaway and the Red Dragon - 15—Jack Harkaway’s Pluck - 16—Jack Harkaway in Australia - 17—Jack Harkaway and the Bushrangers - 18—Jack Harkaway’s Duel - 19—Jack Harkaway and the Turks - 20—Jack Harkaway in New York - 21—Jack Harkaway Out West - 22—Jack Harkaway Among the Indians - 23—Jack Harkaway’s Cadet Days - 24—Jack Harkaway in the Black Hills - 25—Jack Harkaway in the Toils - 26—Jack Harkaway’s Secret of Wealth - 27—Jack Harkaway, Missing - 28—Jack Harkaway and the Sacred Serpent - 29—The Fool of the Family - 30—Mischievous Matt - 31—Mischievous Matt’s Pranks - 32—Bob Fairplay Adrift - 33—Bob Fairplay at Sea - 34—The Boys of St. Aldates - 35—Billy Barlow - 36—Larry O’Keefe - 37—Sam Sawbones - 38—Too Fast to Last - 39—Home Base - 40—Spider and Stump - 41—Out for Fun - 42—Rob Rollalong, Sailor - 43—Rob Rollalong in the Wilds - - ────── - - 44—Phil, the Showman By Stanley Norris - 45—Phil’s Rivals By Stanley Norris - 46—Phil’s Pluck By Stanley Norris - 47—Phil’s Triumph By Stanley Norris - 48—From Circus to Fortune By Stanley Norris - 49—A Gentleman Born By Stanley Norris - 50—For His Friend’s Honor By Stanley Norris - 51—True to His Trust By Stanley Norris - 52—Facing the Music By Stanley Norris - 53—Jungles and Traitors By William Murray Graydon - 54—The Rockspur Eleven By Burt L. Standish - 55—Treasure Island By Robert Louis Stevenson - 56—In Fort and Prison By William Murray Graydon - 57—The Rockspur Rivals By Burt L. Standish - 58—George Arnold’s Pluck By John De Morgan - 59—The Golden Harpoon By Weldon J. Cobb - 60—The Rockspur Nine By Burt L. Standish - 61—Always on Duty By John De Morgan - 62—On the Wing By Weldon J. Cobb - 63—Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea By Jules Verne - 64—A Legacy of Peril By William Murray Graydon - 65—Lost in the Ice By John De Morgan - 66—The Young Railroader By Stanley Norris - 67—The Tour of the Zero Club By Capt. Ralph Bonehill - 68—The Young Railroader’s Flyer By Stanley Norris - 69—The Silent City By Fred Thorpe - 74—The Young Railroader’s Long Run By Stanley Norris - 75—The Treasure of Star Island By Weldon J. Cobb - 76—The Young Railroader’s Comrade By Stanley Norris - 77—In Unknown Worlds By John De Morgan - 78—The Young Railroader’s Promotion By Stanley Norris - 79—A Trip to Mars By Weldon J. Cobb - 80—The Young Railroader’s Chance By Stanley Norris - 81—Rob Ranger’s Mine By Lieut. Lounsberry - 82—Zip, the Acrobat By Victor St. Clair - 83—Rob Ranger’s Cowboy Days By Lieut. Lounsberry - 84—On His Merit By Victor St. Clair - 85—Out For Sport By Wallace Kincaid - 86—Where Duty Called By Victor St. Clair - 87—Engineer Ralph By Frank H. MacDougal - 88—Fortune’s Winding Trail By Roy Franklin - 89—The Boy Conjurer By Victor St. Clair - 90—The Go-Ahead Boys’ Legacy By Gale Richards - 91—With Odds Against Him By Weldon J. Cobb - 92—Sunset Ranch By Stanley Norris - 93—Chums of the Prairie By Stanley Norris - 94—The Young Range Riders By Stanley Norris - 95—Jack Lightfoot, the Athlete By Maxwell Stevens - 96—Jack Lightfoot’s Crack Nine By Maxwell Stevens - 97—Jack Lightfoot Trapped By Maxwell Stevens - 98—Jack Lightfoot’s Rival By Maxwell Stevens - 99—Jack Lightfoot in Camp By Maxwell Stevens - 100—Jack Lightfoot’s Canoe Trip By Maxwell Stevens - 101—Jack Lightfoot’s Iron Arm By Maxwell Stevens - 102—Jack Lightfoot’s Hoodoo By Maxwell Stevens - 103—Jack Lightfoot’s Decision By Maxwell Stevens - 104—Jack Lightfoot’s Gun Club By Maxwell Stevens - 105—Jack Lightfoot’s Blind By Maxwell Stevens - -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, 1929. - - 106—Jack Lightfoot’s Capture By Maxwell Stevens - 107—Jack Lightfoot’s Head Work By Maxwell Stevens - - -To be published in February, 1929. - - 108—Jack Lightfoot’s Wisdom By Maxwell Stevens - 109—The Pride of Annapolis By Com. Luther G. Brownell - - -To be published in March, 1929. - - 110—The Haunted Hunter By Edward S. Ellis - 111—An Annapolis Adventure By Com. Luther G. Brownell - - -To be published in April, 1929. - - 112—The Two Scouts By Edward S. Ellis - 113—An Annapolis Hero By Com. Luther G. Brownell - - -To be published in May, 1929. - - 114—Among the Redskins By Edward S. Ellis - 115—Making Good in the Navy By Com. Luther G. Brownell - - -To be published in June, 1929. - - 116—Tracked Through the Wilds By Edward S. Ellis - 117—A Dash for Glory By Com. Luther G. Brownell - - - Nick Carter Still Lives! - - -For many years the stories of the adventures of Nicholas Carter, the -great American detective, have been favorites with busy men in all walks -of life. The reason is not hard to find. 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