THE MEDAL LIBRARY

FAMOUS COPYRIGHTED STORIES
FOR BOYS, BY FAMOUS AUTHORS

This is an ideal line for boys of all ages. It contains juvenile masterpieces by the most popular writers of interesting fiction for boys. Among these may be mentioned the works of Burt L. Standish, detailing the adventures of Frank Merriwell, the hero, of whom every American boy has read with admiration. Frank is a truly representative American lad, of fine character and a strong determination to do right at any cost. Then, there are the works of Horatio Alger, Jr., whose keen insight into the minds of the boys of our country has enabled him to write a series of the most interesting tales ever published. This line also contains some of the best works of Oliver Optic, another author whose entire life was devoted to writing books that would tend to interest and elevate our boys.

PUBLISHED EVERY WEEK

Frank Merriwell’s Fun

OR

FEARLESS AND TRUE

BY

BURT L. STANDISH

AUTHOR OF

“The Merriwell Stories”

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS
79-89 SEVENTH AVE., NEW YORK CITY

Copyright, 1899

By STREET & SMITH

Frank Merriwell’s Fun

FRANK MERRIWELL’S FUN.

CHAPTER I.

HOOKER.

“There’s Frank Merriwell and his set,” said Tilton Hull, with an effort to appear contemptuous.

“A nice lot of chumps they are!” exclaimed Julian Ives, speaking loudly, as if he wished to be heard by the little group of laughing students that was passing down the walk in front of Battell, one of the halls at Yale.

“Don’t nothithe them,” lisped Lew Veazie, turning his back on the passing group. “They are verwy cheap.”

“Be generous, be generous!” said Rupert Chickering, with clasped hands. “We should pity them, instead of speaking of them with scorn. They can’t help being what they are.”

“Your campaign against Merriwell does not seem to thrive?” said Hull, addressing Gene Skelding, who was leaning against the fence and scowling blackly at the passing students.

“I’m waiting,” muttered Gene. “I’ll get him yet.”

“There are others who are waiting,” said Ives impatiently. “That fellow Badger must have given up his ambition to down Merriwell.”

“Don’t mention him!” cried Ollie Lord, standing on his tiptoes in an attempt to look tall and imposing, although he was barely five feet in height. “He insulted me! I felt like killing him on the spot!”

“You mutht westwain your angwy pathions, deah boy,” simpered Lew. “You thould not allow yourthelf to become dangerous.”

The idea of Ollie becoming very dangerous was extremely ludicrous, but nobody in the group cracked a smile. The Chickering crowd took themselves seriously.

“Badger,” said Ives, “is a bluff. But I did think that Bertrand Defarge might take some of the wind out of Merriwell’s sails.”

“Defarge got it in the neck,” muttered Skelding, “and he’s as quiet as a sick kitten now.”

“They say Merriwell played with him after the fashion of a cat playing with a mouse,” spoke Ives, gently caressing his bang, which fell in a roll over his forehead quite to his eyebrows.

The trouble with the Frenchman was that he thought Merriwell knew nothing at all about fencing,” declared Skelding.

“Is there anything in the world that Merriwell knows nothing at all about?” exclaimed Tilton Hull, looking over the top of his wonderfully high collar despairingly.

“Sure thing,” nodded Skelding, scowling. “His weak point will be found some time, and then he’ll go down with a crash. Every man has a weakness, you know.”

“I take extheptionth!” cried Lew Veazie, with great vigor. “I weally defy anybody to dithcover my weak point.”

“Claret punch,” said Ollie Lord.

“Well, you can’t thay a word,” grinned Lew.

Merriwell and his party had passed on. Rattleton had called attention to Chickering’s crowd, but Frank did not even deign to glance at the group by the fence.

“They are not worth noticing,” he said. “Don’t mind them, anybody.”

“I’d like to eat that little runt Veazie!” exclaimed Bink Stubbs.

“Well, he’d make you sick if you did!” returned Danny Griswold.

“We were speaking of the money question,” grunted Browning. “Which side of that question are you on, Jones?”

“The outside,” answered Dismal sadly. “Haven’t received a remittance from the governor since Jonah swallowed the whale.”

“You’re in hard luck.”

“Don’t mention it!”

“Will a tenner help you out?” asked Frank.

“Will it? Ask me!”

“All right,” said Merry; “come up to the room. Come along, all of you.”

“There’s another fellow,” grunted Browning, pointing to a student who was sitting all alone on the end of the fence in front of Durfee, “who looks as if he might be on the outside of the money question.”

The person referred to looked forlorn and dejected.

“I’ve noticed him often,” said Merry. “He never seems to travel with anybody.”

“You mean that nobody travels with him,” said Rattleton.

“It’s all the same. He doesn’t associate with other students.”

“On the contrary, other students do not associate with him.”

“I wonder why.”

“He has a bad name,” said Griswold.

“What is it?”

“Hooker.”

“You don’t mean to say that that has anything to do with the fact that he has no associates?”

“Well, the name seems to fit him.”

“How?”

“They say his father has served a term in the jug for larceny.”

Merry was interested.

“And is that the reason why he has no associates here?”

“One reason.”

“Then there are others?”

“There is another.”

“What’s that?”

“His nature seems to fit his name.”

“What do you mean?”

“Things have a habit of disappearing when he’s round.”

“What! Do you mean that he’s light-fingered?”

“Well, nobody’s ever caught him yet, but he has that reputation.”

Frank’s interest increased.

“You say that his father has served time for larceny, and that this poor fellow has a bad name? If nobody has caught him at anything crooked, why should he be ostracized?”

“Well, the fellows here don’t care about associating with anybody who has such a father.”

“Still, I am willing to wager,” said Merry, “that some of the sons of wealthy men in this college are being educated with the aid of money dishonestly acquired by their fathers. Stealing is stealing, whether it’s done in stock manipulations or in some other manner.”

“Yes,” grunted Browning, “but the man who can steal a hundred thousand at a lick is called smart, while the fellow who swipes a paltry hundred is called a fool. That’s the difference.”

“It’s a difference in public opinion, that’s all,” declared Merry. “One is as much a thief as the other. I have heard fellows say they’d never touch a dollar that did not belong to them unless they could make a big haul, and I always set such chaps down as dishonest at heart, though they may be regarded as square and honorable. I’ve even heard old men say, in the presence of young men, that the hungry wretch who stole a loaf of bread deserved no pity, but that the sleek rascal who was able to rob a bank and get out of the country did a good job. An old man who entertains such ideas is a thorough scoundrel, and, by his openly expressed admiration for the broad-gage rascal, he often plants the seed of dishonesty in the heart of some young man and ruins a career for life. I believe a man who expresses such sentiments is no better than the thief himself, and I have nothing but the utmost scorn and aversion for him!”

Frank spoke warmly, for he felt strongly on that point. His sentiments were right.

“Anyhow,” said Rattleton, “nobody here cares to associate with a fellow who is known to be the son of a criminal. That’s why Hooker is an outcast.”

“And by shunning him,” said Merry, “they may be souring his soul and embittering his life.”

“Well, the fellow who has anything to do with him will be regarded as no better than he is.”

They had passed Hooker, who looked lonesome enough. Frank’s heart was touched by his wretched appearance.

“And so no one has the moral courage to give him a helping hand and a word of cheer,” said Merriwell. “I’m glad I’ve learned something about him. Excuse me, gentlemen.”

“Why, where are you going?”

“I’m going back to see Hooker,” said Merry, turning square about.

“Hold on!” exclaimed Harry. “What’s the use to——Well, that’s just like him!”

“Yes,” growled Bruce, with a tired air; “you might have known he’d do it!”

“Well, where does my ten dollars come in?” sighed Jones.

“You’ll have to wait for it till Merriwell gets through with Hooker,” grinned Stubbs.

“And then Hooker may have it,” said Griswold. “You’re up against it, Jones.”

“As usual,” groaned Dismal. “Wish I’d never learned how to play poker.”

“You haven’t,” said Bink. “That’s what ails you. You simply play the sucker, while the other fellows play poker.”

“It’s fate,” declared Jones, with resignation. “I’ve been studying the lines in my hand, and I find I’m destined to be a sucker all my life.”

“By the way,” said Stubbs, “what would you call a paper devoted to palmistry?”

“A hand-organ,” answered Griswold instantly.

“You’re too smart!” sneered Bink.

They watched till they saw Merry walk straight back to the lonely student on the end of the fence. Frank advanced and spoke to Hooker.

“Excuse me,” said Merry, with a pleasant smile, holding out his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met before.”

Hooker dropped down from the fence, a look of surprise coming to his pale face.

“No, I believe not,” he faltered, accepting Frank’s hand hesitatingly, as if in doubt about what was going to follow.

“My name’s Merriwell,” said Frank.

“You don’t have to tell me that. Every man in college knows you. My name is Hooker—James Hooker. Perhaps,” he added, flushing, “perhaps you have heard of me?”

“Nothing much,” said Merry. “I saw you all alone on the fence as I passed along with some friends. You looked rather lonesome, and I don’t like to see anybody look that way, so I came back to jolly you up a little, if I could.”

“That was good of you! I appreciate it, Mr. Merriwell, I assure you, but—but——”

“But what?”

Hooker was greatly confused, but he seemed to force himself to say:

“Perhaps you’d better make some inquiries about me before you permit yourself to be seen with me in such a public place as this.”

It was plain he said this with a great effort, and Frank’s sympathy for him redoubled.

“Why should I do that?” exclaimed Merry. “I am not in the habit of judging my friends by the estimation made of them by others.”

“Your friends!”

“Yes.”

“But—but I’m not one of your friends!”

“Perhaps you may become one—who knows?”

Hooker shook his head with a look of sadness.

“That’s too much!” he declared. “No one here cares to be friendly with me. You don’t know——”

“I know you were in a brown study on the fence, just now, and when a fellow falls into a brown study, he’s likely to get blue. The blues are bad things. Don’t be grouchy, Hooker. What you need is to be stirred up. If I get you into a crowd of good, jolly fellows, it will do you good.”

A look of pleasure came to the outcast’s eyes, but it quickly faded and died away.

“You don’t know,” he said sadly. “They’ll tell you, now that you’ve been seen with me. There’s Chickering pointing us out now, and calling the attention of others to the fact that you are talking with me.”

“Well, if you think for one moment that anything Chickering may say or do will have the slightest influence on my future actions, you are making a big mistake, Hooker. There is no cheaper set in college than Chickering and his gang.”

“But they think themselves too good to have anything to do with me.”

“Which is a mighty good thing for you, old man! You should thank your lucky stars.”

“I’ve never cared to associate with them, but still it cuts a fellow to have such chaps treat him with scorn.”

“Don’t let it worry you, Hooker. As far as that is concerned, they treat me with just as much scorn, and I really enjoy it.”

Frank laughed cheerfully.

“They can’t hurt you, but when a chap has a bad name, everybody seems ready to believe anything evil about him, no matter what its source may be.”

Frank realized that this was true, and his sympathy for the outcast grew.

“I believe you are too sensitive, old man,” he said. “You are inclined to draw into your shell, like a turtle. You must quit that. Come with me to my room, and I’ll introduce you to a lot of fine fellows.”

Hooker looked pleased, but still he seemed in doubt as to Merry’s sincerity.

“Do you mean it?” he asked.

“Of course I do! Come along.”

“It’s awfully good of you!” exclaimed Hooker, his eyes blurring a bit. “I appreciate it, but have you asked your friends if they want to meet me?”

“Certainly not. My friends will be ready and glad to meet any one I choose to introduce to them.”

The outcast shook his head doubtfully.

“I’m afraid not,” he said sadly. “It can’t be that you know about—about my—father?”

He stumbled over the final words, the hot blood surging up to his cheeks.

“I’ve heard,” declared Merry quietly.

“You have?”

“Yes.”

“That he—that he——”

“I have heard all about it.”

“And still you are willing to introduce me to your friends?”

“Yes. I do not believe in killing a fellow for something his father did.”

“God bless you!” cried Hooker sincerely, his voice shaking with emotion. “Now I am beginning to understand why you are so popular here. It’s not simply because you are a great athlete, but it is because you are a gentleman and have a noble heart. Let me tell you, Mr. Merriwell, you have given me more pleasure to-day than I have felt before for months! I thank you!”

“You have nothing to thank me for, my dear fellow. I do not believe you have been treated just right here at college, and I’m going to see if the mistake can’t be remedied. I am going to get you in with my set, and I rather think that will give you standing.”

“I think you had better find out if they are willing to meet me. It will be better.”

“Nonsense! My friends are not cads!”

“I know, but——”

“There are no buts about it. You must come along. We were going to my room, and there will be a little gathering there now. Come, Hooker.”

Frank passed his arm through that of the outcast, and thus they left the fence and passed along the broad walk.

“Look at them!” exclaimed Gene Skelding, who, with Chickering and the rest of his crowd, had been watching Merriwell. “By Jove! if Merriwell isn’t walking arm in arm with that son of a thief, I’m a liar!”

“That’s right,” nodded Julian Ives, excitedly slapping his bang. “Merriwell has picked up the outcast!”

“And that,” said Lew Veazie “thows that he ith no better than that cheap fellow Hooker.”

“We ought to be able to spread the report,” observed Tilton Hull, with his chin high in the air.

“Oh, have sympathy,” said Rupert Chickering. “Merriwell is liable to fall from his perch any time. Don’t push him.”

“Oh, no!” grinned Skelding, with his thumbs in the armholes of his vest, thus exposing the expanse of his gaudy shirt-bosom, “we won’t push him—if we don’t get a chance!”

“We ought to be able to get something on him if he associates with Hooker,” said Ollie Lord.

“We’ll do our best, at any rate,” nodded Ives. “We can start some things circulating.”

The friends who had accompanied Frank, seeing him talking earnestly with Jim Hooker at the fence, had passed on and ascended to his room, where they found Jack Diamond and Joe Gamp.

“Hello!” said the Virginian. “Where’s Merriwell?”

“We left him by the fence,” answered Rattleton.

“What was he doing?”

“Guess, and I’ll give you a prize.”

“Talking football.”

“No, talking to Jim Hooker.”

“What?” Diamond was astonished.

“It’s on the level,” grunted Browning, dropping on an easy chair and producing a pipe. “That’s what Merriwell is doing.”

“Well, why in the world should he talk to a fellow like that?” cried Jack.

“Ask us!” said Bink Stubbs, bringing out a package of cigarettes and sprawling in his accustomed place on a handsome rug.

“Why, that fellow Hooker has a jailbird for a father!” said Diamond.

“And there is a report that he’s light-fingered himself,” said Rattleton.

“Gol darned if I want him around mum-mum-me!” declared Joe Gamp. “I had a pup-pup-pup-pickpocket sus-sus-swipe a watch off me one time, and I’ve steered clear of um ever sence.”

“Did you know when it was done?” asked Griswold.

“Gosh, yes! Feller held me right up with a pup-pup-pistol.”

“What did you do?”

“I hollered for help.”

“What did he do?”

“Why, he just sus-sus-said, ‘Bub-bub-bub-be calm, sir; I dud-dud-dud-don’t need any help; I cuc-cuc-cuc-can do this job alone.’ And he did it.”

The manner in which Joe told this caused them to utter a shout of laughter. When the merriment had subsided, Browning observed, as he lighted his pipe:

“I’m afraid Merry will have this fellow Hooker hanging round after him, now he’s spoken to him.”

“Well, I fight shy of pickpockets and burglars,” said Griswold. “I don’t like ’em.”

“What would you do,” asked Bink, “if you should open your eyes at night and see the dark form of a burglar in your room?”

“I’d shut my eyes again,” said Danny promptly. “Give me a cigarette.”

“Since you’ve taken to drinking again,” declared Bink, flinging the cigarette at Dan, “it’s never dark in your room at night, unless you cover your nose with powder.”

Griswold caressed his red beak.

“That’s sunburn,” he said. “You know I’m going in for athletics of late, and I’m outdoors a great deal.”

“I’m going in for athletics, too,” murmured Bink.

“Going to try the clubs?” asked Dan.

“No; going to try rolling my own cigarettes.”

“Haw!” snorted Griswold. “That’s hot stuff. Have you heard my latest joke? It’s positively Shakespearian.”

“Yes, I’ve heard it,” said Bink promptly; “but I thought it dated back of Shakespeare.”

“Oh, you’re too funny!” snapped Dan. “You ought to match up with Ollie Lord. Hear what happened to him yesterday? He got his cane-head in his mouth and couldn’t get it out.”

“Too bad!” said Bink. “How much was it worth?”

“I met Lord this morning,” said Jones, in his dry way. “I let him have ten dollars last spring, and I haven’t seen it since.”

“He must have been ill after that sad affair with his cane,” observed Rattleton. “How was he looking, Jones?”

“He was looking the other way when I met him,” answered Dismal.

“Well,” grunted Browning, “you know Doctor Holmes says ‘poverty is a cure for dyspepsia.’”

“It may be,” nodded Dismal; “but I’d rather have the dyspepsia.”

They made themselves quite at home till, at last, Frank appeared; but, to their great astonishment, Merry conducted Jim Hooker into the room.

“Fellows,” said Frank, “I have brought along a friend, to whom I wish to introduce you.”

Diamond hastily rose.

“I beg your pardon, Merriwell,” he said, with icy politeness; “but, really, I have an important engagement, and I had quite forgotten it. I’ve lingered overtime already. See you later, you know.”

Then he hurried out.

“By jingoes!” cried Rattleton, “it’s time for me to meet Nash, the tailor. He’s coming round to my room. Excuse me.”

He hastily followed Diamond.

“Tailor?” grunted Browning, dragging himself up with an effort. “Nash? Hold on. I owe him a little bill. I’ll go along and settle up.”

He followed Rattleton.

“By gosh!” exclaimed Gamp, as if struck by a sudden thought, “I’ve gotter go to pup-pup-plugging. I’ve wasted too much tut-tut-time already.”

He was the fourth one to leave the room.

“I must have some cigarettes,” cried Bink Stubbs, scrambling up.

“Hold on,” said Griswold; “I want some, too. I will go with you.”

They escaped in company. Dismal Jones alone was left. Frank Merriwell’s face had hardened, but now he said:

“Mr. Jones, this is my friend Mr. Hooker.”

Jones got up, but did not hold out his hand.

“How do you do, Mr. Hooker?” he said freezingly. “I must be going. Excuse me, gentlemen.”

And even he departed.

As the door closed behind Jones, Frank turned slowly and sorrowfully to Hooker. The outcast realized the full extent of the slight put upon him, and he was pale as chalk. Frank held out his hand.

“My dear fellow!” he said sympathetically.

“I told you how it would be!” cried Hooker hoarsely. “I did not wish to come here!”

“I beg a thousand pardons for bringing you! I did not dream for a moment that such a thing would happen.”

“I knew! I knew! Nobody here will have anything to do with me!”

“But my friends—I thought my friends were different.”

“They’re all alike!” said Hooker. “They believe me a crook, and they shun me! Oh, God! it’s enough to drive any man to crookedness! It’s enough to make a man hate himself and all the world!”

Then he dropped on a chair, buried his face in his hands, and burst into tears. Never was Frank Merriwell more wretched and disgusted than at that moment. As he had said, he had not fancied his friends could stoop to use Hooker so contemptuously, and their actions had filled him with astonishment.

“Don’t give way like this, old man! You’ll live it down in time,” he exclaimed.

“I don’t know,” came thickly from the outcast. “It’s a hard struggle.”

“I will help you.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“But your friends——”

“Never mind them.”

“It’s plain you’ll have to choose between them and me.”

“I shall choose, and I’ll stand by you, Hooker!”

The fellow lifted a tear-wet face and gazed at Frank wonderingly.

“You do not realize what it may mean,” he said. “You do not wish to be shunned by all your friends. I am nothing to you, and your friends are everything.”

“When they are in the right, they are everything; but when they are in the wrong, like this, nothing. Don’t worry for me, Hooker. I’ll bring them round.”

“How can you?”

“I’ll find a way. They shall accept you as their friend.”

“Impossible!”

“We shall see. But that is not all.”

“What more?”

“I’ll make them one and all ask your pardon for this slight to-day!” cried Frank. “I promise you that.”

CHAPTER II.

FRANK’S FOREBODINGS.

It was astonishing how soon the news that Merriwell had been seen arm in arm with Hooker on the campus became circulated. In some way, also, the report got around that Merry had taken the outcast to his room, but that his set had refused to have anything to do with the student whose father was said to be a crook. Hodge heard all about it, and he was “steaming” when he found Merry alone in his room the next day.

“Look here, Merriwell,” said Bart, confronting Frank, “I’ve got to say something to you.”

“All right,” smiled Merry, closing the book he had been studying, and putting it aside; “say ahead.”

“You’re making an ass of yourself!” exploded Bart roughly.

Frank elevated his eyebrows.

“I must say you are outspoken and far from complimentary,” he quietly observed.

“I don’t talk to you like this often.”

“That’s right. If you did, I’m afraid we might not be such good friends.”

“But I must talk straight now, for I feel it my duty.”

“Always do your duty, my boy. Drive ahead. What sort of a call-down are you going to give me?”

“You’ve been associating with that fellow Hooker.”

“I thought that was what you were driving at. What of it?”

“What of it? Great Scott! Do you know the fellow’s father has done time for larceny?”

“I’ve heard so,” was the calm answer.

“You’ve heard so, and still you walk across the campus arm in arm with him?”

“Hooker cannot be held responsible for the actions of his father.”

“A fellow with such a father is pretty sure to be shady himself.”

“There’s nothing certain about it. He seems like an unfortunate fellow, and I pity him.”

Hodge made an impatient gesture.

“That’s like you, Merriwell; but you can’t afford to associate with him as a friend.”

“Why?”

“Because it will queer you.”

“With whom?”

“Everybody.”

“Then I’m afraid I shall be queered.”

“Hang it all! You don’t mean to say you are willing to give up your best friends for this fellow?”

“I shall not give them up. If there is any giving up, they will give me up.”

“Why, they say you brought him here to your room—you tried to introduce him to some of the fellows!”

Frank rose to his feet, and his manner of speaking showed how deeply in earnest he was.

“That is true,” he said, “and I was astonished to find my friends acted like a lot of cads. I fancied I knew them better, but I was mistaken. I had thought they were above such things, but I found I was wrong.”

“You had no right to attempt to introduce a fellow like Hooker without finding out who was willing to know him!”

“Hadn’t I? Let’s see. It was in this room—my own room—wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but——”

“Hooker came here with me at my invitation.”

“Well?”

“When we entered, we found a number of fellows here, making themselves at home, as I wish my friends to do.”

“What of that?”

“Do you think I was going to bring Hooker, a student at this college, in here and not introduce him to those who were present? What sort of a way would that be to treat him? Under the circumstances, there was but one thing for me to do. I attempted to do it, and the fellows I have called my friends insulted Hooker—yes, they insulted me, and by the Lord Harry, they’ll have to apologize to both of us for it before I have anything more to do with them!”

Now, Bart Hodge knew that when Merriwell was aroused in this manner he felt strongly on the subject, and it would be no easy matter to turn his mind. Hodge was taken aback. He had intended to go at Merry hammer and tongs and quickly convince him that he was making a mistake in having anything at all to do with Jim Hooker, but now he realized that he had a mighty task before him.

“What?” gasped Bart. “You don’t mean——”

“I mean just what I have said.”

“And you will continue to associate with Hooker, for all of his disreputable father?”

“I shall continue to associate with him till I am convinced that he is not worthy of my friendship.”

Hodge gasped at that.

“You know there are some bad stories afloat concerning him,” he quickly said.

“What sort of stories?”

“They say he is following in the tracks of his father.”

“’they say! They say!’” impatiently exclaimed Frank. “’they say’ has ruined many a fair reputation. It is in the mouth of every lying, malicious gossip. It’s a manner of shunning responsibility for slander. Don’t tell me that ’they say.’ Who says? Just what do they say?”

“Why,” said Bart, floundering a little, “it—it’s the—the report that he’s light-fingered.”

“The proof?”

“Why, things have been missed from a number of different rooms.”

“Is that so?” cried Frank, with fine scorn. “I don’t suppose such a thing ever happened before Jim Hooker came to college!”

“But circumstantial evidence——”

“Has hanged many an innocent man.”

“Everything has seemed to point to Hooker as the thief,” asserted Hodge desperately.

“By ‘everything’ you mean what? Is there any absolute proof?”

“Why, no, there is no positive proof. If there were, Hooker would have been forced to get out of Yale long ago.”

“Exactly,” nodded Frank. “Suspicion has been turned on him because of his father. That is the plain truth. If it had not been known that his father had done a dishonest thing, no one might have suspected him. Am I right?”

“Perhaps so,” confessed Bart reluctantly.

“Don’t you know I’m right?”

“No, I don’t know it.”

“Well, don’t you think so?”

“I suppose there is something in it.”

Frank laughed shortly.

“You squirm in order to avoid giving me a direct answer, but you must confess that I have you cornered. Now, I want to say something more about Jim Hooker. I have picked him up because my heart was touched with pity by his forlorn and disconsolate appearance. I talked with him, and I found the poor fellow felt his situation keenly. I liked his face. I was sorry for him. I saw that a chap who was struggling hard to get an education and become an honored and respected man might be ruined and driven to the dogs at the very outset by being shunned and scorned. He must have a strong determination to have withstood the strain thus far. He may be tottering on the brink even now, and it is possible that all he needs is the helping hand of a true friend to keep him from going over. My hand has been held out to him, and once Frank Merriwell has offered his hand to another he never withdraws it till that person has proved himself thoroughly and utterly unworthy.”

Bart knew this was true, and he felt like applauding Frank. Then came another thought.

“They say he associates with tough characters in the lowest dives of the city.”

“Again it is ’they say!’” exclaimed Frank. “Where is the proof?”

“Well, I’ve been told that he visits the tough quarter every Saturday night. He might be followed. Say, Merry, I dare you to follow him with me!”

“What! play the spy?”

“If you have so much confidence in him, you should not hesitate. You might be able to prove to me that he’s all right.”

Frank seemed to meditate a moment, and then he said:

“That’s right, Bart.”

“And you’ll do it—you’ll follow him to-morrow night?”

“If I am in condition after the football game—yes.”

“It’s settled then! We’ll see where he goes, and whom he meets.”

Saturday was a day of triumph for Yale, for she won an easy victory on the gridiron against one of the smaller college teams. In the game twenty-one men were used by Yale, in order to give all the better candidates a trial, and Bart Hodge found his opportunity to show what he could do. Hodge improved the opportunity by showing himself a perfect tiger in the rush-line, and thus it happened that, for once, he was in pretty good spirits when he came to Frank’s room early in the evening. To Bart’s astonishment, he found Merry in a “grouch.”

“What is the matter with you, Frank?” he cried. “Don’t think I ever saw you looking this way before.”

“I’m not feeling well,” confessed Frank.

“You’re not looking well. What’s hit you this way? You ought to be jolly after to-day’s work. It can’t be you are depressed because of the game?”

“Not exactly, and yet, to a certain extent, I am.”

Hodge was still more surprised.

“How is that? Everybody else is more than satisfied. It was a walkover for Old Eli.”

“As it should have been. This victory to-day means absolutely nothing.”

“We were not scored against.”

“Nobody expected we would be.”

“And I got a chance for a trial.”

“I congratulate you.”

“But you don’t seem very pleased over it,” said Bart, feeling keen disappointment. “You have been urging me to make a try for the eleven. But for you, I should not have done it.”

“Believe me,” said Merry, “I am pleased. I was glad to see you tear through their line as you did. More than that, I was glad that your work was noticed.”

“Was it?” eagerly.

“Sure thing. It’s being discussed in every quarter of the campus now. I know Birch took particular note of it, and you will stand a big show of playing right along as a regular after this.”

Bart’s face glowed.

“There was a time,” he confessed, “when I fancied I did not care a rap to play on the eleven.”

“I know that,” nodded Frank.

“You changed that.”

“Did I?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m glad of it.”

“You talked to me—you told me it was my duty to play if I could. You told me it was my duty to do everything I could this year to help Old Eli to victory.”

“Do you doubt it now?”

“No. I have begun to taste your spirit, Merriwell. Once I thought I hated Yale, but now I know I was mistaken. I have come to feel such love for her that I am ready to die to carry the blue to victory!”

Frank stepped forward and grasped Bart’s hand, his face lighting up for a moment.

“That’s the right sort of spirit!” he cried. “It is that feeling in the hearts of the defenders of the blue that has made Yale victorious in the past. It is the Yale spirit!”

“Well, I’ve got it now, all right!” Bart almost laughed. “It caught me hard in the game to-day. I never felt before just as I did then. I was ready to break bones or neck to advance the ball a yard. I was ready to die if I could make a touch-down!”

“I haven’t a doubt of it. With such material, Yale should have nothing but a string of victories marked against her this season.”

“Oh, we’re bound to win from start to finish.”

“I hope we may, but I have my fears.”

Now, this was so unusual for Frank that it was not surprising Bart was almost dazed.

“Look here!” exclaimed Hodge; “when I used to talk like that, you told me my liver was out of order.”

“And you feel like telling me so now, eh?”

“I do.”

“I suppose so.”

“What ails you, anyhow?”

“Several things. One thing is that I am not satisfied with the manner in which the eleven is being handled.”

“You’re not?”

“Not by any means.”

“Why?”

“There is not enough head-work behind it. It takes brains to play football, as well as brawn. We’ve got the timber, if it can be properly handled, but no new play has been developed thus far, and every game has been won by the old tactics of other years. Our fault last season, as all confess, was slowness in following up after kicks. Instead of always being under the ball when it dropped, the men who should have been there were somewhere else.”

“Well, surely the coachers are working to remedy that weakness.”

“They are, and they are neglecting everything else, almost. This year we’ll be strong where the eleven was weak last season; but it’s big odds we are weak in some other spot, and that weakness may prove fatal.”

“Well, something is wrong when you get to looking on the dark side of things!”

“Besides that, the game we have been playing thus far is one of brute force, and it has put our best men in hospital. Badger, Quimby, and Pelling could not play to-day.”

“We can get along without Badger.”

“He’s one of the best men on the team.”

“I don’t understand why you always say that, when he is your enemy.”

“I say it because it is true. Only fools lie about their enemies; wise men keep silent or speak the truth.”

Bart nodded.

“I guess you’re right about that, though I never thought of it that way before. But Badger will be all right in a week.”

“Perhaps. He hobbled out to the fence to-night with a cane. Pelling is flat on his back, and Quimby is not much better.”

“But I believe there are other men just as good. Look how we slashed through ’em to-day.”

“Twenty-one men were used, and five out of the twenty-one were injured, more or less. How long will it take at this rate to use up every football-player in college?”

“Well, they can be used pretty fast.”

“I should say so. While men are injured they cannot be progressing in practise.”

“But men get injured just the same everywhere. A fellow who is afraid of being hurt a little has no business playing the game.”

“That’s true enough. What worries me is that we are not getting a team together and holding it.”

“Well, how about Harvard? She shifts her men around.”

“But not for the purpose of trying a lot of new men.”

“Then what for?”

“To save her old ones. She has very little important new timber on her eleven this season, but she has all her best men from last year. She is taking care of them, too. While Yale is shifting about and wavering with uncertainty, Harvard is pushing straight forward with a fixed purpose—and that purpose is to drag Old Eli in the dust again this year.”

“She can’t do it!”

“I hope not.”

“Look at what we did to-day.”

“And look at what Harvard did to-day. She was up against a stronger team than the one we played, and she piled up a bigger score, without once having her goal-line in danger.”

“That’s the report, but the papers to-morrow may prove that she didn’t make such a wonderful showing.”

“We get things pretty straight by wire now. I think we’ll find the report is true enough.”

“Are you afraid, Merriwell?”

Frank had turned away, but he turned like a flash on Bart.

“Not afraid,” he said, “only worried.”

“Well, come, don’t think any more about it. You know we are going out to-night.”

Frank started and shrugged his shoulders.

“You have not forgotten?” exclaimed Hodge, not understanding Merry’s manner. “We’re going to follow Hooker, you know.”

“Old man,” said Frank soberly, “I don’t think I’ll go.”

CHAPTER III.

THE MISSING WATCH.

“What?” cried Bart, more than ever astonished; “you don’t think you’ll——Oh, come, Merriwell, what’s the matter?”

Frank flung himself on a chair.

“I told you before that I do not fancy this business of spying on a fellow. I haven’t changed my mind.”

“But you agreed to go along. You wished to convince me that Hooker was on the square.”

“I don’t know that I wish to convince anybody.”

“Why—why——”

“Hooker was here a short time ago, and I had a talk with him.”

“I don’t suppose you gave him a hint——”

Bart had started up, but Frank motioned for him to sit down.

“Of course not!” he exclaimed. “Do you think I’d let him know that anybody could induce me to spy upon him?”

“I didn’t know but you might let something slip,” muttered Bart--“something to put him on his guard.”

“Not a word. I found him here in my room waiting for me. Why do you suppose he came?”

“I don’t know.”

“It was to tell me that he had learned I was to be cut out by the best men in college for associating with him. Now, how do you suppose he found that out?”

“Give it up.”

“Some unfeeling dog must have flung it at him!”

“Well, is this why you have decided not to follow him to-night?”

“Hodge, that man came to me all broken up. He sat where you are sitting now, and he told me how happy it had made him to know there was one man at Yale who had shown friendship for him.”

Bart moved uneasily.

“How do you think that made me feel?” asked Frank.

Hodge cleared his throat.

“Oh, I suppose it made you feel slushy!” he blurted. “I can’t stand that sort of thing myself. Why didn’t you run away?”

“If ever a fellow seemed sincere, he did.”

“Don’t doubt it.”

“He confessed that he had been tempted more than once, when all the world was against him, but in the future he should have greater strength to resist temptation, knowing there was one who believed in him.”

“That’s all right,” muttered Bart, feeling that he must say something.

“Is it all right? How would it look if I were to play the spy on him to-night? Would it seem to him, if he knew it, that I believed in him?”

“Well, as—er—as Dismal Jones says, ‘By their works ye shall know them.’ In these modern times, faith without proof is regarded as folly. If you were to convince yourself that Hooker did not visit the slums from any evil reason, then you would have all the more confidence in him. A man’s actions prove what he is.”

“You make a good argument, Hodge, but I don’t believe I’ll go, just the same. I should feel guilty all the time I was doing it.”

“Well,” said Bart desperately, “I’m not going to coax you!”

“Don’t.”

“But you may be doing Hooker harm by not going.”

“Harm, Hodge?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Well, I’ve told Browning and Diamond what we meant to do.”

“You have?”

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Now, if you do not go, do you know what they’ll think?”

“What?”

“They’ll think you actually feared you might discover something that would cause you to change your mind about Hooker. They’ll think that, having picked the fellow up, you are not willing to learn the truth about him, but are going to stick to him, anyway.”

Frank got up and walked across the room. Bart watched him with some anxiety.

“If I could be sure Hooker would not know it,” muttered Merry.

“Why should he know it?” cried Bart instantly.

“I might go along with you for the satisfaction of teaching you a lesson. I believe I will!”

“Good!”

“If such stories are afloat about Hooker, it’s time somebody investigated. If the stories can be proved lies, it may have something to do with giving the fellow better standing.”

“Exactly.”

“That being the case, it may be my work to take hold of it and show his defamers that he is all right.”

“Come on!” Bart sprang up.

“All right,” said Frank, “I am going. I shall go, because I wish to be able when a man tells a slander about Hooker to say that I know it is not true. I have an interest in the unfortunate fellow, and I shall take chances in helping him; but we must be very careful not to let him catch on that he is being followed.”

“Hurry,” urged Bart. “The evening is beginning to creep along, and we don’t want him to get away from us.”

Frank hustled around and got ready to go. Bart waited impatiently while Merry searched for something.

“What are you looking for?” asked Hodge.

“My watch,” was the reply.

“Can’t you find it?”

“No.”

“Where did you have it last?”

“In another suit, but it’s not there.”

“Haven’t you left it lying around?”

“Sometimes I do.”

Bart joined in the search.

“It’s mighty queer,” declared Frank.

“It is rather odd,” admitted Bart, in a singular manner.

“It should be right here.”

They looked almost everywhere, and at last, Frank stopped and stood staring about in a perplexed manner.

“That watch hasn’t any legs,” said Bart.

“But it has a pair of hands,” twinkled Merry.

“It couldn’t walk off on its hands.”

“Not unless it’s suddenly developed into a circus acrobat.”

“Somebody must have helped it.”

“Oh, I don’t think that!” cried Frank. “I don’t believe anybody would touch my watch.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” came in a significant manner from Bart.

There was a cloud on Frank’s brow as he looked sharply at Bart.

“What are you driving at?” he asked.

“Well, you have a new friend who was here a short time ago.”

“Hooker?”

“That’s the name.”

“Don’t, Hodge—don’t try to put the blame on that poor fellow!”

“All right. You may think what you like, and I’ll think—what I like.”

“By heavens! I believe you are glad of this opportunity to put suspicion on him! You are like other human beings, ready to kick a man who is down!”

“I have no sympathy with a sneak-thief!” said Bart harshly. “If Hooker has taken your watch, he’s a dirty sneak! You are a man who has shown friendship for him, and he steals from you! What do you think of that?”

“I do not believe he did it!” declared Merry, clearly and emphatically.

“But the circumstantial evidence.”

“Look here, Hodge, have you forgotten that, more than once, you have nearly been convicted of crime by circumstantial evidence, and you were perfectly innocent on every count? You should not forget that everybody turned against you, while I alone stood by you. You should not forget how near you were to giving up in despair because things looked so black against you.”

Bart Hodge flushed crimson, for, of a sudden, he remembered that there had been a time when his position was much like that of Jim Hooker. In that time of trouble Frank had proved to be a firm and trusty friend.

“You’ve not known Hooker as you knew me,” he muttered.

Frank saw that Hodge was stirred by shame, and he instantly said, dropping a hand on Bart’s shoulder:

“Forgive me, old man! I didn’t mean to speak of it, but I couldn’t help it. Let us hope that Hooker is quite as innocent as you were when wrongfully accused. Come, we will go.”

With considerable trouble, they were able to follow Hooker from the campus to a Jew’s little store on a side street in a poor quarter of the city. From a position outside the store they saw the suspected student speak familiarly to the old Jew who kept the place, and pass on into a little back room, disappearing from view.

“Well,” said Frank, “it looks to me as if this is the end of our great shadowing expedition.”

“I wonder what he’s doing in there,” muttered Hodge, nonplused.

“I think we’ll have to guess at it.”

“He seemed perfectly at home.”

“Yes.”

“It’s plain he’s been here before.”

“True.”

Bart meditated, and then he said:

“Merriwell, I have an idea.”

“Do you wish to part with it?”

“I believe this old Jew keeps a fence.”

“You mean a place for receiving stolen goods?”

“Yes.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, this is a cheap quarter of the city, and—and——Well, I think so.”

“You think so because Hooker seemed quite at home there.”

“Perhaps that is the reason.”

“It’s a pretty slim reason.”

“You do not believe it?”

“Not because Hooker came here. You’ll have to show stronger evidence than that.”

“I suppose we might turn detectives and find out.”

Frank shook his head.

“That is carrying the thing farther than I care to go, old man.”

“Well, are we going to give it up here?”

“All we can do is wait awhile and see if anything will turn up. Now that I have entered into this thing, I have a curiosity to see how it will turn out.”

So they waited, and, in less than twenty minutes, they were rewarded by the reappearance of Hooker. They were watching through the front window of the shop, which was none too clean, and saw the outcast come from the back room, but both were surprised by his appearance, which was greatly altered.

“Great Scott!” muttered Hodge. “What’s he been doing?”

“He’s changed his clothes,” said Frank instantly.

“Changed them! I should say he had! Why, I hardly knew him at first.”

“Nor I.”

“He looks like a tough now.”

“He looks pretty seedy,” confessed Frank. “What kind of a game is he up to, I wonder?”

Hooker had paused a moment to speak to the old Jew.

“Then it is beginning to dawn on you,” said Bart triumphantly, “that he may be up to some sort of a game?”

“He can’t be going to a masquerade in that rig.”

“He might be going to a poverty ball, but Hooker isn’t the sort of chap to take in balls of any kind.”

The shadowed student had changed his respectable clothing for a ragged suit and a battered soft hat, which was slouched over his eyes. In fact, his appearance had been altered by the change of clothing so that he now seemed decidedly disreputable.

“No, he is not going to attend a ball,” said the dazed Merriwell. “By Jove! this affair is becoming interesting, Hodge! It can’t be that he’s been forced to sell his clothes in order to raise some money, can it, Hodge?”

“Sell nothing!” exclaimed Bart. “Do you think he’d wear that sort of rig back to college? Why, he’d be ridiculous!”

“But some of the men who have money to burn sometimes dress almost as bad as that.”

“But not hardly. They do not look like toughs, and Mr. Hooker now looks like an out-and-out tough.”

To himself Merriwell had reluctantly confessed that the change of clothes had made a most remarkable alteration in the appearance of the suspected student, for he now had a sinister, evil aspect that was awakening strange doubts and forebodings in the mind of his only champion and defender in the college. In his heart, Frank could not deny that Hooker now seemed like a genuine sneak and crook. It was a regular Jekyll-and-Hyde metamorphosis.

The old Jew seemed to be laughing in an evil fashion at the alteration in the student, rubbing his hands, nodding his head and making characteristic gestures.

“Perhaps,” said Bart, as if struck by a new idea, “perhaps Hooker is an out-and-out ruffian. Have you read in the papers how a number of persons have been held up and robbed by a mysterious footpad on the outskirts of the city?”

Frank had read of it, and he was obliged to say so. More than that, a thought of the robberies had entered his head at the very moment Bart spoke of them.

“Merriwell,” came eagerly from Hodge, “we may be able to clear up the mystery of those robberies to-night!”

“I hope not!” came huskily from Frank.

“I know it’s rather hard on you after you had such confidence in the fellow,” said Hodge; “but if he is a thorough scoundrel you want to know it, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Even though it may shatter all your faith in the natural honesty of human nature?”

“It will not.”

“Won’t?”

“Not on your life! Even though I may find that I have been fooled in this fellow, I shall not give up my firm belief that there is more good than evil in human nature.”

“Well, I admire you for the way you stick to your pet theory, but your belief must get shaken up sometimes. You have a way of looking on all men as honest till they prove themselves otherwise; I have a way of looking on all men as dishonest till they prove themselves otherwise, and I watch them after that, for fear they may get tired of being honest.”

“You’re a pessimist.”

“Call me what you like, I’ll not get fooled as many times as you do. You must be satisfied by this time that there is something crooked in Hooker.”

“I am not.”

“Well, you’re stubborn.”

“I’m hopeful.”

Hodge laughed shortly.

“But I can see that you are beginning to doubt. Your manner of speaking shows that. What will you do, Merriwell, if we follow this fellow and he attempts to hold up and rob some stranger?”

“If I can get near enough,” said Frank grimly, “I shall do my best to give Jim Hooker the worst thrashing he ever received.”

“And afterward—will you turn him over to the police?”

“Most assuredly.”

“That being the case, I have a fancy that Mr. Hooker’s career in New Haven is pretty near an end. We must not let him see us when he comes out.”

“Wait. I want to watch him. I am trying to make out what the old Jew is saying to him.”

“It looks to me as if he’s telling Hooker where to go in order to make a strike,” said Hodge.

And, strangely enough, that thought had occurred to Frank. Still, Merry was not willing to give up hope that Hooker might turn out right, after all. To be sure, the fellow’s actions were against him, but, as yet, he had done nothing actually bad. For all that he regretted the evident probability that Hooker was not “on the level,” still Merry was glad now that he had consented to come with Hodge and watch the fellow.

“He’s coming out!” exclaimed Bart.

They hurriedly drew back into a dark doorway. The old Jew followed Hooker to the door, where they paused a moment, and the shopkeeper was distinctly heard to say:

“You vant to be careful, my young frient; you may ged indo drouple, you know.”

Hooker said something in a low tone, and then started off, while the Jew turned back into the shop.

“Come,” said Frank, “and we must be careful, too. I want to see this thing through to the end.”

They followed Hooker.

CHAPTER IV.

MYSTERIOUS MOVES.

The manner of the outcast seemed changed with his clothes. Up to the time that he entered the Jew’s shop he had not seemed suspicious, but now he had a strange, skulking air, and he sometimes paused and looked round, as if fearing that he was being watched. Fortunately, on every occasion that Hooker looked back Frank and Bart were able to avoid being seen and recognized; but this apparent suspicion on the part of the one they were following caused Merry’s confidence in him to take another slump.

More and more was Frank impressed with the Jekyll-and-Hyde idea. Somehow, Hooker seemed completely transformed. Before the change there had been a kind of desperate independence in his manner, as if he felt himself as good as anybody, no matter what the world might think of him, but now he skulked and sneaked along the streets, and seemed to avoid the gaze of those who would have looked into his face.

“He couldn’t do anything better to draw suspicion upon himself, if he is up to crooked work,” thought Frank.

The quarter of the city which they now came to was the very lowest along the water-front. The buildings were old and dirty, and saloons were frequent. Wretched men and women were afloat on the streets, and sailors were seen frequently.

“This would be a fine locality for a man to be murdered in!” muttered Bart.

“But it doesn’t seem to me,” said Merry, “that it is just the quarter of the city in which a footpad would seek his prey.”

“Oh, I don’t know. There are apt to be more desperate characters here than elsewhere.”

“And for that very reason respectable persons whom it would pay to hold up and rob will keep away from here.”

“This is where sailors get drunk in the dives and are kicked out upon the street. They must be easy victims. A man could go through their clothes without much danger.”

“But they are not likely to have much money after they are kicked out upon the street.”

Hodge knew this was true. He realized that the seafaring man would be used well in a low dive till his money was gone, and then be kicked out.

“Still,” he said, “some of them must escape with money on their persons. Many times they are drunk enough to lie down almost anywhere and go to sleep. A sneak-thief can go through them while they are sleeping without——By Jove! see that! What did I tell you?”

In a dark doorway a drunken man was curled up fast asleep. Hooker was seen to halt suddenly and look sharply at the man. Then he approached the inebriate.

Frank Merriwell’s heart fluttered. What was he about to witness? In a twinkling his fancy pictured Hooker, a student of Yale, disguising himself in old clothes, and coming night after night to this wretched quarter to pick the pockets of the unfortunates of the streets.

Bart had clutched Merry’s arm, and he was pointing toward Hooker, hoarsely and triumphantly whispering:

“Look—watch!”

Hooker bent over the man and seemed about to go through his clothes. Instead of that, he pushed the sleeper’s hat back from his face. Then, as if not satisfied, he felt in his pockets some moments, found a match and struck it. For a single moment he held the match so the light of the blaze fell full and fair on the face of the sleeper. Then, with a flirt, the match was flung aside.

“He was making sure the fellow is too drunk to make trouble when he goes through him,” said Bart.

“Wait!” whispered Frank. “What is he doing now? He seems trying to awaken the man.”

“He’s trying him to find out if he’s dead to the world,” declared Hodge.

“No, see—he’s shaking the man! He’s really trying to awaken him!”

“I don’t believe it!”

“He’s slapping his face!”

Smack! smack! smack—the sound of Hooker’s open-handed blows on the man’s face came plainly to their ears.

“Well, this is a queer piece of business!” admitted Hodge.

Frank was more mystified than ever, and now his curiosity was aroused to an extraordinary pitch. Smack! smack! smack! Hooker continued to apply the flat of his hand to the man’s face.

“There is no fooling about that,” said Merriwell. “He’s really trying to awaken the man.”

Hooker was heard talking earnestly to the unknown, who had been aroused in a measure by the stinging blows. He was seen to be dragging the inebriate to his feet.

“Well, he is getting him up!” admitted Hodge.

Frank was relieved. A few moments before he had felt that Hooker was about to commit an act that would irrevocably brand him as a crook and a criminal, but nothing of the sort had happened thus far, and it began to seem that nothing might happen. The disguised student had no small amount of trouble in getting the man upon his feet. He had applied heroic measures in arousing him, and the stinging blows from his open hand had served to awaken the sleeper to a sense of his position. Now, however, having dragged the man to his feet, Hooker was finding it difficult to keep him from lying down again.

“Look here, Hodge,” said Merriwell, “does it occur to you that Hooker’s purpose may be precisely opposite that with which we have credited him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, instead of coming here to rob the unfortunates of the street, it may be that he comes here to give them such friendly aid as he can.”

Hodge caught his breath, and then gave a suppressed exclamation of scorn.

“No,” he said decidedly, “nothing of the kind occurs to me! Don’t be foolish enough to suggest anything of the sort, Merriwell. Hooker is not a blooming idiot, even though he may be a crook!”

“Well, one thing is certain, thus far we have seen him do nothing unlawful.”

“Not yet, but we’re hot on the scent, and you can bet your life on that.”

Hooker was forcing the man to walk, holding him by the arm. The inebriate reeled drunkenly, and then came near falling down. Then, as if losing patience, the outcast forced his new companion up against the wall, held him there a moment, then shook him like a rag.

“He’s bound to shake some of the rum out of the fellow,” chuckled Frank.

“He’ll shake it up so it’ll go to the man’s head more than ever,” declared Bart.

But after this shaking the stranger seemed to make a mighty effort to brace up and walk straight, and he did remarkably well, although Hooker still kept hold of him. Since finding this man, Hooker had seemed to forget to be suspicious and watch behind him, so Bart and Frank had no trouble at all in following along.

The adventure was growing in interest for Frank. It was something new and novel—something to break the regularity of college life.

Another drunken man came singing along and ran into Hooker and his companion. Straightway the man who had been singing attempted to pick a quarrel, while Hooker tried to avoid him and pass on. The belligerent individual, however, as soon as he saw Hooker wished to escape trouble, proceeded to force matters, after the style of a drunken bully. At last, thoroughly exasperated, Hooker suddenly caught hold of the man, kicked his feet from beneath him, and let him drop to the ground in a manner that must have given him a severe jolt. Then he took his companion’s arm again and they went on.

“Well,” said Frank, with satisfaction, “I rather fancy the way he did that.”

They were on the opposite side of the street, so they had no trouble in passing the dazed pugilist, who had struggled to his feet and was looking after Hooker in a bewildered manner that was rather ludicrous. Hodge was not saying much now. Somehow, this adventure had not turned out just as he had expected it would, and, although he did not confess it, he was not a little puzzled by Hooker’s actions. At length Hooker and his companion came to a corner saloon, from the interior of which came the sound of men talking loudly and discordantly. Hooker’s companion seemed to insist on going in there, and, after awhile, the student consented.

“Well,” said Hodge, “we’ve run our game into a fine hole at last!”

“Still,” persisted Frank, “we have seen him do nothing criminal.”

“We’ve seen him do things that are evidence that he’s up to something crooked.”

“Not evidence.”

“Well, what do you want for evidence?”

“I want evidence. Instead of doing anything criminal, Hooker picked up a poor wretch on the street, and——”

“Took him into a saloon—into a low dive!” exclaimed Bart scornfully.

“No, he did not take the man there. The man persisted in going there, and it was plain to me that Hooker accompanied him with reluctance.”

“Well, that was not plain to me, if it was to you. I don’t see how you can hold onto him and pretend to think he is all right after what we have seen. His every movement since entering the shop of that old Jew has been that of a sneak and a crook. We have followed him to the worst quarter of the city, and have seen him enter one of the lowest dens in company with a drunken man. If that is the sort of chap you choose to associate with, Frank Merriwell, I am ready to confess that I don’t know anything at all about you.”

Never had Bart Hodge been more in earnest, and Frank realized that his companion was making a strong argument. Still, Merry was not satisfied, and he refused to throw Hooker over till he learned something more convincing against him.

“I’ll guarantee,” said Bart, “that Hooker is in there drinking with his dopey companion. He prefers to associate with a fellow of that sort.”

“I am going in and see what he is doing,” said Frank quietly.

“And that will be a fine place to get your nut split open!”

“I think I can take care of myself.”

“If you go in there, I shall go with you.”

“I prefer to go alone.”

“And I refuse to permit it!”

“You refuse! My dear fellow, I don’t think you will do that.”

“All the same, I shall. Don’t think for a minute that I will permit you to take such a risk unless I am with you. That may be a regular robbers’ den. In fact, I am inclined to believe that it is, else Hooker would not be going there.”

“If we both go in there, we may attract attention. If I go in alone, I shall do so unobtrusively.”

“You cannot fail to attract attention if you enter that place, old man, and you know it.”

“Why not?”

“Your appearance is somewhat different from the customers who patronize this joint, I rather think.”

“But you must remember that I have a way of making myself appear at home almost anywhere.”

“But you wear a ring, a scarf-pin, and you have a watch-chain in view.”

“I shall remove the scarf-pin, take off the ring, and button my coat over my vest.”

“That will not hide your clothes, and you will be conspicuous amid a lot of sailors and bums.”

“Still, I believe I can go in there without attracting much attention to myself. If we go in together, we are far more likely to be noticed by Hooker.”

“If you were to go in there and find out that Hooker really was up to something crooked, what would you do?”

“Get out quietly, and give Hooker the throw-down at the first opportunity. Never fear, Bart, if I discover that you are right about the fellow—if I satisfy myself beyond a doubt that he is what you believe him to be—I shall treat him as I would any other rascal.”

“If you get into trouble, old man, you must give me the signal instantly. I’ll be just outside here, and I’ll come in on the jump. Will you do it?”

“Sure thing.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I hate to have you go alone, but I know how set you are when you make up your mind to a thing.”

“Then it is settled! You will wait here?”

“Don’t see but I’ll have to.”

“Now you are sensible, old man. You know I have entered joints quite as tough as this one, and I still live to tell the tale.”

Bart had great confidence in Merry, but he had desired to be with Frank when Hooker was discovered in some crooked or criminal act. Frank removed his scarf-pin and ring and handed them over to Bart. Then he buttoned his coat tightly across his breast and prepared to enter the low saloon.

“Remember,” said Hodge, “if you get into any trouble, just give me the signal. I’ll be with you in a jiffy.”

“But you must stay out unless I do give the signal.”

“Well, I’ll stay out awhile, if I don’t hear a row going on in that place. If I hear that, I shall get inside to see how you are faring.”

This was all right, and so Frank walked up to the door, pushed it open quietly, and entered. He found a lot of tough-looking men drinking in front of a bar, behind which were two dispensers of drinks. The place smelled of liquor. The floor was covered with sawdust, well besprinkled with tobacco juice. Men were smoking vile-smelling pipes and scarcely less vile-smelling cigars. It was a Saturday-night crowd, and the most of them seemed bent on getting intoxicated. Among them were a number of poor laboring men, who were squandering their hard-earned money in that miserable place.

Frank walked in as if it were not the first time he had entered the place, sauntered up to one end of the bar, and stood there quietly.

“What’ll yer have?” asked one of the barkeepers.

“Beer,” answered Frank, feeling that it would not do to call for a soft drink in that place.

A glass of beer that was half foam was slopped out and placed before him. He threw down the right pay for it, and the barkeeper turned his attention to others.

Merry had no intention of drinking that beer. At his feet was a wooden box, two-thirds full of sawdust, which served as a cuspidor when any one cared to use it for that purpose. Into this Merry quietly and unobservedly turned part of the glass of beer. With the half-emptied glass on the bar before him, he proceeded to look around, wiping his mouth. He quickly discovered that neither Hooker nor his companion was standing before the bar. Further inspection disclosed a back room, the door to which stood open. In the back room were three tables, at which men were sitting, drinking and smoking. Hooker and the man he had picked up on the street were sitting at one of the tables. Without trouble, Merriwell changed his position slightly, so that he was able to watch Hooker, while he remained almost entirely concealed by several men who were standing near.

Jim Hooker was talking earnestly to the unfortunate man, who sat on the opposite side of the table. He was not drinking, and Merry observed that no drink sat before him. The other man seemed impatient, and one of the waiters brought him something in a glass. Hooker took the glass and smelled of it, while the waiter shrugged his shoulders and held out his hand. Then Hooker felt in his pocket, brought out a dime, and paid for the drink, which he shoved across to the other man. From the appearance of the drink, Merry quickly decided that it was some kind of a mixture intended to aid in straightening the unfortunate inebriate up. The man took it up, tasted it, and made a face expressive of disgust. Then Hooker urged him to drink it down quickly.

Of course, this was interesting to Frank. What did Hooker mean to do with the man after sobering him off? That was a question that troubled him some. With some trouble, the man forced himself to drink the contents of the glass. Just as this was done, Frank saw the barkeeper catch from off the bar the glass he had half emptied and slop the remaining contents into a washtank beneath the bar.

Merry understood what that meant, and he immediately ordered another glass of beer, which was placed before him. If he was going to keep his place at the bar, he must buy drinks often. It was Saturday night, and any one who did not pan out well could not hold a position at that bar. There were times when Merry felt that it would be an advantage to smoke, and this was one of them. Had he been smoking, it would not have seemed so peculiar for him to stand there at the bar, idly gazing around.

When Hooker’s companion had disposed of the drink, the outcast fell to talking to him again in a most earnest manner. The man was surly, and he seemed to be demanding something. Hooker seemed to argue with him, but he persisted in his demands. After a time, Hooker felt in his pockets and took out a little money, which he placed on the table. This the man eagerly seized, and then it was evident that he demanded more; but Hooker shook his head and appeared to be declaring that he had no more. At this the man grew angry.

“Instead of robbing his new friend,” said Frank to himself, “he is coughing up to him.”

At last, Hooker felt in his pocket and took out something which he had done up in a paper. The paper he stripped off, placing the object on the table before his companion. It was a watch and chain!

“Heavens!” muttered Frank Merriwell, starting violently, “is that my watch?”

CHAPTER V.

FRANK WAVERS.

Merry felt his heart leap into his throat. Was it possible at last that there was proof of Hooker’s crookedness?

Frank almost staggered, as if he had been struck a heavy blow. The outcast’s companion, a man of at least fifty years, eagerly grasped the watch and chain. Then, without hesitation, Frank Merriwell started forward and strode into that room. He was quickly at the side of the table, and, in a hoarse voice, he demanded:

“Let me see that watch!”

Hooker uttered a cry of astonishment.

“Merriwell!” he gasped, seeming to turn ashen pale.

The other man thrust the watch and chain into his pocket. Quick as a flash, Merry clutched him by the collar, again demanding:

“Let me see that watch!”

At that instant, somebody struck Merry from behind, dropping him to the floor in a dazed condition. He saw that two of the men who had been sitting at another table were on their feet, and one of them had struck him down.

“Give it ter der dude!” snarled one.

“I’ll kick der packin’ outer him!” snarled the other, lifting his heavy foot.

With a cry, Jim Hooker flung himself at the man.

“Stop!” he shouted. “You shall not harm him!”

In a moment a free fight was taking place in that room. Merry managed to get upon his feet, but he was attacked by Hooker’s companion and several others. A shrill, sharp, peculiar whistle came from his lips. It brought Bart Hodge dashing into that room.

“Nail them, Merriwell!” shouted Hodge, his eyes flashing as he struck right and left.

There were eight or ten ruffians present, but they found those two college lads lively fighters. Merriwell had been dazed by the blow he received, but the manner in which Hodge walked into those toughs was an inspiration, and Frank quickly woke up to the work before him. The fight was short and sharp, and Merry and Bart made a dash to get out of the room. The barkeepers and some of those in the other room met them at the door. They attempted to stop them.

“Hold on!” cried one of the barkeepers, clutching Hodge.

“Hands off!” snarled Bart, hitting the fellow a terrible jolt on the jaw.

“We can’t stop now,” Merriwell almost laughed, as he upset the other barkeeper.

They broke through and rushed out of the place.

“We had better get away in a hurry,” said Hodge. “This may bring the police.”

“If there are any police in the neighborhood,” muttered Frank. “I’d like to see that watch!”

“What did you say?” asked Bart.

“Nothing.”

“Yes, you did. You said you’d like to see something. What was it?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“All right. Come on.”

They hastily left the vicinity, getting away in safety.

“Well, it happened just as I thought it would,” said Bart, as they walked along.

Frank did not speak. Hodge looked at him, and saw that Merry was walking with downcast eyes, an expression of deep depression on his usually cheerful face.

“I’m sorry, Frank,” said Hodge seriously, “but you insisted on going in there.”

Still Frank said nothing, and Hodge kept on:

“I told you how it would be. I suppose Hooker was furious when he found you had followed him, and he set the gang on you?”

“You’re wrong about that.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Then how did it happen? Hooker was mixed in that fight. I’m sure he was trying to do you up.”

“He wasn’t.”

“Get out! What was he in the fight for?”

“He was helping me.”

“Oh, come off!”

“It’s true.”

“You’re dreaming!”

“No. He kept one of those ruffians from kicking me when I was down. He attacked the man just as he was going to kick me.”

“But how did you happen to get into the fight?”

“I’ll tell you when we get to my room.”

“Why not now?” persisted Bart, whose curiosity was thoroughly awakened. “You wouldn’t let me go along with you, and so——What was Hooker doing in there?”

“He was trying to straighten the other man up.”

“How?”

“By pouring some kind of a decoction into him.”

“Then Hooker was drinking?”

“No.”

“Why——”

“The other man was drinking. Hooker was not touching anything.”

“Go on. I don’t know that his not drinking makes him any better. What happened? Go on.”

“Hooker seemed to be talking to the other man seriously. I had a good chance to see him. He was a man about fifty years old, and I have an idea.”

“About him?”

“Yes.”

“You think——”

“It is possible that this unfortunate wretch is Hooker’s father.”

“I thought of that myself,” nodded Bart. “I wondered if it wouldn’t occur to you. A fine father he has! He must be proud of him! A criminal and a drunkard!”

“Without doubt, Hooker is not proud of his father,” said Frank. “I believe he is anything but proud of him. Have you ever heard how he happened to get to college?”

“There’s a story that some old aunt of his who has money is putting him through, and that he is helping work his way. Work his way! You can understand what that means. He is working his way with those light fingers of his.”

To Bart’s surprise, Merry did not protest his disbelief of this now. He was silent and sad.

“I believe you discovered more than you have told me while in that saloon!” exclaimed Hodge eagerly. “I believe you are convinced of Hooker’s guilt!”

“Not thoroughly convinced.”

But, by these words, Frank had as much as admitted that he was partly convinced, and that was enough to satisfy Hodge.

“You are weakening!” he cried; “and you would never do that if you did not feel that the fellow was guilty. Now, Merry, I believe you can understand how we felt when you attempted to bring this crooked chap into our set.”

“What bothers me,” said Frank, “is that Hooker could be known so certainly to be crooked and still continue as a student at Yale. It is remarkable.”

“Without doubt, there are other fellows in college who are no better than he, but they have not been spotted.”

“I don’t like to think so! I don’t like to think that any man who is living among us here, with all the refining and ennobling influences of the old college to work for his upbuilding, can be no better than a common sneak-thief.”

“You must have seen Hooker rob somebody in the saloon, or you would not admit that he is a common sneak-thief.”

“I did not see that.”

“Well, you saw something that came pretty near settling the matter with you. But there are other fellows just as bad as Hooker.”

“Name them.”

“I do not think Rupert Chickering is much better. He makes a bluff at being somebody, but he’s a hypocrite and a sneak.”

“But not a thief.”

“He doesn’t have to be.”

“That’s true. There is no telling what he might become if placed in Hooker’s position.”

“Still, that does not excuse Hooker,” said Bart quickly, as if fearing that Frank was looking for something that might be called “extenuating circumstances.”

“No, that does not, and still, no matter what Hooker may be, I shall feel a pang of pity for him.”

“That’s like you!”

“If he is a crook, it’s because it’s in his blood.”

“That’s it! I tell you I believe with Jack Diamond that ‘blood will tell.’ It is his pet theory. Give a man a father with criminal instincts, and he is bound to have crooked tendencies.”

“But I feel that some fellows fight against such tendencies with all their souls—and conquer! I believe some lads who are tempted to do wrong things set their faces resolutely toward the right and never turn back. At first the battle may be hard for them, but they grow stronger to resist evil as they win victory after victory, till at last the tempter has no strength to drag them from the straight and narrow path that leads to the goal of respect, honor, and happiness.”

“Now you’re talking like a preacher, Merriwell! I don’t like it when you talk that way! One would think you were never tempted to do wrong.”

“But I have been, my friend—I have been! And let me tell you that I escaped by a narrow margin. That is why I can understand and sympathize with others who are tempted.”

“Too much generosity never does them any good. I’ve known criminals to be sympathized with till they actually came to think themselves the ones wronged.”

Frank nodded.

“I haven’t a doubt of that. Nothing disgusts me so much as the people who carry flowers to murderers. By their folly, such persons are encouraging crime. Some other weak-minded wretch with a murderous tendency sees foolish women and idiotic men making a fuss over a murderer, and he longs to be fawned over and gazed upon with awe and admiration, and straightway at the first opportunity he kills somebody. I have sympathy with those who may be struggling to turn back from the pathway of crime.”

“But do you think Jim Hooker is making any such struggle?”

“I don’t know. He may be.”

“Well, tell me what you saw in that place, and how you came to get into the fight.”

Bart argued till Frank told him everything. When Merry had finished, Hodge said:

“That must settle it in your mind, Merriwell. The fellow was in your room this afternoon before you came. You left the door open, and you found him there when you returned. Your watch was gone after he departed. You saw him turning it over to his wretched old father to-night, and——”

“I am not certain yet that it was my watch. I shall make a thorough search for my watch, and, if I cannot find it——”

“What then?” asked Bart eagerly.

“I am done with Jim Hooker,” said Merry grimly.

Together they returned to Merriwell’s room. On the campus they met some of Frank’s friends, but he passed on with a word of greeting to each. When they were in the room, he said:

“Now, Hodge, for a search. You shall help me. We will look everywhere for that watch.”

“And have all our trouble for nothing,” declared Bart. “You’ll never see your watch again.”

Frank began the search. He went through his clothes in the wardrobe. It was not there. Then he went to his dressing-case in the sleeping-room. Bart made a pretense of hunting, but, being satisfied in his mind that Frank had not a chance to success, it was no more than a pretense. The watch was not in any of the drawers of the dressing-case. High and low they searched, but without avail.

“Now, I hope you are satisfied!” exclaimed Bart.

Frank sat down.

“I am,” he said.

“You are ready to give Hooker up?”

“Yes.”

Hodge made a struggle to repress his triumph. All he had worked for was accomplished. Frank Merriwell sat there, staring down at the floor, dark, depressed, dejected.

“Come, come!” cried Bart. “You look as if you had lost your best friend!”

“I feel as if to-night has seen the death of another of my youthful confidences in human nature,” said Merry, in a dull voice. “If this keeps up, I fear for the future.”

“Oh, come off! Fear for the future! What are you giving us!”

“The truth. I have seen old men who were crafty, suspicious, doubtful of all mankind, and I have pitied them, for it has seemed to me that they were the most miserable of human beings. If I thought I might become like one of those I should be wretched now!”

“Bosh! They are the limit. It’s well enough to be on one’s guard against deception and crookedness, but you must know there is such a thing as honesty in the world. You must know there is such a thing as true friendship. There are your own friends——”

“And they fled before me when I——”

Frank stopped, and Hodge quickly picked him up.

“When you attempted to introduce a crook to them. Do you wonder? You cannot blame them.”

Merry rose and walked slowly to the mantel, against which he leaned.

“I suppose not,” he finally said. “They were right and I was wrong. I shall confess my mistake to them. A little while ago I felt that the time would come when I should be able to make them all acknowledge that they were wrong.”

“Is that what’s hit you so hard? Come out of it! You need not say a word about it to any of them, and you may be sure not one of your real friends will ever mention it to you.”

“That is not my way. If I make a mistake, I am ready to acknowledge it no matter how hard it may be for me. The fellow who cannot bring himself to acknowledge a mistake makes himself miserable and gets the reputation of being bull-headed. It is not because I must confess I was wrong that I am feeling bad. It is because an ideal is shattered.”

“You are sorry for Hooker, Merriwell, that’s why you feel so bad.”

Frank was silent.

“Think it over a little,” advised Hodge quickly. “Should you be sorry for a fellow who could do what he has done? You picked him up an outcast, and you attempted to bring him into your set, the best set in college. When your friends turned their backs on him, you stood by him. How did he reward you? He stole your watch!”

Frank nodded slowly.

“He did, poor devil!”

“Poor devil! Poor nothing! He’s a cheap sneak!”

“It is plain that he was compelled to take something to his father, for that man surely was his father. He did not have money, and so he felt that he was compelled to get something.”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, don’t try to excuse him that way! Other things have been stolen. It is certain now that he is the college sneak-thief. It is evident that he takes his booty to his miserable old father, or to this pal of his, and the one to whom he takes it disposes of the stuff and raises the money on it. It is a combination for crime. I do not believe he is deserving of your sympathy in the least, and you make me sick by wasting any sympathy on him!”

Frank was forced to confess that Bart might be right. Hodge talked to him some time.

“I’m tired,” said Merry, at last. “I must go to bed.”

“Then I’ll be going.”

“Wait a little. Wait till I undress. Let’s talk of old times, Bart—of old times at Fardale! Let’s try to forget this! Talk to me of something else, my friend, while I prepare for bed.”

So Bart remained yet a little longer and talked to Frank, who slowly began to undress. The light in the little sleeping-room was turned on, and Bart sat by the door. Frank moved about slowly, as if weary in every limb. It was plain to Hodge that he must pass a wretched night.

After a time, Merry opened the bed, turning down the clothes. As he did so, he paused and uttered a cry. Then he clutched something and held it up, shouting:

“Look here, Hodge!”

“What is it?” cried Bart, starting up.

“My watch!” exclaimed Merry joyfully.

“Good heavens!” gasped Bart, and he sat down again in a helpless, flabbergasted way.

“It was there,” cried Frank, “under the pillow. I remember now that when I changed my clothes I flung it on the bed. It must have slid under the pillow! That’s why I could not find it.”

Hodge was speechless.

CHAPTER VI.

AN OUTCAST NO LONGER.

It is needless to say that neither Frank Merriwell nor Bart Hodge related to their friends the adventure of that night. Of course, Merry was overjoyed by the discovery of his watch just where he had left it, and, of course, Bart was completely upset.

“It is quite probable now,” said Frank, “that Hooker gave his own watch to his father, when that person demanded money and he was unable to furnish it. You must respect Hooker for the act, Hodge.”

He pledged Bart to secrecy, and, on the following day, Merry took pains to hunt Hooker up. Of course, Jim was confused and abashed. He wondered how Frank had happened to be in such a quarter. Frank told him.

“Hooker,” he said, “I am going to tell you just what I did last night, and then, if you are too angry to forgive me, you can tell me what you think of me. I am heartily ashamed of the whole affair, and I ask your pardon.”

“Ask my pardon?” gasped Hooker. “What for?”

“I’ll tell you,” and then Merry related the whole story, excepting that he took all the blame on his own shoulders, never once mentioning that Hodge had led him into the piece of detective work.

Hooker listened to the end, his face betraying his changing emotions.

“There,” said Frank, at last, “that’s the whole of it. Now you know why I happened to be in that dive on the water-front. You know that, for all of my protestations of absolute friendship, I did not trust you fully. I am ashamed of it all, and I beg your pardon.”

“I don’t wonder that you did not trust me,” said Hooker. “Nobody seems to do that!”

The words cut Frank to the quick.

“Yet I told you that I did.”

“Well, you wanted to make sure that I was on the level. It’s all right. Anybody in your place would have done the same. The man that I picked up was my father,” he went on, his face flushing and then turning deathly pale. “He was an honest man till convicted of a crime he never committed. When he came out of prison the brand of a criminal was on him, and he found himself regarded with distrust by everybody. Nobody offered him a helping hand, and he could not obtain any position of trust. Then he took to drink and went to the bad. I don’t believe he ever did anything very bad, but he is a fallen man now. He cares for nothing but drink, drink, drink. At times he is ashamed of himself and tries to do better, but it is too late. At other times, when hard up, he becomes desperate. He has found that I am here at Yale, and he has come here that he may be near me. At times he threatens to come here to the campus and show himself if I do not furnish him money. When he is in his cups, I cannot reason with him. I have to furnish him with money. Last night I had no money. I knew he would be expecting me Saturday night, and I knew where I might find him. I left college in my regular clothes and changed them for a wretched suit at the Jew’s store, so that I might be disguised when I went there. A man who is dressed in a decent manner attracts attention there. That was my reason for changing my clothes. As I said, I had no money, not having received any from my aunt on Saturday, as usual. He would not listen, and, as a last resort, in order to keep him silent, I gave him my watch to pawn. That is all.”

Frank grasped Hooker’s hand.

“My dear fellow,” he cried, “you have my sympathy and admiration! If I can help you in any way, you may depend on me!”

“Thank you, Mr. Merriwell.”

“Don’t call me that. You are one of my friends now, if you can forget and forgive my suspicions. Call me Merry.”

“All right,” said the outcast, with a bit of a smile on his face; “but don’t call me Hookie! Let it be Jim, will you, Merry?”

“Sure thing, Jim!”

* * * * *

Frank Merriwell had called together his set in his room. They had gathered at the call, wondering what it meant. They chattered, and joked, and speculated. Browning was the last one to come loafing in.

“What’s this?” he asked; “a riot, or a peace conference?”

“Make yourself comfortable, old man,” said Merry, “and I will tell you. All are here now.”

“Well, they’re pretty thick,” grunted Bruce. “I don’t see how a man is going to make himself comfortable in this jam.”

“Friends,” said Merry, taking the center of the room and looking round, “of course, you know there is some extraordinary reason why I have brought you here to-night. I am not going to make a long talk, but I am coming straight to the point. There is in this college a man who has been maligned, lied about, and disgraced. His worst enemies are Rupert Chickering’s set. Chickering and his gang have done more than anybody else to hurt this unfortunate student. They have put the brand of criminal upon him and made him an outcast. The man I speak about is Jim Hooker.”

“I thought so!” muttered somebody.

Frank went on: “Hooker is believed to be crooked. I saw him and took pity on him. I brought him here to this room, and some of my friends, who were present, fled precipitately, refusing to be introduced to him. It cut me pretty deep, but since then I have taken pains to investigate Hooker and his history. I am not going to tell you how I did it, but I am going to tell you what I found out. I found out that Jim Hooker is thoroughly honest, that his father was imprisoned for a crime he did not commit, and other things in the poor fellow’s favor. I have not found one thing against him. I have learned many things that lead me to respect him highly. Now”--Frank looked at his watch--“I have a few more words to say. I have invited Hooker to come here at eight o’clock this evening. He will be here in ten minutes. There is just time for all to get out who may desire. He does not know why I wish him to be present at eight, but it is to meet my friends who remain to be introduced to him and to treat him like a man and a member of our set. Those who remain here will still remain my friends; those who go—will go!”

There was no misunderstanding Frank’s meaning. The assembled fellows looked at each other.

Bart Hodge stepped out.

“Merriwell is right,” he said. “You know what I have thought of Hooker. Well, I was with Merry when he made his investigations. I think now that Jim Hooker is a square man, and the fellow who refuses to meet him to-night will prove himself a cad. I shall meet him and ask his pardon for any slur I may have cast upon him!”

When Bart Hodge spoke like that it meant a great deal.

“Come,” said Frank, watch in hand, “Hooker may appear any moment. Those who wish to go had better get out right away.”

“It seems to me,” said Harry Rattleton, looking around, “that there are not many going out. I shall stay.”

They all stayed, and when Jim Hooker appeared five minutes later he received the surprise of his life.

CHAPTER VII.

SENSATIONAL WORK.

“Yale is weakening!”

“Brown will score!”

“That’s hot work!”

“Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!”

The spectators were excited. The college men were wild. The rooters of the Providence University were barking like a pack of foxes:

“’rah, ’rah, ’rah, ’rah, ’rah, ’rah!”

Yale was playing Brown on the gridiron of the latter team. It was near the end of the second half. The Providence men had played like fiends, but the sons of Old Eli were out to show what they could do, and they had scored 18 points, while the score of their opponents could still be designated by 0. But Brown was desperate now. Remembering its good work against Pennsylvania, it became furious in its efforts to score on Yale. It bucked the blue line savagely again and again, and each time it seemed that some of the New Haven men were left disabled and carried from the field.

Sitting on the bleachers with the great mass of Yale rooters, Bruce Browning groaned.

“If this keeps up much longer,” he said, “we won’t have a man left who is not disabled. They’re lugging a man off every minute! It’s the ruin of the eleven!”

“Sheep your kirt on—I mean keep your shirt on!” spluttered Harry Rattleton. “Merriwell’s still in the game.”

“Yes, but he’s been laid out twice, and he’s staying by sheer grit. He may be a total wreck when the game is over.”

“Hodge has been carried off unconscious,” said Ben Halliday, his face white and drawn. “And they say Badger has a dislocated shoulder.”

“Don’t mention him!” snapped Jack Diamond. “What if he has a dislocated shoulder!”

“He can play football.”

“Bah! He’s treacherous! More than once he’s tried to hurt Merriwell in the game.”

“Still, it is strange that Merriwell himself declares Badger is one of the best half-backs Yale ever had.”

“Merriwell is too generous!”

A roar went up all round the enclosed field. A double pass had been made, and a Brown man was going clean round Yale’s end, having tricked the defenders of the blue. If he got round, an open field lay before him, and the Providence team would score. Roar, roar, roar—how the sound rose to the dull autumn sky. Flags were fluttering everywhere, while men and women were on their feet shouting at the top of their voices.

The Yale men sat still without breathing, watching, waiting, hoping. Out of the tangled mass shot a man. He was so covered with dirt that it was almost impossible to tell whether he was a Yale man or an enemy. He went at the man with the ball like a shot out of a gun.

“Who is it?”

“He can’t catch him!”

“Brown scores!”

“It’s Thurlow, with the ball!”

“He can run like the wind!”

“He’s flying!”

“So’s t’other fellow!”

“He’s catching him!”

“He’ll do it!”

“He’s caught him and tackled!”

“Thurlow’s down!”

Then the uproar became indescribable, for a Yale man had stopped the swift runner with the ball on the Yale fifteen-yard line. It had been done by splendid speed, although the runner had covered the ground in a queer, awkward, toeing-in manner. Then came the Yale cheer rolling across the gridiron.

Harvard had not permitted Brown to score, but Harvard had scored but twelve points against her. Yale led by six points, if she could keep the Providence team from making fifteen yards more before the finish. Of course, Yale was anxious to defeat Brown by a greater score than Harvard had done, as it would give the sons of Old Eli courage for the coming battle with the crimson. “Battle” is the word, for surely it was more of a battle than a game. According to fixed rules and an established code, the two elevens fought like untamed tigers for the mastery.

Brown’s exultation had been temporary. While it lasted they had seemed frantic, but now the Yale men were whooping it up.

“Who did it?”

“Who stopped him?”

“What’s his name?”

“Anybody know him?”

“One of the substitutes, did you say?”

“A freshman?”

“What name?”

“Ready—Jack Ready? Well, I propose a cheer for Jack Ready. His name fits him. He was ready that time.”

They cheered again and again. There were plenty of freshmen present, and they nearly split their throats. The glory of this game was coming to their class, for Ready had made the sensational play of the day.

The two elevens were lined up for the final struggle. It must be nearly time for the game to close. Brown was preparing for one more furious onslaught. She must gain fifteen yards to score, or kick a goal from the field. The game was on again, and Brown was bucking Yale’s line. She made a clean gain of five yards before her first down. Only ten yards more and Brown would have a touch-down. Her eleven men seemed like raging fiends, ready to shed their life blood in order to put the pigskin over the goal-line.

“They’ll do it!”

“It looks that way!”

“Our team is too weak now!”

“Too many substitutes.”

“I’d rather give a leg than see them score!”

The Yale men were dejected, although they were doing what they could to cheer their men to hold fast.

Brown men were urging their eleven on. A great crowd of the Providence students broke out singing:

“Baldwin, Baldwin, we’ve been thinking

What a score there’s sure to be;

Now that you are back at quarter,

Lead the team to victory.

“Hogan, Hogan, hear the slogan

Swelling forth in ringing tones;

Show ’em how to hit the line now,

Give ’em one more dose of Jones.

“Hersey, George and Walter Hersey,

You are sure to do your share;

Poor old Yale will get no mercy,

You must soak her now for fair.”

The sound of that song floated across the field, and, it seemed, if possible, to make the Providence players more terrible than ever. Still they were held without a gain for a down. But what might happen in another minute! It was the critical point of the game.

Again Brown bucked.

There was a fumble! Then came a furious mix-up. And then——

Out of the midst of the tangle shot a man with the ball, carrying it toward Brown’s goal. After him came nine panting foes, with two of the Brown men left to recover more slowly. Now the excitement was something tremendous. Realizing that a Yale man had secured the ball on a fumble and was racing for another touch-down, the sons of Old Eli stood up, climbed on each other and thundered their admiration and applause. In the midst of all this uproar nearly fifty students, who were together in a bunch, could be heard shrieking:

“Merriwell! Merriwell! ’rah! ’rah! ’rah!”

It is pretty certain that the man with the ball was recognized by almost every college student within that enclosure. It was Frank. And now Merriwell showed them what running really is. The manner in which he flew over the ground was something marvelous. One Brown man made an awful spurt to catch him. It was the fellow who had been pulled down by Jack Ready. Merry drew away from him with apparent ease.

“Satan can’t stop him now!”

“It’s another touch-down!”

“Is he running, or flying?”

“Yell, boys—yell!”

They could not stop him. Over the line he carried the ball, and another touch-down was made. Then a goal was kicked, and the game was over.

Yale had doubled Harvard’s score against Brown.

And in the last moments of the game Frank Merriwell had eclipsed the sensational feat of Jack Ready and robbed the freshman of some of his glory.

CHAPTER VIII.

JACK READY.

Bruised and battered, yet triumphant and rejoicing, the Yale players were returning to New Haven by rail. The train was packed by the students who had accompanied them. They were being praised and congratulated by every one. Bart Hodge, with his head bound up, sat quietly listening, a look of satisfaction on his face. Badger was near, talking to some friends. He winced and showed pain when somebody accidentally hit his right shoulder. Other men had been badly injured, and, but for their laughter, they were a rather sorry-looking lot. But Rattleton declared that, as long as they had won, they’d laugh if every man of them had been killed.

The students were singing and shaking hands with each other.

“Poor old Harvard!” cried Parker, standing on a seat. “How bad she’ll feel! She only made twelve points against Brown!”

“We’ll use her just as bad when we get against her,” declared Rick Powell.

“If we’re not all in hospital when that time comes,” groaned an injured player. “Those Providence fellows are devils!”

“They seemed determined to kill somebody before the game was over,” said Pooler. “I thought they’d do it, too.”

“I believe you are the only man, Merriwell, who escaped without being hurt,” said Fred Birch, with somethink like envy.

“Think so?” smiled Frank.

“Yes. I’ve got a wrenched knee.”

“And I have a knocked-out shoulder,” said Badger.

“And I a sprained ankle,” said another.

“And I a wrenched back,” from another.

“And Hodge has a broken head,” declared somebody, speaking for Bart.

“And every other man but Merriwell is a cripple,” asserted Walt Forrest. “Merriwell is the luckiest dog alive. Why, he couldn’t get hurt! Did you ever get hurt, Merriwell?”

For a reply, Frank held up a hand which he had been keeping out of sight, pulling a handkerchief bandage off his wrist, which was seen terribly swollen. There were exclamations of astonishment on all sides.

“Why, you didn’t say a word about it?” cried Birch.

Frank laughed.

“What was the good of saying anything?” he asked. “The others were saying enough. I didn’t need to add my plaint to theirs.”

“But you should have had that attended to, old man.”

“I did,” said Frank. “If you other fellows hadn’t been so plastered with linement, you’d smelled the stuff I have on this handkerchief. The doctor told me to keep my wrist wet with it.”

Merry took a bottle out of his pocket and poured some of its contents on the handkerchief. Then, having restored the bottle to his pocket, he bound the handkerchief about his wrist with remarkable ease and skill, and without assistance.

“Well, we are in a bad way!” cried Birch. “Is there a man who did anything worth doing on the team to-day who was not hurt?”

Up rose a round-faced, red-cheeked fellow. He saluted with a flourish.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “behold me! I am the man. I’ll permit you to touch the hem of my garment—if your hands are clean.”

There was a shout. Men crowded forward. The one who had risen and proclaimed himself the only uninjured player folded his arms and struck an attitude, with his hat on the side of his head.

“Napoleon crossing the Delaware,” he cried. “No, I mean Washington crossing the Alps. Am I not real interesting to behold? Look at me carefully.”

“Well, they should put that in a cage!” exclaimed Harry Rattleton.

“Sir, how dare you!” squawked the student. “Are you aware whom you are undressing?”

“Who is he?” asked several, who could not obtain a good view.

“It’s Ready—Jack Ready, the freshman who kept Brown from scoring.”

“He’s all right!”

“He did a good trick!”

“He should be tried again!”

“He will be!”

“Bet your life on that!”

Still with partly folded arms, Ready made a queer little flourishing gesture with one hand.

“Listen,” he said; “hear the multitude murmur its admiration. This—this is fame!”

“Well, what do you think of that?” muttered Jack Diamond, in Frank Merriwell’s ear.

Frank was smiling.

“He’s interesting,” Merry declared.

“Interesting!” retorted Jack. “Why, he acts like a fool!”

“Thanks,” said Ready, who seemed to have wonderfully sharp ears. “It’s my natural way, but if you have it copyrighted for your own use, sir, I’ll try to act differently.”

The face of the Virginian flushed.

“I did not speak to you, sir!” he flashed.

“No; but you spoke of me, and I happened to hear what you said. I don’t mind, as you’re not worth minding.”

“You’re too fresh!” said Diamond.

“You’re not the man to put salt on my tail,” was the instant retort. “What did you ever do? You never made a touch-down in your life. You can’t play football. I don’t believe you can play marbles. You should be silent in the presence of your superiors.”

That was too much for Jack Diamond.

“Of all the swelled heads I ever saw, you are the biggest!” he exclaimed. “Just because you happened to get a chance to play a few minutes to-day, you have an idea that you are something remarkable.”

“I divided the honors with Frank Merriwell,” said Ready. “Any fellow with a sense of fairness will acknowledge that.”

“Oh, go fall on yourself!” retorted Diamond.

“I’m no contortionist, nor yet a magician,” said Ready quickly. “I can’t fall on myself, but I may fall on you some day.”

“Any time you like you may try it!” flared Jack, rising to his feet, his face pale and his eyes glittering. “I’ll give you a reason now.”

But Frank Merriwell got hold of the hot-blooded Virginian and pulled him down.

“Let up on this!” commanded Frank. “It’s a fine time to be picking up trouble! We have won a great victory, and we should rejoice. Don’t both of you be fools!”

“All right,” said Ready; “I’ll leave that privilege to your friend, Mr. Merriwell. I believe he has a reputation as a fire-eater. I shall expect a challenge from him. We will meet on the field of honor—not!”

Diamond felt like attacking Ready then and there, but Frank would not have it.

“He’s an insolent prig!” panted the Southerner. “He has insulted you, Merriwell, by claiming to have divided honors with you on the field to-day.”

“I think I can stand it,” laughed Frank.

Of course the victors were given a reception at the campus. There were no bonfires, but there was plenty of shouting, singing, and speech-making. Merriwell made a speech that aroused great enthusiasm. He compared Yale’s record against Brown with that of Harvard. The score seemed to indicate that the blue was far stronger than the crimson. The time was close at hand when that point would be settled on the gridiron, and Merry promised that Old Eli would put up a fight that would make every Yale man thrill with joy and pride. When this speech was over, a great crowd gathered about Frank near the fence, to congratulate him and shake his hand. He was forced to give them his left hand, on account of the injury to his right wrist.

“We’re going to do just what I said, fellows,” he declared. “Harvard is overconfident. She thinks she is absolutely sure to win, and that’s where she’ll slip a cog this year. All we need is the right amount of confidence and determination, and we’ll give her a splendid trouncing.”

“Hurrah!” cried a voice. “With you on the eleven, we’ll do the trick, Merriwell!”

“Three cheers for Merriwell!”

The cheers were given.

“Now, don’t get the idea that any one man is going to do it all,” laughed Frank. “It will take an altogether fight, and it must be made by every good man we can find.”

“Ready! Ready!” cried a voice from the background. “What’s the matter with Jack Ready?”

“He’s all right!” shouted a score of freshmen.

“Who are those chumps?” growled Browning.

“A lot of freshmen,” said Halliday. “Ready is the only freshman who has done anything worth mentioning this year, and they are making the most of it.”

Frank Merriwell was ready enough to acknowledge ability in another person.