Frank Merriwell's Return to Yale

HUNTING FOR A FRESHMAN.

The contests were to take place on a Wednesday evening. On the Monday previous all the Yale athletes went to New York.

Special permission from the faculty had to be obtained for this absence from the college, but there was no difficulty in getting that, as there is hardly a professor at Yale who does not have a strong interest in athletic events.

As New Haven is but two hours' ride from New York, it might have been possible for the students to attend to all their duties on the Wednesday, and still get to New York in time for the events, but that would never do for the contestants.

Nobody knows better than men who train how easy it is for an athlete to get thrown out of order by a change in diet and air. The finer the training the greater care there has to be.

Therefore, the managing committee for Yale felt that it was absolutely necessary to give the contestants at least two whole days in New York City, in order to get used to the slight change that would result in their leaving familiar quarters in New Haven.

Students who were not contestants in the intercollegiate sports were not allowed to leave New Haven so early, and so it was a comparatively small party that went with Frank and the other members of the committee to rooms that had been engaged for them in the Murray Hill Hotel.

It would probably have amused an outsider if he could have known the great care taken to prevent those students from being harmed by illness or anything else.

They were grown men and able to take care of themselves ordinarily, but from the time they went into training they were like so many children in charge of a nurse.

They were informed as to just what they could eat and what they must let alone. Not one of them was permitted to smoke, and every one of them was required to do just so many hours of exercise of some kind every day.

While they remained in New Haven it was no very difficult matter to see to it that every one of the contestants obeyed the regulations of the managing committee.

In New York it was not quite so easy, for the members of the committee were a good deal occupied in discussing arrangements with the committees from other colleges who were quartered at different hotels.

When it happened that all the committee had to be away from the Murray Hill at the same time, the oversight of the Yale crew was left to Browning, who was the most experienced athlete among them.

There was not much for him to do, for each one of the contestants had a programme of exercise laid out for him.

There was to be just so much walking, and at certain hours, and the rest of the time, except for meals, was to be put in in resting.

It was understood that as often as possible the entire crowd should walk together, and this they did on the first evening after their arrival.

They went up Fifth Avenue to Central Park, and walked rapidly for fully an hour among its winding paths; then they returned to their hotel, had baths, and went early to bed.

During the next day, Tuesday, the contestants were left pretty much to themselves, as the members of the committee were away most of the time.

After one of the meetings with the committees from other colleges, the Yale managers, finding that a number of things had to be done, divided up the work and separated.

Three or four hours later Rowland and Frank met on the way to the hotel where their companions were staying. They reported to each other what they had done, and then fell as usual into discussing the prospects for victory.

"I saw the Cornell tug of war team out for a run," said Rowland.

"Ah! What do they look like?" Frank responded, without much show of interest.

"Beef!" said Rowland.

"Not dangerous, then, eh?"

"Why, no, I presume not. They look as if they could carry you fellows around on one hand, but it seemed to me they were clumsy in their running."

"I don't fear them," said Frank; "I'd heard from some other fellows that Cornell was counting on weight more than anything else, and as you know, I take more stock in head work."

"There's this to think of, though," remarked Rowland, "if a beefy team gets the fall on you by the fraction of a second, you simply can't stand it. That's the time when dead weight will tell."

"The Cornell beefeaters won't get the drop on Yale," returned Frank, quietly.

"No, I guess not, and for that matter, so far as I can hear, there seems to be no doubt in anybody's mind that the real contest will be between Yale and Princeton."

"Have you seen the Harvard men?" asked Frank.

"No, but we know all about them, don't we?"

"I think so. They're a game lot, but I don't think they can stand against us. The fact is, Rowland, I'm thinking more of the other events than of the tug of war just now."

"So? I would have supposed you would be capable of thinking of nothing else."

Frank shook his head.

"The tug of war doesn't worry me a little bit," he said, "but as one of the managers I should feel pretty badly if we fell down on everything else."

"Oh, we're not going to fall down; there are two or three events, you know, in which we are almost certain to win. The high leap, for example——"

"That's just what I've been thinking of," interrupted Frank.

"Why, are you afraid of Higgins?"

Higgins was a member of the freshman class who had shown most unusual power in jumping, and had easily beaten all the other Yale students who had tried for that event.

"I hear that Cornell has a man named Stover," said Frank, "who thinks he can beat everybody at the high jump."

"Yes, I've heard of him, too," Rowland responded, "but what of it? Higgins has broken the record in private practice——"

"That doesn't make it certain that he will do as well at the armory."

"No; but he's in good condition, isn't he?"

"First rate."

"Then I wouldn't worry about him."

"I'm not worrying exactly, and in any case, if our fellows do their best and we get beaten, there's nothing to complain of."

At this point in their conversation the two arrived at the Murray Hill Hotel. They went at once to the suite of rooms that had been engaged for the athletes, and found most of the contestants reading or dozing.

A few were out for a walk. All the students asked eager questions as to the final arrangements and so on. After several questions had been asked and answered, Rowland remarked:

"There'll be hard times in Princeton this winter if the orange doesn't get most of the cups."

"Are the Princeton men offering odds?" asked Browning.

"Not quite so strong as that, but they're putting up loads of money."

"Is the betting any heavier than usual?" asked Frank.

"Perhaps not," Rowland answered, "but if not I must have come across the betting crowd. It seemed as if they had begged and borrowed every dollar they could lay hold of and had brought it here to put up on the different events."

"How is the betting going?" asked Browning.

"I didn't pay very much attention to it, but it seemed to be about even as between Princeton and Yale on the tug of war, and on some of the other events the Princeton men were asking for odds rather than giving them.

"What impressed me most was that it looked as if it was the Princeton crowd that had the most money."

"Why," asked Frank, in a surprised tone, "it wasn't the Princeton contestants who were doing the betting, was it?"

"No, but some of the students."

"That's queer."

"Why?"

"Here it is Tuesday afternoon and the Princeton fellows who are going to see the contests are not due before to-morrow afternoon. It doesn't seem to me probable that the Princeton faculty would let the general run of students come up here at this time any more than the Yale faculty would allow our men to come."

"Can't help that," said Rowland, "there's a raft of Princeton men in town going around with orange ribbons in their buttonholes and hunting for chances to bet money against Yale, Harvard and Cornell."

Frank made no response, but remained for a moment in thought, while the others continued to talk about the betting. Presently Frank asked where Higgins and Mellor were.

Mellor was another freshman athlete. He was a giant in stature, and one of the best wrestlers that had ever been seen at Yale.

There was a good deal of confidence that he would win the cup for wrestling, for from all that could be learned of the wrestlers representing the other colleges, there was no one who could compare with him in strength, and his skill seemed to be all that would be needed.

"They're taking in the town," answered Browning.

"What!" exclaimed Frank, aghast.

"Oh, not in any improper sense," said Browning. "They're just out for a walk, and I didn't see any objection to their taking it in such a way that they could see some of the principal streets."

"No, that's all right," responded Frank, in a tone of relief; "when are they due back?"

"In about half an hour."

More than half an hour passed, and neither Higgins nor Mellor had shown up at that time. Rowland and Hill were away on some other business concerned with the management.

Frank was getting anxious. He could not have said exactly why, for so far as Mellor and Higgins were concerned, he had a good deal of respect for them, but he was fearful of accidents, as if they were little children unable to care for themselves.

He did not betray his anxiety to Browning or the others, but remarked after a time that he had another errand to do, and went away, leaving instructions that no contestant should leave the hotel until his return.

Then he went down to Madison Square and stood for a moment looking doubtfully at the several hotels in that vicinity. He knew that the Princeton athletes had had rooms engaged at the Fifth Avenue, but this thought was not in his mind at the moment.

"The Hoffman House," he was thinking, "is one of the most celebrated hotels in New York, and a place to which all strangers like to go."

As it was the time of year when days are short, it was already dark as night, although it was yet some time before the usual evening dinner hour.

Frank strolled across to the Hoffman House, and went in at the main entrance. A number of men were in the lobby, but apparently there were no students among them.

He went slowly past group after group, and turned at length to the barroom.

This place was famous at that time for its remarkable collection of valuable paintings and statuary; it was often referred to jocosely as the "art gallery." Every stranger in New York regarded it as one of the most interesting sights of the town.

It was pretty well filled with customers when Frank entered, but everything was quiet and orderly.

At the farther side of the room, and partly concealed by the bar, which took up the very middle, was a group of young men just on the point of leaving by the door that opens upon Twenty-fifth Street.

"Too bad you've got to hurry," one of them remarked in a pleasant voice.

"I'm overdue at the hotel already," said another, "and must get back before they become anxious about me."

Frank could not see the speaker, but he recognized the voice as that of Higgins.

"He has no business in here, confound him!" thought Frank, angrily. "No one but a freshman would go into a barroom even out of curiosity, at such a time as this."

He crossed the room, intending to speak to Higgins and walk back to the hotel with him, and give him some earnest advice on the way.

Higgins was a little in advance of the group as they went out, and so Frank did not catch up with him before they were all out upon the sidewalk.

He noticed that all the men who had been speaking with Higgins wore orange ribbons in their buttonholes, but it struck him, too, that somehow they did not look like students.

He had no time to reflect upon this doubt, for just as he stepped out upon the dark street he saw one of the crowd pretend to stumble and fall rather heavily against Higgins.

"I beg pardon," this man said, quickly.

"It's all right," Higgins responded, as he staggered to the curb under the force of the shove.

At that instant Frank saw another in the crowd making a movement which showed that he was going to trip Higgins and cause him to fall.

The attempt was not made, for acting instantly upon his impulse, Frank leaped from the doorway and caught the fellow a terrible blow upon the side of the face.

It sent him reeling halfway across the street before he finally lost his balance and fell full length.

The attack was so unexpected and sudden that most of the others in the group did not stir for a second.

There was one exception to this.

It was a man who had edged forward in order to make sure of tripping Higgins if the first man should fail, and he was so intent upon accomplishing this that he did not stop when Frank's form shot past him to attack the other.

Therefore when Frank wheeled about to defend himself in case the others should fall upon him, he saw this man just in the act of giving Higgins a violent kick upon the shins.

It was all happening so quickly that at this instant Higgins had just made his reply to the apology of the man who had shoved him, and was only beginning to regain his balance.

The kick in the shins did the business for him. He fell upon his hands and knees, and just then Frank struck out again.

He was never so thoroughly aroused in his life, and his blows fell like rain upon the Princeton man's face and chest. The latter would have suffered a square knockdown if he had not been standing so that he fell against his comrades.

The others, recovering a little from their first astonishment, made a feeble effort to close in on Frank, but it would have taken more than them to stop him then.

He beat them off vigorously, striking without mercy at any one who came within reach.

"Cheese it, there's a cop!" exclaimed one of the party suddenly, and they all took to their heels.

Higgins by this time had got up and was supporting himself against a lamp-post.

"Can you walk?" asked Frank, quickly.

"I guess so," responded Higgins, so surprised that he could hardly speak.

Frank took him by the arm and marched him back to the barroom, through which they went to the lobby, and then out by the ladies' entrance upon Twenty-sixth Street.

The scrimmage had taken place so quickly and quietly that it had attracted no attention within the barroom, and as Frank and Higgins were not followed, it seemed probable that the cry of alarm about a policeman coming was false.

THE FINDING OF MELLOR.

"Now, Higgins," said Frank, rather sharply, as they were well out on Twenty-sixth Street, "what have you been up to?"

"Why," answered Higgins, hesitatingly, for he had not yet half recovered from the surprise of the event, "nothing but swapping boasts with those Princeton fellows and refusing to drink with them."

"It's small business for a Yale student to boast of what he can do," exclaimed Frank, in disgust.

Higgins bit his lip and said nothing; although he was a freshman of but few months' standing, he had already learned that in athletic matters the word of a manager is law, and that a student in training would no sooner dispute his manager or trainer than a soldier would dispute an officer.

"And did you refuse their drinks?" demanded Frank in the same sharp tone.

"On my honor, Merriwell, I did. Do you suppose I would take such risks just previous to——"

"Don't talk to me about risks," Frank interrupted; "here it is only the day before the contests, and you're not back at the hotel at the time you're ordered to be."

"I know that," Higgins responded humbly, "and I'm sorry for it, but I didn't realize how the time was going by after I got in with those fellows. They're very pleasant chaps, and I must say that I can't understand for the life of me why it was you sailed into them so."

Frank was too irritated to explain for a moment. It was very seldom that he spoke as sharply as this to a comrade, and he would not have done so on this occasion if he had not been so anxious for the success of Yale in every possible event.

As they walked along he noticed that Higgins was perfectly steady, and although there was a slight flush on his face, there was no sign that he had been drinking. The flush undoubtedly was due to mortification and excitement.

"See here, Higgins," said Frank, at length, in a quieter tone, "don't you know that those Princeton students, as you call them, were trying to disable you?"

"I never dreamed of such a thing."

"It's a fact."

"How do you know, Merriwell?"

"I saw the attempt made, and for that matter you got kicked in the shins and tumbled over, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I supposed that was an accident of the scrimmage."

"It was nothing of the kind; it was a put-up job, and if I hadn't sailed in it might have lamed you so that you couldn't jump. That was what they were after."

"Whew!" exclaimed Higgins. "I think I'm a good Yale man, if I am a freshman, and I hate Princeton and all the rest of them, but, on my honor, Merriwell, I didn't think that a student of any college would resort to such a low-down trick."

"I don't believe it, either," said Frank.

"Well, that——"

"What made you think those fellows were students?"

"Why, they said they were; they gave the year of their class, which made them out to be seniors. They had big wads of money that they wanted to bet, and they got into conversation with me by asking what odds would put up on myself in the high jump."

Frank grunted to express his disgust, and asked:

"Did they talk like students?"

"I thought so."

"I don't believe they were," said Frank, "for there was something in their manner that didn't make them seem like students, and besides that, I can't believe any more than you that Princeton men would try to win out in these contests by deliberately disabling any of our fellows.

"Of course, I can understand how, in an exciting match like a game of football, a man's temper might get the best of him, but to try to lame a fellow in cold blood hours before the beginning of the event is a little too much for me to think of when it comes to a student, whether he's from Princeton, Harvard or anywhere else."

"Then, who were these fellows?" asked Higgins.

"They may be New York gamblers, for all I know," Frank answered, "but in any case I think they are men not connected with Princeton in any way, who are trying to make sure of their bets by disabling the leading contestants in the other colleges."

"Then but for you I suppose I might have been seriously lamed?"

"I don't know, Higgins; I'm taking no credit for what I did, but I hope you see that you made a grave mistake in not coming back to the Murray Hill on time."

"I do, and will look out that such a thing doesn't happen again."

"Where's Mellor?" asked Frank, suddenly.

"I don't know."

"Didn't he start out with you?"

"Yes, but we didn't keep together long."

"Where did he go?"

"We separated at the corner of Thirty-second Street and Broadway. I was for going down Broadway, but he said that he wanted to see something of the Tenderloin district."

"The Tenderloin!" exclaimed Frank, with a groan.

Instinctively he hurried his steps.

"Hasn't Mellor turned up yet?" asked Higgins, hurrying along with him.

"No, and unless he's more careful than you were there's no telling what mischief he may have got into."

Higgins looked as penitent as if he had been guilty of a serious crime. The flush on his face had entirely gone now, and he was quite pale.

"See here," exclaimed Frank, cheerfully, "you've had your scolding, so now brace up and forget it. If you feel the slightest soreness from that kick, give yourself a good rubbing when you get to the hotel, and go to bed."

"Aren't you coming?" asked Higgins, for Frank had stopped short.

"No."

"What shall I say to the fellows?"

"Nothing; or you might tell them that I met you and ordered you to the hotel; if they ask for me, you don't know where I am, and that's all there is to it."

Higgins nodded and went on obediently to the Murray Hill.

Frank, boiling with indignation and sore with anxiety, set off toward the corner of Thirty-second Street and Broadway. He had no foolish idea that he would find Mellor there, but as that was the last place where he had been seen, it seemed to be the most sensible point from which to begin a search for him.

When he arrived at the corner he looked about a moment and then entered a hotel, and going to the telephone closet, rang up the Murray Hill and asked for Browning.

"Bruce," he said, when he heard a familiar hello in the receiver at his ear, "has Mellor returned?"

"No, but Higgins has."

"All right. Good-by."

"Hold on, Frank."

"Well?"

"Are you coming back soon?"

"I don't know."

"Rowland and Hill expect you to take a run with us up the avenue this evening."

"I'll be there if I can."

"What are you up to, anyway?"

"That's my business, old fellow; say nothing about it, but if I don't turn up, go ahead with your run without me."

With this Frank hung up the receiver without giving Bruce any further chance to ask questions.

His object in not explaining what he was about was to prevent any of the contestants from worrying. He was pretty sure that Higgins would not speak of his own adventure, and he did not care to have even cool-headed Browning suspect that there was anything so serious in the wind as a deliberate plot to disable Yale athletes.

It seemed to Frank as if he had never been in so serious a situation. There had been times in his travels when one adventure or another had brought him in danger of his life, but at such times his mind was usually easy; now he was oppressed by responsibility and anxiety for others.

The credit of Yale depended upon the good showing at the intercollegiate games; whether they won or lost was not so much of consequence as that the Yale crowd should do their best.

As one of the managers, Frank felt responsible for the good condition of every man in the party.

He set out down Sixth Avenue looking to right and left and glancing in at the door of every saloon he passed.

Near the juncture of Sixth Avenue and Broadway are a number of places where gamblers resort, and it was in one of these that Frank half suspected and feared to find Mellor.

Business was lively in all these places at this hour. Men of all conditions were at the bar discussing all manner of sporting events.

Once in a while, as Frank made his way through the crowded barrooms, he overheard some remark about the coming college games, but it did not seem as if the professional sports took very much interest in them, and nothing occurred to give him any clew as to Mellor's whereabouts.

He continued on down the avenue, running through every place he came across, until he got as far as Twenty-third Street. There he paused, feeling rather discouraged.

It is worse than looking for a needle in a haystack to hunt for a man in New York.

Farther down the avenue there were other saloons, but he had already passed out of the district most frequented by gamblers.

He had no other theory on which to pursue his search, and it seemed to him that it might be better to return to the hotel and let Mellor turn up or not, as it might happen.

A public telephone sign caught his eye across the way, and he again went over and rang up the Murray Hill. This time it was Rowland that he asked for, and when Rowland was at the 'phone Frank told him briefly that he was on the hunt for Mellor.

"Don't mention it to anybody," Frank added, quickly.

"Have you any idea what's become of him?" asked Rowland.

"Mighty little," answered Frank. "But if he hasn't returned to the hotel yet I'll make another short trip before I give it up."

Mellor had not returned, and the conversation with Rowland was not continued.

Frank retraced his steps up the avenue, but this time he did not make so careful a search as he had before; he simply glanced in at various doors and passed on.

At length he turned in at Thirtieth Street, intending to call at a drinking resort on Broadway, which was known to be popular with gamblers.

He had taken but a few steps when a sound of laughter attracted him and he paused suddenly. It came from his right hand.

He noticed that he was standing near the side door of a saloon which he thought he had thoroughly investigated on his downward trip.

He remembered then that he had not looked in at any of the so-called private rooms at the back.

This laughter evidently came from such a room, and he was quite certain that he distinguished Mellor's voice. He waited a moment until the laughter ceased and then he heard this in thick accents:

"Shet 'em up 'gain! I c'n rasshle any man 'n Nighted Shtatesh, drunk er shober."

It was Mellor's voice, and Frank's heart sank like lead. For one miserable instant he was in doubt as to what he had better do.

His disgust and anger were so great that he felt like leaving Mellor to his fate, for it would serve the freshman right to let him continue filling himself up and so lose all chance of making a decent appearance in the contests of the following evening.

Then it occurred to Frank that after all there might be some little hope that Mellor could pull himself together sufficiently to make a good effort.

In any event he was a Yale student, and as such Frank felt bound to look after him; so after the slightest hesitation he entered the side door of the saloon and opened a door leading into the small room from which had come the laughter and the sound of Mellor's voice.

He saw the big freshman with a silly smile on his face seated at a table, holding an empty glass unsteadily in his hand, and trying to talk with three companions, each of whom wore a rosette of orange-colored ribbon upon the lapel of his coat.

None of the three had been in the crowd with Higgins, so far as Frank could remember their faces.

They did not look up when Frank entered, for they supposed, as Mellor himself did, that the bartender was coming in to get an order.

"Fill 'em up!" said Mellor, stupidly, rapping his glass upon the table. "Letsh have 'nother round."

His eyes were bleary, and although he glanced at Frank he failed to recognize him. The latter stood still for a second or two to control his indignation; before he spoke the bartender entered with a bottle of champagne, the cork of which was already drawn.

"I suppose it's the same, gents?" he said, in a businesslike tone.

"Shame old Shampaggeny water," returned Mellor, holding his glass upside down.

One of the men at the table reached over and righted Mellor's glass, which the waiter promptly proceeded to fill.

"Here'sh ter good ol' Yale!" stammered Mellor, bringing the glass to his lips with the aid of the man who had helped him to hold it steady.

Frank could remain quiet no longer. He reached over the table, and with a sweep of his arm knocked the glass from Mellor's hand and sent it flying against the wall, where it broke in a hundred pieces.

A REPORTER'S INFLUENCE.

The wine spattered in the face of the man who was helping Mellor. The latter looked up in stupid wrath, and then it dawned on him suddenly that the interruption came from his manager.

He gasped, hiccoughed, sat back in his chair and tried to rise. Meanwhile the other two fellows with the orange rosettes had sprung to their feet, and were trying to push Frank from the room.

In this the waiter joined them, and, for a moment, therefore, Merriwell had his hands full. They were lively hands, though, and in much less time than it takes to narrate it he had struck out right and left and landed stinging blows upon the faces of two of his antagonists.

The bartender, who was a heavy fellow, who had probably had plenty of experience in dealing with tough customers, set down the bottle of wine and attacked Frank with great fury.

He made the mistake of supposing that he could hustle the intruder out by mere force, and in so doing he put up both hands to catch Frank by the shoulders.

This gave the athletic student a better opportunity than he could have asked for. In quick succession the bartender got two blows, one full upon the mouth, and the other on his neck.

He went down on the floor with a thump, and catching at the table for support, overturned it. The bottle of wine fell upon him and drenched him.

The others, who had staggered back under the force of Frank's first blows, now tried to push their way out. The room was a very small one, and there was but one door.

It was evident that they were not there for fighting, and had no wish to defend their drunken companion, no matter what Frank's object in making the attack had been.

As Frank's only anxiety was in getting Mellor away, he did not attempt to stop the others from going out.

The rumpus attracted the attention of everybody in the main room of the saloon, and by the time the bartender had been sent to the floor a dozen or so others, most of them customers of the place, came crowding up to see what was the matter.

"Letsh not fight, Mer'well," said Mellor, with a tremendous attempt at dignity. "Letsh not get mixed up in a row."

He, too, tried to walk out, but the way was now barred with other bartenders who had come to the relief of their comrade.

They might have fallen upon Frank and beaten him badly, for they far outnumbered him, if it hadn't been that at that moment a policeman took a hand in the affair.

He had been passing the side door of the saloon at the very moment when Frank struck the glass from Mellor's hand.

He had entered at the first sound of a ruction, and had been in time to get a glimpse of Frank as he struck the bartender to the floor.

There was a lot of excitement and confusion for a moment, during which Frank stood with his fists still clinched and his jaws shut hard together, waiting for the next turn.

Everybody connected with the saloon denounced him as an intruder, and the one who had made all the trouble.

Frank thought hastily of explaining the real situation, but he refrained from doing so, as that would surely make the whole thing public, and he did not want any such disgrace to be attached to Yale's part in the intercollegiate games.

So when the policeman roughly put him under arrest he submitted quietly and went to the station house. A couple of bartenders followed, dragging the almost helpless Mellor with them.

Yale's champion wrestler at that moment was too far gone to realize fully what was taking place. He staggered along between the bartenders, protesting that there had been a "mishundershtanding," that he was a gentleman, and that as soon as the matter had been explained he would return to the saloon and "set 'em up" for everybody.

Frank walked in silence, feeling extreme humiliation, not for his arrest, but for the disgrace that a Yale athlete was bringing upon his college.

When they stood before the sergeant in the station, the policeman told briefly how he had heard a row in progress in the saloon and had got there in time to see Frank doing all the fighting.

The sergeant looked at the bartenders, and one of them said:

"This man," pointing to Mellor, "was entertaining a party of friends in the back room when the other chap came in, and without saying a word tried to clean the place out. Everything was peaceable and quiet until he came in."

The sergeant took up a pen, and looking at Frank, asked:

"What is your name?"

"Frank Merriwell," was the quiet response.

"Huh!" grunted the sergeant, as he wrote the name, "I thought from your looks you would say Jones of nowhere. What is your residence?"

"New Haven."

"Have you got anything to say for yourself?"

"Not at present."

The sergeant looked surprised, and hesitated a moment before he asked a number of other questions.

They were such questions as are always put to prisoners concerning their age, their reasons for being in the city, and their own account of what had happened.

Frank gave his age, but to the other questions refused to reply. Accordingly the sergeant ordered both him and Mellor to be searched, and after a vain attempt to get any information out of Mellor, both were locked up.

A considerable crowd had collected in the main room of the station house during this, and Frank remained quietly in his cell until he felt certain that all the curiosity seekers had gone out.

Then he called to a doorman and asked if he might speak to the sergeant or the captain. It took a little persuasion to get permission to do this, but Frank got it finally, and was taken upstairs again.

The main room of the station was then deserted by all except the doorman and the sergeant. The latter looked at the young prisoner inquiringly.

"I'd like to send for somebody," he said, "and will pay liberally for a messenger. You've got my money, and therefore know that I can pay any decent charge."

"Yes," said the sergeant, "you're well heeled. Who do you want to see?"

Frank thereupon gave the name of a Supreme Court judge. The sergeant's eyes opened wide.

"What do you want of him?" he asked.

"He'll come down here in a hurry," Frank answered, "if he knows that I'm locked up."

The sergeant sat back in his chair and thought a moment. It was perfectly plain to him that Frank was not intoxicated, and his whole manner was that of a gentleman.

The sergeant was probably wondering whether the name Merriwell might not be a false one, and whether this prisoner might not be the son of the judge mentioned.

While he was wondering what he had better do about it, a young man entered the station with a businesslike air, and stepping up to the big desk, said:

"Good-evening, sergeant, anything going on?"

Then he caught sight of Merriwell, and exclaimed:

"Great Scott, Merriwell, what are you doing here?"

"I'm a prisoner, Mr. Matthews," Frank responded.

The young man stared at Frank for just an instant, and then turning to the sergeant, said:

"Anybody in the captain's room?"

"No," was the reply.

"Come in here," said Matthews, taking Frank by the arm and walking him across the room.

When they were in the captain's room, Matthews shut the door, motioned to a chair, and sat down opposite Frank.

"Now, then," he said, "what's got into Yale?"

"Mr. Matthews," Frank responded, "I hate to say that I'm sorry to see you, but a newspaper man is the last man in this whole world that I would care to tell this story to."

"Well, but see here, Merriwell," responded Matthews, earnestly, "a newspaper man isn't a born fiend, you know; I'm not likely to forget that I'm a graduate of Yale, and I certainly am not going to hurry off with an item to my paper that will bring you into any disgrace.

"Yale graduates are getting to think a good deal of you, Merriwell, and I brought you in here to see if there might not be some way to help you, not to get a sensational item."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Matthews," said Frank, "but I had an idea that when a man became a reporter he could think of nothing but news and things to write about."

"That's business," said Matthews, "sure enough, but I'm an old Yale man, at least I'm older than you, but I graduated only a couple of years ago, you know, so sing your song and let's see if there isn't something I can do."

Thereupon Frank told the reporter all about his difficulty. He explained how Mellor was hopelessly drunk in a cell, and how he had got arrested while making an attempt to get Mellor away from his companions.

"By Jove!" said Matthews, under his breath at last, "I don't blame you for doing what you did, Merriwell, but perhaps it would have been better if you had avoided a row and simply induced Mellor to go out with you."

"I don't think I lose my head very often," Frank responded, "but I must confess I did then. It was just maddening to see him soaking there with three scoundrels who had undoubtedly set out to get him filled up. Anyhow, there's no use regretting what I did, for here I am, and next to having Yale win in the contest to-morrow night, I'd rather keep this thing from becoming public."

"I can fix that easily enough," said Matthews, confidently. "The sergeant doesn't know that you're a Yale man, and even if he should, I'll prime all the other reporters who cover this district at night, and get them to say nothing about it. You needn't worry on that score, Merriwell, the only thing to do is to get you and Mellor away from the station house."

Frank then told how he had wanted to send for the judge referred to.

"He's known me since I was born," he explained, "and was an intimate friend of my father. There's no doubt that he would believe me, and I suppose his word would go with the police."

"Yes, it would, but it's a long way to his house, and he may not be at home. The captain will be in in two or three minutes, and we'll see if I haven't got influence with him."

In less time than Matthews had supposed, the captain came in. To Frank's great astonishment, the reporter easily persuaded the captain to release the two students.

It is not very often that a police captain has an opportunity to do a favor to a newspaper man, and when a chance does occur, he's quick to take it, for the reporters of New York newspapers can make or unmake a policeman's reputation.

The only thing in the way of letting the students go was the fact that the bartenders in the saloon where the fight occurred had made a charge against Frank.

That was quickly fixed by the captain, who went himself to the saloon and suggested that the charge be withdrawn.

Of course the suggestion of the captain was enough. The bartenders were glad to withdraw the charge if he advised it.

Therefore Frank had not been a prisoner half an hour before he and Mellor, accompanied by Matthews, were rolling across the city in a closed cab on their way to the Murray Hill.

When they arrived there they used a good deal of caution about going in, for Mellor was quite as stupid as he had been at first, and both Matthews and Merriwell were anxious to prevent anybody from becoming aware of his condition.

They got him into the Turkish bath there without observation, and gave an attendant a liberal fee to look after him for the night.

ON THEIR GUARD.

The other Yale men were out for their evening run when Frank was at last ready to join them.

He did not try to follow them, for he had been so disturbed by the excitement of his adventure with the police, that he thought it best to rest; so when the students returned they found Frank in bed, and no one disturbed him.

Next morning early he got Rowland and Hill together and explained the whole affair to them. They were indignant, mad and disgusted all together.

"We'll send Mellor back to New Haven on the first train!" exclaimed Hill.

"It would serve him right," added Rowland, "if the faculty should hear of this and expel him."

"The faculty mustn't hear of it," said Frank, decisively. "The thing I've worked for most in all of this is to prevent any sort of disgrace, and if Mellor can be put into condition for making a wrestle, it'll be better for all of us that he should go into the contest."

"He'll never be able to last a single round," groaned Hill.

"If he should go down at the first catch," said Rowland, "everybody would suspect that he was out of condition, and then what would come of it?"

"Well, perhaps he isn't so badly off as you think," suggested Frank. "He may be able to put up a good front. Let's go down and see how he is."

The suggestion was adopted at once, and the three went down to the Turkish baths. The assistants who had been feed to look after Mellor said that the student was asleep on a couch.

Frank and the others went to the sleeping room and stood by the couch looking at Mellor in silence for a full minute.

As he had been very carefully rubbed and thoroughly steamed the night before, and as he had been sleeping for many hours, he looked now quite as well as usual.

The three managers looked at each other and nodded. They understood each other; it was better that Mellor should be allowed to appear in the wrestling match that night, even though he was almost surely doomed to defeat.

They were about to withdraw when the wrestler opened his eyes.

"Hello, boys," he said, suddenly, and he sat up.

"How are you feeling?" asked Merriwell.

"Bully!" replied Mellor, with emphasis. Then his face flushed and he looked down at the floor.

"I guess you remember what has happened," remarked Hill, contemptuously.

"Yes, I do," responded Mellor.

"What do you think of yourself?" asked Rowland.

"You're a fine man to carry Yale's banner to victory, aren't you!" demanded Hill, savagely.

"Hold on, fellows," interrupted Frank; "there's no use in rubbing it in. How did it happen, Mellor?"

"Oh, it's just my confounded foolishness," Mellor replied, with a groan; "I wanted to see a little bit of city life, but I had no idea of drinking. I had heard of a place where all sorts of toughs resorted, and I went in there simply to look on."

"Better have stayed in the hotel," muttered Hill.

"Go on," said Merriwell.

"Well, there was quite a crowd there, and among them were two or three Princeton students."

"How do you know?"

"Why, I saw the orange colors that they wore, and I heard them offering bets on Princeton to other men who were standing around."

"Did you speak to them?"

"Not until they spoke to me."

"How did that happen?"

"Why, one of them caught my eye, looked at me sharply, and then asked politely if my name wasn't Mellor, and if I didn't belong to Yale. I felt kind of flattered at being recognized——"

"It made you think you were a great man, didn't it?" exclaimed Hill

"Oh, keep still!" said Frank. "Let him tell his story; this is important to all of us."

Mellor ground his teeth and exclaimed:

"You can't make me feel any worse about this than I feel already."

"We don't want you to make any confession, Mellor," said Frank, gently; "that isn't what we're after, for, unfortunately, I know only too well what you'd have to confess to.

"The point we want to get at is, what these Princeton men said, for I'm inclined to think that there's something of a conspiracy on foot to down Yale and the other colleges by unfair means."

Mellor looked a little puzzled, but answered:

"After I had admitted who I was, the fellow who spoke to me asked how I felt about the wrestling match. I told him I was all ready to meet Princeton's best man, and then he asked if I was betting any money on it. I shook my head, and he said 'that's right.'"

"What followed?"

"Oh, there were a number of polite remarks, and the crowd got around; the Princeton men suggested that it would be pleasanter if we were by ourselves, and I felt that they were right.

"They were so decent about it that I had no hesitation in going into a back room with them. There they asked if I was taking anything."

"Did you say you were taking everything that came your way?" asked Hill.

"No, I didn't. I told them I was in training, and could take nothing but Bass' ale."

"Huh!" grunted Hill.

"Did they set up a bottle?" asked Rowland.

"Yes. It was about the dinner hour, at which time I was allowed to take ale, and I thought that it would do no harm; of course it was wrong—I admit it now, but at the time I thought a single glass of ale wouldn't hurt me, and it would be more polite to these chaps to go through the form of drinking with them. So they had a bottle of champagne, and I drank ale."

Mellor hesitated.

"You seem to have had your head about you," remarked Frank. "How did you happen to get to drinking champagne?"

"I don't know," he answered, gloomily; "the ale seemed to make me half drowsy, whereas usually I don't feel any effect from it at all, and I guess I thought that a drop of wine would brace me up."

"I see it all!" exclaimed Frank.

The others looked at him inquiringly.

"Knockout drops!" he said.

"By Jove! I bet you're right!" exclaimed Rowland.

"It was anything to get the Yale champion fuddled and they knew well enough that he wouldn't take more than one glass of ale, so unless I'm greatly mistaken they drugged his ale and got him completely unbalanced."

"It's a monstrous outrage!" cried Rowland.

Hill looked contemptuous and said nothing.

Merriwell turned to Mellor with the remark:

"Lie still a while longer and get breakfast when you want it. I'll see you in your room later, and if you think you're going to be fit, we'll have you in the contest to-night just the same."

"Great Scott!" cried Mellor, "you wouldn't bar me out of that, would you?"

"We were thinking of it," said Hill.

"You'll have to pull yourself together, Mellor," said Frank, seriously, "for unless you can make a good showing we don't any of us want you to appear."

Mellor bowed his head upon his hands, and the others left him. As soon as they were out of hearing Hill said:

"Perhaps it's nothing better than could be expected of a freshman, but anyhow, we've got to bring this matter to the attention of the Princeton managers at once."

The others agreed, and they went to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, where they found the Princeton managers at breakfast.

The case was not explained to the Princeton men in full, but enough was said to make them certain that Yale had reason to suspect a trick on the part of men wearing Princeton colors.

The indignation of the Princeton managers was too great for expression; one of them was so hot-headed that he wanted a row at once with Merriwell for seeming to suggest that Princeton men could be capable of such treacherous conduct.

Frank hastened to assure him that no Yale man thought such a thing possible.

"We think some rascals are playing off under Princeton's colors," he said.

The Princeton managers were sure that this must be the case, for no students had accompanied them to the city excepting those who were to take part in the contests.

They declared their intention of keeping their eyes open for men wearing the Princeton rosettes, and promised to do everything possible to have such men arrested, if any charge could be brought against them.

So there the matter had to rest. There was no doubt that the Princeton men were in earnest, and that they would do what they could, but that did not seem to promise very much.

The scoundrels who were anxious to make money by betting on Princeton could not be arrested for simply wearing an orange rosette, and there was no way of preventing further trouble, therefore, except for Yale men to hang together and take the greatest care not to put themselves in the way of strangers.

It was agreed by Frank and his companions that nothing should be said to the contestants about the matter, for fear that they might get nervous, and so be unfitted for doing their best in the evening's games.

The day passed, therefore, very quietly for the Yale athletes. They went in a body to a gymnasium and had two or three hours' practice, and in the afternoon they had a walk through Central Park.

Mellor appeared to be quite himself, except that he was silent, and that he looked solemn. The other students supposed that this was due to his anxiety about the wrestling match, and no questions were asked, although there were a few good-natured jokes about his nervousness.

He took all the jokes quietly, and made no retort.

Nothing happened during the day to give the Yale managers any new anxiety. They kept their eyes open all the time for a sight of the bogus Princeton men, but failed to see them.

When at last evening came, and they went up to the Seventh Regiment Armory for the great contest, they felt that with the possible exception of Mellor, everything was in as good condition as could be hoped for Yale victories.

THE WRESTLER.

There was an immense crowd in the Seventh Regiment Armory that evening. Nearly everybody present was a friend of one or another of the colleges represented in the contests, and excitement ran high.

The seating had been arranged so that Yale students and their friends occupied a solid tier of seats upon the side of the hall near the center.

Directly across the hall, in a similar tier, were the students and friends of Harvard.

On the same side with Yale was the Cornell crowd, and directly opposite them the Princeton crowd.

The rest of the spectators sat as near their favorite college as they could, with the result that long before any of the games began, the building fairly roared with college cries mingled together, each crowd trying to outdo the others.

It seemed as if there would be no lungs or voices left to cheer the athletes, but if any one had such a fear it must have been because he was not acquainted with students' voices.

An excited Yale or Harvard man can give the college cry somehow when he would be unable to conduct a conversation above a whisper.

The very middle of the hall was left vacant. All the contests were to take place there, and, therefore, in full view of all the spectators.

The athletes had their dressing-rooms at the ends and sides of the building, and there were so many of them that each college had a number of rooms for itself.

The Yale managers took their men up to the armory about half an hour before the call for the first event.

Dressing-rooms had been picked out in advance, and the men belonging to the tug-of-war were put into one room by themselves.

The Yale crowd in the audience cheered frantically when they recognized their companions marching across the floor to their dressing-rooms.

Shortly after that the Princeton men came in, and then there was a wild howling from the other side of the room.

So it went on, and so it continued all through the evening, for there was hardly a moment when there was not something going on to arouse the enthusiasm of one college or another, and if by any accident there was a hitch in the proceedings, there was plenty of excited students in each faction to stand in front of the tiers of seats and lead their comrades in cheering on general principles.

As there were many events, and many entries in each one, the programme was put through rapidly, and as often as possible, two or more events were being contested at the same time.

The object sought for by each college was to gain as many victories, or in other words, first places, as possible, but in some events, like wrestling and fencing, where only two men could contest at a time, it was necessary to have two or three and sometimes four bouts in the same event.

This was not the case in such a sport as leaping, for there all the men could compete at the same time, and one set of trials decided the matter.

In wrestling it was necessary to draw lots to decide which colleges should compete first.

Then lots were to be cast to decide which college the winner of the first bout should wrestle with, and so on.

Each wrestling bout consisted of three rounds, with a short rest between each two.

As three rounds at wrestling is likely to tire any but the very strongest man, the next bout was set down a full half hour later on the programme in order to give the winner time to rest.

It was the same with the tugs of war. One tug was put upon the programme early in order that the winners of it might have time to recover their breath and be in condition to meet the next comers.

It would be an impossible task to describe all the many events that succeeded each other rapidly that evening. Every one had its interest and importance, although in the audience at large, as it had been at Yale, the tug of war was watched for with the greatest anxiety and excitement.

There may be space, however, to indicate the outcome of one or two minor events in which Frank and his companions were especially interested.

The first thing on the programme consisted of the contests in high jumping and the first bout in wrestling. The jumpers went through their work at one end of the floor, while the wrestlers struggled at the other.

The drawing of lots resulted in putting Mellor of Yale against Grant of Cornell for the first try.

The Yale managers almost groaned aloud at this piece of ill luck. If there was anybody among the wrestlers representing the other colleges that they feared, it was this same Grant.

He was fully as large and muscular as Mellor, and had easily downed everybody who had met him in his own college.

With Mellor in good condition the Yale men would have believed that the chances were at least even for his victory; as it was, those who understood the case were certain that the Yale freshman would be turned down quickly.

Of course the managers said nothing openly after the lots were drawn, but they exchanged views in private just before Mellor went out to begin his work.

"Tough luck," remarked Frank, between set teeth.

"I wish we had sent him back to New Haven," grumbled Hill.

"It's a confounded shame," exclaimed Rowland, "that Mellor couldn't have had a chance to meet Sherman of Harvard first. He could probably throw Sherman even if he were still half full, and that would give him some kind of a standing, but now he'll go out there and get turned down so dead easy that everybody will laugh at Yale, and the rest of our fellows will get rattled."

"I don't think the rest of us will get rattled," said Frank, "and perhaps Mellor won't be such an easy victim as you think."

"Let us hope that he gets at least one fall," muttered Hill.

There was no time for further talk about the matter, and they went out to the main hall to see the event.

At the upper end of the floor Higgins was taking his first leap, but the managers paid little attention to him. They hoped he would win, but they were confident that whatever happened he would make a good showing, and they could not take their eyes from their champion wrestler.

Mellor was still looking as solemn as if he were at a funeral. His face was rather pale, and he sat in a chair at one side perfectly motionless until the call came to enter the ring.

Grant of Cornell, on the other hand, was laughing and chatting with his managers, and his face was pink with health.

At the call he bounded from the chair and pranced into the ring nimbly, and as the Yale managers looked him over they felt worse than ever.

Mellor got up slowly and walked, as if he dreaded the ordeal, out to meet his adversary.

"That's right, Mellor," whispered Frank, as the wrestler passed, "take it easy and don't get excited."

Mellor gave Frank a grateful look. It was the only encouraging word he had received from his managers since his foolish scrape.

He shook hands with Grant, and then stepped quickly back to his position. It was a catch-as-catch-can match, and for an instant the two big fellows stood warily watching each other before they advanced.

Meantime Yale and Cornell were setting up a chorus of howls to encourage their respective champions.

The two got together with a sudden jump that surprised everybody.

It was expected that Grant would take the offensive, but it seemed that Mellor decided upon the same policy, for the floor fairly shook when they met and began a mighty struggle.

Frank's eyes glowed, and his heart seemed to rise to his throat as he watched the muscles stand out on Mellor's arms and back.

"There's big stuff in that fellow," he said, half aloud.

"If he only had staying power," retorted Hill, in disgust, "but he's wasted all that in his jag."

The words were hardly out of Hill's mouth before there was a heavy thud, as the two wrestlers went down; then such a roar went up as the building had not yet heard, for Yale's man was on top. Mellor rose quickly and ran to his dressing-room, followed by his managers, who overwhelmed him with compliments.

He said nothing, but stood up to be rubbed and taken care of.

"You took him completely by surprise that time, Mellor," said Frank. "Now the next time he'll be on his guard for that, and you'll have to pursue different tactics."

Mellor nodded.

He did not appear to be suffering from loss of breath or any sort of exhaustion, so the managers left him with his trainer to see how the jumping was getting on.

They arrived upon the floor just as another terrific chorus of Yale cries went up.

Higgins had cleared the bar after every other contestant had failed.

It was a grand start for Yale. One first place had been gained, and with Mellor's success it looked as if another was certain.

The floor was quickly cleared of the posts that had been set up for the jumpers, and the Harvard and Cornell tug of war teams came on for the first pull.

In this, as in the wrestling, the order of the trials had been decided by lot.

Leaving the tug of war for the moment, we will glance at Mellor's further work as a wrestler.

While Harvard and Cornell were getting into position for their tug, he went out again to the floor for his second set-to with Grant.

As Frank had predicted, Grant was wary this time; he waited for Mellor to take the offensive, and the latter was slow in doing so. They got together at last, and for a few seconds each struggled vainly to overcome the other.

Then they stood still, and those who were giving their especial attention to them felt the greatest excitement because the men were evidently tremendously in earnest, and very evenly matched.

After a good deal of dancing about the ring, and many a vain attempt to bring on a fall, Grant got in a sudden trip that brought Mellor to his knees.

Then, exerting all his weight and force, Grant crowded the Yale man down until his side was on the floor.

No fall could be counted until Mellor's shoulders were both squarely on the floor, and, therefore, Grant was crowding with all his might to prevent his antagonist from turning on his face.

When a wrestler lies over on his stomach with his arms outstretched, it is almost impossible to turn him.

It looked as if Mellor were trying to get into this position, for then Grant would be compelled to stand off and give him a chance to spring up.

Grant, of course, was trying to do just the reverse, for having Mellor so nearly down, he did not care to give him a chance to get on his feet again.

Just how it was done it was hard to see, but suddenly Mellor seemed to rise as if he were on a trap that rose by the force of a concealed spring.

With a wonderfully quick movement he broke his hold and got a new one, and before anybody realized what his attempt meant, he had turned his antagonist over and brought Grant's shoulders squarely down upon the floor.

Then the building shook with howls. Yale had won the first bout in wrestling, and at the same instant Harvard had beaten the Cornell tug of war team.

The Yale managers were happy. It seemed now as if Mellor were certain of carrying off the cup for wrestling.

According to the fall of lots he was to tackle Sherman of Harvard next.

Sherman was a comparatively slender, but very wiry fellow. He was considerably under Mellor's weight, and as the latter had shown unusual skill it was thought that the Harvard man would prove an easy victim.

So he did in the first round. Mellor downed him almost as easily as he had turned down Grant, but as it proved that was the end of the Yale freshman's staying power.

He had put all his force into the two set-tos with Grant and the first with Sherman; when it came to the second set-to with the latter there was a long, exciting struggle, which ended in Mellor's going under.

He showed his exhaustion plainly after that, and his limbs quivered when he went out for the third set-to.

He struggled well, and really made a good showing, but the Harvard man downed him at last, and with that defeat Yale's chances for coming out ahead in the general tournament were badly damaged.

Nevertheless Frank and the other managers felt that Mellor had made so good a showing that nobody would suspect that he had disobeyed regulations and unfitted himself for making the contest.