Frank Merriwell's Races Part 57

This drink seemed to be the one that aroused Yates to action. He suddenly jumped to his feet, and there was a fierce look on his face as he cried:

"Come on!"

"What are you going to do?" asked Flemming, quickly thrusting the flask into his pocket.

"I am going to find Frank Merriwell!" came hoa.r.s.ely from Yates' lips.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

BASEBALL.

There was a crush in the rear end of the smoker. A crowd had gathered there, and the lads were singing, shouting, laughing and making merry in various ways.

Some fellows were sitting on the backs of the seats. The trainmen could not drive them down. It was useless to try with such a set of lads.

Danny Griswold was astride the shoulders of Dismal Jones, who was the only solemn-looking man in the car. Occasionally Jones would "break out"

in his peculiar camp-meeting revivalist's style and would deliver fragments of a sermon on the frivolous things of the world. Each time he was quickly suppressed, however.

Into the midst of this jolly crowd came a lad whose face was flushed and whose eyes were gleaming strangely. His lips curled back over his set teeth, and he seemed to quiver with a strange eagerness.

"Let me through!" he growled, forcing his way along. "There is a fellow here I want to see."

There was something in his voice that caused them to give him room to advance till he was standing directly in front of Frank Merriwell. Then his hands clinched, and, as he tried to speak, he choked with pa.s.sion, so that words failed him.

A sudden hush came over the throng, for they saw that there was trouble impending.

"It's Yates!"

Somebody muttered the words, and they seemed to break the spell that had fallen on the enraged lad who was glaring at Frank.

"Yes, it is Yates!" he snarled. "I suppose all you fellows are Frank Merriwell's chums, but that makes no difference to me."

He stopped a moment, but he did not take his eyes from Frank's face. He seemed to be gathering himself for the supreme effort.

"Merriwell," he said, his voice shaking, "you are a sneak!"

Every one expected Frank would leap to his feet and strike Yates, but he did nothing of the kind. The hot blood rushed to his face, and then fled away again, leaving him cold and pale. About his firm jaws there was a sudden hardening, and in turn he showed his teeth.

"Mr. Yates," he said, "you are not complimentary."

"I do not mean to be to such a fellow as you!" Yates shot back.

"You are insulting!"

"I am if the truth can be considered an insult."

"I demand an explanation."

"I do not propose to waste any breath in giving explanations to such as you. You know why I say you are a sneak--you know you are a sneak!"

Frank Merriwell laughed. That laugh was a warning that he was dangerous.

Diamond knew it; Rattleton knew it. They held themselves ready to make room when Frank Merriwell saw fit to act.

"You put yourself in a bad light by calling a man a sneak and then refusing to tell why you call him that," said Frank.

Yates did not know Merriwell very well and that laugh had not sounded a warning to him. Instead, it really seemed that Frank was frightened, and he had laughed to conceal the fact.

"It is my conviction," he cried, "that you are not only a sneak, but you are also a coward! If that is not enough, I will make it still more forcible."

Quick as a flash, he struck Frank in the face with his clinched fist.

A gasp came from those who witnessed this act. There was no time given for further words.

Like a leaping panther, Frank Merriwell shot up and alighted on Duncan Yates. He clutched Yates in his strong grasp, snapped him off his feet, swung him into the air.

The spectators had fallen back in a wild sort of scramble to get out of the way. Thus enough room was made for Merriwell to act.

It was a warm day, and the car door was open. Almost before any one could tell what Frank thought of doing, he leaped out through the doorway, and, with the lad who had delivered the blow still poised above his head, seemed on the verge of hurling Yates from the flying train!

"Stop, Frank!"

Diamond shouted the words.

Cries of horror broke from the lips of the other spectators of the scene, but, strangely enough, none of them made a move to prevent Merriwell from carrying out his apparent purpose.

If Merriwell flung Yates from the train the unfortunate lad who had aroused Frank's wrath must be instantly killed.

At first, when he had felt himself clutched, Yates had struggled, but, to his amazement, he seemed like a child in the grasp of the infuriated athlete.

As Frank reached the platform and poised Yates aloft, the latter seemed to realize his peril, and fear robbed him of nerve and strength. He was limp and helpless in Merriwell's grasp.

And then, almost as quickly as Frank had caught the lad up, he lowered him to his feet.

Again Merriwell laughed, but this time there really seemed to be something of amus.e.m.e.nt in the sound.

"If I had dropped you off, Mr. Yates, you must have been injured," he said, and his voice was soft and gentle.

Yates gasped.

"Jee!" chattered Bink Stubbs. "That was a regular hair-raiser, as the fellow said when he finished the blood-and-thunder story."

Yates swayed and caught at the iron rail. The flush had gone out of his face, which was ashen-gray.

"Better go into the car," said Merriwell. "You seem rather unsteady, and you might fall off here."