Frank Merriwell's Return to Yale Part 50

"Good judgment be hanged! Why, he was insulting!"

"A trifle overbearing, perhaps, but it's natural with him. You know he comes from South Carolina."

"What of that? Is he any better for that reason?"

"Not in the least, but it is probable that he has been brought up to think so. And it is certain that he has sand. He can't be driven into his boots, and I'll bet on it. South Carolina produces tigers, and Marline is one of them, or I have taken his measure wrong."

Halliday looked at Frank in doubt and astonishment.

"Is it possible you are afraid of Robert Marline, Merriwell?" he asked.

"No," was the calm reply; "but I think you will remember that I had a little trouble with one hot-blooded Southerner since entering college.

The Southern aristocrat seldom fights with his fists, but he is none the less ready to fight. I am willing to confess that I do not care to become involved in a duel with pistols or swords. Can't afford to take the chances of being found out and expelled, even though honor should be satisfied without the death of either concerned. I have been hot-headed in my day, but I'm trying to hold myself down. I'd rather apologize for the accident to Marline than to have him challenge me to a duel. That's the whole of it, and----"

"What will the fellows think?"

"Let them think what they like!" exclaimed Frank, flus.h.i.+ng. "A person who is forever considering what some one will think if he does this, that or the other is forever miserable and uneasy."

"But they'll say Marline cowed you."

"Let them."

"They'll say it is proof you have not the courage every one has thought."

"Let them."

Ben looked hard at Frank, and then slowly observed:

"Thought I understood you, Merriwell, but I'm blowed if I do!"

CHAPTER XXVIII.

FRANK'S VISITORS.

Despite himself, Frank was somewhat disturbed by what had taken place that afternoon. He knew Halliday was right in saying it would be believed he had apologized to Marline through fear of the proud Southerner.

Merriwell was no more than human; he did not fancy being thought a coward.

Who does?

Had it been simply one or two persons who thought him afraid of the lad from South Carolina he would not have minded, but for nearly every one in college to think so--well, that was different.

And the peculiar combination of circ.u.mstances made the situation more trying than otherwise it could have been.

Frank could not help feeling some sympathy for Marline, for all of the fellow's natural arrogance and overbearing manner. It was easy for Merriwell to imagine himself in Marline's position.

"It would cut me," he thought. "I might hold my temper, but it would cut me to have any fellow step in and shove me out without letting me have a show to see what I might do."

Sentiment demanded that Marline should be given an opportunity to play full-back on the Yale team; but sentiment should not enter into college sports, and no one knew that better than Frank Merriwell. The football or baseball team that is run on sentiment can never be a winner.

Yet it seemed to Merry that, under any circ.u.mstances, he would be placed in a false position before every one. He had refused to take an interest in football, and had held aloof till the very day that it was known Halliday had been changed from full-back to quarter-back and Marline had been given Ben's former position. Then Merry had suddenly appeared on the scene and seemed to oust the new man before the latter had a show to prove his capability.

To Frank this seemed a cowardly thing to do, and nothing but the knowledge that the eleven was weak and really needed him could have induced him to go on the field.

He did not want to fight Marline, and he was determined not to fight Marline if he could avoid it. Still he realized that his enemies would say he feared the lad from South Carolina, and his friends might believe it was true.

"Well," thought Frank, after meditating on the situation, "it will not be the first time I have been thought a coward. I can stand it. If Forrest says he needs me I shall play for the love of dear old Yale.

Rather than have Yale lose through my failure to do everything in my power, I'd be branded a coward for life!"

This settled in his mind, he went to bed that night and slept peacefully, quite unaware that at Morey's a gay party had gathered about Rob Marline, who was "opening things" and vowing publicly that he would drive Frank Merriwell off the gridiron forever.

In case Frank showed a determination to get into the game again, Marline swore he would never give him a moment of peace till they met face to face on the "field of honor."

"I come of fighting stock, gentlemen," said Rob, his face flushed, his legs unsteady, his tongue unloosed, and a gla.s.s of "velvet" held aloft.

"My grandfather killed his man, and my father has been concerned in more than one affair of honor. I am an expert with the sword, and I can shoot as well as the mountaineers of my native State--the fairest spot on the American continent Merriwell will not have a chance with me if we ever do meet. With the blades, gentlemen, I'll run him through in less than thirty seconds; with pistols I'll lodge a ball in his heart at the first fire. But he'll never dare to meet me. The way he took water to-day proved that. He will crawl like a whipped dog."

If Marline had not been drinking freely he would not have said so much.

The wine was in his head, and he was not responsible. But he meant every word he spoke, and he did not require "Dutch courage" in order to back up his talk.

In the morning Frank awoke refreshed by a good night's sleep, took a cool dip, scrubbed down hastily, got into his clothes in a hurry, and was away to chapel, looking as fresh and rosy as a healthy youth should.

Merriwell took such care of himself that he was in perfect condition. He had not given up physical exercise, although he had thought of keeping out of football that season. Every day he spent a certain amount of time in the gym, and not a minute of that time was wasted.

Under no circ.u.mstances did Merriwell believe in radical dieting. At the same time he believed in common sense, and he knew a fellow could do himself no more harm than by overloading his stomach. The gourmand makes himself heavy of body, and dull of brain.

Frank had quite forgotten the unpleasant occurrence of the previous afternoon, and he dipped into his studies after the earnest manner that had marked him of late.

On returning from recitation in the middle of the forenoon, he found visitors in his room. They had been admitted by "Honest John," the colored porter.

"Lor' bress yeh!" grinned the white-headed old darky, showing his teeth in a broad grin--"Lor' bress yeh, Mistah Merriwell! Nebber see no purtier gal in all mah bawn days!"

"Girl!" cried Frank, astonished.

"Lor' bress yeh, yes! Purty's a picter, Mistah Merriwell."

"Girl in my room?"

"Yes, sah."

"You let her in, John?"

"Yes, sah; but dar's a lady wif her, sah."

"Oh, ha!"