Frank Merriwell’s Races E-Book

Burt L. Standish

• Herausgeber: Ktoczyta.pl
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Frank Merriwell makes a new friend. However, this is not a man, and not even a dog, which is considered the best friend of man. This is a horse. Jack Diamond states that this horse is superb. And we need to think about the fact that he participated in the race. However, Frank bought this beautiful animal for another goal. But will the temptation win over our main character?

Leseprobe

Contents

CHAPTER I. HORSE TALK

CHAPTER II. AN ADVENTURE ON THE ROAD

CHAPTER III. TEACHING A RASCAL A LESSON

CHAPTER IV. BIRDS OF A FEATHER

CHAPTER V. WHAT A HAIR CAN DO

CHAPTER VI. PRINCE AND THE EAVESDROPPER

CHAPTER VII. THE PLOT

CHAPTER VIII. TAKING CHANCES

CHAPTER IX. A STRONG ACCUSATION

CHAPTER X. A FIGHT AGAINST ODDS

CHAPTER XI. A MATTER OF SPECULATION

CHAPTER XII. THE CHALLENGE

CHAPTER XIII. THE WRESTLING MATCH

CHAPTER XIV. PLOTTING FUN

CHAPTER XV. THORNTON'S "MASH."

CHAPTER XVI. ANOTHER CHALLENGE

CHAPTER XVII. PURE GRIT

CHAPTER XVIII. AFTER THE BOAT RACE

CHAPTER XIX. THE YALE SPIRIT

CHAPTER XX. SPURNING A BRIBE

CHAPTER XXI. ON THE SPECIAL TRAIN

CHAPTER XXII. THE FIGHT ON THE TRAIN

CHAPTER XXIII. SEEN AGAIN

CHAPTER XXIV. TWO WARNINGS

CHAPTER XXV. THE THEATRE PARTY

CHAPTER XXVI. TRAPPED

CHAPTER XXVII. AN EMISSARY FROM THE WEST

CHAPTER XXVIII. FRIENDS OR FOES

CHAPTER XXIX. TALK OF A TOUR

CHAPTER XXX. A HOT RUN

CHAPTER XXXI. AN INCENTIVE TO WIN

CHAPTER XXXII. THE RUN TO THE STATION

CHAPTER XXXIII. ENEMIES AT WORK

CHAPTER XXXIV. BASEBALL

CHAPTER XXXV. KIDNAPED

CHAPTER XXXVI. THE TOURNAMENT

CHAPTER XXXVII. TO VICTOR. CONCLUSION

CHAPTER I

HORSE TALK

“He’s a beauty!”

Jack Diamond uttered the exclamation. He was admiring a horse Frank Merriwell had lately purchased.

“He is,” agreed Danny Griswold, with his hands thrust deep into his trousers pockets and his short legs set far apart. “But think of paying a thousand dollars!”

“He looks like a racer,” declared Bruce Browning, who showed unusual interest and animation for a fellow who was known as the laziest man at Yale.

“He’s got the marks of a swift one,” asserted Diamond, walking around the bay gelding, which Frank Merriwell had led out into the middle of the stable floor for inspection. “He is rangey, has clean limbs, and a courageous eye. I shouldn’t wonder if he could cover ground in a hurry.”

“I did not buy him for a racer,” asserted Frank. “I purchased him as a saddle horse purely for my own use and pleasure.”

“You must have money to burn,” chirped Griswold. “Your old man must have made loads of it. I had an uncle four times removed once who made money, but he got arrested when he tried to pass it.”

“That reminds me of my father and his partner,” said Browning, with apparent seriousness. “They formed a strange sort of a partnership. One of them stayed in New York all the time, while the other remained in California. In this manner they managed always to have plenty of money between them.”

“Oh, goodness!” gasped Diamond, “if you fellows keep this up, I shall want to get away.”

“If you want to get a weigh, we’ll try to find some scales for you,” chuckled Griswold, his eyes twinkling.

“They say Dan Dorman’s father has plenty of money,” said Frank.

“I’ve heard so,” admitted Browning. “But Dorman is too mean to make much of a drain on the old man’s pile.”

“That’s right,” nodded Griswold. “Why, he is so mean that in the winter, when his hair gets long, he wets it thoroughly, and then goes out in the open air and lets it freeze.”

“What does he do that for?”

“So he can break it off and save the price of a hair-cut!”

“Say,” cried Diamond, desperately, “I thought you fellows were talking about a horse!”

“No,” yawned Browning, “we’re talking about a jackass.”

Every one but Jack seemed to appreciate this, for they all grinned.

“Well,” said the lad from Virginia, “Merriwell has brought out his horse for us to inspect, and I move we do so. After this is over, you may talk of anything you please.”

“It is rather remarkable that you should pay such a price for a mere saddle horse,” declared Browning.

“I simply kept my promise,” smiled Frank.

“Your promise?”

“Exactly.”

“What promise?”

“The one I made to myself when this horse enabled me to overtake a runaway that was dragging Winifred Lee to danger and possible death. This is the animal on which I pursued the runaway, and I took him without asking leave of the owner. I vowed that if this horse enabled me to catch and stop the runaway before Miss Lee was harmed I would own the creature if it took my last dollar,” he added.

“And that,” cried Griswold, trying to strike a dramatic attitude–“that is true love!”

“Well, I don’t know as I blame you, Merriwell,” admitted Bruce. “Winifred Lee is a stunning girl. But it strikes me that the owner of the horse swindled you.”

A bit of additional color had risen to Frank’s cheeks, and he looked strikingly handsome. The boys knew it would not do to carry the joke about Winnie Lee too far, and so they refrained.

“The man who owned the horse did not want to sell him at any price,” explained Frank. “I induced him to set a price that he thought would settle me, and then I snapped him up so quickly it took away his breath.”

“I should think your guardian would have kicked at throwing up a thousand for such a purpose.”

“He did,” laughed Frank, looking at Diamond, who showed a little confusion. “You remember that Jack, Rattleton and myself went on to Springfield to meet him a few days ago?”

“And got arrested for kidnaping a baby!” chuckled Griswold. “That was a corker. We didn’t do a thing to you fellows when you got back here!”

“That’s right,” admitted Jack, dolefully. “Not a thing! You simply marched us through the streets and onto the campus with a band and banners and made a stunning show of us!”

“Well,” said Frank, “Professor Scotch, my guardian, was so glad to get out of the scrape when the judge discharged us that he gave up the thousand without a flutter. That’s how I got the money.”

“Well,” yawned Browning, “now you have the horse, you’ll find him an expensive piece of furniture. It takes money to take care of ‘em and feed ‘em.”

Diamond had been inspecting the gelding from all sides, surveying him with the air of one who knows something about horses, and he now asked:

“Has the creature a pedigree, old man?”

“Sure,” nodded Frank. “Its pedigree is all right. I have it somewhere, but I don’t care so much for that.”

“Oh, I don’t know! It may prove of value to you some day.”

“How?”

“Well, you may take a fancy to enter Nemo in a race or two.”

“What then?”

“If he should win, you’ll want his pedigree.”

“I suppose that is right, but I am no sportsman of the turf; that is professional. Amateur sports are good enough for me.”

“Honest horse racing is one of the grandest sports in the world!” cried Jack, with flashing eyes.

“Honest horse racing!” laughed Griswold. “What’s that? Where do you find anything like that?”

“Oh, there is such a thing.”

“There may be, but people are not used to it.”

“That’s why I do not think much of horse racing,” declared Frank. “There are too many tricks to it to suit me.”

“Oh, there are tricks to any sort of sport.”

“Very few to college sports. If a man is caught at anything crooked it means ruin for his college career, and he is sure to carry the stigma through life. I tell you college sports are honest, and that is why they are so favored by people of taste and refinement–people who care little or nothing for professional sports. The public sees the earnestness, the honesty, and the manhood in college sports and contests, and the patrons of such sports know they are not being done out of their money by a fake. Prize fighting in itself is not so bad, but the class of men who follow it have brought disgrace and disrepute upon it. Fights are ‘fixed’ in advance by these dishonest scoundrels, and the man who backs his judgment with his money is likely to be done out of his coin by the dirtiest kind of a deal.”

“What makes me sore,” said Diamond, “is that some sensational newspapers should send professional bruisers to witness our college football games and denounce them as more brutal than prize fights.”

“That makes me a trifle warm under the collar,” admitted Browning. “But I don’t suppose we should mind what that class of papers say. Their motto is ‘Anything for a sensation,’ and the intelligent portion of the newspaper readers is onto them. These papers have faked so many things that they carry no weight when they do tell the truth.”

“I wouldn’t mind putting Nemo into a race just to see what sort of stuff there is in him,” admitted Frank.

“Why don’t you do it?” cried Diamond, eagerly.

“I wouldn’t want to enter him in any of the races around here.”

“Take him to New York.”

“No; those races are beyond my limit. All I want to do is try him for my own satisfaction.”

“Then run him into the Mystic Park races at Bethany. You can do that quietly enough.”

“That’s so,” said Browning. “You can do that without attracting too much attention to yourself.”

“We’ll all go up and see the race,” declared Griswold. “It will be great sport. Do it, old man!”

“But where can I get a jockey I can trust?”

“You’ll have to scrub around for one, and take chances.”

“No!” cried Merriwell, as a sudden thought struck him. “I can do better than that.”

“How?”

“I have the fellow.”

“Who?”

“A colored boy at home. He is fond of horses.”

“Has he ever ridden in a race?”

“Twice.”

“Did he win?”

“Once. My uncle, who kindly left me his fortune, was a crank on fast horses, and he owned a number of them. Toots could ride some of them that would allow nobody else to mount them. Uncle Asher had horses in the races every year, but he was often ‘done’ by his jockeys. He knew it well enough, but he found it impossible to get the sort of jockey he wanted. Toots begged to ride a race, but he was a little shaver, and uncle was afraid. Finally, one day, just before a race was to come off, Uncle Asher discovered that his jockey had sold out. At the last moment he fired the fellow, and was forced to let Toots ride, or withdraw his horse. Toots rode, and won. The next time he rode he might have won, but the horse was doped.”

“He’s just the chap you want!” nodded Jack, with satisfaction. “Put Nemo into the Bethany races, and let Toots ride him.”

“I’ll think of it,” said Frank.

A hostler approached the group.

“Howdy do, Mr. Merriwell, sir?” he said. “One of your friends called to see your horse this morning, sir.”

“One of my friends?” cried Frank, in surprise. “Who was it?”

“He gave his name as Diamond, sir–Jack Diamond.”

Merriwell immediately turned on Jack and asked:

“Hello, how about this? Did you call to see Nemo this morning?”

“Not much!” exclaimed Jack. “This is the first time I have been here. The hostler is mistaken.”

“You must have misunderstood your visitor, Grody,” said Frank. “He could not have given his name as Jack Diamond, for this is Jack Diamond here.”

The man stared at Jack, and then shook his head.

“That’s not the feller,” he declared.

“Of course not. Your visitor must have given you some other name.”

“Not on your life,” returned Grody, promptly. “He said his name was Jack Diamond, sir, and I will swear to that.”

“Well, this is somewhat interesting!” came grimly from Frank. “What did he do, Grody?”

“He looked Nemo over, sir.”

“Looked Nemo over how–in what way?”

“Why, I offered to take Nemo out of the stall, but he said no, not to bother, as he only wished to glance at the horse. He went to the stall, which same I showed him, and looked in. The door wasn’t locked, for I had just been cleanin’ the stall out. He opened the door and stood there some little time. First thing I knew he was gone. I went and looked into the stall, and he was examinin’ Nemo’s feet. He seemed wonderful interested in the horse, and I saw by the way he acted he knew something about horses.”

“The interest deepens,” observed Frank. “Go on, Grody.”

“When he came out of the stall he says to me, says he, ‘Merriwell has struck a right good piece of horseflesh there.’ Says I, ‘In the best of my judgment he has, sir.’ Says he, ‘I understand he paid a fancy figure for the gelding, something like a thousand, he told me.’ Says I, ‘If he told you that I have no doubt he told you correct, sir.’ Then says he, ‘Does he mean to race him?’ ‘That,’ says I, ‘bein’ a friend of Mr. Merriwell, is something what you should know as well as I, or better.’ Then he says, says he, ‘Horses is mighty uncertain property, for you never can tell what may happen to them.’ In this I agreed with him, but there was something about him I didn’t like much. Then he went away.”

Frank whistled.

“This is highly interesting,” exclaimed Frank. “What did this fellow look like, Grody? Can you describe him?”

“Well, I looked him over rather careful like, sir, but I don’t know as I can describe him particular, except that he had on a checked suit and wore a red necktie, in which were a blazer, genuine, or to the contrary. I know horses, but I’m no judge of diamonds. He was smooth shaved, and his jaw were rather square and his hair short. The eyes of him never looked straight at me once. Somehow I didn’t think he were a student, for he made one or two breaks in the words he said that made his talk different from your student’s. He didn’t have that sort of real gentleman way with him neither.”

Frank turned to his friends.

“Now what do you suppose this business means, fellows?” he asked.

“It means crookedness!” declared Diamond, rather excitedly. “I am dead sure of that!”

“It looks that way,” admitted Browning.

“But what sort of crookedness can it mean?” asked Frank, bewildered. “What is the game?”

“That will develop later; but there is some kind of a game on, be sure of that,” asserted Jack. “If not, why should anybody come here and give a fictitious name? That gives the whole thing away. Look out, Frank, all your enemies are not sleeping!”

“Well, it is time they let up on me,” said Merriwell, seriously. “They have brought nothing but disaster and disgrace on themselves thus far, and––”

“Some of them are looking for revenge, mark what I say.”

“I am tired of being bothered and harassed by petty enemies!” exclaimed Frank. “I have had considerable patience with the fellows who have worked against me, but there is a limit.”

“That’s right, and they would have reached the limit with me long ago,” declared Diamond.

“Well, it is like this, Jack,” said Frank; “it is almost always true that not all of a man’s enemies are bad fellows. To begin with, you remember that you were my enemy, and now we are friends, and this is not the first time such a thing has happened with me.”

“Well, if a man were bucking against me, I do not think I would wait to see how he would turn out before I bucked back.”

“Oh, I am not in the habit of doing that. You will remember that I bucked back pretty hard in your case.”

Jack did remember it, and he felt that Merriwell was capable of holding his own with his foes.

“You will do well to look out for your horse, all the same,” said Diamond.

“That’s right,” grunted Browning. “If I were in your place, Merriwell, I’d watch out pretty sharp.”

“I will,” said Frank. “I’ll have Toots come on here and keep watch over Nemo most of the time. When he is not here, Grody can take his place. If I have an enemy who thinks of stealing my horse, he’ll have hard work to accomplish his design.”

“Unless he does it before you get things arranged,” said Griswold. “Put him up, Merriwell, and let’s get out.”

“I am going for a ride,” said Frank. “Put the saddle on him, Grogan. Will see you later, fellows, if you are going now.”

“We’ll wait till you leave,” yawned Browning. “There’s no reason why we should tear our clothes hurrying away.”

“You are not liable to tear your clothes doing anything,” laughed Frank.

CHAPTER II

AN ADVENTURE ON THE ROAD

Grody soon had Nemo saddled and bridled. The horse was eager to be away, as he showed by his tossing head, fluttering nostrils and restless feet.

“Whoa, boy,” said Frank, soothingly. “Don’t be so impatient. We’ll get away in a moment.”

He swung into the saddle, the stable doors rolled open, and away sprang the gelding.

The remaining lads hurried out of the stable to watch Frank ride, Grody accompanying them.

“He seems like he were a part of the horse,” declared the hostler, admiringly. “That young gentleman were born to handle horses, he were.”

“He is, indeed, a graceful rider,” nodded Diamond. “I am sure he did not learn in any riding academy, for he rides naturally. The riding academies all turn out riders with an artificial and wooden style. There is no more distressing sight than the riders to be seen in Central Park, New York, almost any afternoon. They bounce around in the saddle like a lot of wooden figures, and it is plain enough that many of them do not bounce because they want to, but because they think it the proper thing. Southerners ride naturally and gracefully. Mr. Merriwell rides like a Southerner.”

“He rides like Buffalo Bill,” said Browning, with an effort. “Bill is the best rider I ever saw.”

Diamond was watching Merriwell and the horse, a queer look on his face. Finally he exclaimed:

“By Jove! there’s something the matter with Nemo!”

“What is it?” asked Griswold. “I didn’t notice anything.”

“The horse shows a suspicion of lameness,” asserted Jack.

“You have good eyes to detect it,” observed Browning, doubtingly. “I can’t see that anything is the matter with the horse.”

“I’ll wager he goes lame before Merriwell returns.”

“If he does, I shall think you have great discernment.”

Merriwell turned a corner and disappeared.

“Come, fellows,” said Griswold, “let’s shuffle along.”

“Merriwell is altogether too generous,” declared Diamond, as the trio walked away.

“In what way?” asked Browning.

“With his enemies. I know you and I were both enemies to him in the beginning, and––”

“He threw us down hard.”

“That’s all right; but there are enemies you have to hold down.”

“Merriwell didn’t do a thing to Hartwick!” exclaimed Griswold, grinning. “He scared the fellow so he ran away from college, and nobody knows where he went.”

“Yes, but Merriwell gave him the opportunity to skip and escape the disgrace that must follow public exposure of his acts. Some fellows would have exposed him and brought about his expulsion.”

“That’s right,” chirped Griswold. “Merriwell was as generous with Hartwick as he could be with such a fellow. He might have used him much worse than he did.”

“And do you fancy Hartwick thinks any more of Merriwell for not exposing him publicly?” asked Jack.

“Oh. I don’t know.”

“Well, I will wager that he does not. More than that, I’ll venture that Hartwick, wherever he may be, cherishes a fierce desire for revenge, and longs for the day when he will be able to get back at Frank. Merry will hear from that chap again.”

And there the subject was dropped.

Frank enjoyed the ride upon Nemo’s back, for the horse seemed intelligent and something of a comrade. The boy talked to his mount as if the animal could understand every word he uttered.

He had ridden beyond the limits of the city before he noticed that Nemo was limping the least bit.

“What’s the matter, old fellow?” asked Frank, with concern. “Have you hurt yourself some way?”

Nemo shook his head. It almost seemed that the animal was answering the question in the negative.

“You must have stepped on a stone,” Merriwell declared. “Why, you are really beginning to limp in earnest!”

Frank immediately dismounted, after having decided it was Nemo’s left hind leg or foot that was lame.

“I’ll make an inspection, and see if I can discover what is the matter,” said the boy, anxiously.

He examined both of the horse’s hind feet, but could not see that anything was wrong.

“If that rascally shoer has blundered in his work he’ll not get another chance at you, boy,” Merriwell declared.

After patting Nemo’s neck and fondling the fine creature a bit, Frank mounted once more.

But Nemo limped worse than ever.

“This is singular,” muttered the perplexed lad. “I don’t understand it at all. There’s something wrong, for a fact.”

He watched the horse, and decided that he had made no mistake in locating the lameness in the left hind leg.

Again he dismounted and made an examination, and again the result was far from satisfactory.

“I wish you might speak and tell me what is the matter,” said Frank, in dismay. “I’ll have you examined without delay by somebody who knows his business.”

He rode slowly into the outskirts of the city.

Of a sudden there was a rattle of wheels and a clatter of hoofs behind him.

He turned and looked back, to see a carriage coming along the road at a reckless rate. Two persons were seated in the carriage, and the horse was covered with sweat.

“Why are those fools driving like that?” muttered Merriwell. “Are they drunk, or is it a matter of life or death?”

“Get out of the road!”

The command was hoarsely shouted, and Frank reined aside, having no desire to get in the way of the reckless driver.

Once more the boy on the horse turned to look back.

“Drunk, sure enough,” he decided. “And they are two young fellows, too. Students on a tear, perhaps.”

The occupants of the carriage had been drinking heavily, but they were not so drunk that they did not recognize the boy in advance when he turned in the saddle the second time.

“Hey, Rolf!” exclaimed the one who was not driving. “It’s Merriwell!”

“That’s what it is!” cried the driver. “I haven’t seen him for some time, but I know his face too well to ever forget it!”

“He’s out on his new horse.”

“Sure.”

“Run him down! run him down! Throw him off! Now’s our chance!”

The driver was just intoxicated enough to be utterly reckless of consequences, and he snarled:

“Hang me if I don’t do it!”

And then, when they were very near the boy and the horse, he suddenly reined toward Frank with the intention of running into Merriwell’s mount.

In another moment there might have been a grand smash there on the road, but Frank had caught the words “Run him down!” and he gave Nemo a light cut with the whip, at the same time pulling him still farther into the ditch.

Nemo was not used to the whip, and he leaped like a flash. Such a spring would have unseated any but a most expert rider, but the boy in the saddle seemed to move as a part of the horse. Into the ditch they went, and past them spun the carriage containing the two reckless young men.

The carriage came very near upsetting. It careened and spun along on two wheels, threatening to hurl its occupants into the ditch, for the driver had reined the horse back toward the middle of the road. Both clung on for life.

“Don’t blame me!” muttered Merriwell, through his teeth. “You were looking for a smash.”

But the carriage did not go over; it righted at last. One of the young men looked back and shook his fist at the boy on the horse, and then away they went in a cloud of dust.

“If that was not Evan Hartwick, I am greatly mistaken!” exclaimed Frank, as he reined Nemo back into the road. “So he is back here as soon as this? I know what that means. He is looking for revenge on me.”

Frank had seen the face of the driver as the carriage spun past, and he added:

“Hartwick’s companion is somebody I know. I did not obtain a fair look at him, but–great Scott! it was the card sharp, Rolf Harlow!”

Harlow was a fellow who had entered Harvard, but had not completed his second year there, leaving suddenly for reasons not generally known.

A Yale man by the name of Harris, familiarly known as “Sport,” because of his gambling inclinations, had known Harlow, and had introduced him to a number of Yale students.

Harris and Harlow were both poker players, but they claimed that they played the game “merely for amusement.”

A number of Harris’ acquaintances had been induced to enter into the game, and there had been some very “hot sittings.”

No one seemed to suspect that Harlow was crooked, for he almost always lost, although he never lost large sums.

Harris won almost continually. He seemed to be the luckiest fellow in the world in drawing cards. He would hold up one ace on a large jackpot and catch two more aces and a small pair. It seemed the greatest kind of “bull luck.”

Harry Rattleton, Merriwell’s roommate, was following the game. Frank tried to induce him to keep away, but it was without avail.

Then Frank seemed to take an interest in the game, and it was not long before he proved that Harlow was a card manipulator, and caught him at one of his tricks.

That finished Harlow’s career at plucking Yale “fruit,” and the fellow left New Haven suddenly.

Harris had remained under a cloud of suspicion since that time, as there seemed very little doubt but he had been in league with Harlow, and they had divided the plunder between them.

The proof had not been sufficient to incriminate Harris, but it had been enough to make him unpopular and cause him to be shunned.

He had seemed to take this very meekly, but some of Merriwell’s friends declared that Harris had not forgotten or forgiven, and that he would strike back at Frank if the opportunity ever presented.

Now Harlow was back in New Haven, and Hartwick, who had been forced to leave college to escape expulsion, was also there.

That meant something.

“Hartwick, Harlow and Harris–the three hard tickets. They are birds of a feather. All they need is Ditson to make a most delectable quartet!”

So muttered Frank Merriwell, as he gazed at the receding cloud of dust.

Frank began to realize that there was more trouble in store for him.

“I shall not deal gently with that gang this time,” he declared, with a hard-set face. “This little adventure has put me on my guard, and I don’t propose to let them have much fun with me. Those two fools were just full enough to drive right into me with the hope of doing me an injury, without a thought of their own necks. They might have been thrown out and killed, but they did not hesitate because of that. The one thought was to do me some way–any way. Hartwick always was a desperate fellow, but I did not fancy Harlow could be such a chap. However, he was driving that horse, and the way he drove was proof enough that he is careless of life and limb at times.”

For some time Frank paid very little attention to Nemo, but the lameness of the horse became so pronounced at last that he could not help observing it once more.

“That worries me, old fellow,” he admitted, with a troubled face. “It is something I can’t understand.”

He rode slowly back to the stable.

It was growing dark when he arrived at the stable. A strange man was standing outside as Frank rode up. The man looked keenly at the boy and the horse, and then, as the doors rolled open, followed into the stable.

“Horse is lame, eh?” he said, questioningly. “I didn’t notice that when he went out. He wasn’t lame then, was he?”

Frank paid not the least attention to this question. The man was a stranger, and the boy did not care to talk with him.

“I spotted that horse when yer rode out, young man,” the stranger persisted. “Fine lookin’ critter–just the kind I’ve been wantin’ some time for a saddle horse. Whose critter is it?”

“Grody,” said Frank, utterly ignoring the man, “I want you to see if you can tell what ails Nemo. He is lame in one of his hind feet. He was taken that way after I had been out a while. I think it possible there is something the matter with the way he is shod. Will you look after him without delay?”

“To be sure, sir–I’ll not fail, sir,” said Grody.

“Then the horse belongs ter you, does it?” asked the strange man, coming forward and addressing Frank in a point-blank manner. “I am a horseman, and I know all about critters. If there’s anything the matter–and there seems to be–I can tell what it is in five minutes. Shall I make an examination, young man?”

“No, sir!” came sharply from Merriwell’s lips. “I do not propose to have strangers fooling around my horse. I do not know you, sir, so your offer is respectfully declined.”

CHAPTER III

TEACHING A RASCAL A LESSON

“Now hold on, young man, don’t be so fast,” said the stranger. “You do not know me now, and I don’t blame yer fer not wantin’ anybody yer don’t know doing anything fer yer horse; but here’s my card–Professor James Colbath–and now I know you have heard of me. I am one of the greatest veterinary surgeons in the country.”

Frank ignored the card, and the man began to show signs of anger.

“This is no bluff!” he exclaimed. “It’s on the level. I have nary doubt but I can find out what’s the matter with the critter in five minutes, and if I don’t give yer a square deal I don’t want a cent for my services, that’s all.”

He would have lifted one of Nemo’s feet, but Frank cried:

“Drop that! I tell you I don’t want you, and I won’t have you! Get away from this horse!”

The man growled and stiffened up.

“All right,” he said, somewhat savagely. “I did think of trying to buy the critter off yer, but you’re too flip. If the animal stays lame, don’t blame me.”

Although Frank had seemed to pay very little attention to the stranger, he was inspecting him closely. He saw the man had pulled his hat down over his eyes, and wore his coat collar turned up. He had a black beard that concealed his features to a great extent.

Grody was also looking the stranger over closely. He fancied he detected a familiar sound in the man’s voice. The light in the stable was rather dim, and that served to make the inspection of the boy and the hostler rather unsatisfactory.

All at once, Grody started as if struck by a sudden idea. As soon as possible, he whispered in Frank’s ear:

“That mug is the same chap that were here this afternoon, sir.”

“The same chap? What chap?”

“The one what gave his name as Diamond.”

“No? You said that fellow had no beard.”

“I don’t believe this man’s beard is all right.”

Frank was aroused. He fancied that he saw a ray of light.

The fellow who had called himself Professor Colbath turned away. He had heard the hostler whisper, and he caught Frank’s question. Immediately he showed a desire to get out.

Leaving the horse to Grody, Frank quickly placed himself before the stranger, saying:

“Hold on a minute. I don’t know but I’ll talk with you a little.”

“No, yer won’t!” growled the man. “I’m done tryin’ to talk with a fresh youngster like you–I’m done with you.”

“Well, I am not done with you!”

Frank’s voice rang out sharp and stern.

“What do you want?” asked the man, uneasily.

“I want to see your face.”

“Well, look at it, and when ye’ve seen it I’ll proceed to smash yours! I don’t take no insolence from a kid!”

“Take off your hat!”

“I will–nit!”

“And that beard–take it off!”

“Ye’re crazy!” cried the man, as he started back.

“Am I?”

Frank gave a spring and a grab with both hands. One hand snatched away the cap, and the other tore off the black beard, which, indeed, proved to be false.

The man uttered an exclamation of rage, and struck at Frank, who dodged the blow.

“Is this the fellow, Grody?” cried Frank.

“The same mug!” declared the hostler, excitedly.

“Well, that’s all I want to know!” burst from Frank, as he flung the hat and beard to the floor. “So you were monkeying around my horse to-day, you fakir! Well, what you need is a pair of good black eyes, and I propose to give them to you!”

Snap!–off came the boy’s jacket in a twinkling, and he still stood between the unmasked man and the door.

The man, who was a coarse-looking young ruffian, ground his teeth and uttered some violent language.

“Git out the way!” he snarled. “I’m a fighter, and I’ll kill yer! I can put yer ter sleep with one punch!”

Merriwell’s blood was thoroughly stirred, and he felt just like teaching the fellow a lesson. Although a youth in years, Frank was, as my old readers know, a trained athlete, and he could handle his fists in the most scientific manner.

“I am going to give you a chance to put me to sleep,” he shot back. “I see your dirty game from start to finish! You are a fakir of the worst sort, and you tried to work me. You did something to my horse to make him lame, and you thought you would get a fat pull out of me for doctoring him. Instead of that, you have run your head into a bad scrape, and it will be damaged when you get it out.”

“You talk big for a kid. Why, I can blow yer over with my breath.”

“It is strong enough. But I don’t go over so easy. Up with your hands if you are such a fighter! I’m coming for you!”

“All right! If ye’re bound to have it, come on!”

The man put up his guard, and then Merriwell went at him, while Grody gasped for breath, thinking the college lad could be no match for the young ruffian.

There were a few swift passes, and then Frank went under the fellow’s guard and gave him a terrific uppercut on the chin. That was a staggerer, and the boy followed it up while the man was dazed.

Punk!–biff!–two blows, one on the body and the other fairly in the eye.

The second blow nearly knocked the man down, and it made him as fierce as a famished tiger. Snarling like an enraged beast, he tried to close in on the lively lad.

“Oh, let me get hold of you!” he grated. “I’ll crush the life out of ye!”

Frank avoided the rush by stepping aside, and gave the fellow another body blow as he passed.

Body blows, however, were not as effective as they should have been, on account of the fellow’s clothing, and Merriwell quickly decided to waste no more energy in that manner.

The man turned, and went for Frank again. This time the boy did not try to get out of the way, but he met his antagonist squarely, and gave him a heavy one in the other eye.

“That ought to make them mates,” said Frank, with a laugh. “You won’t know yourself when you look in the glass to-morrow morning. Perhaps it’ll teach you better than to try any of your rackets on a boy. You can’t always tell what you are getting up against.”

The man’s teeth could be heard grinding together. He was so furious that he quite lost his head. Then Frank sailed in to finish the affair as soon as possible.

Grody held his breath, nearly bursting with astonishment and admiration.

“Oh, say!” he chuckled. “I never saw a youngster what were that fellow’s match! He’s hot stuff!”

The hostler could scarcely believe it possible that Merriwell was giving the scoundrel a first-class whipping, but this became more and more evident with each passing moment.

In fact, Frank was struck just once during the entire encounter, and that was a glancing blow on the forehead, which he scarcely noticed. He thumped the rascal to his heart’s satisfaction, and then knocked him flat with a round-arm swing that landed on the jaw.

The ruffian lay on the floor and groaned. When he started to get up Merriwell exclaimed:

“There, I think that will do you for to-night! When you want some more of the same just come fooling around my horse!”

He caught the man by the shoulders, yanked him to his feet, ran him to the door, and booted him out of the stable.

Having done this, Frank turned back and coolly put on his coat.

“There, Grody,” he said, “I feel better. I think it is possible I have given that rascal a lesson he will not forget in a hurry.”

The hostler stared, and then he cried:

“Mr. Merriwell, sir, you are a wonder! If as how you were to go inter ther ring you’d make some of the duffers hustle. That were the neatest job what I ever see!”