Frank Merriwell's Return to Yale Part 47

They left the college grounds and took a trolley car out to the park.

Forrest and the team were there ahead of them. A hundred spectators were watching the men catch punts.

Bob Cook was there. He was not coaching; he was standing at one side by himself, watching the men, something like a disconsolate look on his face. This was not like him; it was significant.

As they entered the gate, Halliday touched Merriwell's arm, quickly saying:

"There he goes!"

"Who?" asked Frank.

"Marline. He's getting out to take some punts."

Frank knew Marline by sight, but he had never given the fellow much attention. Now he deliberately sized him up. He saw a well-built, healthy-looking lad, who carried himself gracefully, almost arrogantly.

There was more than a suggestion of conscious superiority in Marline's manner.

Punk!--a strong leg sent a twisting ball sailing toward Marline. He ran under it with an air of confidence, and caught it easily, gracefully.

"I take it he is one of the fellows who show up well in practice, at least," said Frank.

CHAPTER XXVI.

SIGNIFICANT MOVEMENTS.

The appearance of Frank on the ground soon attracted attention. Of late there had been much talk about Merriwell and there was not a college man interested in football who had not expressed an opinion concerning his ability or his withdrawal from the sport.

Early in the season Walter Gordan had made a try for the eleven, but had soon been turned down. Sport Harris could not have been induced to play football, but he took much interest in the team, as he wished to know how to place his "dough" on the great games.

Harris and Gordon were watching the men at practice, but the latter saw Merriwell as soon as he entered the park.

"Well, hang me!" he muttered, staring.

"What's the matter?" asked Sport.

"Look there--with Halliday!"

"Yes, I see--why, it's Merriwell!"

"Sure."

"What's he out here for?"

"Don't ask me!"

"Thought he was out of it. Hasn't seemed to take any interest in the eleven this season."

"Perhaps he thinks he's stayed away till it is so late he'll not be asked to come on the team. He couldn't keep away any longer."

"Well, he's needed on the eleven, and that is a fact. He has disgusted his friends by pulling out of the game."

Gordan laughed.

"He seems to think he can retire on the laurels he has won."

"Well, he never made a bigger mistake in his life," said Harris. "Yale doesn't have any use for s.h.i.+rks. If he thinks he can retire because he made a great run in the Princeton game last fall, he is mistaken."

"He is retiring on his reputation as a globe-trotter," sneered Walter.

"You know he has been all over the world. I expect to hear any day that he has discovered the North Pole during some of his extensive travels, but has forgotten to say anything about it."

"You think he hasn't traveled as much as has been reported?"

"Oh, he may have been over the pond, but that's nothing. Willis Paulding has been over several times, and so have a score of fellows I know. But the yarns about shooting panthers in South America, gorillas in Africa, and other fierce and terrible beasts in other countries are altogether too steep to go down my throat."

"How about the trophies he has to show for it?"

"Bah! His uncle left him money to burn, and he has a way of squeezing any amount of it out of his guardian, Prof. Scotch. If he calls for a thousand dollars, he gets it right away. With money like that I could buy a lot of old weapons, queer pottery, fake idols, bra.s.s lamps, skins of wild animals, and so forth, and make a big bluff that I had gathered them all over the world. I don't say much about him, but, between you and I, that fellow makes me awfully weary."

Harris grinned a bit.

"Can't get over it, can you?" he said.

"Can't get over what?"

"The fact that he beat you out at both baseball and football last year.

He got onto the 'Varsity nine and the eleven. You tried for both, and got onto neither."

"Oh, I don't care about those things," protested Gordan. "It was by chance that he got onto the nine, and you know it. If Yale hadn't been hard up for pitchers, he would not have been given a trial."

"That's all right, but you had the same opportunity and you got left."

"Oh, well, rub it in!" snapped Gordan. "Merriwell has beat you at a few things, or the stories they tell are lies."

It was Harris' turn to get red in the face.

"Who has been telling anything? Has Merriwell been blowing around?"

"I don't know about that, but it is said that your Harvard friend, Harlow, proved to be a card sharp--and you introduced him to a lot of fellows here. Merriwell got into a game and caught him cheating. If the stories are straight, Merriwell could have made it hot for you. He let up on you."

"Lies!" snarled Harris, his face growing dark, while he pulled away at his short mustache. "It must be Merriwell has been telling these things.

Oh, I'd like to punch his head!"

"Yes, but you don't dare try it any more than I do," grinned Gordan.

"You know he can lick you and not half try."

"Oh, he's a fighter, and I don't pretend to be that; but he may find me dangerous. I have been keeping still for some time, but I'm simply waiting, that's all."