Frank Merriwell's Return to Yale Part 58

"You can't hate him more than I do."

"I don't know about that; but he has been a lucky devil. I'm glad he's not going to play for Yale to-day."

"He couldn't win the game alone."

"No, but it would be Yale's luck to win if Merriwell played. He has been a mascot for Yale in almost everything."

Harris believed this, for he remembered how many times Frank Merriwell had been the instrument by which Yale had s.n.a.t.c.hed victory from apparent, certain defeat.

Suddenly a band struck up, and out upon the field came the Harvard eleven on the trot. What a cheer went up--what a wild roar of greeting!

For the moment it seemed that the crimson was everywhere. The band hammered away, and the blood was leaping in the veins of the thousands of spectators.

Harvard immediately took a bit of preliminary practice.

"They are the boys to polish Yale off this year!" laughed Harlow. "It's going to be a snap for Harvard."

"I believe it," grinned Harris. "We'll have money to burn after this game."

Suddenly another kind of a cheer rent the air, and now the blue was waving everywhere. Onto the field came the Yale eleven at a sharp trot.

Harris and Harlowe laughed and nudged each other with their elbows.

"See the little lambs!" chuckled the sport.

"Coming to the slaughter!" grinned Rolf.

"Too bad!"

"It's a shame!"

"I feel for them."

"I expect to feel for that money. Where's Ott?"

"Why, he's right over--over there--where the d.i.c.kens is Ott?"

"Can't you see him?"

"Can't seem to, but he must be there. Yes, there he is with the group out to the right."

"Those are the subst.i.tutes. Why is he with them?"

Harris stared, quite as much puzzled as Harlow, for he had understood that Ott was to be put in as full-back for Yale at the very start.

"It must be--it can't be--it can't be Marline is going to try it!"

"You said he couldn't step on his foot."

"He can't."

"Then he isn't in it."

"Of course not."

"Who is?"

"You tell!"

Then, all at once, Harlowe caught Harris by the shoulder, and, pointing toward the field, almost screamed in his ear:

"Ten thousand furies! Look there--look there, you blunderer! See him--see that tall, straight fellow?"

"Where?--who?"

"Where? Who? Right there, with the Yale captain--with Forrest! By all the living fiends, it is----"

"Frank Merriwell!" gasped Harris.

"Yes, and he is going to play full-back for Yale! He'll hoodoo Harvard!

Yale will win this game!"

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

STOPPING A TOUCHDOWN.

Frank Merriwell was there. His appearance was a surprise to nearly all the Yale crowd; it created a sensation.

"Merriwell has been taken in to fill Marline's place!" was the excited statement that went around.

"It's a foolish move," declared scores. "He has not been practicing with the team. He's not in condition."

They did not know Frank Merriwell thoroughly, for he kept himself in condition constantly.

At first his appearance seemed to create doubt and uncertainty among the spectators who were interested in Yale. Gradually, however, enthusiasm grew. It was remembered how he had carried the ball right through Princeton's center in the game the year before, making the most remarkable run ever known on a football field. Yale had felt her chance was a desperate one; surely it could not be any worse. Perhaps it might be bettered by the placing of Merriwell at full-back. It was a desperate resort, but who could say the result would not justify the move?

Forrest was talking to Merriwell, having drawn Frank aside. They were in earnest conversation.

A little negro boy came on the field. How he escaped the vigilance of the officers was a mystery, but he reached the group of subst.i.tutes.

"Heah!" he called, flouris.h.i.+ng something in his hand: "heah am suffin'

to Mistah Merriwell. Where am he?"

It was a folded sc.r.a.p of paper. One of the subst.i.tutes took it and told the boy to "chase himself."