Frank Merriwell's Return to Yale Part 69

"Some time ago he wrongfully accused me of cheating at cards. I have hated him ever since."

A sudden change came over Marline. He remembered now. He had heard something about it at the time, but it had slipped his mind. He remembered that he had heard from a reliable source that Merriwell had exposed Harris in a crooked game.

Involuntarily, Marline drew away from Harris. The lad from South Carolina had very high ideas of honor, and he could feel nothing but contempt for a card sharp. Sometimes he played cards himself, but he would have died rather than do a crooked or dishonorable thing. A moment before, he had seemed to feel a bond between himself and Sport, as they were both enemies to Merriwell, but now there was a feeling of repulsion.

No matter what Rob Marline's faults might be, and he had many of them, there was not a dishonest streak in him.

Harris seemed to see the change come over the other, and regretted that he had told the truth, for he knew Marline was "enc.u.mbered" by a fine sense of honor. He tried to set himself right by fiercely declaring he had been unjustly accused by Merriwell.

"That's what makes me hate the fellow so," he said. "He has injured me by leading some fellows to think I was crooked, and that is the worst injury he could do anybody."

"I agree with you on that point," nodded Marline.

"Some time I'll square it up with him," grated Harris. "We both hate him, and I see no reason why we shouldn't pull together."

Marline hesitated a moment, then shook his head.

"No," he said, "I'll not make a compact with any one against him. I hate him, and I am willing he should know it. I'll meet him face to face and man to man, and I'll make him crawl, or I'll fix him so he won't play football for a long time to come!"

CHAPTER XLII.

A CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

The day after the great game the Boston and New York morning papers gave columns to a full report of the contest. All the evening papers of the day before had contained reports, but on the following morning the story was told more fully and accurately.

Not a morning paper appeared in either city that did not contain Frank Merriwell's picture. It made little difference if some of the pictures were poor, Frank's name was beneath each and every one of them.

The papers gave him glaring headlines. He was called "The Yale Trojan,"

"The Sensation of the Season," "The Boy of Iron," and many other complimentary things.

All Yale was reading the papers, and Frank was more than ever the topic of conversation, for his fellow-students began to realize that he had played an even more important part in the game than was at first thought possible by those who had not witnessed it.

If Frank had smoked or drank he would not have found it necessary to buy a cigar or a drink for weeks to come. Scores of fellows would have considered it a great honor to buy smokes and drinks for him.

But Merriwell neither smoked nor drank. He had never indulged in tobacco or liquor. Who knows how much that was responsible for his wonderful strength, nerve and wind?

At the fence a group gathered early and read and discussed the newspaper reports. Rob Marline seemed to be the only man who did not have a paper.

"What's the matter with you, old man?" asked Tom Thornton. "You are looking as blue as if we had lost yesterday."

"I'm feeling grouchy," confessed Marline.

"Ankle?"

"Has something to do with it."

"Too bad! It was tough to be knocked out just before the game, but you can feel satisfied that your place was filled by a good man."

Marline seemed to turn yellow.

"That is it, sah--that's just it!" he exclaimed, "Look at all the stuff in the papers about him! And I might have had the opportunities he had if I had played."

"Perhaps not."

"Why not?"

"The change might have made considerable difference in the play. You know as well as I, no two men will play just the same under the same circ.u.mstances. They may attempt similar plays, but they do not carry them out in precisely the same manner."

"I don't like the way you use that word 'attempt,' sah!" said Marline, flaming up a bit. "It seems like an insinuation that I might have failed in the attempt, while Merriwell succeeded."

"You are altogether too suspicious and sensitive, Marline. I did not hint anything of the sort, although even you cannot be sure you would have succeeded as well as Merriwell. Indeed, what he did in that game was phenomenal."

"Rot, sah!"

"I believe you are jealous of him, Marline. If you are, take my advice, and conceal it, or the boys will jolly you to death."

Rob Marline drew himself up with as much haughtiness as possible, considering his lame ankle.

"Sah," he said, hissing the words through his white teeth, "the boys had better be careful. I am in no condition to be jollied on that point, sah."

Had any other fellow at Yale taken such a stand, it would have produced shouts of laughter. As it was, not a fellow of the group grinned, and Burn Putnam observed:

"If you don't want to be jollied, you'd better keep still about Merriwell. All the fellows will be onto you if you keep it up."

Rob flashed Old Put a cutting look, and then haughtily returned:

"My tongue is my own, sah!"

"All right," grunted Burn. "Use it as you please. You'll find I've given you a straight tip."

"I presume, sah, a man has a right to criticise the playing of any fellow on the eleven?"

"Sure; but it doesn't come very well from you, as you and Merriwell were rivals."

"We were not rivals, if you please. He was subst.i.tuted to fill my place after I was injured. But for this ankle, he would not have been on the team."

"But that he refused to play football this season, you would not have been on the team," put in Bandy Robinson.

"Oh, I see all you fellows are standing up for him and are down on me!"

fiercely cried Marline. "I don't care if you are. I think Frank Merriwell is----"

"Is what, sir?"

It was Merriwell himself, who had approached the group without being noticed by any of them. He now stepped forward promptly and faced Marline.