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Updated: June 4, 2025
The curtains were drawn closely, and the arrivals were astonished to see a lot of Indian toggery piled up on tables and chairs, imitation buckskin suits, feathered headdresses, bows, arrows, tomahawks, and so forth. On Merriwell's table was a full supply of Indian red grease paint. "Oh, say," gasped Ned Stover, his eyes bulging, "what's this a powwow outfit?"
Mike McCann hurried into the office and returned directly, followed by Fred Priley, the hotel proprietor. "Mr. Priley," said Silence, "this young man has been making some betting talk. You know we're going to play Frank Merriwell's team to-morrow at Bloomfield. It's doubtful if the gate money will cover our expenses. For that reason I've been looking around to make a little wager on that game.
"This is the result of the idea you fellows gave me when you spoke of capturing scalps the other evening," laughed Frank. "Select your suits, gentlemen, and proceed to make up." "Make up? What for?" "Just you make up, and I will tell you what for afterward." Merriwell's influence was sufficient to induce them to obey, and he aided them in the work.
"Nor am I a professional," came quietly from Frank Merriwell's lips, as he quickly sorted from the pot the money he had placed therein. "I simply sized you up as on the bluff, and I was right. I don't want your money, Snell; take it. I set into this game for amusement, and not with the idea of beating anybody to any such extent as this."
When the Virginian felt that he had Frank cornered he was astonished to see Merriwell slip under his arm and come up laughing behind him. Merriwell's laughter filled Diamond's very soul with gall and wormwood. "Wait!" he thought. "He laughs best who laughs last." "Give it to him, Frank!" urged Rattleton. "You'll get out of wind dodging about, and then it will not be so easy to finish him off."
As for Frank, although Bascomb had played a most contemptible trick on him in flinging the red pepper in his eyes, he knew the bully had been punished quite enough, and he decided to let the matter drop. As it was, there were many other matters to claim his attention, some of which will be related in the next volume of this series, entitled: "Frank Merriwell's Foes."
"What is it, Merry?" asked Hodge, seeing Frank frowning over it. "Nothing but ridiculous nonsense," was Merriwell's smiling answer, as he thrust the paper into his pocket. "Let's get the ladies and have dinner." The trolley car from Buffalo, bearing Frank Merriwell and his friends, was approaching Niagara Falls.
He did not know that the evil was already done the fever was burning in Merriwell's veins. Frank had been waiting an opportunity to speak with Snell in private, and it came one day when he met the fellow on the grounds outside the academy. "Hello, Snell," he saluted. "I have been looking for you." "And I have been looking for you," said Wat, meaningly.
Unfortunately, the politics of his family have run in the wrong direction, and he knows he would be turned down if he should try to secure his rights. But he actually owns the very land possessed by Merriwell the land on which Merriwell's mine is located. And that mine is said to be fabulously rich. He will accept a fair sum as his share of the spoils; the rest we can divide between us."
At first the hit had looked like a two-bagger, but there seemed to be a chance of making three out of it as Frank reached second, and the coachers sent him along. He reached third ahead of the ball, and then the Yale crowd on the bleachers did their duty. "How do you Harvard chaps like Merriwell's style?" yelled a Yale enthusiast as the cheering subsided.
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