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The Rovers trotted in, while the home team took the field. Casper Silence lighted a fresh cigarette as the players in yellow and black settled down on the bench. "Beyond question you faced the four leading batters of that team, Bender," said the proprietor of the visitors. "You know now what Merriwell and Badger can hit. If O'Day had not made a great catch, Merriwell would have scored."
Browning held the man over the rail turning to Frank to ask: "Shall I give him a bath, Merriwell?" "I think you hadn't better," laughed Frank. "Perhaps he can't swim, and " "He can swim or sink," drawled Bruce. "It won't make any difference if he sinks. Only another insolent Frenchman out of the way." The master was astounded.
The sophomores shouted their satisfaction and delight, fully convinced that they had forced the freshmen to abandon all hope of going through the gate. Then came a surprise for them. The freshmen caught up the timber, and Merriwell cried: "Charge!" Like a tornado they bore down on the men near the gate, toward which the timber was directed.
And Merriwell was to find that this extended even to their social life, their dances, their secret societies, where all who showed themselves to have the proper dispositions and qualifications were admitted without distinction of previous condition or rank in their own homes.
Frank laughed; it was his old, jolly laugh, suppressed somewhat. He seemed like himself once more, as Bart Hodge instantly noted. He had cast off the strain under which he had been for so long, and now Frank Merriwell, mischievous and full of fun, was on deck again.
"What if I should tell you that I do?" asked Old Gripper, his stolid face calm and unreadable. "Then here and now I would lose no time in announcing my withdrawal from the project," retorted Merriwell.
Ditson looked at Merriwell curiously, as if in doubt concerning his sincerity, but Frank simply continued to smile. "Indian red," said Roll, reading the lettering on the stick. "You don't mean to become a big chief, do you?" "Perhaps so." "Well, you are pretty sure to become a big chief here at Yale, old man," said Ditson, with apparent earnestness. "You will be a leader here some day."
He realized that his second attempt had failed, and he stood in awe of Frank's terrible fists. He looked up at those gleaming eyes, and turned away quickly, feeling a sudden great fear. Did Frank Merriwell bear a charmed life? Surely it seemed that way to Harris just then.
He sat up and held his gloved hand to his ear, which was ringing with a hundred clanging bells, while he stared astounded at his roommate. "Wow!" he gurgled. "What have I been up against? Are you a prize fighter in disguise?" That experience was enough to satisfy him that Frank Merriwell knew a great deal more than he did about boxing.
Putnam came out frankly and confessed that he had feared something of the kind, all along, and Frank was in no mood to kick over his past treatment, so nothing was said on that point. In the first game against a weaker team than Harvard, Merriwell was tried in the box and pitched a superb game, which Yale won in a walk.
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