Frank Merriwell's Races Part 32

"How was that?"

"Collingwood found out about my hand. I am afraid you said something about it, Harry."

"Not a word, save to Diamond, and not to him till after the race began."

"Well, Coll found it out some way, and he came near laying me off for Flemming, who was on hand."

"And now I understand a few things I heard this morning," broke in Diamond. "Emery and Parker were offering to bet that Flemming would row to-day."

"How much did you fake 'em tor--I mean take 'em for?" cried Harry.

"I didn't know but some of the men had given out or something, so I did not take them at all. I did not imagine for a moment that they thought Flemming was going to row in Merry's place."

Collingwood came up. He was bundled from his ears to his heels.

Merriwell was in a sweater and coat.

"How's your hand, old man?" asked Bob, his eyes gleaming.

"Oh, it is giving me a jolly time!" grinned Frank, grimly. "It isn't doing a thing."

"Mr. Merriwell," said Collingwood, earnestly, "I want to tell you frankly that to-day you made the greatest display of pure grit that it has ever been my fortune to witness. I did not believe it possible you could hold out through the race with that hand, and I meant to lay you off for Flemming, although I regretted doing so, as he has not been working with us of late, and I felt that the change would weaken the crew. When you told me square and straight that it would be no fault of yours if the race were lost, I decided to keep you. After that I felt that I was making an error, but it was too late to change. Now I know it was no error, and I wish to say that I am sure you aided materially by your splendid work to win."

Others of the crew came up. Merriwell was surrounded by friends and admirers. Diamond whispered in his ear:

"You should be happy, old man, for you have triumphed over your enemies, and the story of your heroic work will be known to all Yale by Monday."

Then Collingwood led Frank below for a rub down.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE YALE SPIRIT.

At the boathouse there was a scene of riotous jollification. It was impossible to exclude the overjoyed friends of the crew. They crowded in and expressed their unbounded delight in almost every imaginable manner.

There was a popping of corks, and "fizz" began to flow freely. Now that the great race was over, the crew were no longer in training, and they were allowed to drink as much of the wine as they liked. It was forced upon them from all sides.

Merriwell was almost mobbed by the fellows who were determined that he should drink champagne with them.

"You can't refuse now, old man!" shouted Charlie Creighton. "I saw it all, and no one suspected there was anything the matter with you. Just to think that you rowed the race with a felon on your hand! It is marvelous! And I won a cool five hundred on Old Eli! Whoop! If you refuse to take a drink of champagne with me I'll call you out and shoot you through the liver pad!"

He was wildly waving a bottle of Mumm's about his head as he made this excited speech.

But Merriwell did refuse, and he did it with a firmness that showed them all that he could not be induced to drink.

"Queer chap, that Merriwell," commented Charlie Creighton, addressing his chum, Paul Hamilton. "Never knew him very well, but I've seen enough of him to know he's the clean white stuff even if he is a temperance crank."

"In the year and a half that he has been here," said Hamilton, "he has made a greater record in athletics than any other man ever made in twice that time. And think of his rowing the race to-day with that hand, and then fainting the moment he knew the line was crossed and Yale had won!

I tell you, Creighton, that fellow is all sand--every bit of him."

"That's what he is," nodded Creighton. "He is running over with the true Yale spirit. I tell you, my boy, Old Yale bears mighty men! Come, let's kill this bottle of fizz, which I got off the ice expressly for Merriwell, confound him!"

Then they lost little time in opening the bottle and swallowing its sparkling contents.

Bob Collingwood was overwhelmed with congratulations. He said very little before the crowd, but to a particular friend he declared:

"It is one of the marvels of the year that we won to-day. Harvard outrowed us for fully three-quarters of the course, and she would have finished in the lead if her crew had been as stocky as ours. Their stroke is easier on a man than ours."

"Then you acknowledge at last that the Oxford stroke is superior to the American?" eagerly questioned the friend.

"I have acknowledged nothing yet, but I fear I'll be forced to."

The jubilant fellows were making the boathouse ring with songs of victory. About twenty flushed lads were roaring:

"How can they ever beat us-- How can they beat Old Yale?

We down 'em when they meet us, You bet we never fail!

We've got 'em so they fear us In every contest fair; And soon they'll not come near us, Because they will not dare.

CHORUS: "Then give us a cheer for Old Eli-- A cheer for our gallant crew; She has won, and she wins forever, With her n.o.ble boys in blue.

"Poor Harvard falls before us, She is not in the game; So swell the merry chorus, Old Eli's won again!

It was a gallant battle, My boys who wear the blue; But you they cannot rattle, No matter what they do."

There were other songs, and in the midst of all this rejoicing a crowd of pretty girls, accompanied by chaperons, came into the boathouse.

Among them was Winnie Lee, who lost no time in finding Frank and congratulating him.

"I knew you would win, Frank--I knew you would!" she exclaimed, her bright eyes sparkling.

"Why, you are talking as if I rowed the whole race!" he said, laughing and blus.h.i.+ng.

"Well, I'm sure they'd never won without you," she declared.

"That's like a girl! Of course Yale would have won anyhow! How can they beat us?"

At this moment Collingwood came up, accompanied by a gentleman who carried a case in his hand.

"Here, Merry, old boy," cried the captain of the crew, "I've brought a doctor to look after that hand of yours."

"What is the matter with your hand?" asked Winnie, anxiously.

"Oh, nothing much," a.s.sured Frank, carelessly.

"Nothing much, only there is a bad felon on it," said Collingwood.

"A felon? And you rowed with a felon on your hand? Oh, Frank!"