Frank Merriwell's Races Part 6

"I will allow I never knowed you college chaps were able to fight like that before. I knowed some of you were for fighting among yourselves all right, but I didn't think you could go up against a reg'ler sc.r.a.pper."

"It's a part of the education at Yale," smiled Frank; "and I've found it comes in handy occasionally. The man who can't fight his way through this world in one manner or another gets walked over by chaps who are not his equal in any other way. I do not believe a man should fight only at the proper time, but when he has to fight, I hold that he should be able to do a good turn at it."

"Well, you can do your turn all right, sir."

"Now, Grody, Nemo must receive proper attention. I am sure that fellow did something to make the horse lame. What he did I can't tell. I don't see how he did it without getting his brains kicked out."

Grody hesitated, and then he said:

"Mr. Merriwell, sir, I wants to tell ye something."

"All right, Grody, go on."

"I didn't tell all what happened in the stall to-day when that bloke were here."

"Oh, you didn't?"

"No, sir. What called my attention to the fact that he had gone inter the stall were a racket."

"What sort of a racket?"

"Nemo kicked and squealed, sir, and I heard the man speaking to him.

Then I ran over and looked in."

"What was the rascal doing, Grody?"

"He were examinin' Nemo's feet, sir."

"And that was when he got in his dirty work!" cried Frank, angrily. "I'm afraid I didn't thump him as much as he deserved! I feel like hunting him up and giving him a few more!"

CHAPTER IV.

BIRDS OF A FEATHER.

In a little back room of a saloon three young men were sitting. They were talking earnestly, for all that two of the three showed they had taken altogether too much liquor to be entirely sober.

"We're glad to see you, Sport," one of the drinkers declared.

"Well, I am glad to see you, Harlow, old man, and you, too, Hartwick, although we were never friendly before you left Yale so suddenly."

"That was my fault," admitted Hartwick, huskily. "I didn't know enough to pick out the right sort of pals. I trusted too much to Ditson. He's no good!"

"Now there is where you make a mistake," a.s.serted Sport Harris, quickly.

"I know Ditson has no nerve, but he hates the same fellow we hate, and he is good to do the dirty work. We can make use of him, Hartwick."

"I don't know anything about him," confessed Harlow.

"No, he hasn't the nerve to play poker, and so you did not get acquainted with him when you were here."

"I don't know that he hates Merriwell so much," growled Hartwick. "You remember that Ditson blowed everything to Merriwell, and that is why I was forced to skip. Oh, I'd like the satisfaction of punching the face off the dirty little traitor!"

"But what caused Ditson to blow? He says you misused him."

"I choked the cad a little, that is all."

"But there was something back of that," declared Harris. "What led you to choke him?"

"Oh, we had a little trouble. He was trying to squeeze me too hard, and I wouldn't stand for it."

"Trying to squeeze you?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Well, I don't mind telling you. You know I tried to mark Merriwell for life by punching my foil through the mask that protected his face while we were engaged in a fencing bout. I had prepared my foil for that in advance by fixing the b.u.t.ton so I could remove it, and by sharpening the point of the foil. I wanted to spoil the fellow's pretty face!"

The most malignant hatred was expressed in Hartwick's words and manner.

He went on:

"I tried the trick, but did not succeed. Ditson carried off the foil, and kept it. He would not give it up, although he promised to a hundred times. He used it to aid in blackmailing me. When he asked me for money, I did not feel like refusing him, for he could throw me down hard by turning the foil over to Merriwell. But he carried the thing too far.

"One night when I was in a bad mood he tried to squeeze more money out of me. He had been living in luxury for some time, while I was broke almost continually. I kicked and refused to give up. Then he had the insolence to threaten me with exposure. I lost my head and choked him.

Directly after that he turned like a viper and blowed everything to Merriwell. That was my downfall. I had to skip. Is there any reason why I should not hate the sneak?"

"No, I do not wonder that you are sore on him; but he did not make anything out of the trick."

"Didn't make anything! Why, he forced me out of college!"

"That was not the main thing he was looking for."

"Then what was?"

"He hoped to get in with Merriwell, and he fancied Merriwell would think him a fine fellow for blowing."

"Well?"

"Well, he made a mistake in Frank Merriwell, for Merriwell despised him all the more, although he did nothing to injure Ditson. He does not recognize Ditson at all, and now Ditson is more eager than before to do Merriwell an injury."

"All the same, Ditson can't be trusted."

"Not unless he is so deep in the game that it means ruin for him to blow. Then he is caught. As I said in the first place, he is a good man to do the dirty work that we do not want to touch."

"I think Harris is right," nodded Harlow, "and you may get a chance to even up with Ditson by throwing him down when we have fixed Merriwell nicely."