Frank Merriwell's Champions Part 45

But, on this occasion, Frank was to discover it was not such an easy thing to keep a determined girl and a good tennis player from defeating him.

With as much freshness and vigor as if she had not been so long at work, Mabel received the ball, returning it with a smas.h.i.+ng stroke, upon which she risked everything.

Frank was not looking for such a play at the very start, and it took him slightly off his guard. He got the ball on the bound, but drove it out of bounds, and lost the first point with surprising quickness.

"He's going to lose the set!" muttered Hodge, disconsolately.

f.a.n.n.y Darling laughed merrily.

"Of course he is!" she cried. "Why, he isn't in it!"

The game went forward swiftly, but Frank won the second point by "lobbying," being able to toss the ball over the girl's head so she could not get back to receive it.

"He's getting desperate when he resorts to that style of play," decided Diamond.

f.a.n.n.y Darling gave a shriek of laughter.

"Oh, my goodness!" she cried. "Did you see that, girls? That's all the way he can get a point now! He's afraid to try a drive! Is this the mighty Frank Merriwell, of whom we have heard so much? Oh, my! oh, my!"

Frank joined in the burst of laughter.

"Miss Creighton has me guessing," he confessed. "I acknowledge I fell back on what seemed my last and only resort."

"It's too bad to laugh like that, Fan," protested Lucy Lake. "Just see what a gentleman he is, and how honest he is in owning up that Mabel is giving him a close game."

"Too bad!" mocked f.a.n.n.y. "Oh, I don't know! He's altogether too honest!

Nothing seems to ruffle or disturb him. I don't like a fellow who is so cool. I'd give anything if I could get Frank Merriwell real good and mad."

"Why do you wish to do that?"

"Oh, just for fun! I'd like to prove that he can lose his temper occasionally."

On the very next play Frank succeeded in winning another point by placing the ball skillfully, which made the score stand thirty-fifteen, in his favor.

Hodge brightened up.

"Oh, Merry has been fooling all along," he declared. "You'll see how easy he will pull off the set, Miss Darling. He hasn't cared to hurt Miss Creighton's feelings by showing her up."

"Indeed!" scornfully returned the saucy little witch with the freckled face. "Don't count your chickens so soon. Mr. Merriwell won't melt things."

Mabel Creighton looked doubly determined as she again prepared to serve.

Her eyes measured the distance to the net carefully, and though she made a fault by placing her first ball against the top of the net, she sent the next over with a speedy drive.

In a moment Merry was on it, and he made a handsome return, which, however, did not deceive the girl in the least. Mabel volleyed, and Frank was forced to resort to the same play. For some moments the game was highly exciting, and the spectators gasped for breath. Then the girl smashed one down within three inches of the outside line, and Frank's return was outside, so the score was evened.

"Oh, I knew it!" chattered f.a.n.n.y Darling. "I'll bet a pound of Huyler's that Mr. Frank Merriwell does not make another count."

"Done!" cried Hodge.

"Oh, say, isn't this easy, girls?" laughed f.a.n.n.y. "It's a perfect snap!"

"For us," smiled Bessie Blossom. "We'll have some of that candy who ever wins."

The next point was scored by Mabel, and Diamond called:

"You must quit fooling, Merry, old man. It's forty-thirty, and she wins if you do not tie her this time."

"I shall do my best," declared Frank.

He did do his best, and it seemed that he would tire the girl out, but he was not successful, and a final daring drive from Mabel's racket was successful.

She had won the game and the set.

"Well, Merriwell, I must say you are a good thing!" called a laughing voice. "I didn't suppose you would let a little girl like that get the best of you at anything."

It was Charlie Creighton himself who had entered the grounds, and was standing near the tennis court, accompanied by a stranger.

The latter was a stocky-built lad of nineteen or twenty, with thin lips and a hard-set jaw, besides having a large neck that swelled at the base. He was dressed in clothes that fitted him perfectly, but were a trifle "loud" or "sporty," to say the least.

"Yes, I am a good thing," returned Frank, also laughing; "and your sister has enjoyed herself with me immensely. If you taught her to play tennis, Creighton, she does you credit."

"Oh," cried f.a.n.n.y Darling, "now that Mr. Merriwell is defeated, I suppose he will say it is not polite to win from a girl, and so he did not do his best. That makes me tired!"

"I shall say nothing of the sort, Miss Darling," declared Merry, with unfailing good-nature. "I tell you honestly that I soon discovered I would not be in the game at all if I loafed, and I did my prettiest. I think I played my average game, and I know that Miss Creighton defeated me without receiving any favors."

"Really, you astonish me!" said f.a.n.n.y, who did not seem pleased by this confession. "But I see you are inclined to be diplomatic. I don't blame you, but--"

She interrupted herself with a toss of her head, and she had hinted quite enough to bring the hot blood to Frank's cheeks, although he pretended not to understand her meaning.

Generous to a fault, it cut Merriwell deeply to be suspected of declaring he had been beaten fairly and not meaning it. A blow in the face would not have hurt him so much, but he simply smiled, saying:

"You do me an injustice, Miss Darling."

No one understood how Frank had been touched better than Bart Hodge, and he growled under his breath, giving f.a.n.n.y Darling a scowl, which she did not see.

The stranger with Charlie Creighton was sizing up Merriwell in an open manner that was little short of insolent.

"Merry," called Creighton, "permit me to introduce Mr. Wallace Hegner-Mr. Hegner, Mr. Merriwell."

Frank came forward, and offered his hand, which Hegner accepted with an air that was rather supercilious, to say the least.

"How do you do, Mr. Hegner?" said Frank. "I'm always pleased to meet any of Creighton's friends."

"How are yer?" said Hegner.

The touch of the fellow's hand gave Merry a feeling of repulsion. He dropped it almost instantly.

"Mr. Hegner is Burk's trainer, you know," explained Creighton. "You remember what I was telling you last night about Hank Burk going against Tom Jackson?"