Frank Merriwells Races | Page 6

near the boy and the horse, he suddenly
reined toward Frank with the intention of running into Merriwell's
mount.

In another moment there might have been a grand smash there on the
road, but Frank had caught the words "Run him down!" and he gave
Nemo a light cut with the whip, at the same time pulling him still
farther into the ditch.
Nemo was not used to the whip, and he leaped like a flash. Such a
spring would have unseated any but a most expert rider, but the boy in
the saddle seemed to move as a part of the horse. Into the ditch they
went, and past them spun the carriage containing the two reckless
young men.
The carriage came very near upsetting. It careened and spun along on
two wheels, threatening to hurl its occupants into the ditch, for the
driver had reined the horse back toward the middle of the road. Both
clung on for life.
"Don't blame me!" muttered Merriwell, through his teeth. "You were
looking for a smash."
But the carriage did not go over; it righted at last. One of the young
men looked back and shook his fist at the boy on the horse, and then
away they went in a cloud of dust.
"If that was not Evan Hartwick, I am greatly mistaken!" exclaimed
Frank, as he reined Nemo back into the road. "So he is back here as
soon as this? I know what that means. He is looking for revenge on
me."
Frank had seen the face of the driver as the carriage spun past, and he
added:
"Hartwick's companion is somebody I know. I did not obtain a fair look
at him, but--great Scott! it was the card sharp, Rolf Harlow!"
Harlow was a fellow who had entered Harvard, but had not completed
his second year there, leaving suddenly for reasons not generally
known.

A Yale man by the name of Harris, familiarly known as "Sport,"
because of his gambling inclinations, had known Harlow, and had
introduced him to a number of Yale students.
Harris and Harlow were both poker players, but they claimed that they
played the game "merely for amusement."
A number of Harris' acquaintances had been induced to enter into the
game, and there had been some very "hot sittings."
No one seemed to suspect that Harlow was crooked, for he almost
always lost, although he never lost large sums.
Harris won almost continually. He seemed to be the luckiest fellow in
the world in drawing cards. He would hold up one ace on a large
jackpot and catch two more aces and a small pair. It seemed the
greatest kind of "bull luck."
Harry Rattleton, Merriwell's roommate, was following the game. Frank
tried to induce him to keep away, but it was without avail.
Then Frank seemed to take an interest in the game, and it was not long
before he proved that Harlow was a card manipulator, and caught him
at one of his tricks.
That finished Harlow's career at plucking Yale "fruit," and the fellow
left New Haven suddenly.
Harris had remained under a cloud of suspicion since that time, as there
seemed very little doubt but he had been in league with Harlow, and
they had divided the plunder between them.
The proof had not been sufficient to incriminate Harris, but it had been
enough to make him unpopular and cause him to be shunned.
He had seemed to take this very meekly, but some of Merriwell's
friends declared that Harris had not forgotten or forgiven, and that he
would strike back at Frank if the opportunity ever presented.

Now Harlow was back in New Haven, and Hartwick, who had been
forced to leave college to escape expulsion, was also there.
That meant something.
"Hartwick, Harlow and Harris--the three hard tickets. They are birds of
a feather. All they need is Ditson to make a most delectable quartet!"
So muttered Frank Merriwell, as he gazed at the receding cloud of dust.
Frank began to realize that there was more trouble in store for him.
"I shall not deal gently with that gang this time," he declared, with a
hard-set face. "This little adventure has put me on my guard, and I don't
propose to let them have much fun with me. Those two fools were just
full enough to drive right into me with the hope of doing me an injury,
without a thought of their own necks. They might have been thrown out
and killed, but they did not hesitate because of that. The one thought
was to do me some way--any way. Hartwick always was a desperate
fellow, but I did not fancy Harlow could be such a chap. However, he
was driving that horse, and the way he drove was