Frank Merriwells Races | Page 9

more of the same just come fooling around my horse!"
He caught the man by the shoulders, yanked him to his feet, ran him to
the door, and booted him out of the stable.
Having done this, Frank turned back and coolly put on his coat.
"There, Grody," he said, "I feel better. I think it is possible I have given
that rascal a lesson he will not forget in a hurry."
The hostler stared, and then he cried:
"Mr. Merriwell, sir, you are a wonder! If as how you were to go inter
ther ring you'd make some of the duffers hustle. That were the neatest
job what I ever see!"
"It was not so much of a trick," declared Frank. "The fellow is strong,
I'll warrant, but he is too heavy on his feet and too slow in his
movements. There are scores of fellows in college who can polish him
off."

"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 scrapper."
"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," asserted 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 button 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