CHAPTER I. A BLOW BY FATE.

Biff—thump!

“Oh, what a soaker!”

“Go at him, Rattleton!”

“Don’t let him knock you up against the door like that.”

Biff! biff!—thump!

“There you go again!”

“Oh, jose your claw—I mean close your jaw!” panted Harry Rattleton, as he ducked and escaped a left-hand swing from Frank Merriwell, with whom he was boxing in the room of the latter at Yale. “You fellows are not in this!”

“You’re not in it, either,” lazily laughed Bruce Browning, who was half sitting, half reclining on the couch, watching the boxing bout and smoking a pipe at the same time.

“Well, you weren’t such a much when you got up against Merriwell that time you tried to do him,” snapped Rattleton, backing out as Frank slowly followed him up.

“That’s ancient history,” declared the big fellow. “But Merriwell found me a pretty warm baby!”

6 “Get up and try him now!” cried Harry. “I’ll bet he’ll bang you all over the room before you touch him.”

“Thanks!” grinned Bruce. “I’ve quit the ring. I’m not looking for pugilistic glory any more.”

“Stand up to him, Rattleton,” advised Diamond. “You do too much running away.”

“Oh, you know!” flung back Rattleton. “You’ve had your turn, too, and you wasn’t so good.”

“You can’t do anything with him if you don’t try to hit him,” said Bart Hodge, who was sitting astride a chair in the corner.

“More thanks! If you’ll put the gloves on, I’ll guarantee you will not hit him any oftener than I have. I believe he gave you a dose of medicine once on a time. I’m the only fellow in the room who hasn’t been punched in earnest by him. You chaps are good talkers, but—— No you don’t.”

Then he went under Frank’s arm like a cat, giving Merry a sharp jab in the ribs.

“Keep it up.”

“Well, that wasn’t so worse!” yawned Browning.

But Frank whirled swiftly and followed Harry, sparring for an opening, which he quickly got.

Biff! biff!—bang!

“Oh, my!” gurgled Harry. “That last one was on the nose! She’s beginning to bleed! I’m knocked out!”

He flung off the boxing gloves and got out his handkerchief in a hurry, for the blow on his nose had started the blood.

7 “Didn’t mean to hit you hard enough for that, Rattles,” said Frank, apologetically.

“Don’t mention it,” grinned Rattleton. “It’s nothing much. I don’t mind a little thing like that.”

Frank took off his gloves and hung the set up, after which he quickly set the room in order.

Rattleton’s nose bled very little, and he soon recovered.

“It seems to me you are worse than ever since your trip into Maine, Merriwell,” said Harry. “You’ll be a swift one on the football team this fall.”

“I shall not give much time to football,” Frank declared.

“No?” shouted Rattleton, Diamond and Hodge.

“Is that so?” grunted Browning. “You talked like that last fall, and you know what came of it. You had to get into gear in order to save Old Eli from being thrown down.”

Merriwell nodded.

“I know all about that; but it seems to me that I have done my part in the way of upholding the honor of Old Eli, and there should be somebody to fill my place by this time.”

“Why do you want anybody to fill your place?” asked Hodge.

“The time has come for me to study. Fooling must be dropped.”

“The time has come for you to ease up on your studies,” said Diamond. “You know the first year or two are the hardest in college.”

“Yes; but I have some ambitions for class honors. I8 have managed to scrub right along so far, but I’ve got to make a change.”

Browning straightened up a little.

“I don’t think you can do it, Merriwell,” he said, seriously. “You have made a record as an athlete, and you will be expected to stand by it. Your attempt last year should convince you that you can’t make such a rank change. You stand well with the professors, and you will pull out near the head of your class, anyway. What’s the use to look for too much?”

“I am beginning to realize what is ahead of me, gentlemen,” came soberly from Frank. “My mother is dead, my father is—I know not where. Although I am generally supposed to be independently rich, I have but a small fortune, which was left me by my uncle. I can’t live on that and do nothing; I wouldn’t if I could. I must go out into the world and hustle. Thus far I have not even decided what I will do when it is necessary for me to go to work. Most fellows have this all settled before they go to college. Thus far with me, for the most part, life has been a holiday. Now I realize that it must be something different in the future. I have not got a foolish notion in my head that as soon as I leave college and go out into the world large city newspapers will eagerly offer me editorial positions, bankers will be yearning to take me into their banks, and large salaries for short hours will be thrust at me on every side. In most things influence counts, and it is a fact that the man with a pull and a fair stock of brains generally

gets ahead of the man with no pull and heavy brain power. I shall9 have no pull; but in its place I hope to use considerable push. If I do not land on top in time it will not be my fault.”

“You’ve been struck with one of your serious spells, that’s what’s the matter with you!” cried Rattleton. “Don’t get worried. You’ve had lots of sport this summer. Wish I might have taken that trip into Maine. Next summer——”

“Who can tell what next summer may bring?” said Frank, in a manner that added to the astonishment of his friends. “Before that time some great change may alter all our plans.”

There was a rap on the door.

“Come,” called Frank.

The door opened.

“Lettah, sah,” said the colored man who thrust his head in at the door.

Frank took it, and the colored man disappeared.

“It’s from Prof. Scotch,” he said, and then he laid it on the table.

Prof. Scotch was Frank’s old teacher and guardian.

Three times Frank walked up and down the room. He paused and looked around. It was a pleasant, well-furnished room. There were handsome pictures on the walls, there were foils, boxing gloves, tennis rackets and so forth. There also were strange curios from many lands, all gathered by Frank himself.

This room was like home to Frank. He loved it for its associations. Some day he must leave it, but what10 pleasant memories of his college days he would carry away.

Watching him his friends saw the strange expression on his face, and they knew not what to make of the change in him. He stopped by the table and picked up the letter.

“Excuse me while I read it, please,” he said.

“Of course,” they cried.

Then he tore it open and read it. They saw his face grow pale and his hand tremble, while his breast heaved. He read to the end, and then he lifted his eyes to his friends.

“What is it?” cried Bart Hodge, in apprehension. “Bad news, Merry?”

“Fellows,” said Frank, hoarsely, “my career at Yale is ended! I am ruined!”

They leaped to their feet.

“Ruined?” gasped Diamond. “What do you mean?”

“My fortune is lost! Prof. Scotch, my guardian, has speculated with my money, and lost every dollar! I am a beggar!”

CHAPTER II. FAREWELL TO YALE.

Like wildfire spread the report that Frank Merriwell was going to leave college. In an hour it seemed that all Yale knew it. There was consternation in the dormitories11 and on the campus. Students gathered in groups to talk of it. Everyone seemed to regard it as a great calamity.

Charlie Creighton was perched on the fence, looking as if he had just buried his last friend. Paul Pierson came along.

“Awful, isn’t it?” asked Pierson.

“Terrible!” said Creighton.

“Have you seen him?”

“No; I’m waiting till I can do so without slopping over and making a fool of myself.”

“What will Old Eli do without him?”

“Give it up. Why, the professors have heard of it, and they positively refuse to believe it. Look at those chaps over there in that group. There are Benson and some of the fellows who were supposed to be Merriwell’s enemies. Just came by them, and every man is saying it’s a thundering shame.”

“I don’t believe Merriwell has a real enemy in the college.”

Bink Stubbs came up. Usually Bink was grinning and cracking jokes. Now he did not say a word, but leaned against the fence with his hands in his pockets and kicked the ground with his toe.

Lewis Little joined the group. Lewis was a mild sort of chap generally, but when asked how he felt, he said he’d like to punch the stuffing out of somebody.

Halliday, Griswold and Puss Parker came up in a bunch.

“I tell you it is a practical joke!” Parker was saying.12 “Somebody has put up this job. I won’t believe Merriwell is going to leave college.”

“He’s forced to leave,” said Halliday. “I saw the letter from his guardian in which Scotch confesses that he has squandered every dollar of Merry’s fortune.”

“How did the old fool do it?”

“In some kind of a wild-cat mining scheme. That is, the most of it was sunk in that, although old Scotch confesses that he tried to retrieve by plunging in stocks.”

“Well, I’m sorry for Merriwell,” sighed Griswold.

“Really, my deah boys, I don’t know that I am sorry, don’t yer ’now,” broke in a voice, and Willis Paulding, a pronounced Anglomaniac, joined the group.

“Oh, you’re not?” snarled Lewis Little, who had the reputation of never speaking an angry word or doing an angry act.

“No, really, I am not,” said Paulding. “Mr. Merriwell flew altogether too high, don’t yer ’now. This will take him down considerable.”

“And this will take you down a trifle!” grated Little, as he struck Paulding with all his strength, knocking him down instantly.

The others immediately closed about the two, and Willis was quickly lifted to his feet, where he stood trembling and pressing a snowy handkerchief to the bruise between his eyes.

“Sir,” he said, his voice trembling, “you are no gentleman! By Jawve! I think I shall report that you assaulted me on the campus!”

“Report and be—hanged!” retorted Little, contemptuously.13 “But take my advice and close up about Frank Merriwell, or you will get your face broken. No man can say anything against him in my presence!”

Paulding was the only man rash enough to make a public statement of satisfaction over the misfortune that had befallen Merriwell, and even he did not repeat it. If there were any others who really rejoiced at Frank’s bad luck, they kept still.

Merry decided to leave as soon as possible, and he set about packing up his goods without delay. In this work he was assisted by such friends as Rattleton, Diamond and Hodge. Browning started to help, but he stumbled like one dazed, and was so much in the way that he was asked to sit down and keep still, which he did, looking thoroughly ill for once in his life.

The door was locked to keep out the friendly throng that kept coming up to express regret. It was opened for one person, who knocked on the door and called out till Frank recognized his voice. Prof. Such came stumbling into the room and nearly fell over one of the chests.

“Er—er—Mr. Merriwell,” said the near-sighted little professor, looking from one to the other till he found Frank, “is it—can it be true?”

“Yes, Prof. Such,” said Frank, “I must leave at once. You see we are packing my stuff!”

“Oh, dear!” said the little man, his voice trembling. “I am very sorry! I shall miss you, Mr. Merriwell—we’ll all miss you. Perhaps you will not mind if I speak frankly now. I have thought a great deal of you, sir. I have seen in you one of the brightest young men it has14 ever been my fortune to deal with here. You were very promising. Never before have I known a young man who was able to do the many things you accomplished and still rank so remarkably well in his classes. I believe you are phenomenal in that line. And now you are going to leave us! What will you do?”

“That is something I cannot tell, professor. If my guardian has told the whole truth, I shall go to work to earn my living, and make my way in the world.”

“And you will succeed—I am sure you will, Mr. Merriwell!” declared the little man. “You are built of the right stuff. You have succeeded in everything to which you have turned your hand since coming to college, and you will succeed in the battle of life. If your fortune is really lost, you are now at the foot of the ladder. By your own efforts you will mount upward a step at a time till the top is reached. If you should slip, don’t give up the struggle, but cling and fight your way upward.”

“Prof. Such,” said Frank, “your illustration is a good one, and I shall not forget your kindly advice. Hereafter I shall think of myself as climbing upward on the ladder of life. I thank you, sir.”

“No thanks, young man. Your hand.”

Their hands met, and there was a strange quiver on the professor’s face as he tried to look up at Frank.

“Excuse me,” he said; “excuse me, but my eyes—my spectacles are blurred. I’ll have to wipe them. I can’t see you very well, and I want to take a good look at you before you go.”

He wiped his spectacles and adjusted them, after which15 he stared at Merry several seconds. Then he nodded his head, saying:

“It’s all right. You have the right kind of chin, and your face shows determination. There is a cast of firmness about your mouth. You will not be easily daunted. I think you will reach the top of the ladder, Mr. Merriwell. I wish you good fortune in every undertaking. Good-by, my boy—good-by!”

Then the little professor turned, as if fearful of remaining longer or saying any more, and hurried from the room.

Every one of the boys were profoundly affected by this scene. Frank the most of them all.

Later Merriwell appeared on the campus, and the students gathered about him by hundreds at the fence, all eager to shake his hand and wish him good luck. Never before had there been an impromptu demonstration of this character that could compare with this. Some of the manly young fellows actually wept, although they tried to hide it, and Frank himself dashed moisture from his eyes more than once, while his voice failed him many times.

Lib Benson, a big, broad-shouldered freshman, who had been the leader of Merry’s freshmen foes, forced his way to a spot where he could grasp Frank’s hand.

“Merriwell,” he said, huskily, “I hope you aren’t ashamed to shake hands with me. I know I’ve been a mean cuss—I know it! I’ve tried to hurt you when I had no reason for doing so, and you’ve always used me white. I hope you won’t hold a grudge against me, Merriwell.16 I want to say right here, before everybody, that I’ve always been in the wrong, and you’ve always been right. You’re the whitest man I ever saw! Good-by, Merriwell! Good luck go with——”

Then Lib Benson choked, broke down completely, and made a rush to get away, tears dropping from his eyes as he held his head down with shame.

There were other scenes like this.

Frank bade the professors good-by.

That afternoon he was escorted to the train by five hundred students, who marched in silence and looked as solemn as if they were going to a funeral.

It was over at last. Dear old Yale was left behind—forever!

CHAPTER III. ON THE WAY HOME.

It was a sad homeward journey for Frank Merriwell. After his trip into Maine he had not found time to visit his home before returning to college. In fact, he had seen very little of Bloomfield in recent years. It had not been the home of his mother, but of his uncle. His mother, however, was buried in the quiet little country cemetery at Bloomfield, and he kept thinking of her as he drew nearer home and wondering if her grave had always been cared for as he had directed. Whenever he had visited it he had found it perfectly kept.

Not many persons in Bloomfield were well acquainted17 with Frank. They had known his crusty old uncle, who had few friends, and it was but natural for them to fancy that the nephew must be somewhat like the uncle, therefore they had not desired his acquaintance. Frank was glad of this, as he approached the place he had called home, for he thought there would not be so many persons to express condolence and ask questions.

He sat alone in the car as the train flew through the twilight and night came down over the brown world. It was a beautiful world. He realized that as he gazed sadly out of the window, but now he, who a short time before had been surrounded by so many friends, felt like an outcast and a wanderer on the face of the earth.

In his bosom was a swelling homesickness for dear old Yale and the friends he had left. He had been torn in one moment almost from those friends and the associations that had become so dear to him. Just when life was looking the fairest the blow had fallen.

Some hearts might have been numbed, some spirits might have been broken; not so with Frank Merriwell. For one moment the thought that life really was not worth living forced itself in upon him, and then he banished it in haste and shame.

He looked up at the sky as the train sped along. High up the clouds had a dull, leaden hue, and were somber and gloomy. Lower down they grew lighter and tinged with color, till they lay bright and golden on the western horizon. It seemed to Frank that the black clouds overshadowing him now must give way to golden ones in the future.

18 It is the stout heart that looks forward to a bright future that finds real happiness in life.

Merry realized that the time had come when he must fight his own way in the world. It had come suddenly and unexpectedly, and had not found him fully prepared for the emergency, but, nevertheless, he faced it without flinching.

Now he remembered how for some time he had been troubled by a foreboding of impending calamity. It had made him moody and so much unlike his usual gay self that his friends had wondered.

When they had started to plan what they would do on the return of another summer vacation, he had stopped them, saying the circle might be broken before that time.

He had been determined to study hard and fit himself for graduation on his return to college, and not even the influence of his many friends could have changed that determination had he remained in Yale to the end of the course.

Night shut down as the train sped on. The lamps within the cars were lighted, but Frank sat with his face pressed against the window, looking out toward the west where a faint streak of golden light lingered in the sky.

He was thinking of Prof. Scotch now. The professor’s letter had indicated that the unfortunate man was nearly distracted, and Merriwell dreaded the meeting between them. There was no bitterness in his heart and no thought of making his speculating guardian suffer for the criminal mismanagement of his fortune.

Frank knew that Prof. Scotch had not been adapted for19 the position of responsibility and trust imposed upon him by Asher Merriwell. During active life Frank’s uncle had been regarded as unusually shrewd in all his moves, but old age had brought failing abilities, and, happening to take a strong fancy to Merry’s professor at Fardale Academy, where he had studied, he appointed him Frank’s guardian.

The professor had found it necessary to give much of his attention to the management of Frank’s property. At first he had been cautious enough, but in Bloomfield was a man, Darius Conrad, who was interested in Western mining property, and Scotch became very friendly with this Conrad.

Darius Conrad was a rascal, but he had made money and escaped prison, so he was regarded in Bloomfield as a smart business man. He was away a great deal, and, when he became concerned in the Golden Peaks Mining and Smelting Company, it was said that he was destined to become one of the richest men in the country.