Frank Merriwell's Races Part 40

"Yes--Thornton."

"He doesn't count, for he lacks nerve."

"Whom do you mean?"

"Harris does not love you."

"It will be a long time before Sport Harris will venture to lift a hand against me again, for the memory of the fate of his comrade, Hartwick, is too vivid before him. Hartwick brought disgrace and ruin on himself by trying to injure me. He was forced to leave college, and then, when he came back to New Haven and put up that race-track job on me, he finished his own downfall by robbing his father in order that he might have a sum of money to stake against me, feeling sure I must lose.

Directly after that race he was arrested."

"What was done about that matter? Was he sent to prison?"

"No; his father would not press the case; but I have heard that the old man's heart is broken by Hartwick's actions. The worthless rascal was the apple of the old man's eye. His father had expected to see him go through college and graduate with flying colors. The disgrace has bowed the father with grief, and it is said he cannot live long."

"Then Hartwick will get all his money."

"No. The old man has made a will that cuts Evan off with a very small sum. The rest of the money and estate goes to other relatives and to charity."

"And Evan Hartwick brought all this on himself by his dastardly attempts to injure you. It should be a warning to others."

"It is an old saying that 'the way of the transgressor is hard,' but it seems to take human beings a long time to become convinced that it is absolutely true."

Frank kept his eyes open, and waited for the second warning, which he felt sure would come.

He was not mistaken, for it came near night.

A boy appeared at Frank's door, and handed over a sealed envelope, which he explained he had received from a man with a heavy beard. He said he had been paid a quarter of a dollar to deliver it.

Frank tore it open and read:

"You will be invited to go to the theatre to-night. Do not go. Your enemies will be on the watch for you."

"Oh. I knew it was coming!" cried Frank, scornfully. "It is a flimsy trick! It actually disgusts me!"

Harry was out, and Merriwell was alone.

Later Harry came in, accompanied by Diamond, Browning, Griswold and Creighton.

"I say, old man," cried Charlie Creighton, addressing Frank, "we have something on for to-night, and we want you to take a hand."

"You may take a few rotten eggs or decayed vegetables with that hand, if you like," grinned Griswold.

Frank remembered the second warning. Of the party Creighton was the only fellow he did not know very well, and, if there was an enemy among them, Creighton must be the man.

Frank resolved to show no suspicion.

"What's up?" he asked.

"To-night," cried Griswold, dramatically, "the curtain will go up on one of the greatest tragedies ever enacted on any stage--nit!"

"Hush!" whispered Creighton, mysteriously. "Whisper it softly. 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' is in town, with two _Little Evas_, two _Marks_, three real Siberian bloodhounds, bred in New Jersey, and a jacka.s.s."

"The jacka.s.s is the manager of the company," grinned Griswold.

"I presume you have heard of that immortal play, 'Uncle Tom's Cabin,'

Mr. Merriwell?" questioned Creighton.

"Methinks I have," a.s.sured Frank.

"'Methinks' is good," nodded Creighton. "It has a fat sound."

"Eh?" grunted Browning, who already had deposited his corpulent body on the couch. "Did anybody speak to me?"

"Ah, Mr. Browning," said Creighton, "I think you said as we were coming along that you have had the pleasure of seeing 'Uncle Tom's Cabin'?"

"Yes, I said so."

"Then permit me to inquire if you have ever seen 'Ten Nights in a Barroom'?"

"No," grunted Bruce; "but I have seen ten barrooms in a night."

"Here, hold up!" cried Griswold, promptly. "That belongs to me, and I have used it on everybody I could hit with it."

"Never mind," murmured Browning. "It is a good thing, so we'll have to move it along."

"Seriously," said Diamond, "there is a crummy 'Uncle Tom's Cabin'

company at a cheap theatre in town, and Creighton has purchased a box.

He wants us to go along."

"That's the idea," acknowledged Charlie. "All the fellows are onto it, and there will be two or three hundred Yale boys there. We won't do a thing to the hamfatters!"

Frank smiled. He saw that it would be an opportunity for any amount of sport he was sure, and the mere thought of it made him eager to go.

But he remembered the warning. It was most remarkable that the invitation to the theatre had followed so closely after the receipt of the note from the unknown.

"Of course you'll go, old fellow?" cried Creighton, who saw that Merriwell was hesitating.

"Of course he will!" cried Rattleton. "Merry is always in for a little racket of this sort."

"He is always foremost in anything of the kind," said Diamond.

"That is why I want him in my box," smiled Creighton. "Oh, we won't do a thing in that box--not a thing! I have ordered plenty of fizz on ice, and--oh, but you do not drink fizz, do you, Merriwell?"

"No," said Frank; "but I am no temperance crank, and I do not make myself offensive by trying to convince everybody else that men who do drink are fools. College lads should have brains enough to know what they want and what they do not want, and it is impertinent for any fellow to go around trying to make Good Templars of men who enjoy a gla.s.s of beer or wine now and then."

Creighton impulsively grasped Frank's hand.

"Merriwell," he cried, "by example you are the best possible temperance lecture, and you will make more converts by keeping still than by preaching."