"FOR THE HONOR OF OLD YALE."
The order was filled, the whiskey was brought. It was placed on the table at which Frank sat. He stared at it in surprise.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Why, sir, it's the whiskey you ordered," answered the waiter.
"Whiskey?" said Merriwell, in a dazed way. "Did I order that?"
"Yes, sir."
He paid for it.
Later, when a gay party dropped in, he was sitting at that table, with the untasted whiskey before him. He sat there staring and scowling at the table, but paid no attention to any one. The expression on his face made him look like anything but his old jolly self.
No one spoke to him. Newcomers drank, joked, laughed and went out. Still he sat there, scowling and staring at the table.
The report spread that Merriwell had been cut by his old friends. Curious ones strolled in and ordered a drink just to get a look at him. He seemed quite unaware of this.
Never in his life had Frank tasted whiskey, but for one moment he had weakened and thought of easing the blow to his pride by resorting to the stuff.
Merriwell was human, but still that weakness lasted no more than a moment. Then he came to himself, and he was ashamed to think that he had contemplated such a course. It seemed cowardly.
"They say I am a coward," he thought; "but I am not a coward enough for that."
For more than an hour he sat there at the table. Finally he seemed to come out of the stupor that had seized upon him.
"Waiter," he called.
His voice was calm and natural, the scowl had vanished from his face, and he was himself once more.
"Waiter, you may remove this whiskey and bring me a lemon-seltzer. I don't care for this stuff."
When this order was filled, he calmly drank the lemon-seltzer, paid for it, rose to his feet, pulled on his gloves, and left Morey's with an air of combined nonchalance and dignity.
He was his own master once more. He had been insulted by fellows he formerly believed friends, but he was still Frank Merriwell. He felt within himself that he was a man and the equal of the best of them. Some day they should be ashamed when they remembered their act. He felt confident that day would come.
That night he slept as peacefully as a child, and arose in the morning refreshed and undisturbed. He would not permit his mind to dwell on what had happened, but resolutely set himself at his studies.
Those who had thought Merriwell, having once been so popular, would be crushed, soon found out their mistake. He was calm, quiet, and dignified. He did not seek the society of his fellows, but seemed the same old Merriwell to those who came to him. He was perfect in his recitations. He attended the gym., as usual, taking his daily exercise. He paid not the least attention to sneering words and scornful looks.
Frank's bitterest enemies were dissatisfied. They had fancied he would be utterly broken by his downfall, and they could not understand his dignity and disregard for public opinion.
Those who had reluctantly turned against him were impressed by his strength of spirit and dignity. He carried about him an air of manliness that won their admiration, despite themselves.
But every one had not turned against him. Bruce Browning was stanch and true, although he fiercely berated Merriwell for his course.
Harry Rattleton tried to remain unchanged, and never a word of reproach did he utter, no matter what he thought.
Jack Diamond did not say anything, but it was because he could not trust himself to speak. In his heart he felt like punching Frank and whipping his enemies and traducers; but he knew enough to let Merry alone.
Halliday held aloof. He was thoroughly disgusted with Merriwell. At first he said as much, and then he became silent and would say nothing at all.
So the days went by. Frank called on Inza, but did not mention what had happened. He had thought of telling her everything, and then he decided that it would do no good, and he would tell her nothing. It was too late for him to change his course, and it could do no good to talk it over. He preferred not to think about it.
The football team continued to practice and get ready for the great game at Cambridge. It was said that Harvard had the strongest eleven put on the field by her in five years. Her games with the higher teams had shown she was "out for blood." There was doubt and uncertainty in the Yale camp.
Ott, Marline's substitute, was not satisfactory. Those who understood the situation best said that an injury to Marline early in the game would ruin Yale's prospects.
The anxiety increased as the day of the game approached. Some claimed the eleven had not been properly trained, others asserted they had been overtrained.
From Frank Merriwell's manner one could not have suspected he had ever taken the slightest interest in football. He did not seem to know anything of the general gossip.
It was the night before the game. Merry had been studying. He was alone in his room. At last, feeling exhausted, he flung open the window and looked out.
It was a perfect night, cold, clear and light. The sky was filled with stars. From across the campus came the sound of a rollicking song.
Directly beneath Frank's window was a group of students who were excitedly discussing something. Their words attracted Merriwell's attention.
"It's settled," said the voice of Paul Pierson. "Yale will not be in the game for a minute. What can a team do without a first-class full-back?"
"Isn't there a chance that Marline's ankle will be all right in time for the game?" asked another of the group.
"Not a chance," positively asserted Pierson. "The doctor says he'll not step on it for three days, at least. It is a bad sprain."
"Such beastly luck!" growled Randy Robinson. "Now if Merriwell——"
"Don't speak of that fellow," exclaimed two or three.
"He is the only hope for Yale," declared Pierson. "Ott isn't in it for a minute. Frank Merriwell must be appealed to for the honor of old Yale."
"Who'll appeal to him?"
"I will, if they'll give me authority. I know he will play when he understands the situation."
Merriwell drew in his head and closed the window. His face was pale. Up and down the floor he walked.
"For the honor of old Yale!" he muttered.
Then he suddenly cried:
"For the honor of old Yale I will do anything!"
Then came a knock on his door.