Presently the mine owner arose, and, as he did so, the talk and laughter ceased and silence fell.
“Gentlemen,” he began slowly. “I have asked you here to-night to meet a young friend of mine. To many of you his name is well known as that of the best amateur pitcher in the country. Most of you had a chance of seeing his work this afternoon, when he pitched nine hard innings with as perfect form and most wonderful display of headwork that I have ever seen—and entirely with his left arm. His right was injured, and I should like to tell you how.”
He paused. The smile had left his face and his eyes were deep with feeling.
“In the mine this morning there was a premature explosion of a blast,” he went on. “I was caught by the falling rock and pinned to the ground, unable to stir. As I lay there on my back, I saw a great mass poised above me, loosened from the top of the tunnel, ready to fall at a breath and crush the life out of me. My friend, here, saw it too, and knew that he was risking almost certain death when he sprang to my assistance and began to drag the rocks off me.
“I begged him to go and leave me. It seemed useless for us both to perish. Of course, he refused. The rock began to move. I shrieked to him to go back, but he did not answer. The next instant he caught me up and dragged me back just as the mass fell. There had not been a second to spare. He had saved me at the risk of his own life.”
The mine owner paused again, and one hand rested affectionately on the Yale man’s shoulder. Then he leaned forward and took up a brimming wine glass.
“Gentlemen,” he said slowly, as he held it up, “I drink to Dick Merriwell, the gamest pitcher, the truest sport, the bravest man I know.”
Like one man, the company rose, holding their glasses high. As with one voice the shout of “Merriwell—Dick Merriwell!” made the rafters ring; and they drank the toast standing. Then they subsided into their chairs, and in the silence which followed, Dick pushed back his chair and stood up slowly.
His face was flushed, his eyes bright and, as he looked down that long line of friendly faces, something clutched his throat. For a moment he could not utter a word.
“Thank you,” he stammered huskily. “I—I cannot say—another word, but just—thank you.”