The indignation meeting did not take place. Directly after noon Frank Merriwell was waited on by several members of the football committee, who expressed regret at what had taken place, and invited and urged him to come out for practise that afternoon, as usual.
Merry did not show exultation over this turn of affairs, but he agreed to be on the field. Therefore, there was no little astonishment when he went out to practise, as usual. His enemies started in by stating he had nerve to show up, but they were silenced by the information that he had been urged to do so by the committee. But, instead of being used on the regulars, Frank was placed on the first scrub, which was very significant.
He played with all his usual skill and enthusiasm. Two brief halves were played, and he was captain of the scrub in the last half. While the scrub did not score in this half, neither did the regulars, and four times was the goal of the regulars in danger, while not once was the fighting carried far into the territory of the scrub team. This was in great contrast to the first half, when the regulars had scored twenty-four points with ease.
“It’s all through the way Merriwell handled the team,” declared more than one. “Give him command of the regulars, and he’d drive Harvard into the earth.”
But there was no certainty that Merriwell would even play on the regulars. His friends scented trickery. It is probable that Frank also tumbled to the little game, but he said nothing.
Back at college after practise, when Merry had taken a bath, a rub, and donned his clothes, a number of his friends came pouring into his room, headed by Hodge.
“Welcome, fellows!” cried Frank.
“Look here, Merriwell,” said Bart, “we’ve come to see about it.”
“About what?”
“Well, if you’re not onto the dirty trick, it’s time you dug your eyes open!” grated Bart, in language that was expressive, though not very elegant.