Apparently Frank did not see it, but the truth was that nothing escaped his eyes. He knew now beyond question that the captain of the lacrosse team, who had pretended such friendship, was the one who had planned to have him beaten up by the slugger. Although his heart was hot with anger over Fillmore’s treachery, he did not betray his feelings by any outward sign.
Hodge was attending to Frank in his corner, giving him a drink and mopping his perspiring face with a sponge.
“Don’t fool around too long, Merry,” he said guardedly. “I’m afraid you’ll betray the fact that you’re not half the mark they’ve taken you for.”
“I’m not going to fool any longer,” answered Merry. “I shall go after him now. I’ve fathomed his style of fighting, and I think I know his weak points.”
Thirty seconds were quickly over.
Clang!
Galway rose instantly and advanced, while again Frank was slow about coming to the scratch.
The slugger engaged in earnest, going after Merry with the idea of quickly keeping his promise to Fillmore. He led at Merriwell’s head.
The blow was skillfully parried, and out shot Frank’s right.
Smack!