Apparently, Frank was intending to dodge to the left, although he made a bluff of bearing to the right. Fillmore smiled a bit to think the man should fancy he could be deceived in such a manner. Then Merry turned quickly to the left; he leaped to check him.
But, to his dismay, the turn was only a feint on Merry’s part, for he shifted and went leaping to the right, passing round the captain of the local team with the same ease that he had passed the others.
He was now in position to try for goal, and he sent the ball whizzing into the upper left-hand corner of the net.
“Goal!” was the cry that went up.
The Yale and Harvard men on the bleachers united in a cheer for Merriwell.
Fred Fillmore was astonished and enraged. He realized that Frank had made a sorry spectacle of him at a time when he had hoped it would be the other way. He knew two girls in the stand were rejoicing, and he ground his fine, white teeth together in impotent rage.
“Next time I’ll break his head with my stick rather than let him dodge me that way!” he muttered.
Almost instantly he decided that it would not do to attempt such a thing in the open. It might be done in a scrimmage or general mix-up, but to do it in the open would be to invite criticism and to run the risk of being put out of the game by the referee.
“Well, this is not wholly one-sided!” shouted a Yale man on the bleachers.
“Not while Frank Merriwell is in the game,” cried another.