Frank Merriwell's Races

by Burt L. Standish

"What is it, old man?" asked Paul Hamilton. "Why did you give that whoop and then chase yourself around here in such a lively fashion?"

"It was not myself I chased," declared Frank. "It was quite another party, I assure you; but he has given me the slip, for I can see nothing of him."

"Who was it?"

"The man who tried to bribe me to throw the last ball game to Harvard!"

"That fellow?" exclaimed all the lads, excitedly. "Are you sure?"

"Dead sure," asserted Frank, confidently. "I saw his face fairly in the light in front of Traeger's when we came out."

"Then he was not killed in the leap from the train!" cried Diamond. "How did he escape?"

"Ask me something easy!" exclaimed Frank. "I

never expected to look on that man's face again, unless I looked on it as a corpse."

"Confound him!" exploded Harry Rattleton. "I'd like to hake his break—I mean break his head! What does he want around here?"