Nemo was not used to the whip, and he leaped like a flash. Such a spring would have unseated any but a most expert rider, but the boy in the saddle seemed to move as a part of the horse. Into the ditch they went, and past them spun the carriage containing the two reckless young men.
The carriage came very near upsetting. It careened and spun along on two wheels, threatening to hurl its occupants into the ditch, for the driver had reined the horse back toward the middle of the road. Both clung on for life.
"Don't blame me!" muttered Merriwell, through his teeth. "You were looking for a smash."
But the carriage did not go over; it righted at last. One of the young men looked back and shook his fist at the boy on the horse, and then away they went in a cloud of dust.
"If that was not Evan Hartwick, I am greatly mistaken!" exclaimed Frank, as he reined Nemo back into the road. "So he is back here as soon as this? I know what that means. He is looking for revenge on me."
Frank had seen the face of the driver as the carriage spun past, and he added:
"Hartwick's companion is somebody I know. I did not obtain a fair look at him, but—great Scott! it was the card sharp, Rolf Harlow!"
Harlow was a fellow who had entered Harvard,
but had not completed his second year there, leaving suddenly for reasons not generally known.