Frank Merriwell's Races

by Burt L. Standish

The proof had not been sufficient to incriminate Harris, but it had been enough to make him unpopular and cause him to be shunned.

He had seemed to take this very meekly, but some of Merriwell's friends declared that Harris had not forgotten or forgiven, and that he would strike back at Frank if the opportunity ever presented.

Now Harlow was back in New Haven, and Hartwick, who had been forced to leave college to escape expulsion, was also there.

That meant something.

"Hartwick, Harlow and Harris—the three hard tickets. They are birds of a feather. All they need is Ditson to make a most delectable quartet!"

So muttered Frank Merriwell, as he gazed at the receding cloud of dust.

Frank began to realize that there was more trouble in store for him.

"I shall not deal gently with that gang this time," he declared, with a hard-set face. "This little adventure has put me on my guard, and I don't propose to let them have much fun with me. Those two fools were just full enough to drive right into me with the hope of doing me an injury, without a thought of their own necks. They might have been thrown out and killed, but they did not hesitate because of that. The one thought was to do me some way—any way. Hartwick always was a desperate fellow, but I did not fancy Harlow could be such a chap. However, he was driving that horse, and the way he drove was proof enough that he is careless of life and limb at times."

For some time Frank paid very little attention to Nemo, but the lameness of the horse became so pronounced at last that he could not help observing it once more.