Each night Frank took a run out into the country. He was determined to put himself in the very best condition possible.
This practice of Merriwell's was generally known, and he was watched with interest by friends and foes.
The time for the tournament drew near. Arrangements for all the contests had been completed. The end of the spring terms had come. Commencement was over, and another class had been showered with sheepskins.
In all the doings of this busy time of the college year Merriwell took little part, as he was putting himself in shape to do his best at the tournament, and the time
he had to spare from "grinding" was given to hard physical work.
Then he went down to a summer cottage on the sound. The cottage was located near Southport, and there he continued his training, taking long runs into the country.
The day before the great tournament came at last. That afternoon Frank took his last run in training. He waited till near evening, and then jogged gently out along the country road.
It was dusk when he turned back toward the cottage where he knew Bruce Browning, Rattleton and Diamond were loafing on the veranda and awaiting his reappearance.
As he was passing through a small patch of woods, a cord that was strung across the road, about six inches from the ground, tripped him, and he fell heavily.
Frank was stunned by the shock. Before he could recover, dark forms rushed out and flung themselves upon him.