"Nemo starts all right," said Harris, in an agitated
voice. "I should not wonder if Harlow were right, Hartwick, my boy."
"Then Hogan has betrayed me!" came gratingly from Hartwick. "If he has I'll have his life!"
"Where is the fellow?" asked Harlow. "He should be on hand."
"That's right, where is he?" echoed Harris. "He has not reported."
"But he was sure he would not fail," said Hartwick. "He had everything fixed with one of the stablemen, and he said he knew he could get into Nemo's stall."
"All the same I'll wager that Frank Merriwell will come out on top again," fluttered Harris. "It is just his luck. Perhaps he has outwitted us in some way."
"No! no!" exclaimed Hartwick, with sudden satisfaction. "See—see there! Already Nemo is dropping behind Black Boy. Pawnee is in the lead, Fanny D. is second, Lightfoot is third, and now Black Boy has pushed ahead of Nemo! Ha! ha! ha! Everything is all right! Hogan has done his work, and the stuff is beginning to tell on Merriwell's racer at just the right time. We'll send the fellow back to Yale penni
less, and then I will jump on him with his paper. I'll expose him as a race-track gambler, a fraud, a swindler! I'll ruin his college career, as he ruined mine! But I'll not be satisfied then. I'll hound him till he is weary of his life! I'll make him remember the day he dared lift his hand against Evan Hartwick! I can feel his blow now! It left a mark on my cheek. That mark is not there now, but the scar is on my heart! Nothing can cure it but full and absolute reprisal! This is my first triumph!"
Hartwick almost frothed at the mouth, and his reddish eyes glared as if there were a glowing furnace within his passionate soul.