Nevertheless, Merriwell was greeted with a big cheer when he went out to the floor and wound the end of the rope around his belt.
He put Rattleton on the farther end of the line, and moved Taylor up to his own old position. There was then a breathless moment, while both sides waited for the pistol shot.
When it came, the eight men went down at the same instant. It was evident that the Princeton team had observed the success of Yale men in dropping, and had determined not to let them get an advantage in that way.
The ribbon stood exactly at the chalk mark, and the first few seconds of violent pulling failed to budge it more than a hair's breadth in either direction.
The great audience stood up and cheered as they had not done since the evening began. It was a delight to see two teams of strong young men so evenly matched in strength and skill.
On the Yale side there was fear in spite of the enthusiastic cheering that Merriwell's weight would be against them in the end, and not a few called attention to the fact that the Yale team had already pulled once, while Princeton was perfectly fresh.
These things were thought of, too, on the Princeton side, and that made the wearers of the orange more confident.
As in the former pull, there was a short period of rest after the first tug. The anchors eyed each other warily, and the men lay on the rope, crossing their legs over it, and waiting for the signal to tug again.
Frank saw the Princeton anchor whispering to the man in front of him.
"If that's a command to pull," he thought, "it's given too openly, and it's probably a dodge to throw us off our guard."