Frank whistled his surprise.
"Apologize?" he said, slowly. "Do you really mean that?"
"I certainly do, sah."
When Rob Marline addressed anybody as "sah" in that manner it was a warning. The word was one seldom used by him since coming to Yale. To a great extent he had adopted the manners of the North, and had suppressed any little peculiarities of speech that might indicate his Southern blood. Now, however, he felt that he was a South Carolinian, and the dignified and haughty "sah" of the South suited his mood.
Frank paused a moment, looking straight into the eyes of the hot-blooded youth who had demanded an apology. He seemed in doubt, but quickly made up his mind.
"I never heard of an apology on the football field," he said; "but, as you seem to think me to blame for this little accident, I ask your pardon. I trust that is satisfactory."
To this Marline made no answer, but with a contemptuous movement of his body, turned about and stepped away.
A few of the players near at hand had seen and heard everything. All were astonished. To them it seemed that Marline had cowed Merriwell, and a feeling of disdain for the latter mingled with their astonishment.
"That beats the band!" said one to another. "Is this the same Merriwell we have thought such a lion?"
"It's plain," said the other, "that the fellows who have been claiming he really has less nerve than is generally supposed were right. He is afraid of Marline—I can see that. Marline comes from a fighting family, and he would challenge Merriwell to meet him in a genuine duel. Merriwell can scrap, but he has no relish for swords or pistols. He has been cowed by the fellow from South Carolina."