Frank Merriwell was there. His appearance was a surprise to nearly all the Yale crowd; it created a sensation.
"Merriwell has been taken in to fill Marline's place!" was the excited statement that went around.
"It's a foolish move," declared scores. "He has not been practicing with the team. He's not in condition."
They did not know Frank Merriwell thoroughly, for he kept himself in condition constantly.
At first his appearance seemed to create doubt and uncertainty among the spectators who were interested in Yale. Gradually, however, enthusiasm grew. It was remembered how he had carried the ball right through Princeton's center in the game the year before, making the most remarkable run ever known on a football field. Yale had felt her chance was a desperate one; surely it could not be any worse. Perhaps it might be bettered by the placing of Merriwell at full-back. It was a desperate resort, but who could say the result would not justify the move?
Forrest was talking to Merriwell, having drawn Frank aside. They were in earnest conversation.
A little negro boy came on the field. How he escaped the vigilance of the officers was a mystery, but he reached the group of substitutes.
"Heah!" he called, flourishing something in his hand: "heah am suffin' to Mistah Merriwell. Where am he?"
It was a folded scrap of paper. One of the substitutes took it and told the boy to "chase himself."
"I's done got mah pay fo' bringin' it," he chuckled, as he scudded off.