Frank Merriwell's Setback; Or, True Pluck Welcomes Defeat

by Burt L. Standish

Dashleigh’s band was again twanging away, but its strains could not soothe the heart of Morgan, who, in that moment of temporary victory, felt that he hated Merriwell and Starbright more than he had ever hated them.

When the playing recommenced it was fast and furious, and within less than a minute Starbright made a goal. Then Crowder drove a goal for New London, the score was again tied, and the referee’s whistle blew, announcing the end of the first period of the match.

When the referee’s whistle blew again and the game recommenced, Merriwell reached the ball first and sent it flying for goal. Bascom stopped it with his padded shins, kicked it away, and a fight for its possession took place near the middle of the floor.

Then Starbright secured it and drove it again toward the New London goal; but Weathers, the half-back, blocked it with his feet, and it shot to one side of the hall, with four or five men diving after it. Ready was there, and drove it into the New London goal, but it bounded out; and another struggle for its possession ensued, right in front of the cage, yet far enough away to prevent the calling of a foul. Hodge now got the ball and shot it into the cage, and it stayed there.

There was a transference of goals, and the game was renewed. Again Merriwell drove the ball for the cage; but Bascom, the goal-tend, stopped it with his foot. Weathers skipped it back to the middle of the floor, where there was a struggle for it, and such hot work that the spectators were brought up standing with a yell.

The New London men secured the ball and fought their way toward the Yale end. But Browning was there, and, though they made a desperate effort to put the ball in the cage, he prevented it.

Starbright drew the ball out of the mix-up, but lost it; and, to keep it from being caged, Ready shot it behind the goal. It caromed against the wall, flying to Merriwell’s side, and before Crowder could get to him, Merriwell shot it for a goal.

It went across the room like a streak of light. Bascom jumped to prevent it from going into the cage, but missed it; and another goal was added to the score of Merriwell’s side.

Again goals were changed, but before another score was made by either team the referee’s whistle blew, announcing the end of the second period of the game. The work had been so hot and fierce that neither spectators nor players had realized the quick passage of time, and the sound of the whistle came as a surprise.

Bascom, the fat goal-tend of the New London team, who had worked with such savage energy, was dripping with perspiration, and all of the men were more or less blown.