Fortunate, indeed, it was that Frank Merriwell was at hand. He had the revolver almost as soon as it touched the ground. As Mason held the snake’s head for a moment two shots rang out, and both bullets hit the reptile’s head fairly. Its coils loosened from Bart, and Mason flung the squirming thing aside, where it thrashed and twisted on the ground.
“Thank you, sir,” said Hodge to Mason.
“Don’t mention it, sah,” said Mason politely.
Never again as long as he lived would Bart Hodge say that the man from South Carolina lacked nerve. Whatever else could be said of him, that accusation could not be made against him.
Both Hodge and Mason were the heroes of the day.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE FIRST SCORE.
Princeton was out to win the last game of the series with Yale. The two clubs had met on neutral ground, and, remembering their slump in football, the Tigers meant to down Yale in order to reestablish Princeton’s standing in athletic sports as one of the “Big Three.”
Of late Columbia had loomed ominously on the horizon, and there were those who prophesied that she would succeed in pushing Princeton out and getting herself accepted as one of the three first colleges in manly sports.