“A man just told me that you are the genuine Frank Merriwell of Yale.”
“I must confess that the gentleman told you the truth. I am Frank Merriwell.”
“And this chap who just did up Squinty Jim is your brother?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Merriwell,” said the policeman, “I want to shake hands with you. I have a boy who owes his life to you.”
The earnestness of the officer showed he was perfectly sincere, and Merry readily shook hands.
“Owes his life to me?” said Frank, in some surprise. “How is that? What have I done for your boy?”
“Saved his life, and yet you have never seen him to know him. He has seen you, though. He has seen you play football and baseball. He has read much about you in the newspapers. He was not a strong boy, and he early fell into habits of dissipation. He drank and traveled with a gang. He smoked forty and fifty cigarettes a day. He was fast becoming a total wreck when he first saw you play football here against U. of P.
“He talked about your playing for days. Then he began to find out everything he could about you. Somehow, he learned that you were not strong at one time, and he also learned that you never smoke, drink, or carouse. Something led him to resolve to be as much like you as possible. He had will-power, sir, and he at once quit his old companions, stopped drinking, and gave up smoking. The last thing was the hardest to do. It was a hard fight for him, but he conquered. Everybody had told me he would go into quick consumption.