The Original © Gilbert Patten WNU Service CHAPTER IX a Given time to think a little about the remarkable happenings which had pushed him into the limelight at Fardale, Frank became panicky himself. For quite the opposite reason, he suddenly understood, fully and completely, how Bart Hodge had felt when he went to Inza and told her he was going away because he couldn't face the school. For Merry was no bound- er, no show-off, who reveled in no- toriety; and even though he was at the same time not a shrinking vio- let, he had always found it easier to face criticism and blame than mealy-mouthed flattery. Therefore anybody who looked for him to go on parade and do a little strutting was making a bad guess. He merely forced himself to go through the usual moves as if noth- ing unusual had happened. No swank, no posing. It was disappointing to his ene- mies. Particularly so to Bascomb. The fellow simply refused to be- | have the way Bascomb expected— and wanted—him to. Very annoy- ing. By noon on Monday somebody had brought in a newspaper containing an account of the runaway and res- | cue. It passed from hand to hand. | Pete Smith had done no kidding | this time. He had written a straight- | forward, honest story, giving Frank credit for nerve, fast-thinking and | modesty. Bascomb and his bunch | didn’t like that much, either. Nor did they like it when Merry, | caught crossing the campus and | questioned by some upperclassmen, | failed to get smart and make fresh | answers. What they understood even less was the way he gave credit to Bart Hodge. That, as they saw it, was foxy stuff. He was pulling a thin trick. “Well, anyhow,” said Hugh, ‘““we’ll have the pleasure of not see- ing him try to become a football hero.” i And then, when Bascomb galloped into the gym to dress for field prac- tice Tuesday afternoon, Merriwell was there. Wearing a Bloomfield high rig from sweater to cleated shoes, he was talking to Dick Springall, the quarterback and cap- tain. There was a frightful convulsion in the depths of the Grand Canyon. This, Bascomb told himself, was the limit and then some. “Well,” he said, when he could speak, ‘“‘is it possible you've got over being afraid to play football, Merriwell?"”’ “I've never been afraid to play football, sir,”’ said Frank. **Oh, yeah?” Hugh's mouth | threatened to lop off all the upper part of his head with its expanding grin. “Then how come you laid down on your team last year and watched it from the stand while it took a licking by Torrence acade- my?” “Did it ever occur to you,” Mer- ry asked, ‘that that might be my business?”’ “Oh, so you've got a nasty come- | back, have you?” said Bascomb, | his grin changing to something | hard and cruel. “Well, that just | makes the account heavier to set- | tle.” { Springall interposed at this point. | “Drop it, both of you,” he said. | “That stuff is out, around here. The | next one to start it will be reported | to the coach, and what he'll do | about it will be enough.” “I'm sorry, Mr. Springall.” apolo- | gized Frank, “but Bascomb ought to get it through his head before | long that I'm more than fed up with his funny business. But I'll wipe the slate when he's ready to | call it quitting time.” Bascomb sourly. when, but everything will be all squared up then.” miss, though he appeared to ignore it. As an enemy Bascomb would be far more tenacious and vindictive than a person with the unstable- ness of Hodge. Bart arrived presently and was no less surprised to see Frank there. But he said nothing. The coach, when he appeared, was the only person who did not show surprise. Practically every- body noticed that. On the field Kane turned the new man over to Hanscomb, the assist- ant coach, a Fardale grad whose special duty was to instruct in kick- ing and passing. Two minutes later Hanscomb was putting Merriwell through a series of drop-kicks, place kicks and punts of every variety. All the other men on the field were busy also, but many of them stole glances at Frank whenever they found an opportunity to do so. Trey were, naturally, very curious ebout him. They suspected that pressure had been brought to bear to get him out there, and it seemed strange that Kane would bother a moment with a fellow reputed to be a football quitter. Watching Merry darkly in a lull of his own work, Bascomb was spoken to by another man of the Varsity, who had stopped near him: “Maybe Merry will pan out, after all. He sure can boot the old ball hard and pretty, and he seems able to place it on a dime." Bascomb grunted. ‘Huh! Wait till you see him try to make a quick kick with a charging line tear- ing through on him. That will be something else again.” A short time before work was to end for the day Kane called the regular team together to make a few rushes against the scrub. He wanted, in particular, to oil up a play that had gone sour against Mayfield, for he still believed in it. Not a little to his surprise, Frank was sent in as right halfback for the scrub. That was more than he had expected, his first day on the field. Passing him before the line-up, Hodge spoke from the side of his mouth: “Well, they've promptly buried you with the rest of us dead You'll never get out of this graveyard.” line, Bascomb, who wasn’t yet aware of what was to be tried, said to Springall: ‘““Call a play that'll block the legs off Merriwell.” That was the kind of a play Springall called when they were “I've Never Been Afraid to Play Football, Sir,"”” Said Frank. end run with a around the left end. Tackle and guard opened the hole that let Bascomb go through on the jump, and he sheered to the left charging. Frank's churning knees struck Bascomb's ribs a split-second after His palms struck handspring. He wasn’t confused. In his stride who was coming round low. The safety man, coming at full speed, tackled the runner and Everybody who had seen just what had happened was laughing. Bascomb wasn’t. He was getting Because of malicious eagerness to much as possible Bascomb had stuff like that, more than once. Now, as Bascomb rose to his feet again, Kane came swiftly toward him. “That'll be enough for you to- day,” said the coach. “I'm tired of telling you.” Then he turned and beckoned a subsiitute. “Come in here, Davis.” Bascomb walked away slowly and left the field, still holding his hand to his side. Practice went on with- out him. When it was all over Kane asked the assistant coach: “What do you think of Merriwell’s kicking?” ‘“He’s a natural,” answered Hans- comb. “Then don’t try to coach him. Coaching hurts a fellow with nat- ural kicking ability more than it helps.” “And he knows how to pass, as well. He's got an arm and he's rifle accurate.” ‘Sounds like something. That was a stunt he did when Bascomb threw that low block at him.” “Didn't I see it! He's better walk- ing on his hands than some of the would-bes.” Kane almost smiled. ““That sounds odd from an old pessimist like you. Are you telling me he doesn't be- long on the scrub?” “What I don't understand,” said Hanscomb, avoiding a direct an- swer, ‘‘is how that lad can be a football quitter. A fellow who has got the nerve to face mad dogs and snatch a girl off a runaway horse two or three seconds before she'd have been killed hasn't any right to turn yellow just because he's been knocked cold in a line buck. There's something wrong about it.” Now Kane did smile a little. *‘It does sound a bit balmy,” he al- lowed, and said no more. Outwardly calm, Frank was in- wardly almost tumultuously happy that night. Maybe Hodge was right in thinking he, like Bart, had been buried in the Fardale graveyard of football hopes, but he had a feeling that the scrub could ke used as a springboard from which to leap to a more lively field. He felt a thrill of pleasure when he sat down that night in the small- er dining room with the other foot- ball men. He hadn't got to training table, but maybe he was on his way. He thought of Barney, who never muffed a chance to cheer him on, and missed him for the time being. Barney was all wool and a yard wide. Some pal! Those fellows were agreeable fel- lows who were still a little curious about him, still a little doubtful and suspicious. He could feel that un- certainty behind their evident will- ingness to take him for what he might prove to be worth. Physically they were a healthy he-man lot, packed to capacity with leashed vig- or. He noticed, quickly, that Bascomb was not there. That was odd. He didn't understand it until the rea- son came out in the remarks of two fellows on the opposite side of the table. Said one: “Well, ing to be a after today.” Said the other: maybe we're go- backfield man shy The first one answered: “The doc- tor says he may have a cracked rib. They're taking an X-ray.” That gave Merriwell a queer sen- sation. He said impulsively: “Oh, that'll be tough! It'll weaken team. I'm sorry.” Then it seemed was staring at barrassed, but his face was sober and honest He was really con- cerned for the welfare of the team. Dick Springall said: “We have to take practice injuries as they come at this stage the season. can stand them better now later on.” Somehow Springall did not apnear that everybody him of Mulloy was waiting for Frank and gether. The Irish boy was bubbling over with chuckles. Barney. “Maybe that'll through Bascomb's thick head while his rib is mending. You busted it, all right. That's the latest intelli- gence.” “And that makes Fardale that much weaker,” said Merry. “Who says so? Let me tell you something. It's just been poured into my ear that the Grand Canyon was pushed on Fardale. by some rich old grad with more influence than sense. It's done nowadays, you know. And he hasn't panned out. It's suspected that the coach was looking for a good excuse to bench him. Now he won't have to look any more, and he really ought to give you a loving cup.” There was a long period of skull practice the following afternoon. State Second, the strong team Far- dale would meet Saturday, had been spent the best part of an hour dem- with blackboard diagrams and showing his plans of defense against them. “State is counting on a push-over Saturday,” said the coach in con- clusion, “‘and they have a right to after the showing we made against Mayfield. But what I'm counting on is that you'll get together and hand that bunch an upset that'll take the conceit out of them. You can if you want to.” Then he took a letter out of his pocket and went on. “I've got some- thing here that I want to read— part of it. It's a letter that Pro- fessor Scotch got Doctor Massey, of Bloomfield, to write me. Doctor Massey is the physician for Mr. Asher Merriwell, Frank Merriwell's uncle and guardian, who is being treated by the doctor for heart trou- ble. Mr. Merriwell collapsed in the stand at Bloomfield last fall during a game in which his nephew was knocked out in a line smash.” Sitting as still as stone and look- ing straight ahead, Frank heard the coach read a portion of the letter: “ ‘Mr. Merriwell is a sportsman who has always encouraged his nephew's love of athletics, but the shock of seeing Frank stretched on the ground and hearing a woman shriek that he had been killed caused him to collapse that day. Afterwards 1 found that Mr. Merri- wéll's heart had been seriously af- fected by the shock, and it was I who pledged the boy to play no more football until I should say he might without apprehension that an- other, similar, accident might not have an even more serious reper- cussion on h And to make sure Asher uld not hear of what 1 had done, 1 asked "rank tell nobody. Now, how- ever, 1 feel confident that Mr is uncle nr iwrel ¢ Merriwell we to ne Mier- from as he's so anx- to release the boy as long ious to play football again.’ “That's all,” “and it ought the guessing and been going on.” The whistle! The kick-off! of the lusty foot of concluded the coach, to be enough to end loose talk that's The State dale, having won the toss. had to VOoring becaus tacing from the ms: defend wind Hine, State men blazed | like Under wraps, Merriwell sat with Elmer Davis was in there at right half, where Bascomb would have irt. The kick, ' was com- He took tl in ahead to Twenty-two sod were left be- hind his flying feet before he was slammed down by a State tackler. That was good. Good enough to bring a great cheer from the Far- dale crowd that packed the north stand. But State wasn't disturbed. They were brimming over with confi- dence, those fellows. This was a game they had reckoned in the bag before it started. Sweeping score, just had bounce-around for them when they turned on the juice. Davis was on his feet again. If that hard tackle had jolted him much he didn't show it. A quick huddle was followed by a shifting switch behind the line and a center buck, Davis carrying the ball. But the State line was a stone wall through which no hole could the pile-up. Two yards lost. (TO BE CONTINUED) Berlin may have her Unter Den Linden, Rome her Corso and Paris her Avenue de L'Opera, but this little Ohio river-front town of 10,000 persons goes to the other extreme and boasts what is probably the smallest avenue in the world, writes a Bellaire, Ohio, correspondent in the Cleveland Plain Dealer. Federal avenue, a narrow thor- oughfare bordering on the north side of the Bellaire postoffice, not only is probably the shortest and smallest street in the world but is believed to be the only one on which there is no vehicle traffic of any kind. The street has no traffic lights and no space for parking—because it is exactly 32 inches wide. Young- sters can play in this street all day long without thought of approach ing automobiles, busiss or street cars. Two families live on Federal ave- nue, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Bos- well at 3219 and Mr. and Mrs. Fred White, right next door, at 3220, “It is an ideal place to live,” Mrs. Boswell said. “Although we live in the heart of town the traffic prob- lem does not bother the tots who play here. We have a lovely front yard—yard of the postoffice just across the way—and don’t have the bother of caring for it.” Federal avenue became a thor- oughfare and gained its name when the new post office building was erected many years ago. Pedes- trians use it frequently as a short cut to the town's Main street. It is paved with blocks of cement, the type generally used for side- walk paving, and is approximately 50 yards long. It is half a block from the cross- section of town and only ten paces from the tallest building, the eight- story First National Bank building. 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Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers