CHAPTER XVII.

GLORY FOR THE VICTOR.

Those who saw the feat could scarcely believe they were not dreaming.

Dick landed on his feet, recovered quickly, and was off like a flash. The spectators yelled like maniacs. There was no such thing as concert cheering now; it was simply the wild whooping of hundreds of witnesses gone mad with amazement, admiration, and joy.

Students climbed on one another’s shoulders and waved hats, hands, handkerchiefs, and flags, shrieking till their eyes nearly popped from their heads.

Never before in the history of football at Fardale had such a scene been witnessed. Lifted in one thrilling moment from the depths of despair to the heights of hope, with possible, nay, probable, victory in sight, the Fardale spectators were shrieking lunatics then.

With the speed of the wind, Dick Merriwell flew along the field, headed for the Hudsonville line. Hudsonville players broke away and started after him. Then came the whole pack trailing out in his wake.

But as well might a lot of mongrels have sought to overtake a greyhound. The crowd saw he could not be stopped, and it shrieked and shrieked.

The hearts of Dick’s enemies were filled with such dismay that, had the triumphant lad known their sufferings, he must have felt himself fully avenged for all injuries he had suffered at their hands.

Jabez Lynch turned sick and faint, while his white lips moved, but made no sound. Uric Scudder cursed, his words being drowned in the uproar.

So Dick Merriwell ran the length of the field with the ball, and planted it squarely behind the Hudsonville goal-posts.

It seemed that the crowd would never stop its yelling, but, at last, the cadets on the seats gained sufficient self-possession to start a regular cheer.

"Ha! ha! ha! ’Rah! ’rah! ’rah! Rigger-boom! Zigger-boom! All hail—Merriwell! Merriwell! Merriwell!"

The dismay and disgust of Hudsonville knew no bounds, for, in the last few minutes of play, she had been tied by a touch-down. If a goal were made from that, she was beaten.

The ball was brought out when Steve Nunn had hugged Dick Merriwell before everybody, and Steve held it for the kick.

Dick was the one to kick, and he was careful, taking into consideration the wind. His kick was perfect, and the ball sailed over the bar in handsome style.

Then, although Hudsonville was given the ball to kick off, all knew Fardale had won by such a thrilling and sensational finish that the story would be handed down as something to wonder over in the traditions of football at the academy.

When the whistle blew, with the ball on Fardale’s forty-yard line, the cadets poured onto the field and surrounded the players, who had lifted Dick Merriwell aloft.

But Old Joe Crowfoot was with the first, and he flung the bathrobe over Dick’s shoulders. Then, again, waving one hand in the air, the old redskin gave a yell that was the battle-cry of victory of his tribe. His black eyes were gleaming with pride and joy.

"Injun Heart!" he cried, pointing at Dick. "Him heap mighty young chief! Him great white boy warrior!"

"That’s what he is, Joseph!" roared Brad Buckhart. "He’s a holy terror, and no mistake! He can have my ranch and my last hoof and horn!"

"Say, I don’t want to play on the team any more!" cried Bob Singleton. "He can have my place right along!"

Then they cheered, marching about the field with Dick on their shoulders.

The boy’s face had been pale, but now it was flushed, and he begged to be put down. They did not seem to hear him.

"Dick Merriwell!" they roared. "Dick Merriwell! Dick Merriwell! ’Rah! ’rah! ’rah! ’Rah! ’rah! ’rah! ’Rah! ’rah! ’rah! Dick Merriwell!"

Frank Merriwell stood looking on, smiling a little, a flush in his checks and pride in his heart. Surely this was a brother worth having, and he had a right to be proud. Frank felt somebody catch hold of him, and saw Teddy Smart at his side.

"Oh, dear! dear! dear!" moaned Smart. "How sorry I am! Oh, my goodness! how bad I feel! Wasn’t it just perfectly too bad to do it! I know I shall cry my eyes out—I know I shall! Aren’t you ashamed of having a brother like that? You ought to be ashamed, and I don’t blame you. He’s a disgrace to you and to Fardale!"

"Smart," said Merry, "you did well to get him here in time. I was afraid you wouldn’t succeed."

"Shouldn’t if it hadn’t been for that old Indian." confessed Ted. "Doctor refused to let him come. I found Old Joe outside the door, and told him. You should have seen Old Joe rip things up! It was perfectly tame the way he walked into that hospital! No guard could stop him. No doctor had any business trying it. He told Dick you wanted him, and Dick was ready in short order. I’m afraid they’ll want to give Old Joe a reward of merit for his doings. You’ll have to make it easy for Joe."

"I’ll see to that," laughed Frank.

Uric Scudder found Jack Glennon ready to leave the field.

"Didn’t I tell you!" said Scudder. "I knew what he could do!"

"Get out!" growled Glennon savagely. "What did all your telling amount to? He didn’t come into the game in time to give anybody a show at him. If you’d really tipped me to anything worth anything, it might have been different. Go ’way back and sit down!"

Glennon turned from the traitor in disgust.

At this moment Scudder uttered a cry, caught Glennon by the arm, and pointed toward a ragged boy who was trying to force his way into the shouting crowd that surrounded Dick Merriwell.

"Look!" he hissed.

"What is it?" demanded the other.

"The boy!"

"What boy?"

"The one we chased! There he is!"

"Good!" said Glennon, in relief. "I was afraid he had been drowned."

"He’s trying to get to Merriwell."

"Let him try."

"I know what he wants to do! He means to tell Merriwell about our meeting!"

"Let him tell. It won’t hurt me."

"It will me!"

"You’ll have to look out for yourself."

"Bet he has that letter! He’s going to give it to Merriwell."

"I don’t care."

"It will be used against me! Let’s stop him! Let’s try to fix it with him!"

"Go on!" sneered Glennon. "Fix it yourself—if you can. Get away from me, and stay away."

Then he again turned his back on Scudder.

Uric ran toward the boy, who did not see him coming. He grasped the youngster by the shoulder, pulling him aside, and saying:

"Look here a minute, sonny; I want to say something to you."

The boy saw him, made a face at him, and retorted:

"I don’t want to talk with you! Keep your dirty hands off me! You’re going to git it in the neck for fair, all right, all right."

"Come here, boy!" grated Uric. "If you know when you’re well off, you’ll do as I say."

But the boy was not at all impressed, and he tried to break from Scudder’s grasp. In the excitement this struggle was not observed at once, although the boy shrilly shouted:

"Leggo! leggo! Get away from me!"

Scudder tried to put a hand over the boy’s mouth, while he said in his ear:

"I’ll give you five dollars for that letter."

"Leggo!" squawked the boy.

"Ten dollars!" offered Uric.

"Break away!"

Then, with sharp nails, the lad scratched Uric’s hand till the blood ran. Uttering a snarl of rage, Scudder lifted his fist to strike the belligerent youngster.

From his position on the shoulders of his admiring friends, Dick Merriwell had witnessed some of the struggle, and now he came right over the shoulders of the closely packed mass of yelling cadets who had been gathered about him. In a moment he had seized Uric by the collar, tearing the boy from his grasp.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, his eyes flashing. "Were you going to hit this boy, you coward?"

Scudder shrank back before those flashing, indignant eyes.

"That’s just what he was going to do," cried the boy, "and all because I was trying to get to you to tell ye how he wrote to a feller on the other team and offered to put the feller wise how to beat Fardale."

"What’s that?" exclaimed Dick.

"It’s a lie!" said Uric hoarsely, his face pale and a frightened look in his eyes. "Don’t believe the little whelp!"

The crowd had gathered about them now, and Scudder saw he was hemmed in on all sides. There seemed no way of escape in case he wished to take to his heels.

"It’s the truth!" insisted the boy earnestly. "I had the letter, too. Snatched it right out of his hand this forenoon, when he met the other feller. He was going to burn it. I ran with it, and they chased me all the way to The Harbor. Then I fell through a piece in one of the wharfs and lost the letter in the drink. This feller had pulled a pistol on me, and I guess he would ’a’ tried a shot at me if he’d seen me under the wharf, so I just kept still till they went away."

An angry murmur rose on all sides. Uric heard it and turned paler than ever. He looked round, and saw that he was watched by hundreds of scornful, indignant eyes.

But the letter—the boy said it was lost! Where was the proof against him? All at once Scudder braced up.

"This kid has a grudge against me," he said, "and he’s trying to soak me. The whole story is a lie from start to finish."

"It’s the truth!" again asserted the boy. "He wrote and told the other fellow how Fardale was practising secretly, and that he thought he’d be able to find out all about the plays in a short time."

"That was what he was doing the day he climbed the tree and got pelted with eggs," said somebody.

The boy grinned.

"Yes," he said, "he was spying then, and I done the pelting when he got caught and hung by the seat of his trousers. I had a grudge to settle, for he kicked me one day and chucked me into the drink."

"You see what kind of a fellow he is," said Uric. "He says he has a grudge against me."

"Oh, I guess I came pretty near getting even that day!" grinned the youngster. "I did soak you good and hard."

"He certainly was good to him!" said Teddy Smart, who had forced his way toward the center of the crowd. "How now, Hen Fruit? You seem to be enjoying yourself. You look very happy."

"He’s a bad egg," said somebody.

"This is a serious charge against you, Scudder," said Dick Merriwell. "If the boy tells the truth, you ought to be tarred and feathered."

"Oh, that would be horrid!" exclaimed Smart. "I wouldn’t think of taking part in the obsequies. I’d hide my face with shame till it was all over."

"You have no right to do anything of the sort!" choked Scudder, in great fear. "Will you take the word of this kid against mine? He can’t prove a thing he says."

"Do you know the fellow he met on the other team, boy?" asked Dick.

"Sure thing."

"Then we’ll take this chap to him and see what he has to say."

Scudder’s heart sank, for, remembering Glennon’s contempt and words, he feared the Hudsonville center might expose him. But it would not do for him to show hesitation, and Uric knew that, so he cried:

"That’s right; take me to him! Let’s see who speaks the truth. I’m ready to go."

The Hudsonville team had gathered in the dressing-room to get out of the dirty suits, take baths, and put on their street clothes. To these rooms Scudder was marched, with the boy in advance and the angry cadets following behind in a dense body.

"The jig is up!" thought Uric. "Glennon will croak on me!"

In that case, he knew what to expect, and he was shaking in his boots.

Glennon had made great haste, and was nearly dressed when Scudder was marched in. It had been his intention to get away from the vicinity of the academy as soon as possible.

"That’s the feller!" cried the boy, pointing at Glennon.

"This boy," said Dick Merriwell, "has made a charge of treachery against this fellow here. The boy says this chap wrote to you and offered to tell you how to beat Fardale to-day, and that you met him in the village this forenoon. If the charge is true, it is right for us to know it here, and I ask you fairly to answer if it is so."

Glennon’s eyes met those of Scudder, and he saw there the light of fear that caused his lip to curl a bit. Then, with a scornful gesture, he said:

"Nothing in it—nothing at all. Never saw the fellow before in my life."

Scudder was saved.

One mystery, however, remained unsolved. The doctor had said that Dick Merriwell had been drugged. How the trick was done, and why it was done, remained a puzzle to some who knew of it.

But Frank Merriwell believed in his heart that he knew the full explanation. In some manner the drug had been given to Dick at the table, in water, or in his food.

Frank suspected Lynch, but Jabez kept his mouth closed, and deported himself in a manner outwardly beyond censure.