Frank Merriwell's Champions: or, All in the Game

“How do you do, Mr. Hegner?” said Frank. “I’m always pleased to meet any of Creighton’s friends.”

“How are yer?” said Hegner.

The touch of the fellow’s hand gave Merry a feeling of repulsion. He dropped it almost instantly.

“Mr. Hegner is Burk’s trainer, you know,” explained Creighton. “You remember what I was telling you last night about Hank Burk going against Tom Jackson?”

“Yes, I remember,” nodded Merry. “I believe you said this Jackson is backed by the Olympic Club?”

“Yes, they are the challenging parties. They think Jackson can whip his weight in wildcats, and it is their boast that he will hammer the best man Fairmount can put up all over the ring. Mr. Hegner has been handling Burk nearly six weeks, and has him in the pink of condition. He says our man will give Jackson the biggest surprise he ever struck. If it was to be with hard gloves, it’s more than even Burk would knock Jackson out in four rounds. But we – ”

“Oh, Charlie!” exclaimed his sister; “what do you suppose we care about that! You can talk of those things at the club, and you are there the most of the time.”

“I beg your pardon,” laughed Creighton. “I forgot the young ladies present. They do not care for boxing.”

“Some of them do,” said Fanny Darling, quickly. “I like a fellow who can handle his fists scientifically and take care of himself. That’s why I admire Mr. Hegner so much.”

“Thank you,” Hegner bowed, with great gravity. “The manly art is worth acquiring, if it were useful only to protect young ladies from insult.”

“Haw!” grunted Hodge. “There are some fellows who can box a little, and yet do not make a great spread about it.”

Hegner’s eyes narrowed, and he surveyed Hodge with the same insolent air with which he had regarded Frank Merriwell.

“I presume you box some, sir?” he asked.

“Not much, but I have friends who are able to put up quite a little go.”

Charlie Creighton interposed laughingly, and introduced Hegner and Hodge. Bart bowed stiffly, but did not offer his hand, while Hegner nodded as if he had rheumatism in his neck. Then Diamond was introduced.

“Do you put on the gloves?” Hegner asked of the Virginian, in a blunt way.

“Not often,” was the answer, as Jack’s cheeks glowed a bit. “Never had them on in my life till I went to Yale and ran up against Merriwell. Southerners, sir, have a way of settling differences with other weapons than their fists.”

“Oh!”

Jack bit his lip, for there was a hidden sneer in that simple exclamation. For a moment he felt like challenging Hegner on the spot, but remembered that he was in the North, where such things did not “go.”

Hegner turned to Frank, whom he again surveyed from head to feet.

“From what Mr. Diamond says, I infer that you are something of a boxer,” he observed.

“Well, there are others,” smiled Merry. “I do not consider myself anything more than fairly handy with the gloves.”

“Now, Frank!” began Hodge; but Merriwell cut him short with a glance.

“Well, I didn’t know but you thought you could spar,” said Hegner, in a bored way, and then he turned and began to talk to Fanny Darling, who chatted and laughed with him as if pleased by his attention.

Frank was thoroughly disgusted by the air assumed by Creighton’s companion, and Charlie himself was not pleased. And Bart Hodge was chewing his tongue as a war horse might champ its bit, while he glared at Hegner’s back in a way that told he was thoroughly “stirred up.”

After a while, Creighton proposed that they should go down to the club. To this the girls objected, but Hodge and Diamond exchanged significant glances, and then expressed sudden eagerness to go.

“I’ll have to go anyway,” said Hegner. “Burk will be there, and I am due to give him his regular course.”

“Well, I will remain here and do my best to entertain the girls,” said Frank.

“Not by a hanged sight!” said Hodge, quickly. “We want you to come along with us, Merry.”

“That’s right,” agreed Diamond. “Won’t you come, old fellow?”

“Oh, yes, by all means, go!” cried Fanny Darling.

“We can get along very well without any fellow to bother us.”

It was too good an opportunity for Frank to miss, and so he quietly said:

“If I remained behind I should not bother you much, Miss Darling.”

This was unusually ungallant for Frank, but he began to see that Fanny must be met with her own weapons, and he had suddenly decided on his course of dealing with her in the future. His retort brought the blood to her cheeks, and her eyes flashed as she snapped:

“That’s right! I wouldn’t let you!”

As the five lads walked away to take a car, Bessie Blossom said:

“How could you be so rude to such a splendid fellow, Fan? It was just perfectly horrid of you!”

“That’s so!” chorused Lucy and Mabel. “Frank Merriwell is splendid!”

“Say, girls,” cried Fanny, “you make me weary! The trouble with Mr. Merriwell is that he is smart, and he knows it. He has been accustomed to having everybody flatter him, and it will do him good to know there are persons who do not think he is the only item in the paper. Perhaps it will reduce the size of his head so an ordinary hat will fit him.”

“If there is any fellow in the world who has every reason to have a swelled head, and still hasn’t got one, it is Frank Merriwell,” declared Mabel Creighton. “My brother says so, and he knows. He says that, for a fellow in such a position, Merriwell is the most unassuming chap in college. You do him an injustice, Fanny.”

The girl with the freckles gave her head a saucy toss.

“Oh, that’s what’s the matter – every one of you is stuck on him! I saw that right away. And it always happens that way. Wherever he goes, the girls get all broke up over him, and then flock around him. Well, he’ll find there is one girl who doesn’t care a cent for him – so there!”

“At least, Fanny, you might treat him decent,” protested Mabel.

“I will, for I won’t have anything at all to say to him after this. I hope that will satisfy you. If Wallace Hegner would put on the gloves with him, and give him a good thumping, it would help take the conceit out of him. But Mr. Merriwell, the great Yale athlete, would be far too shrewd to stand up in front of Hegner for a bout.”

CHAPTER XXX – FRANK EXPRESSES HIS OPINION

The members of the Fairmount Athletic Club, of Philadelphia, were mainly lads under twenty years of age. There were a few older members in the club to keep everything straight and see that it was run all right, but the club was organized and conducted for the advantage of lads from fifteen to twenty-one.

Not a few of the members were sons of wealthy parents, but it was not necessary for a fellow’s parents to be rich in order that he might become a member. Rich men contributed liberally to the support of the club, which made it possible for the regular fees and dues to be light, and youngsters whose parents were quite unknown, but who were regarded as “all right” themselves, obtained admission to the club.

Although great precaution had been exercised not to let in any one who would be objectionable, it was impossible to exclude all objectionable parties, for, after getting in, some of the members showed traits of character which their best friends had never dreamed they possessed.

Gambling in the clubrooms was prohibited, but cards, billiards and pool were permitted. There was a fine bowling alley, and the gymnasium was fitted up splendidly with all needed apparatus. In the reading-room were all the late magazines and papers, among which were the leading sporting publications. There also was a good library of books, containing volumes treating of sports and athletics. On the walls were pictures of famous amateurs, of matches, contests and races, of all sorts, and of the members of the club who had made records.

Creighton had opened the club to Frank Merriwell and his friends, all of whom were led to understand that they would be welcomed there as long as they remained in Philadelphia.

After leaving the girls at the tennis ground, Charlie and the others proceeded directly to the club. There they found a number of fellows assembled, waiting to see Hegner put Burk through his daily course.

Burk was there, a tall, thin fellow, with short-cropped hair and a bullet-head. There was nothing attractive about his face, and there was something vicious in his little eyes.

At a glance, Frank saw that the fellow selected to represent the Fairmounts had many of the characteristics of the professional prize fighter. He was hard and sinewy, quick in his movements, had a big knotty fist, and looked as if he could stand any amount of punishment. Blows would have very little effect on him, unless they were delivered with skill sufficient to knock him out.

Creighton introduced Burk to the boys, and Frank talked with the fellow. It did not take Merry long to find out that, although Burk had a father who was wealthy and moved in good society, the son belonged to that class of boys who never advance beyond a certain limit, no matter how much they may be pushed. He had no fine sensibilities, and was coarse-grained in everything.

“What do you think of him?” asked Charlie Creighton, as they moved away, after Frank had chatted with the young pugilist.

“Well, you know I have not had sufficient time to form a settled opinion,” answered Merry, evasively.

“Come off!” exclaimed Creighton, quickly. “I know you, and I know you have sized him up. What do you think of him?”

“To be honest, Charlie, I am astonished to find him a member of this club.”

“Eh? Oh, I know what you mean; but Hank is all right, and his dad cuts a figure in this town.”

“I presume he got in on his dad’s reputation?”

“Well, that had something to do with it.”

“He looks as if he might make a good professional bruiser in time.”

“Well, you know there is to be nothing professional about this affair, old man. That’s on the level.”

“How do you manage it?”

“Why, there is a fierce rivalry between the Olympics and Fairmounts. This club started first, and it rejected a number of fellows who applied for membership. Those fellows usually were sons of rich parents, but they had a bad record, and we didn’t want them. They got mad and formed an organization of their own. Their fathers were angry to think their sons should be shut out of here, and they swore the Olympic should knock the spots off this club. They have a building of their own, and it is furnished magnificently. The dues are high, and no one but the son of a rich man can afford to belong there. It has cost their fathers a royal round sum to establish the club, and it is costing them big money to keep it going. At first, they attempted to be exclusive and look down on the Fairmount with disdain, but that did not seem to bother us, and when they found it appeared to be just what we wanted, they adopted another policy. They set out to lead us in athletics, and their men have been against our men in every event possible since then, while they have poured out money like water in order to down us. They have not always been inclined to be thoroughly fair and square about it, either. If they can get the best of us at anything by foul means, there is no doubt but they will do it.”

“I understand. But you said this match is not to be like a professional contest. In what way do you mean?”

“Why, it is like this: There is no purse offered, no admission will be charged, and the victor will win nothing but glory.”

Frank looked doubtful.

“I fail to understand how you can carry the thing on in that way. Did Burk agree to it readily?”

“At first he wanted to fight for a purse, and tried to have it a hard glove affair; but that would have made it a regular prize fight, and Fairmount could not stand that.”

“I should say not! I believe in boxing, but if there is anything I heartily detest it is prize fighting and prize fighters.”

“I believe I have heard you express your opinion in that direction before.”

“I have expressed it often enough.”

“And still you can fight yourself, Merriwell.”

“I can fight if it is necessary, and I believe every fellow should learn to do that, for there will come times when he’ll find the knowledge valuable. As long as the world stands there will be ruffians and bruisers who will attempt to impose on peaceful people, and there have been scores of times in my life when I have not found it possible to avoid a fight. When I have to fight, I sail in for all I am worth, and do the other fellow up as quick as I can; but I do not like it, and the chap who does has too much of the brute in him to suit me.”

“You have very decided ideas on almost everything, Merry.”

“What is a fellow worth if he does not have a few convictions he is willing to stand by?”

“Not much.”

“That’s right. I respect a fellow who will fight for what he thinks is right, even though it may be wrong; but I do not respect a prize fighter who will fight like a beast for a purse of money.”

“Well, there is to be no purse in this affair. I think you will like Burk better when you know him better. He is going to fight Jackson for the honor of the club.”

“And Jackson – what about him?”

“I don’t know. Those fellows can make such arrangements with him as they like; it’s nothing to us.”

“You do not expect to stop betting?”

“No betting will be allowed in the clubroom. Of course there may be betting on the outside. We can’t expect to stop that.”

“Well,” said Frank, “it has a slight flavor of a prize fight, and still it is not one. What sort of gloves will they use?”

“Six ounce.”

“Eight ounce gloves are allowable.”

“I know it, but six have been decided on. This is for points.”

“And will it be carried out under the rules of the Amateur Athletic Union?”

“Sure.”

“How do those fellows class?”

“Light. Burk’s weight is one hundred and forty-six usually, but Hegner has him down to one hundred and thirty-two now, and says he does not care to get him lighter.”

“I presume two judges and a referee will be chosen?”

“Yes. If the judges disagree, the referee will decide.”

“Well, I hope you win the trick, Creighton.”

“Oh, we’ll do that if it’s possible. Hegner knows his business, and he says Burk can do Jackson.”

“I wouldn’t trust Hegner as far as I could throw a Texas steer by the tail.”

“That’s because you have taken a dislike to him. I will confess that he is not agreeable sometimes, but it is his way.”

“It’s a very poor way.”

“Yes, I’ll admit that; but he was on his guard against you, for he has heard so much about you. He expected to find that you thought you knew it all.”

“That does not excuse his boorishness.”

“Admitted; but still I say he knows his business, and we depend on him when he says Burk will win. Hegner is the cleverest boxer of his age in Philadelphia.”

“That is saying considerable.”

“I mean it, and he’d prove it to you if you were to put on the gloves with him. I know you are pretty good, but Heg would give you a surprise.”

“He must be good, if you have so much confidence in him. Well, I sincerely hope your confidence is not misplaced, but there is something about the fellow’s face that makes me suspicious of him. I would not trust him, and I believe he is treacherous. It is my opinion that he will try to get something out of this mill some way.”

“He is getting something out of it.”

“Ah! So?”

“Yes; we’re paying him to put Burk in shape.”

“It is possible that will satisfy him, but I think he’s a schemer. I tell you, Creighton, you’ll find it to your advantage to look out for Hegner.”

CHAPTER XXXI – THE FIRST BLOW

Hegner was giving Burk his regular daily training, explaining just when it was best to use the stop for the left-hand uppercut and when it was advisable to duck and counter on the body.

Quite a throng had gathered to watch them. Both were stripped down to their regular training suits, which gave Frank a chance to size them up still better than heretofore.

Merriwell saw he had made no mistake in Burk, but, if anything, Hegner was more sinewy and had better muscular development than Frank had thought.

The two lads were working gently, going through the movements for each blow, parry, dodge and counter with deliberation, and Frank soon saw that Hegner really knew his business.

“What do you think of those chaps, Merriwell?” asked Hodge, who seemed strangely restless and nervous.

“I haven’t seen them get to work in earnest yet,” was the answer.

“Say, old man!”

“What is it?”

“I’d like to see you go up against that Hegner and hammer him all over the lot. I despise the sight of him.”

“Perhaps I couldn’t do the trick, you know.”

“What? Get out! I know you could!”

Diamond was attracted by what was passing between them, and dipped in.

“Could? Could what?” he asked.

“Could knock the packing out of Mr. Hegner,” declared Bart, incautiously.

“Of course!” nodded Diamond.

Frank was about to caution them to speak lower, but it was too late. Hegner’s keen ears had heard enough, and he whirled on the trio like a tiger.

“Who is it that can knock the packing out of Mr. Hegner?” he harshly demanded. “If it is one of that party, let him step out! I’ll give him a chance.”

This sudden action confused both Hodge and Diamond, and Merriwell was silent. The eyes of all in the room were turned on the little group.

After a moment, Hegner laughed scornfully.

“What’s the matter with you chaps?” he sneeringly demanded. “I heard one of you say that somebody could knock the packing out of me. If you will bring the gentleman forward, I’ll be happy to give him a chance to try.”

Still the three were silent.

“Bah!” cried Hegner. “You’re a lot of bluffs! I can do you all in turn, one after the other, but there’s not one of the lot who has the nerve to put on the gloves with me.”

“If that is what you think, Mr. Hegner, it won’t take long to show you that you are mistaken,” said Frank, quietly, as he stepped out. “I am willing to put on the gloves with you for a friendly go.”

“You’ll be a snap,” came derisively from Hegner.

“Possibly so; but you can tell better about that later on.”

Creighton was somewhat disturbed.

“Hold on, fellows!” he exclaimed. “If you’re going to box, we do not want any hard feelings about it.”

“Don’t let that worry you as far as I am concerned,” said Frank, as placidly as ever. “Can I borrow a suit, Charlie?”

“Yes, you may have mine.”

Frank followed Creighton to a dressing-room, and Diamond went along. Hodge started to accompany them, and then seemed to change his mind, and remained behind.

“It’s too bad!” declared Creighton, as soon as they were in the room. “I’m sorry anything of the kind should happen.”

“I’m glad of it!” exclaimed Diamond, whose dark face was flushed and who seemed to be well satisfied.

“Oh, it’s all right,” laughed Frank, as he began to strip off. “There’s no damage done, old man.”

“But there may be. Hegner has an ugly temper.”

“Unless he can control it, it will be all the worse for him.”

“I don’t know. You can’t tell what he will do.”

“Don’t let it worry you.”

“But you do not profess to be away up in fighting and that fellow can fight like a tiger.”

“All the same, I shall do my best to give him a lively go.”

Creighton was worried, and he did not get over it quickly. In his heart he feared that Frank would get so much the worst of it that he would be regarded with derision, and he had bragged a great deal about Merriwell as an all-around athlete.

Diamond was not worried at all. He had the utmost confidence in Frank, and he seemed elated to think Merry was about to get at Hegner.

It did not take Frank long to strip and get into Charlie’s suit. Then the three came forth and found Hegner waiting for them.

The fellows present had gathered around, and it was the almost universal opinion that Hegner would make short work of the fellow from Yale.

Frank looked handsome in the sparring suit. He was neither too stocky nor too thin, but was graceful and supple, with a figure that aroused the envy of many a lad who looked him over then.

“This is to be a friendly bout, Mr. Hegner,” he said, as he accepted the gloves which were passed to him. “We are not to attempt to murder each other.”

“Oh, not at all!” said the other, with a crafty twinkle in his eye. “There is not much danger of murder with such gloves as these.”

When the gloves were carefully put on, they faced each other and shook hands, after which they were at it quickly.

Hegner danced away and came in with a bewildering rush, which was avoided with ease by Frank, who gave him a light body blow as he passed. Like a cat Wallace came about and was after Merriwell again. They sparred a moment, and Hegner tried to get in with a feint and a straight left-hand drive for the face. He put all his force into the blow, and it would have been a stunner had it landed; but Frank guarded with his right and countered with his left, sending Hegner staggering backward.

At the very outset Merriwell had the best of it, much to the surprise of those who had expected Hegner to “walk into him with a rush.” They looked at each other, and then said over and over that there would be a sudden change.

Wallace seemed a bit dazed by the reception he had received, and he ground his teeth with anger. He did not delay about coming to the scratch, however, and the bout went on.

After a little sparring, both led for the face, neither guarding, and both blows told. Then, like a flash, Hegner dropped under and tried to uppercut Frank, thinking to do this before Merry could recover.

The Yale lad went back with a bound, and Hegner found nothing but air. In another instant Frank came in again, and they were at it with fresh fury.

Again both led at the face with their left, but both ducked, and, with crossed arms, their fists shot over each other’s shoulder. They got away instantly, and Hegner followed Frank up, apparently determined to press the battle.

“If he gets Heg angry, he’ll be sorry,” declared one of the club members. “The fur will fly.”

Diamond, who seldom laughed, laughed now.

“If Mr. Hegner knows what is good for him, he’ll hold his temper,” he said. “If he loses it, Frank Merriwell will play with him.”

“Rats!” was the return. “Mr. Merriwell won’t melt things, if he is from Yale. He’s not the only shirt in the laundry; he can be done up.”

“You may be right, but Wallace Hegner hasn’t the starch to do the job.”

“Wait and see.”

For some moments the boxers sparred craftily, feeling for an opening, and then Hegner pushed things again. But his leads were met or dodged, and he received several sharp raps in return. One of his swinging blows came near landing, and it would have knocked Frank down had it reached.

It was plain enough that all Hegner wanted was a good opportunity to strike Merriwell with every bit of force at his command. He tried the trick repeatedly, and the look of rage increased in his eyes as each attempt was a failure.

“Merriwell is cleverer than I fancied he would be,” admitted one of the club members; “but he can’t last. Hegner will get him on the run after a while.”

A lead with Hegner’s left brought a sharp cross-counter from Merriwell, and the tap set the head of the young trainer ringing. He tried to get in with his right, and, instead of retreating a bit, was met with a right-hand cross-counter. Then he made a savage effort to uppercut with his left, but Frank ducked to the right and gave him a wind-killer under the heart.

Then it was seen that Hegner was fast losing his temper. He did his best to get Merriwell’s head under his arm, but simply succeeded in receiving a tap on the nose that made the blood run freely.

Hegner would have gone on fighting with the blood streaming down over his mouth, but several fellows jumped in and stopped the bout for the time, declaring that he must wash up.

“I know nothing has been said about rounds, but this is enough for the first one,” said Creighton.

“Steady, Heg, old man!” warned Burk, as he got hold of the excited fellow. “You are losing your head and giving him all the best of it. Take a little time to cool off, and you will be better off for it, my boy.”

So Hegner was led away to wash off the blood, but he called to Frank that he would return and finish the bout.