The final ball game of the series between Harvard and Yale was to take place at Springfield. The day of the game arrived, and there was an exodus from Yale.

There was a rush for the last train by which the college lads could reach Springfield in time to witness the whole of the game.

On their way to the station, Frank and Harry fell in with Jack Diamond and Danny Griswold.

"We've got to hurry," said Diamond, glancing at his watch. "There is no time to waste if we want to catch the train."

They soon overtook Flemming, Emery and Yates. These fellows were in the company of several other lads, among whom were two of the committee of arrangements for the tournament.

"You fellows seem to be in a great rush," one of the party called to Frank and his friends.

"You had better rush a little, if you want to catch the train," flung back Griswold.

"Ah!" said Andy Emery, with an undisguised sneer; "it's Merriwell and his trainers. They are putting him in condition to beat the field in that race he expects to enter."

"Go him to the station, Yates!" exclaimed one of the lads accompanying Duncan. "Just show him he doesn't know how to run."

"Yah!" flung back Griswold, quick as a flash. "Yates knows better than to try that. Where would he be when Merriwell reached the station?"

"Buying his ticket inside," sneered Emery, in return.

That aroused Jack Diamond, who flushed hotly and turned on Andy.

"I'll go you ten even that Merriwell beats Yates to the station platform," he flashed, producing a roll of bills. "This is business! Take me if you have the nerve!"

"Oh, I'll take you!" cried Emery; "and, when the business is over, I'll take your money, too."

He promptly produced a ten-dollar bill, and the money was quickly thrust into the hands of a stakeholder, who was chosen by mutual agreement.

"It strikes me you men are pretty swift," said Yates, in a manner that showed his disapproval. "How do you know I will run?"

"'Sh!" warned Flemming. "You'll have to run now, or they'll say you were afraid to go against Merriwell."

It was plain that Yates did not feel at all pleased by the situation, but he said:

"If I must run, I will, and I'll beat the fellow, but I don't care about getting into a sweat just now."

"Never mind that," said Emery, in Yates' ear. "If you beat Merriwell to the station, it is pretty sure that you spoil his show for getting into the mile run. This is your chance to do that little job, so don't let it slip."

Frank had said very little. It was not easy to tell if he felt satisfied or displeased over the situation.

The party turned a corner, and came in view of the station.

"Here is a good starting point," said Emery. "Does it satisfy you, Diamond?"

"Perfectly," bowed Jack.

"Then that's all right. Are you going to run, fellows?"

"I leave that entirely to Mr. Yates," said Frank, quietly.

"Oh, I'll go you—and I'll do you!" exclaimed Yates, as he tore off both coat and vest and flung them at Flemming, who caught them.

That started Rattleton, who excitedly cried:

"I'll tet you ben dollars—I mean I'll bet you ten dollars you don't do it!"

Yates paid no attention to this, but Flemming said:

"I'll have to go you, Rattleton. Put up the tenner."

The money was quickly posted, and then the rivals stood side by side, with their coats and vests removed, ready for the word.

Merriwell seemed quiet and indifferent, as if it were an event of no particular moment; while on Yates' face there was a look that plainly showed he was determined to settle all dispute by winning the dash to the station.

One of the committee had been chosen to give the word, and he stepped out, sharply calling:

"Ready!"

The lads leaned forward over the scratch in the dirt, which had been drawn by somebody's heel.

"Go!"

Away shot the rivals like leaping fawns. They seemed like two foxes, and the crowd of lads who broke away in pursuit resembled a pack of hounds.

It was a hot dash, and, for some time, the boys were running side by side, neither seeming to have an advantage.

"Wait a bit," panted Emery, at Diamond's side; "you'll soon see Yates spurt and leave Merriwell."

"What do you think Merriwell will be doing while Yates is spurting?" asked Jack, sarcastically.

"He'll seem to be standing still."

"Will he? Wait and see!"

The rivals were drawing near the station, and still it seemed that they were keeping side by side.

"Now they are spurting!"

Yes, they were spurting for the finish, but, to the amazement of Yates' friends, a single bound had seemed to carry Frank Merriwell two yards in advance of the other runner, and this advantage Merriwell maintained.

In another moment the station would be reached, and the race must end. Seeing this, Andy Emery was bitterly grinding out an exclamation of rage and disgust.

Suddenly Yates seemed to trip and fall heavily. He tried to spring up, but seemed to be hurt, and he was struggling to rise when Flemming reached the spot and lifted him to his feet.

"Are you hurt?" asked several, as they gathered around Duncan.

"Not much," he answered, rather thickly; "but I lost the dash by that fall."

"Rats!" muttered Harry Rattleton. "He had lost it before he fell."

"I was ready to make the final spurt, which would have carried me ahead of Merriwell at the finish," declared Yates.

"Oh, it is a case of beastly luck!" growled Andy Emery. "It is the way everything turns in Merriwell's favor. He never wins except it is by cold luck."

"Oh, come off!" chirped Danny Griswold. "You're sore, that's all ails you!"

"Shut up, or I'll wring your neck!"

"You can't catch me, you know," taunted the little fellow, as he skipped out of reach.

On the station platform Merriwell was quietly waiting the arrival of the others, fanning himself with his handkerchief.

It happened that Bruce Browning was at the station, and he had seen the race between the rivals. In his ponderous manner, he hurried to congratulate Frank.

"Yates was a fool to try it!" declared Bruce, his round face seeming to expand into one broad grin. "He might have known what would happen. I see Crockett and Gibbs, two of the committee, with the fellows. They witnessed the whole business, and it must have settled matters in their minds."

"I wish Yates had not fallen," said Frank, with regret.

"He did not fall accidentally, and you can bet your greasy coin on that! It was plain enough."

"Then you think—just what?"

"That he saw he was beaten, and fell so that he might make a claim that you outran him by accident."

"I had the lead."

"Yes, and he could not have recovered and overtaken you in a week! But that makes no difference. Allee samee, I rather fancy Yates will not fool anybody very much."

The knot of fellows now approached the station, where there was a great throng of Yale lads who had seen the race.

Yates was very pale, but there was a burning light in his eyes. He advanced straight to Frank, and distinctly said:

"Mr. Merriwell, you beat me this time through an accident; but I will run you again, and I'll win."

Frank bowed with the utmost courtesy.

"Mr. Yates," he said, "you will find me willing and ready to run with you any time."

"Whoopee!" squealed Danny Griswold, turning a handspring. "That's business straight from headquarters!"

"Here comes the train!" was the cry.

Then there was a scramble for tickets and for seats on the train.