"Merriwell! Merriwell! 'Rah! 'rah! 'rah!"

It was a mighty roar of voices. Then came the well-known Yale yell, which was repeated again and again. The entire Yale crowd was standing, wildly waving hands, hats, flags, handkerchiefs, anything and everything that could be found to wave. It was an ovation that might have gladdened the heart of an emperor.

It was not strange that the sound nerved the Yale man to vow within himself to die in the effort to win for dear "Old Eli," if he could not win otherwise.

But up in one of the boxes not far from the starting point were three young men who were utterly overcome with amazement and consternation. One of them had a face that was drawn and pale, as if he had received a mortal wound.

"What's it mean, Flem?" asked Andy Emery, in Fred's ear. "Merriwell is here! Have you been horsing us?"

Then, for all that his parents and his sisters were present, Fred Flemming ground out a bitter cry. His voice shook and he choked, as he answered:

"You know as well as I what it means! Oh, what luck!"

He was utterly unmanned, and his mother, observing his pallor, asked him if he had been suddenly taken ill. He answered her with a snarl, like a mad dog.

The five runners came down to the line. Just as they did so, Duncan Yates burst into the Flemming box.

"What sort of a jolly business is this, Flemming?" he demanded, his face pale with anger.

And then, seeing there were ladies present, he removed his cap and mumbled an apology.

Fred did not introduce Yates; he was too much broken up to think of such a thing.

"That's what I'd like to know," he said, helplessly. "You know we were told Merriwell was not on hand to run."

"But he showed up in time to dress, and I was coolly informed that I wasn't in it. I object to such treatment, and I want to know if it was a job on me."

"If it was a job, I'll give you my word I know nothing about it," said Fred, in a weak and humble manner.

At this moment, as they looked down, Frank Merriwell was seen to gaze straight toward them, and something like a scornful, triumphant smile flitted across his face.

"I'd like to strangle him!" grated Flemming.

The runners were preparing for the start. Pistol in hand, the starter stood ready to give the signal. His voice was heard bidding them make ready.

A moment later, the pistol cracked, and the runners leaped away.

"Oh, if he'll come in the tail-ender!" panted Fred Flemming.

The band was playing its liveliest air, and the runners sped around the track like fawns. Graceful fellows they were, with the possible exception of little Judd. Judd started off bravely, however, seeming to scoot into the lead like a squirrel, his short legs fairly twinkling.

The U.P. crowd let out a great cheer to encourage the little fellow.

Beatty, of Harvard, was likewise a quick starter, and he was right at Judd's heels, while Mansford and Merriwell got away side by side. Jetting, the Dartmouth representative, was slow about starting, but still he was a runner.

It had been expected that other colleges would take part in this race, but, for certain reasons, there were but five starters.

Around the track ran the lithe-limbed youngsters, with Judd holding the lead for two laps. Then he was passed by Beatty, who spurted to get to the front, and this gave Harvard an opportunity to "hoo-rah."

From the very outset it seemed that Merriwell and Mansford were in for a neck-and-neck match. They clung together in a singular manner.

For a time the five runners were well bunched, but there came a stringing out at last. Little Judd began to lag, and Jetting, who had pushed past Merriwell and Mansford, went by the U.P. man and began to crowd Beatty.

The New Hampshire boys cheered him on, and the sound of the yell he loved to hear got into his head and worked his undoing. Otherwise Jetting must have been a dangerous man for the leaders at the finish. As it was, he pumped himself out some seconds too soon.

At the first quarter Harvard led, and she was still leading, with Dartmouth second, when the first half was passed.

Then came a fierce struggle for the lead, which ended with the weakening of both Beatty and Jetting. Beatty weakened first, however, and fell back, but Jetting was seen to stagger a bit, recover and go on.

Merriwell and Mansford passed Beatty and narrowed the gap between them and Jetting. Mansford set his teeth and gained an advantage of ten feet by a quick break. This advantage he was resolved to hold.

Jetting fought like a tiger to hold the lead, but Mansford crowded him harder and harder, finally going to the front.

Then came a desperate struggle between Merriwell and Jetting, but Yale's colors were carried into second place at the beginning of the last quarter.

And now—now there was excitement. The finish was drawing near, and Princeton had the lead, although the distance was short.

As Frank passed the Yale crowd he was given a rousing cheer, which seemed to put fresh life and strength into his body. He crept up on Mansford, who was running like the wind. The difference grew less and less. Eight feet, six feet, four feet—could he close the gap?

Then, for a moment, a black cloud seemed to pass before Frank's eyes. His heart was in his mouth, where it lay hot and dry, like a stone that has baked in the sun. It seemed that he must fall.

"Win or die! win or die!"

Those words rang through his head as if some one had shouted them into his ear.

"I will!"

He knew the end was close at hand, and still the black and yellow was before him.

Then it was that Frank nerved himself for one last great effort, and dashed forward with a fresh burst of speed that seemed little short of marvelous. That burst carried him to Mansford's side—carried him into the lead—carried him over the line at the finish—a winner!

There was a grand supper in New York that night, at which Frank Merriwell was the guest of honor. He was toasted again and again by his admiring friends, and it seemed that everybody was his friend at last. There were speeches and songs and a general merry time. Old Yale had carved her way to glory once more, and among her standard-bearers Merriwell was the leader.

"Tell us, tell us, old man," cried Paul Pierson, "how was it that you happened to be so late in appearing at the garden? Really we had given up hope that you would come, and were for getting Yates into running rig. You barely got along in time. What kept you away?"

"I was unavoidably detained," answered Frank, smiling.

"Yes, but that is an unsatisfactory explanation. Rattleton and the fellows who were with you reported your mysterious disappearance, and we were for putting detectives on the case to-morrow. Can't you clear up the mystery?"

"Well, you see, it is like this: I fell in with some gentlemen who seemed to take a strong interest in me. Note the word strong there. In fact they were too strong for me. They seemed to like me exceedingly well, and they pressed me to stay all night with them. I was sort of roped into it, as it were. I found it difficult to get away without wounding their feelings."

This was said in a queer manner, and the lads about the table looked at each other inquiringly.

"But you managed to get away?" said Pierson.

"Yes, I offered them inducements in the shape of coin of the realm. They seemed to be out for stuff, and some person, who must love me dearly—had induced them to take charge of me and care for me tenderly. However I worked on their greed by offering more than my friend had offered, and, as I promised not to make too much of a fuss about it, I was let off, but barely in time to reach here. I am not going to say anything more about this matter just now, but I expect to look around some and find out who my friend is who engaged the gentlemen to care for me so tenderly. When I find him—well, I won't do a thing to him!"

"Well, here's luck to you!" cried Pierson, lifting his glass. "Gentlemen, here's luck to Frank Merriwell, the best all-around man who ever called dear Old Yale alma mater. Drink—drink hearty!"

A few words more and we will bring this story to a close.

Frank was truly the hero of the college, and it was many a day before his wonderful dash was forgotten by even the most indifferent of the students.