Humiliated and infuriated, Roy Swift left, swearing vengeance. As soon as he got back to the hotel, he took to drink. He seemed in a great hurry to fill himself with whisky, and as he grew intoxicated still wilder schemes began to revolve in his head.

“I’ll be even with Merriwell!” he vowed. “He shall not have her! I swear it!”

He was one of the kind that grow desperate as they become intoxicated. In a disgraceful condition, he hunted up Walter, who, as yet, knew nothing of the affair at Brander’s.

“Burrage,” said Swift, “I’m going to marry your sister!”

Walter looked at him a moment, and then said:

“Swift, you are disgustingly drunk. I advise you to get into a room and stay there till you sober off.”

“Don’t need your advice. I’m going to marry your sister. That is business. I swear by everything high and low that I will have her! Frank Merriwell shall not!”

Then he turned and made off.

That afternoon Inza left the house to go to the post-office. Within ten rods of the door she was startled to hear the hoof-beats of a horse behind her. Turning quickly, she saw Roy Swift, mounted on a bay horse, coming straight toward her, his face flushed and his eyes gleaming.

She tried to get out of the way, but she could not avoid him. She thought he meant to run her down and trample her beneath the feet of the horse, but he swerved aside, bent from the saddle, caught her up somehow, and flung her across the horse before him.

Then, in this manner, holding her helpless, the intoxicated fellow went tearing through the village, yelling like a wild Indian.

Frank was with Walter Burrage when Swift passed the hotel. Merry saw him and dashed out to the street. In front of the hotel a horse was hitched, being harnessed into a sleigh.

Out came Merry’s knife, and with wonderful swiftness he cut that horse clear from the sleigh. Onto its back he flung himself, starting in pursuit of the liquor-maddened kidnaper.

It was a wild race through the village and out into the country beyond. From the top of a hill, Fardale Academy and the buildings surrounding it might have been seen, but neither pursued nor pursuer looked in that direction.

Frank found that Swift was drawing away, the horse on which he was mounted being far superior to the animal Merry had appropriated. In vain Frank urged on the horse he bestrode.

Then he saw the intoxicated kidnaper turn from the regular road into a road that led down to a little lake where some ice-cutters had been at work. They had made the road hauling ice to the village, where it was stored. In his delirium, Swift had mistaken this as the main highway.

When Merry reached that point, the bay horse was tearing down toward the lake. Frank pursued now with a hope that something might happen to baffle Swift.

Out onto the ice-covered lake rode the kidnaper. He did not seem to see the spot where the men had been cutting ice, and dashed straight into it. The thin ice crashed through beneath the feet of the horse, and it plunged into the water.

Then Frank Merriwell madly urged his own horse down the hill. When the lake was reached, he flung himself from the animal’s back and dashed to the edge of the opening in the ice.

Inza was clinging to the horse, which was keeping its head above the surface.

Swift had disappeared.

The solid ice ran close to the spot where the horse had plunged through, and Frank soon succeeded in getting hold of Inza and helping her out.

That evening Inza received Frank at Alvin Brander’s. The facts of her last thrilling adventure had been carefully kept from her father, who was resting easily.

Inza herself had been sorely shaken, but her brave spirit kept her up, and her healthy body had made it possible for her to endure it all without being overcome.

Indeed, to Frank it seemed that she looked more charming than ever. She shuddered when she thought of the fate of Roy Swift.

Somehow, Frank was uneasy. He could not seem to bring himself to speak of the things which sought utterance.

“Inza,” he said, “do you think you dare venture out this evening? It is a beautiful night and not very cold.”

“Yes,” she said, “I believe it will make me feel better.”

So, a little later, they were walking together, her gloved hand resting on his arm. The white moon looked down at them and smiled, while the knowing little stars winked wisely at each other.

Frank’s heart was strangely full. Still, something sealed his lips.

“This is our street,” said Inza, as they turned down the old familiar way. “You know we used to live down here a short distance?”

How well he knew it!

“I wish you were living here now, Inza, and that I was a cadet at the academy.”

“Would you like to live the old days over, Frank?”

“Would I? They were the happiest days of my life!”

“And of mine!”

They came to the old home, and paused where they could see it as revealed by the moonlight.

“It needs repairing,” she said sadly. “I hear it is for sale. The people who lived here have moved away, and it is empty.”

A strange fancy came to him.

“I believe I will buy it!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, do!” she cried. “That would be just splendid!”

“Would you like to live here again, Inza?”

“Nothing in this wide world could make me happier!”

“Nothing, Inza?”

Her head drooped. After a moment she murmured:

“Well, I did not mean just that, Frank.”

“Here is the old gate,” he said, drawing her toward it. “Don’t you remember a certain evening years ago when we stood here by the gate?”

“I shall never forget it!” she declared, slipping from him and passing through to the other side. “I was in here and you out there, just as we are now.”

“And it was a beautiful moonlight night, but the trees had leaves on them and cast a shadow here, so the moon could not see what happened that night.”

She laughed, in spite of the fact that her heart was beating very fast.

“Inza,” he went on, “you were my sweetheart then, and now I know I have loved you ever since. Inza, dearest, do you love me? Will you marry me when I leave college?”

The moment had come. She felt herself shaking all over. Her voice was not steady as she asked in a very low tone:

“Are you certain, Frank, that you love me more than any one else in the world—more than Elsie?”

“I have not the least doubt of it. I know now that I have always loved you more than any one in the world.”

“Then I will marry you, Frank!”

There being no baffling leaves on the trees, the delighted old moon this time saw what it had failed to see one moonlight evening over that gate years ago.

No. 70 of the Merriwell Series, entitled “Frank Merriwell’s False Friend,” by Burt L. Standish, has a thrilling boat race in which Frank helps his side to victory in spite of the efforts of his false friend to keep him out of the race.

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