N. Y., N. H. & H. R. R., but he looked in vain.

"Well, that is remarkable!" Merriwell decided. "I can't understand it.
If that fellow escaped, it is a miracle. And if he escaped, I believe I
shall hear from him again," he finished.

The spring term was drawing to a close. But two more events were to
transpire before the coming of the long summer vacation. There was the
final ball game with Harvard, and then the great intercollegiate
athletic tournament at Madison Square Garden in New York--the latter
affair to be the great college event of the year.

Frank was entered for several of the contests in New York, but his hand,
although improving, would not be in condition to allow him to play ball
again that season.

As for the coming vacation, his plans were not perfected as yet. Some of
his friends were going to Bar Harbor, some contemplated spending the
summer quietly at home, some were going abroad for a flying trip, and
many had expressed themselves as quite undecided as to the manner in
which they would pass the summer months.

Frank had boldly proposed a bicycle journey across the continent, but
all his friends, with the exception of Diamond, had considered the
proposition a joke.

Diamond grew enthusiastic over it, urging Merriwell to carry out the
plan, even though but two of them should make the jaunt.

Frank's plan embraced a party of at least four--possibly more. What made
Rattleton believe that Merriwell was joking was that Frank had soberly
asked Bruce Browning, the reputedly laziest man at Yale, to make one of
the party.

Bruce came near fainting with horror at the mere mention of such a
thing.

"My dear Merriwell!" he gasped, "is it possible that you take me for a
candidate for a lunatic asylum? Do you think that I am on the verge of
lapsing into complete idiocy? Or are you simply trying to have a little
sport at my expense?"

"Nothing of the sort, my dear fellow, I assure you," said Frank. "I am
in sober earnest about getting up a party to make the trip across the
continent, and I think it would be a fine thing for you if you were to
make one of the company."

Bruce was reclining on a couch in Merriwell's room at the time, lazily
puffing away at a cigarette. He languidly reached out his hand and felt
for Frank's wrist.

"Permit me to examine your pulse, old fellow," he murmured. "If you are
not trying to work some kind of a horse on me you must be in a bad way.
Ah!" he said, knowingly, wit