ther ring you'd make some of the duffers hustle. That were the neatest
job what I ever see!"

"It was not so much of a trick," declared Frank. "The fellow is strong,
I'll warrant, but he is too heavy on his feet and too slow in his
movements. There are scores of fellows in college who can polish him
off."

"I will allow I never knowed you college chaps were able to fight like
that before. I knowed some of you were for fighting among yourselves all
right, but I didn't think you could go up against a reg'ler scrapper."

"It's a part of the education at Yale," smiled Frank; "and I've found it
comes in handy occasionally. The man who can't fight his way through
this world in one manner or another gets walked over by chaps who are
not his equal in any other way. I do not believe a man should fight only
at the proper time, but when he has to fight, I hold that he should be
able to do a good turn at it."

"Well, you can do your turn all right, sir."

"Now, Grody, Nemo must receive proper attention. I am sure that fellow
did something to make the horse lame. What he did I can't tell. I don't
see how he did it without getting his brains kicked out."

Grody hesitated, and then he said:

"Mr. Merriwell, sir, I wants to tell ye something."

"All right, Grody, go on."

"I didn't tell all what happened in the stall to-day when that bloke
were here."

"Oh, you didn't?"

"No, sir. What called my attention to the fact that he had gone inter
the stall were a racket."

"What sort of a racket?"

"Nemo kicked and squealed, sir, and I heard the man speaking to him.
Then I ran over and looked in."

"What was the rascal doing, Grody?"

"He were examinin' Nemo's feet, sir."

"And that was when he got in his dirty work!" cried Frank, angrily. "I'm
afraid I didn't thump him as much as he deserved! I feel like hunting
him up and giving him a few more!"

CHAPTER IV.

BIRDS OF A FEATHER.

In a little back room of a saloon three young men were sitting. They
were talking earnestly, for all that two of the three showed they had
taken altogether too much liquor to be entirely sober.

"We're glad to see you, Sport," one of the drinkers declared.

"Well, I am glad to see you, Harlow, old man, and you, too, Hartwick,
although we were never friendly before you left Yale so suddenly."

"That was my fault," admitted Hartwick, huskily. "I didn't know enough
to pick out the right sort of pals. I trusted too much to Ditson. H