LITMIR.BIZ

      CHAPTER I.

       HORSE TALK.

       Table of Contents

      "He's a beauty!"

      Jack Diamond uttered the exclamation. He was admiring a horse Frank Merriwell had lately purchased.

      "He is," agreed Danny Griswold, with his hands thrust deep into his trousers pockets and his short legs set far apart. "But think of paying a thousand dollars!"

      "He looks like a racer," declared Bruce Browning, who showed unusual interest and animation for a fellow who was known as the laziest man at Yale.

      "He's got the marks of a swift one," asserted Diamond, walking around the bay gelding, which Frank Merriwell had led out into the middle of the stable floor for inspection. "He is rangey, has clean limbs, and a courageous eye. I shouldn't wonder if he could cover ground in a hurry."

      "I did not buy him for a racer," asserted Frank. "I purchased him as a saddle horse purely for my own use and pleasure."

      "You must have money to burn," chirped Griswold. "Your old man must have made loads of it. I had an uncle four times removed once who made money, but he got arrested when he tried to pass it."

      "That reminds me of my father and his partner," said Browning, with apparent seriousness. "They formed a strange sort of a partnership. One of them stayed in New York all the time, while the other remained in California. In this manner they managed always to have plenty of money between them."

      "Oh, goodness!" gasped Diamond, "if you fellows keep this up, I shall want to get away."

      "If you want to get a weigh, we'll try to find some scales for you," chuckled Griswold, his eyes twinkling.

      "They say Dan Dorman's father has plenty of money," said Frank.

      "I've heard so," admitted Browning. "But Dorman is too mean to make much of a drain on the old man's pile."

      "That's right," nodded Griswold. "Why, he is so mean that in the winter, when his hair gets long, he wets it thoroughly, and then goes out in the open air and lets it freeze."

      "What does he do that for?"

      "So he can break it off and save the price of a hair-cut!"

      "Say," cried Diamond, desperately, "I thought you fellows were talking about a horse!"

      "No," yawned Browning, "we're talking about a jackass."

      Every one but Jack seemed to appreciate this, for they all grinned.

      "Well," said the lad from Virginia, "Merriwell has brought out his horse for us to inspect, and I move we do so. After this is over, you may talk of anything you please."

      "It is rather remarkable that you should pay such a price for a mere saddle horse," declared Browning.

      "I simply kept my promise," smiled Frank.

      "Your promise?"

      "Exactly."

      "What promise?"

      "The one I made to myself when this horse enabled me to overtake a runaway that was dragging Winifred Lee to danger and possible death. This is the animal on which I pursued the runaway, and I took him without asking leave of the owner. I vowed that if this horse enabled me to catch and stop the runaway before Miss Lee was harmed I would own the creature if it took my last dollar," he added.

      "And that," cried Griswold, trying to strike a dramatic attitude—"that is true love!"

      "Well, I don't know as I blame you, Merriwell," admitted Bruce. "Winifred Lee is a stunning girl. But it strikes me that the owner of the horse swindled you."

      A bit of additional color had risen to Frank's cheeks, and he looked strikingly handsome. The boys knew it would not do to carry the joke about Winnie Lee too far, and so they refrained.

      "The man who owned the horse did not want to sell him at any price," explained Frank. "I induced him to set a price that he thought would settle me, and then I snapped him up so quickly it took away his breath."

      "I should think your guardian would have kicked at throwing up a thousand for such a purpose."

      "He did," laughed Frank, looking at Diamond, who showed a little confusion. "You remember that Jack, Rattleton and myself went on to Springfield to meet him a few days ago?"

      "And got arrested for kidnaping a baby!" chuckled Griswold. "That was a corker. We didn't do a thing to you fellows when you got back here!"

      "That's right," admitted Jack, dolefully. "Not a thing! You simply marched us through the streets and onto the campus with a band and banners and made a stunning show of us!"

      "Well," said Frank, "Professor Scotch, my guardian, was so glad to get out of the scrape when the judge discharged us that he gave up the thousand without a flutter. That's how I got the money."

      "Well," yawned Browning, "now you have the horse, you'll find him an expensive piece of furniture. It takes money to take care of 'em and feed 'em."

      Diamond had been inspecting the gelding from all sides, surveying him with the air of one who knows something about horses, and he now asked:

      "Has the creature a pedigree, old man?"

      "Sure," nodded Frank. "Its pedigree is all right. I have it somewhere, but I don't care so much for that."

      "Oh, I don't know! It may prove of value to you some day."

      "How?"

      "Well, you may take a fancy to enter Nemo in a race or two."

      "What then?"

      "If he should win, you'll want his pedigree."

      "I suppose that is right, but I am no sportsman of the turf; that is professional. Amateur sports are good enough for me."

      "Honest horse racing is one of the grandest sports in the world!" cried Jack, with flashing eyes.

      "Honest horse racing!" laughed Griswold. "What's that? Where do you find anything like that?"

      "Oh, there is such a thing."

      "There may be, but people are not used to it."

      "That's why I do not think much of horse racing," declared Frank. "There are too many tricks to it to suit me."

      "Oh, there are tricks to any sort of sport."

      "Very few to college sports. If a man is caught at anything crooked it means ruin for his college career, and he is sure to carry the stigma through life. I tell you college sports are honest, and that is why they are so favored by people of taste and refinement—people who care little or nothing for professional sports. The public sees the earnestness, the honesty, and the manhood in college sports and contests, and the patrons of such sports know they are not being done out of their money by a fake. Prize fighting in itself is not so bad, but the class of men who follow it have brought disgrace and disrepute upon it. Fights are 'fixed' in advance by these dishonest scoundrels, and the man who backs his judgment with his money is likely to be done out of his coin

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