ning to tell on Merriwell's racer at just the right
time. We'll send the fellow back to Yale penniless, and then I will
jump on him with his paper. I'll expose him as a race-track gambler, a
fraud, a swindler! I'll ruin his college career, as he ruined mine! But
I'll not be satisfied then. I'll hound him till he is weary of his life!
I'll make him remember the day he dared lift his hand against Evan
Hartwick! I can feel his blow now! It left a mark on my cheek. That mark
is not there now, but the scar is on my heart! Nothing can cure it but
full and absolute reprisal! This is my first triumph!"

Hartwick almost frothed at the mouth, and his reddish eyes glared as if
there were a glowing furnace within his passionate soul.

Evan's companions looked at him with awe, and Harris shivered a bit,
drawing a little away.

The passions of the revengeful lad had been wonderfully aroused by the
liquor he had taken, and he showed at his very worst just then.

"Toots does not seem to be pushing Nemo as he might," muttered Harlow.
"The boy is taking it easy. If I did not know the attempt had failed I
should think he had been bought off."

"Pawnee can't hold the lead," declared Harris. "I am willing to bet all
I have that he will not take the race."

"Hang Pawnee!" snarled Hartwick. "I do not care which horses secure the
purses, if Merriwell's animal is not one of them."

"Well, it begins to look as if you were safe," came with some
satisfaction from Harlow. "Black Boy is the favorite and he is crawling
now. Already he is neck and neck with Lightfoot."

Hartwick's hand shook as he adjusted the field glasses he held and
brought them to bear on the racing horses.

"It's all right. I know it's all right!" he muttered, hoarsely.
"Lightfoot is holding the lead on Nemo. Frank Merriwell's horse is
fifth, and the animal will not hold out to get around the track. I
believe Nemo is swaying now. The horses behind are gaining! Ha! ha! How
it will wring Merriwell's heart to see his beauty come in last!"

"This is early," cautioned Harris. "They have just reached the quarter
now. Wait till they pass us before you begin to count your chickens, old
man."

The spectators grew excited as the racing horses swung around the
half-mile track and came flying down toward the judges' stand on their
first round. Men waved their hats and cheered, the white handkerchiefs
of women were fluttering.

"Black Boy! Black Boy! He is the winner for a thous