“He’s all right!” answered a hundred voices. “They’d better put that Hopkins stiff out of the game!” shouted still another man. Fillmore was warned by the referee, and the game was resumed. It was Herb Onslaw who finally shot the ball into the net. Hopkins was now only one goal in the lead. The local players fought hard to hold that lead. The ball was sent into the territory of the Merries, but it did not remain there long. Starbright shot it back, and Frank took it. They could not stop him. He carried it down and shot for goal. Brisbane stopped it, but it fell at his feet. Wilkins was at hand, and he scooped it into the net. The score was tied. Never had Fillmore and his fellows been more desperate. They had fancied the game safely in their hands; but now they saw it slipping through their fingers. It was no use. Again the Hopkins players saw the ball go into Merriwell’s possession, and again they did their level best to keep him from reaching a position where he could try for goal. But, swiftly dodging man after man, Merry wove his way through them toward the net and the anxious goal keeper. Brisbane was nervous. He feared he could not stop the ball. That fear aided in his undoing. He did not stop it. Merry cast it deftly into one of the upper corners of the net, and his team had taken the lead. After that Hopkins seemed to slump. Had the game lasted a few minutes more the Merries would have added another score. As it was, it finally ended four to three, just as the game with Harvard had finished. The moment the game was over Frank Merriwell walked up to Fred Fillmore. “You failed in your trick to-day, just as you failed at Hastings’ road house,” he said. “I don’t know how you happened to be chosen the captain of the Hopkins team. You can play lacrosse, but you are a dirty fellow.” “Be careful!” muttered Fillmore. “Be careful what you say!” “I am very careful. I am going to remain over a few days in Baltimore, and I shall try to see you again while I am here. If I meet you in a convenient locality I promise to give you something in return for the crack on the head that you gave me to-day. That is all.” That very night Fred Fillmore caught a train at Union Station, bound for New York. He was not anxious to meet Merriwell again. CHAPTER XXVIII. ELSIE BELLWOOD’S RESOLVE. “How are you feeling to-night, Elsie?” “No better.” “That’s too bad, dear! I’m so sorry!” Inza Burrage placed her arm lovingly about Elsie Bellwood and drew Elsie’s head down upon her shoulder. They were in their room in the home of John Loder, in Baltimore. It was evening. “I’m so sorry!” repeated Inza sympathetically, as she softly patted Elsie’s pale cheek. “What seems to be the matter?” “I’m tired, tired. I seem to be tired all the time now, Inza. I can’t get rested.” “You’ll be better to-morrow, dear,” declared the dark-eyed girl cheerfully; “I’m sure you’ll be better to-morrow.”