It was a scene of the greatest excitement and enthusiasm. Pretty girls were there in large numbers, their faces glowing with admiration for the young men who were struggling like gladiators down in the modern arena. The swell set of New York occupied the boxes. Fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, cousins and aunts of the contestants were on hand, watching with eagerness for the appearance of those in which their interest centered. In some instances the parents of the young men engaged in the contests were plainly from the country. Their manners, their dress, their language indicated this. It was a wonderful occasion for them, and their hearts almost ceased beating when the favorite for whom they were watching showed himself and made his brave effort in some trial of strength and skill. Happy were they if he acquitted himself nobly. The blue of Old Yale dominated one great section of seats. And when a Yale man won in some of the contests hundreds upon hundreds of strong-lunged young men arose to their feet and sent the college slogan pealing forth, while that great mass of blue fluttered and swayed as if swept by a fitful tempest. It was Yale against the field, and Old Eli was acquitting herself nobly. One of the private boxes was occupied by the Hon. Andrew Flemming and his family. His wife and his two daughters were there. In a corner of the box sat two lads who were talking earnestly in guarded tones. They were Tom Thornton and Andy Emery. Thornton and Emery had been entertaining Fred Flemming's sisters, but now, for the moment, they had drawn aside and were earnestly discussing some point that seemed to interest them greatly. "It must be that the matter is settled, and Yates has been substituted for the one who is missing," said Thornton; "but it seems rather astonishing that Flem should be so sure Merriwell would not appear." "But he did seem sure," nodded Emery. "He told me over and over that Merriwell would not be here to run." "And you must know enough of Frank Merriwell to be sure he would be here if he could get here, even if he had to crawl on his knees." "That's right." "Then what has happened to Merriwell?" "You tell!" "I can't. I know Flemming would go to any extreme to carry out his desires. In fact, he is altogether too reckless and headstrong. I knew he did not mean it when he told Merriwell he was ready to bury the hatchet, and I have felt that he was not talking to hear his own voice when he told us Merriwell would not be on hand to race to-night." At this moment Fred Flemming entered the box. His face was flushed, and there was a look of triumph in his eyes. He spoke to his mother, and then addressed himself to the two boys, saying: "It's all right." Some event below attracted the full attention of all in the box save the trio in one corner. "Yates will run?" asked Emery, eagerly. "You bet your filthy!" nodded Fred. "I told you he would." "But where is Merriwell?" Flemming smiled mysteriously.