"It is evident," he said, "that Mr. Merriwell decided not to attend the tournament." "Look here, Fred," said Thornton, nervously, "you haven't done anything that will get you into trouble, have you?" Flemming snapped his fingers. "What is it to me if Merriwell sees fit to stay away?" he asked. "He may tell some sort of a wild story, but it seems that he was afraid to appear and run. All I ask of you fellows is that you keep your mouths closed on one point." "What is that?" "I don't care to have you breathe to a living soul that I knew in advance that Merriwell would not be on hand." "We'll not say a word about it." "Yates had no idea that he might be called on. I found it necessary to keep with him all the time and see that he did not get geared up. Then I had him where he could be found by the committee in case he was needed." "And----" "And he was found." "He has gone to prepare for the race?" "Sure." "That settles it! Merriwell has failed to show up!" A wild Yale cheer turned their attention to the arena at this moment. Big Hickok was preparing to put the shot, and he had been greeted in this manner by his admirers as he stepped out. Hickok was a giant, and Yale had the utmost confidence in him. Thus far the best record made by any other man was forty-one feet and five inches. Hickok must do his very best to beat that. The cheers died away as the Yale Goliath poised himself for the effort. He crouched, and then the heavy iron sailed through the air and fell with a thud to the ground. The tape was quickly drawn, and then the score went up. Forty-two feet and three inches! Once more Yale let herself loose, and it seemed that the roof must crack. Hickok quietly declined to take the two remaining trials open to him. He was the last man on the list, and Yale had won. The hammer-throwing was to follow, and he was entered for the contest. In the hammer-throwing contest Yale had another opportunity to yell, for Hickok was again the winner over all others, making a record of one hundred and twenty-three feet and nine inches. The contests followed each other in swift succession, and Yale more than held her own. There was no reason why the wearers of the blue should not be jubilant. At last, the races came on. Up in the Flemming box were three lads who were anxiously awaiting the announcement of the one-mile run. Despite the triumph which he felt, Fred Flemming betrayed a sort of hilarious nervousness as he chatted with his sisters and his friends. Watching Fred closely, Tom Thornton saw that he was under a strain. And again Thornton wondered what had become of Frank Merriwell. Princeton won one of the shorter races, and Harvard won another. In each of these a Yale man was second. "If Mr. Merriwell had contented himself with being less ambitious, he might be here to-night," said Flemming, in an aside to his college comrades.