“Lucky! It was astounding, and the strange thing is that not a single newspaper report described it. All reports say you dodged Fulton, the Harvard tackler, when in truth you dodged him by jumping over him as he flung himself forward to grasp you about the body. I think that was a clean case of robbing you of the credit that was your due.” Again Frank laughed. “Who cares as long as Yale won!” he cried. “Everybody cares at Yale. I tell you, Merriwell, you’ll find you are the thing when you get back there! You had enemies once, but they’re all in the soup now. Not even the Chickering set dares breathe a word against you in public, for they know it would mean tar and feathers. You’ll find the professors ready to take off their hats to you. And everybody is kicking because this is your last term at the old college.” “My boy, you make me afraid to go back there; but I hope it is not as bad as you say, for I couldn’t stand it. I don’t want anybody bowing down to me. I’m just plain Frank Merriwell, and nothing more.” “Which means that to-day you are the greatest and best-known young man in this country. Oh, I’m not putting it on too thick! Can you wonder that Yale dreads to lose you? Can you wonder that your absence has produced no end of worry?” Frank knew Starbright was sincere. He had entertained a feeling of resentment toward the freshman because of his suspicions concerning Inza; but now Merry realized once more that Dick was scarcely anything but a big, impressionable boy, and must be regarded as such. “I shall be sorry to leave without seeing Inza or hearing anything about her,” admitted Frank. Instantly the cloud returned to Starbright’s face. “Inza!” he muttered bitterly. They had reached Thirty-third Street. “Let’s walk down Sixth Avenue,” said Merry, and they turned that way, leaving Broadway, glowing with thousands of electric lights, behind. Over their heads rumbled the elevated trains, beneath the trestles of which ran the surface trolleys. The avenue looked dark and dingy in comparison with “Beautiful Broadway,” for at night the portion of Broadway between Twenty-third and Forty-second Streets is really fascinating and attractive. On Broadway the greater part of the pedestrians had been well dressed and fashionable in appearance. Barely had they turned into Sixth Avenue when the general appearance of the people changed. Dick suddenly clutched Frank’s arm with a crushing grip. “Look!” he excitedly breathed, seeming to quiver from head to feet. “There he is!” He pointed to a bearded man who had paused to look at the chronometer in the window of a jeweler’s small shop, having in hand his own watch, which he was setting to correspond with the correct time. “Who is it?” asked Frank quietly. “The man Inza met at the Grand Central!” hissed Starbright. “The one she called Walter! That is the man!” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XVII