That was the way Frank found his roommate.
Harry was interested in sports and athletics, and he confided to Frank that he was bound to make a try for both the baseball and football teams. He had brought a set of boxing gloves, foils, and a number of sporting pictures. The foils were crossed above the mantel and the pictures were hung about the walls, but he insisted on putting on the gloves with Frank before hanging them up where they would be ornamental.
"I've taken twenty lessons, old man," he said, "and I want to point you a few shows--I mean show you a few points. We'll practice every day, and I'll bet in less than ten weeks I'll have you so you'll be able to hold your own with any fellow of your age and weight. Ever had the gloves on?"
"A few times," answered Frank, with a quiet smile.
"That's all the better. I won't have to show you how to start in. Here, here--that hand goes on the other glove--I mean that glove goes on the other hand. That's the way. Now we're off. Left forward foot--er, left foot forward. Hold your guard this way. Now hit me if you can."
Almost like a flash of lightning Frank's glove shot out, and he caused the glove to snap on Harry's nose.
"Whee jiz--I mean jee whiz!" gasped the astonished boy from Ohio. "You're quick! But it was an accident; you can't do it again."
He had scarcely uttered the words before Frank feinted and then shot in a sharp one under Harry's uplifted guard.
"Great Scott! You do know some tricks! I'll bet you think you can box! Well, I'll have to drive that head out of your notion--I mean that notion out of your head. Look out for me now! I'm coming!"
Then Harry Rattleton sailed into Frank and met with the greatest surprise of his life, for he found he could not touch Merriwell, and he was beaten and hammered and battered about the room till he finally felt himself slugged under the ear and sent flying over a chair, to land in a heap in one corner of the room. He sat up and held his gloved hand to his ear, which was ringing with a hundred clanging bells, while he stared astounded at his roommate.
"Wow!" he gurgled. "What have I been up against? Are you a prize fighter in disguise?"
That experience was enough to satisfy him that Frank Merriwell knew a great deal more than he did about boxing.