Then Merriwell went out and sang one of the sweetest of the old college songs. His beautiful voice thrilled every listener, and it seemed that the audience scarcely drew a breath. Frank was absorbed by the dear old song, and his handsome face showed intense feeling. His eyes were misty with unshed tears as the memories of the old days--the dear old days--came overwhelmingly upon him.
It was finished, but it seemed that every person in that theater rose and cheered as he bowed himself off. They called him on, and he sang again. Again they called him out. He bowed and retired, but they were not satisfied, and they thundered and stormed till he came out and sang "Stars of the Summer Night." When that was over it seemed that the enthusiasm was even greater that at any time before, and nine times was Frank Merriwell called out before the audience would be satisfied.
It was all over at last, and everyone was declaring it the greatest success ever known in Groton.
The receipts of the evening were heavy, and the hearts of the stranded actors were happy.
The following morning they found him in the river, one mile from town. His arms were clasped in a death lock about the body of another dead man.
"Sargent!" cried Havener, in a thrilling voice, as he looked down at that horror-stricken face. "He has paid the penalty! I could not have done the work, for Cassie will get well, but old Dan has avenged her!"
Havener was right; Cassie did get well, but not as speedily as he wished.
With the proceeds of the benefit Frank and his friends started for St. Louis and thither we will follow them in the next volume of the series, entitled "Frank Merriwell's Fame."
Cassie was taken to the City Hospital in St. Louis for treatment. Here she was given the very best attention, and with Frank and Havener to cheer her there was every reason to expect that she would be on the way to recovery.
"If she gets well," said Havener, "it will be due to your kindness, Merriwell. Since you took hold here you have shown us all an example of forbearance and unselfishness that will do us more good than a hundred sermons."
And if the sad-faced little soubrette had heard his remarks her eyes would probably have filled with tears of gratitude and she would have said: