Frank Merriwells Nobility | Page 7

on!"
After some seconds he tried to speak. At first he choked and could say nothing articulate. After a little, he muttered:
"I can't go on--I can't finish the story! You'll have to excuse me, fellows! I'm not feeling well!"
And he withdrew from the jolly party as soon as possible.
From that day Frank Merriwell never attempted to tell a story that was in the slightest degree vulgar. He had learned his lesson, and he never forgot it.
Some boys swagger, chew tobacco, talk vulgar, and swear because they do not wish to be called "sissies." They fancy such actions and language make them manly, but nothing could be a greater mistake.
Frank did nothing of the sort, and all who knew him regarded him as thoroughly manly. Better to be called a "sissy" than to win reputed manliness at the cost of self-respect.
Frank had forced those who would have regarded him with scorn to respect him. He could play baseball or football with the best of them; he could run, jump, swim, ride, and he excelled by sheer determination in almost everything he undertook. He would not be beaten. If defeated once, he did not rest, but prepared himself for another trial and went in to win or die. In this way he showed himself manly, and he commanded the respect of enemies as well as friends.
Rattleton was ashamed of the language he had used after the departure of Bloodgood, and he did not attempt to excuse himself further. He lay back in his berth, looking sicker than ever.
"I'd give ten dollars for the privilege of helping Mr. Bloodgood out with my foot!" hissed Jack Diamond. "Never saw anybody so fresh!"
"Oh, I've seen lots of people just like him," grunted Browning, getting out a pipe and lighting it.
"Don't smoke, Bruce!" groaned Rattleton, as the steamer gave an unusually heavy roll. "I'm sick enough now. That will make me worse."
"Oh, we'll open the port."
"Open the port!" laughed Frank. "And we just told Bloodgood we did not drink."
"Port-hole, not port wine," said the big fellow, with a yawn. "We'll let in some fresh air."
"We can't let in anything fresher than just went out," declared the Virginian, as he flung open the round window that served to admit light and air.
"There's something mighty queer about that fellow," said Frank. "Did you notice the diamonds he was wearing, fellows?"
"Yes," said Bruce, beginning to puff away at his new briarwood. "Regular eye-hitters they were."
"Who knows they were genuine?" asked Jack.
"Nobody here," admitted Frank. "It is impossible to distinguish some fake stones from real diamonds, unless you examine them closely. But, somehow, I have a fancy that those were genuine diamonds."
"What makes you think so?"
"I don't know just why I think so, but I do. Something tells me that for all of his swagger Bloodgood is a fellow who would scorn to wear paste diamonds."
"What do you make out of the fellow, anyway?" asked Bruce.
"I'm not able to size him up yet," admitted Frank. "I'm not certain whether he came of a good family or a bad one, but I'm inclined to fancy it was the former."
"I'd like to know why you think so?" from Jack. "He did not show very good breeding."
"But there is a certain something about his face that makes me believe he comes from a high-grade family. I think he has become lowered by associating with bad companions."
"Well, I don't care who or what he is," declared Jack; "if he gets fresh around me again, I'll crack him one for luck. I can't stand him for a cent!"
"Better turn him over to me," murmured Bruce, dozily. "I'll sit on him."
"And he'll think he's under an elephant," laughed Merry. "Bruce cooked M. Montfort, and I reckon he'd have less trouble to cook Mr. Bloodgood."
At this moment there was a hesitating, uncertain knock on the door.
"Another visitor, I wonder?" muttered Frank.
CHAPTER V.
THE SUPERSTITIOUS MAN.
A little man hesitated outside the door when it was opened. He had a sad, uncertain, mournful drab face, puckered into a peculiar expression about the mouth. He was dressed in black, but his clothes were not a very good fit or in the latest style. He fingered his hat nervously. His voice was faltering when he spoke.
"I--I beg your pardon, gentlemen. I--I hope I am not--intruding?"
He had not crossed the threshold. He seemed in doubt about the advisability of venturing in.
There was something amusing in the appearance of the little man. Frank recognized a "character" in him, and Merry was interested immediately. He invited the little man in, and closed the door when that person had entered.
"I--I know it's rather--rather--er--bold of me," said the stranger, apologetically. "But you know people on shipboard--er--take many--liberties."
"Oh, yes, we know it!" muttered Diamond.
Browning grunted and looked the little man over. He was a curiosity to Bruce.
"What can we