BART AND ELSIE.
In the suburbs of Charlottesville, sitting at the window of a handsome
house, was a pretty, blue-eyed, fair-haired girl, whose sweet face told
of the great beauty of her character.
The window at which the girl sat commanded a view of the distant highway
and the winding walk that led up from the gate through the shrubbery of
a beautiful garden lawn.
The girl was watching the road and the walk, her face expressing both
eagerness and anxiety. She surveyed every pedestrian that passed along
the street, and her heart fluttered, sending the pink flush of hope into
her cheeks, when a swiftly driven carriage appeared coming rapidly along
the street. The flush died when the carriage passed, and a sigh of
disappointment escaped her.
The girl was Elsie Bellwood, looking fairer and sweeter than ever, if
possible.
“Will he come?” she murmured.
Of whom was she thinking? Was it Frank Merriwell, or——
Two persons appeared, coming from another street, and soon turned in by
the gate to the grounds of the handsome mansion.
One of them was a sturdy-looking boy with freckled face, who walked
proudly, carrying his head high, while upon his outthrust chest might be
seen what to him was far more precious than the medal of the Legion of
Honor—a Yale baseball-badge.
The other was dark-eyed, dark-haired, finely formed, handsome, stern.
Bart Hodge was coming, escorted and directed by King Jimmy the First.
The girl was standing on the broad veranda, a bright smile on her face,
when they came up.
“There she is, suh,” said King Jimmy, taking off his torn old hat,
pressing his hand to his heart, over which hung that ensign of royalty,
and bowing low with courtly grace. “This is Miss Bellwood, suh.”
Bart Hodge did not speak. His face was very pale, but there was a
glowing light in his dark eyes. She held out her hands to him, and they
trembled a little.
“Bart,” she said, “I am so glad to see you!”
With a bound he went up the steps to the veranda, he clasped those small
hands in a grasp that was almost crushing, he looked deep into her open
blue eyes, as if he would read her very soul.
“Are you glad—are you really glad?” he breathed, his strong body
beginning to shake a little in spite of his efforts to hold himself in
control.
“I am really and truly glad, Bart,” she honestly answered, and who could
doubt the sincerity of Elsie Bellwood when she spoke like that!
He longed to clasp her in his arms, to hold her to his throbbing heart
as he had in that terrible yet joyous moment on the burning steamer when
he poured into her ears the tale of his long-smothered love. He longed
to hold her thus and press a kiss on those sweet lips—to smother that
beautiful mouth in kisses.
But Bart Hodge, who had once been unable to govern himself and his
desires, had learned the value and art of self-control from his dearest
friend, Frank Merriwell, so that he now was able to hold himself in
check.
But the eyes of King Jimmy were keen, and the tact of King Jimmy was
great, for he deliberately turned his back upon them and seemed
intensely and wondrously interested in the beauties of the
well-cultivated lawn and the efforts of the gardener who was laboring on
a distant flower-bed. But to himself the king whispered:
“My stars! but ain’t he just completely smashed on her! It’s a dead gone
case!”
Elsie read the truth of Bart’s continued love in his looks; she realized
that it had grown still stronger and deeper. If she had hoped that he
would put it away from him she now saw that there was no possibility of
his making an effort to do such a thing. And, while it enchanted her,
still there was a strange intensity about it that made her afraid.
Still, a man who could love like this was a man who would make a most
devoted husband. He would be ready to shield from all harm the prize he
had won. He would devote the remainder of his life to her without
reservation and without selfishness, no matter what his past record
showed him to be.
At least, thoughts like these flitted vaguely through the mind of the
girl who had met him there upon the veranda of that beautiful Virginian
home.
“Yes, I’m awfully glad you’ve come!” declared Elsie, smiling even though
it seemed that he would crush her slender fingers in his fierce,
thoughtless grasp. “But where is—Frank?”
He dropped her hands suddenly.
“Frank?” he said, and there was a strange hoarseness in his voice. “You
are disappointed because he did not come instead of me!”
“Crickets!” thought His Royal Highness, still maintaining his position
with his back toward them, although he would have given the wealth of
half his kingdom to peep at them then. “That feller is jealous! My! my!
but he’s a hot one!”
“Oh, no!” Elsie quickly declared, putting both her hands on Bart’s arms
and looking again into his eyes; “not that. I am disappointed because he
did not come with you.”
“Wonder which one she’s worse smashed on,” speculated the king to
himself. “Frank? Why, she must mean Frank Merriwell! Jeroosalam! If
that’s the case, this feller don’t stand a ghost of a show! Why, of
course she cares most for Frank!”
King Jimmy the First was loyal to the core.
“Do you wish to see him so much?” asked Hodge, still with the wound of
jealousy rankling in his heart.
“Of course I do, Bart. You know what a true friend he has been to me.
You know I never could have obtained my fortune if it had not been for
him. You know he has saved my life more than once.”
“Yes, I know,” muttered Hodge. “I know he saved your life that time when
he was rowing with you and Inza. When the boat was capsized, he saved
you, instead of Inza. Why did he do that unless he loved you most?”
“How foolish you are, Bart! It is always Frank’s way to help first those
less able to help themselves. He did so in that case.”
“It was his choice between you!”
“Nonsense! It was nothing of the sort! Inza is an athletic girl, and he
knew she was a splendid swimmer, therefore she was better able to take
care of herself. At least, he thought so, and that was why he came to my
rescue first. Now, don’t be foolish, Bart—please don’t!”
Their loyal companion, still standing with his back toward them, was
forgotten for the time being. But his ears were wide open, and his
wisdom that had made him king was brought to bear on this case.
“That’s what she thinks about it,” he mentally commented. “She’s honest
in thinkin’ so, but I guess she’s wrong. If Frank saved her first, I’ll
bet my new pair of suspenders that she’s the one he’s most stuck on.”
However, even the wisdom of a king may sometimes be unwise.
“Perhaps you are right,” admitted Hodge; “but I don’t believe it. Let’s
not talk of that.”
“That’s where you’re sensible, young feller,” whispered James the First
to himself. “If you want to stand the least show, don’t get her to
sizing you up alongside of Frank Merriwell, ’cause you ain’t in it for a
minute. You’re a pretty good feller, but yo’ ain’t in his class, suh.”
“But I wrote—I wanted him to come, you know,” said Elsie, with some
hesitation. “I suppose he was so busy he did not have time, but I’ll see
him at the game this afternoon.”
“I don’t understand just what happened,” said Bart, “but a man—a big,
red-headed fellow——”
“Regular darned old pirate!” was King Jimmy’s unspoken comment.
“——met him at the station when we arrived,” Hodge went on, “and gave him
a letter. Frank read it, told us he must leave us for a while, jumped
into a double team with the man, and was driven off. He didn’t tell a
soul where he was going or anything about it. It’s rather queer, I
think.”
Elsie looked suddenly worried.
“I’m afraid, Bart,” she said, “that something is wrong.”
“Wrong? Why? What can be wrong?”
“Well, I don’t just know, but my heart seems to tell me that Frank is in
serious trouble.”
“Jee-whill-i-kins!” gasped King Jimmy, almost staggering with the shock.
“I wonder if that’s so!”
“What trouble could he get into here?” said Hodge. “He has no enemy who
would wish to do him harm—that is, none in this place.”
“Yes he has!” exclaimed Elsie earnestly.
“Has?”
“Yes.”
“Why, who——”
“One of his old enemies at college is right here in this place!”
“Great horn spoon!” muttered the now thoroughly excited king. “This is
getting mighty interesting.”
“Who is it?” asked Bart, also interested.
“Do you remember Roland Ditson?”
“Do I? I should say I did! Why, he was one of the most contemptible
sneaks I ever saw!”
“Roland Ditson is in Charlottesville.”
“But he hasn’t courage enough to do anything. No one need ever fear
him.”
“He might not have courage enough himself, but there are desperate men
in these parts who will do almost anything for money. We do not see many
of them here in town, but we hear of them. You know there is an outlaw
by the name of Cunningham who defies officers to capture him and who has
carried on a perfect reign of terror not more than a hundred miles from
here.”
Bart laughed, trying to reassure her.
“Oh, well, it’s not at all likely Mr. Cunningham has had anything to do
with Roland Ditson or is in this vicinity. Don’t get alarmed, Elsie.
Frank can take care of himself.”
“But Roland Ditson has been so confident that U. V. would defeat Yale!
It has seemed strange. You know he comes here to this house, and I have
been compelled to meet him and treat him decently. He has made some
talk, and it has been his boast that Virgil Paragon, the great U. V.
pitcher, would ‘make Yale look sick.’ I understand that he has bet lots
of money against Yale.”
“Well, he’ll lose it,” said Bart.
“You bet your boots he will,” mentally agreed King Jimmy.
“Not if Frank does not pitch.”
“Oh, I don’t know! We’ve developed two good men on this trip. You know
Merriwell is doing only just enough pitching to get into perfect form.
When a game looks bad, of course, he goes in and pulls us out. We’ve
found a good man in Morgan.”
“Morgan?”
“Yes.”
“Why, I thought——”
“That he was Frank’s worst enemy and would not be taken onto the nine?
Well, a change has come over Morgan since that villainous old uncle of
his died. I don’t like the fellow at all, but I have been compelled to
confess to Merriwell that there is a prospect of Morgan becoming a great
pitcher.”
“The other——”
“Is Starbright. He can pitch, but he does not forge ahead quite as fast
as Morgan.”
“What do I care about them chaps?” King Jimmy whispered. “They ain’t in
it with Frank Merriwell. He’s the only feller that can beat Virgil
Paragon, and if anything’s happened to him, Yale will get walloped out
of her boots to-day.”
“But I tell you Virginia will win to-day if Frank does not pitch. I
believe Ditson is satisfied of that, and I fear he has done something to
get Frank out of the way.”
“I hardly think that, Elsie. Don’t get nervous about Frank. I’ll look
him up when I go back to the hotel. I must have a little chat with you
first.”
“Won’t you come in?” she invited. “Mrs. Parker will be glad to see you.”
That was no inducement, but Hodge was ready enough to go in. However, as
they were moving away, a violent cough attracted their attention, and
they turned to perceive King Jimmy, who still stood with his back
squarely toward them.
“By Jove! I nearly forgot him!” exclaimed Bart, diving into a pocket.
“Here, young man, is the quarter I promised you for showing me the way.”
Jimmy turned and caught the shining piece of silver which Bart tossed to
him.
“Thank yo’, suh,” he said, as he bowed low, floppy hat in hand. “I’ll be
at the ball-ground this afternoon with all the fellers, and you can bet
Yale will have some rooters in this town.”
“That’s the stuff!” smiled Bart. “Give us some encouragement, James.
Good-by.”
“Farewell,” said the king, with a stately wave of his hand. “Good day,
lady.” And once more he bowed, with his hand touching the decoration of
glory and honor over his heart.
“What a polite little chap!” said Elsie, as she entered the house with
Bart. “And so dignified!”
Had they looked back they would have seen that all the king’s dignity
had vanished and that the king had taken to his heels and was scudding
away as fast as his legs could carry him.
And to himself the king was communing thus as he ran:
“Great jumping Jingoes! I’ll bet two hundred thousand dollars that
something has happened to Frank Merriwell! I’ll bet that was a trick to
get him out of the way! I’m goin’ to find out, and if he’s in any
trouble he can rely on me! I’ll stand by him to the death!”
Hurrah for King Jimmy, the loyal!