ANOTHER COMPACT.
The light from one dingy and dirty window shone into the place. Where
the light of the window fell on it was a rough table, about which four
persons had been sitting. Just now one of them was standing, while
another still lay on the floor, having raised himself to his elbow, but
without daring to rise. The one on the floor had been knocked down by
the one who was standing.
On the table were cards, money, and two bottles of whisky. There were no
glasses to drink from. These men drank directly from the bottle.
Rough-looking fellows they were. Plainly, at a glance, they were young
thugs of the city slums.
They had been gambling for money. The cards were scattered carelessly,
as they had been dropped when the sudden quarrel began over the game.
The fellow standing was six feet tall, with broad shoulders, thick,
muscular arms, deep chest, heavy legs, and the face of the genuine young
ruffian. His jaw was square, protruding, and brutal. Still, in a certain
way, there was something handsome about him.
At a glance Snodgrass knew that man was Buster Bill. No one could doubt
that he was the leader of the gang.
When the door opened, and Snodgrass appeared before the startled eyes of
the gang, they turned and glared at him.
“I beg your pardon, gentlemen,” said the college man. “I am looking for
William Riley.”
“The blazes you are!” said Buster Bill. “Who in thunder are you?”
“A spy!” cried one of the others excitedly.
“We’re pinched!” exclaimed another.
The gang seemed ready to make a fight on the spot. Their hands sought
hidden weapons. Snodgrass was uneasy, but he did not shrink or retreat,
which was a very good thing for him. If he had betrayed signs of alarm
just then he could not have escaped without broken bones. Instead, he
calmly said:
“I am no spy, and the police are not behind me. I came here on business
of importance, and my business is with Mr. Riley.”
Mr. Riley! That was odd enough. William Riley had been a shocker, but
Mr. Riley was worse still. They looked at Snodgrass in doubt.
What sort of business could this man, this beardless chap, have with
Buster Bill? Generally the man who hunted for Bill on the pretext of
business carried a warrant and a pair of handcuffs.
“Well, why in thunder don’t yer come in?” demanded Bill himself.
Then Snodgrass entered, though he felt much more like making a dash to
get out. He walked into the room with an assumed air of nonchalance.
Barely was he well into the room, however, when Buster Bill made one
leap, slammed the door shut, and put his back against it.
“Well,” he said, as he faced round, “we’ve got ye now, anyhow!”
“That’s right,” said Snodgrass, calmly sitting down on a box.
The other men were on their feet. The one who had been knocked down
stood over the college man, demanding:
“Wot shall we do with him. Bill? Give der word an’ we’ll kick der
packin’ out of him!”
“Wait a little,” said the leader. “We’ll find out wot ther bloke wants
here.”
The fellow standing over Snodgrass looked disappointed. He had been
struck, and he longed to retaliate on somebody. He had been eager to
strike, beat, and kick the intruder.
Buster Bill stepped toward the college man. Despite his size and weight,
his step was light. Snodgrass sized him up and nodded to himself with
satisfaction. Surely here was a fellow who could give Frank Merriwell a
go “all by his lonesome.” With his gang at his back he could wipe
Merriwell off the map. All that was needed now was to strike a bargain.
Bill pulled a chair out in front of Snodgrass and sat down, making a
motion that the others understood. They pulled their seats out and sat
all about the intruder. He was in the midst of them, and they had him
foul. Let him whistle now, and they could pounce on him and kick him
into jelly before the police could reach them.
When they had seated themselves, Buster Bill seemed to think of
something, and he said:
“Skip, just take a sneak out and look round. Come back and tell us if
you see anything.”
The smallest man of the gang, a wiry young thug, arose and slipped out
of the room.
“I am sorry I interrupted your little game,” said Snodgrass pleasantly.
“Don’t mention it,” growled Riley.
“You have a very comfortable place here,” declared the college man.
“Uh-ha!” grunted Riley.
“Nobody likely to bother you here,” declared the college man.
“You did,” reminded Riley.
“Well, I had hard enough work finding you.”
Skip came back and informed them that everything seemed to be all right,
with nobody round to bother them.
“I hope you are satisfied, gentlemen,” said Snodgrass, “that I am not a
spy. I told you the truth when I said I came here on business.”
“Wot’s in it?”
“Money,” was the answer. “I have heard of Mr. Riley’s powers, and——”
“Call me Bill.”
“Well, I’ve heard that Bill is a holy terror and can lick his weight in
grizzly bears. That report is what brought me here.”
Buster Bill relaxed somewhat.
“Yer want somebody t’umped?” he asked.
“You’ve guessed it first shot.”
“Wot’s der price?”
“Fifty.”
“Fifty wot?”
“Dollars.”
“Got der dough?”
“Sure.”
“In yer clothes?”
“No; I’m not fool enough to carry so much round with me. I don’t think I
have more than two dollars in my pockets.”
The ruffians exchanged looks of disappointment.
Ben Snodgrass had been very wise when he left his money behind him this
day.
“Are youse one of dem college guys?” asked Riley.
“Yes, I am a student.”
“I was beginning to t’ink so. Got it in fer annodder dub an’ wants ter
have him cropped, eh? Well, I’ll do der trick fer fifty, but I’ll have
ter have der dough in advance.”
“Even you, Bill, may not find the job a cinch,” said Snodgrass. “He’s a
bad man.”
“Oh, wot yer givin’ me! If I can have a good chance at him I’ll polish
der duck off in one minute.”
“You may have as good a chance as you want. He goes out to the
ball-field every afternoon lately, and he has taken to walking in alone
just at dark. He always returns to Vanderbilt a certain way. There are
some scattering houses and an open spot. No lights there to speak of. A
fine chance to come on him suddenly.”
“Well, say! you oughter be able ter do him yerself widout callin’ on me
fer help. Wot’s der matter wid layin’ for him dere an’ soakin’ him wid a
club?”
“I have to be somewhere else when it happens. If I’m suspected, I want
to prove an alibi.”
“Is dat it? Don’t s’pose it’s ’cause yer lacks der nerve? Of course
not!”
The thugs laughed roughly, and Snodgrass flushed a little.
“It would be no disgrace to be afraid of this man,” he asserted,
somewhat haughtily.
“Well, who der blazes can it be?” cried Buster Bill.
“His name is Frank Merriwell,” said the student.
“Wot!” cried the leader of the gang. “Why, you don’t mean der feller wot
everybody is makin’ such a fuss over? Not der cap’n of der ball-team?”
“Yes.”
“Yer wants me ter smash him?”
“Yes.”
“An’ you’ll pay fifty for the job?”
“Yes.”
“In advance?”
“Twenty-five in advance, and the balance the day following the
completion of the job.”
“That’s the easiest way of makin’ a fifty stroke I’ve heard of lately!
It’ll be pie for me. An’, say, I’ve been wantin’ to get a lick at him
fer some time. He makes me sick! Dey talk about him bein’ a great
athlete! I’ve seen him, an’ I know I can break him clean in two!”
“If you have a notion that Merriwell is soft, you are making a big
mistake, and you’ll receive a severe surprise when you tackle him. He
may look soft, but he is the hardest man you ever went against, and he
has astonishing luck. It will be well for you to have your men along to
see the sport. Perhaps you may need their assistance before you are done
with Merriwell.”
Riley was offended.
“Look here,” he cried, “I don’t like that kind of talk! I ain’t never
run against der bloke wot could do me. An’ I’ll have der advantage of
dis feller by takin’ him by surprise. Why, I’ll pulverize him before he
can lift a finger!”
“I hope so.”
“How bad do you want him done?”
“I want him sent to the hospital. If you could manage to break a few of
his ribs it would please me greatly. At any rate, I want him thumped so
badly that he’ll have to keep under cover for four days. That’s all I
ask.”
“It’s a snap! But w’en do I git der twenty-five? Dat has ter come down
before I go inter de game.”
“I’ll pay you that to-night. I will meet you at ten o’clock at the west
end of Barnsville Bridge and give you the money there. Is that
satisfactory?”
Riley looked at Snodgrass sharply, as if a doubt had entered his mind,
but he finally nodded, saying:
“Dat’s all right. I guess ye’re on der level, pal.”
“You needn’t worry about that. I want Merriwell done up, and I’m ready
to pay. You’ll find me on hand with the other twenty-five at the same
place the very night you jump him. It makes no difference to you just
why I want him downed.”
“Not a blamed bit, pal! I’m out for der dough.”
“Then the bargain is made. Let’s shake hands on it.”
Snodgrass rose and offered his hand, which the big thug accepted, and
gave a grip to seal the dastardly compact.