READY ARRIVES.
Not a word did Frank say about Dick’s attempt to run away, and, as
they had returned to and entered the cabin quietly, Juan Delores knew
nothing of it.
Of course, Felicia was amazed and overjoyed when, the following
morning, she found Dick still there. Dick would say nothing save that
he had decided not to go away for a while.
Old Joe was gone, but as the Indian had a habit of disappearing and
appearing without warning, nothing was thought of this.
In spite of himself, deep down in his heart Dick Merriwell felt further
respect for his brother. He was compelled to confess to himself that
Frank was very clever, and he came to stand in some awe of him. Still,
he persisted in his determination not to let Merry “boss” him.
“I’ll always be free,” he muttered over and over. “I’ll never go into a
school. He can’t make me do that.”
But he wondered greatly how Frank had discovered that he was going away
at all. He did not know that Merry had left the cabin by the back
door, while Old Joe smoked by the wall, and strayed into the woods. He
did not know that Merry had paused by the path and knelt to examine a
wild flower he found growing there. And, while Frank was kneeling thus,
Dick and Felicia came along the path. From the little portion of their
talk, that Merriwell heard as they bade each other good-by, he learned
that Dick was going away with Old Joe, whom he would meet that night
near Black Rock.
And thus it happened that Frank was on hand at that meeting.
Merry was satisfied that his strange, wild, young brother cared for him
more than he wished any one to know, else he would not have made such
frantic haste to disconcert Old Joe’s aim. Had the Indian shot Merry
down, Dick would have been free forever, yet the boy sprang at once to
prevent that act.
Frank wished to win his brother to him without using force. It was
his desire to bend Dick’s strong will and passionate nature, but not
to break either. The young athlete was convinced that there was in
Dick the making of a remarkable lad, and he hoped to handle him in the
proper manner to bring out his best qualities.
But first it was necessary to win the obstinate and wilful spirit to
him, and that seemed like a difficult task indeed. However, Merry felt
that he had scored heavily in preventing the runaway as he did. He had
not resorted to force, but he had convinced Dick that he was in some
things a match for Old Joe, whom the lad admired.
On the day after the attempted runaway, Bart Hodge and Jack Ready came
riding up the valley. Business had called Ready to Denver, and Hodge
had met him there. His business attended to, Jack was willing and eager
to hasten to Frank in the quiet little valley under the shadow of the
Rockies.
Frank was watching for them, and he sighted them through a field-glass
as they came galloping up the valley.
Dick and Felicia were also watching, with strange, silent Juan Delores
not far away.
“It’s another of his friends,” said Dick, in a low tone to Felicia.
“I’m sure this one will show signs of his long days spent in study. He
must be round-shouldered and weak.”
As the two riders drew nearer they spurred on their horses and raced
for the woods. It was a wild neck-and-neck dash, and, although Bart
seemed to sit his horse a trifle better than Jack, the latter managed
to be in at the finish.
“Hooray!” he whooped, waving his hat about his head and flinging
himself from the saddle. “The pardon has arrived in time! Your royal
muchness, here we are, hide, hoof and horns. Behold us, adorned in all
the glory of the wild Western cowboy. Are we not peaches?”
Then he grasped Frank’s hand, gave it a furious shake, and bent to
press his lips upon it.
“I salute ye, oh, mighty potentate, whatever that is,” said Jack, in
his familiar breezy manner. “I know you are overjoyed to gaze once more
on my beautiful countenance, and I am very, very glad because you are
so happy.”
“He doesn’t seem to be round-shouldered,” whispered Felicia.
“Not--very--much,” faltered Dick.
“And he doesn’t look weak.”
“Not--very--weak,” admitted the boy.
“He doesn’t wear glasses.”
“He may have them in his pocket and put them on when he reads,” said
the lad, as if he really hoped so.
“And he can ride well.”
“Pretty well,” confessed Dick. “But he’s just like the other one, in
one thing; he acknowledged my brother as his superior.”
“I didn’t notice it.”
“I did. It was in his manner.”
“Why, I thought his manner very lofty and proud.”
“But, just the same, there was something in it that confessed Frank
Merriwell his master. I wonder if all my brother’s friends are like
that.”
The boy’s sharp eyes had read the truth, and his sensation was one of
mingled regret and pride, for, despite himself, he could not help being
proud that Frank was a leader of men.
“I’m glad to see you, Jack,” said Merriwell, in his hearty way, that
left no doubt as to his sincerity.
“I told you that you were,” nodded Ready, with a haughty pose. “And I
have traveled far to make you glad.”
“Wish you had brought all the fellows along with you.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Ready, with a wave of his hand. “Methinks I have a
thought. Why not gather the clans together and once more swoop down on
the wild and woolly? We wiped up everything on the turf last year; why
not do a little wiping this year?”
“You mean----”
“Why not call the boys together, organize a baseball-team, and indulge
in the lively sport of killing umpires? What sayest thou? Is it not a
radiant thought?”
“I have thought of it myself.”
“What?” cried Jack, in dismay. “Wouldst even rob me of the only
original thought I ever possessed? Alas!”
“He is very queer,” said Felicia to Dick.
“Very!” said Dick, frowning. “I saw a crazy man once that acted like
him.”
Which Jack would not have regarded as very complimentary had he heard
it.
Merry introduced Ready to Juan Delores, and then said:
“Ready, this is my little cousin Felicia, and this is my brother Dick.”
“Queen Felicia, I salute you,” said Jack, bowing low, his hat in his
left hand and his right hand pressed over his heart. “Before I came,
you must have been the sweetest thing in all this wild region. Of
course I can’t help being sweet myself, for I was born that way, and
you must not blame me if all the flies flock my way.”
Then he turned and looked at Dick.
“So you are Frank Merriwell’s brother!” he exclaimed. “Well, my boy, I
want to tell you that there are a few million chaps like you who would
just about give their blooming lives to be able to honestly call Frank
Merriwell brother. They’d rather have him for a brother than to have
the President of the United States for a father. You are a dead lucky
chap, and that’s straight goods.”
The lips of the boy were pressed together for a moment, and then he
retorted:
“Well, sir, I wish it was some one of those few million boys who want
him for a brother who had him instead of me!”
“What’s this?” cried Jack, aghast. “Treason! Who ever heard of such a
thing? Boy, you’re crazy!”
But Dick stood up defiantly, his proud lips curling with scorn.
“A regular heart-blow!” muttered Ready weakly. “Is this a sample of the
brothers you pick up, Merry? Oh, my, my! And you the idol of Yale!”
Frank laughed.
“I enjoy it, Ready,” he said, and his manner seemed to indicate that he
told the truth. “I don’t think I ever had anything satisfy me more than
has this rebellious disposition of my high-spirited young brother here.”
This made Dick tremble with anger.
“I’m not doing it to please you!” he cried. “I won’t please you!”
But Merry simply smiled.
“You can’t help it, Dick,” he asserted. “In disliking me so ardently
you have provided me with a new sensation. I assure you that it has
given me pleasure to watch and study you.”
“I won’t be watched and studied!” cried the lad. “I’ll keep away from
you! Oh, how I hate you!”
Then he turned and fled from the spot.
Dick felt humiliated and ashamed, for it seemed that Frank had laughed
at him before his friends. Ridicule to a boy of his passionate
disposition was a dreadful thing, which cut deeper than the keenest
blade.
Jack Ready regarded the whole affair as a joke, and he sought to banter
Merry about his peppery young brother.
“A regular untamed young colt,” he observed. “Never saw anything just
like him. He’s a bird, Merriwell. I’m afraid you’ll have hard work
breaking him to the saddle.”
Hodge had brought some baseballs, two bats, and a catcher’s mitt from
Denver, and the following day the three young men got out in a clear
place in the valley and began to practise.
Felicia saw them first, and she ran to Dick with an account of what
they were doing.
“Why, they throw the ball at each other just as hard as they can,” she
said, “and they catch it in their hands, just as easy. It’s fun to
watch them. Come and see them, Dick.”
“No,” said Dick.
“And they have got a stick that they hit it with,” she went on. “One of
them takes the ball, gives it a little toss, then strikes it with the
stick and knocks it so high in the air that you can hardly see it.”
“I’ll bet they don’t catch it then,” said Dick.
“But they do,” asserted the girl. “Then others run and get under it,
and catch it with their bare hands.”
“It must be soft,” said the boy.
His curiosity was aroused, and, after a time, he permitted Felicia to
lure him down to the open valley, where they could watch Frank, Bart,
and Jack practising.
In short order Dick became intensely interested, and it was not long
before he ventured out where the trio were, Felicia following now.
Indeed, it seemed rather surprising that the ball could be batted so
far into the air and caught with such ease, even though the one who
caught it sometimes had to run with all his might to get under it when
it came down.
“Could you do that, Dick?” asked Felicia.
“Of course I could!” he answered, for he did not wish her to think
there was any such accomplishment possessed by these tenderfoots that
he did not also have.
Now, it happened that Jack Ready heard the question and the answer.
“What, ho!” he cried. “Here is another player for our ball-team. Stand
forth, Richard, and show your skill.”
“No,” said Dick, shaking his head.
“Ah, ha!” exclaimed Jack. “Methinks thou art fearful as to the result.
In other words, you’re putting up a bluff.”
This was too much, so Dick walked out to catch the ball. Jack himself
seized the bat, observing:
“I’ll place the sphere in your fingers, Richard, my son. Let us see if
you can freeze to it.”
Then he knocked a comparatively easy one. Dick got under it, but, when
the ball struck his hands, it immediately bounced out and dropped to
the ground.
And it hurt his hands in a most surprising manner, for he found it
almost as hard as a stone.
Dick did not betray that he was hurt.
“You must squeeze it, young man,” chirped Ready. “That is one of the
first things to learn. When a ball strikes in your hands, close your
fingers on it and squeeze it hard.”
Angry and disgusted, Dick caught up the ball and threw it straight at
Ready with all his strength.
Now, the boy could throw a round stone with remarkable accuracy, as
well as great speed, and he had used all his strength in this case.
Imagine his surprise when Ready carelessly thrust out one hand and
caught the whizzing ball as if the feat was the simplest thing in the
world.
Dick looked at Frank. If Merriwell had laughed then, it is possible the
boy would have stopped in a perfect tempest of anger; but Frank stood
aside, looking quite grave and interested.
“I will catch it!” thought the lad. “I’ll show him that I can catch it!”
Then he cried for Jack to hit out another one.
“Well, that’s the stuff from which heroes and ball-players are made,”
said Ready, as he complied.
This time Jack did not bat the ball directly into Dick’s hands, and the
latter was forced to run after it a little. Again he got his hands on
it, and this time he managed to catch it.
“Good!” cried Frank approvingly. “That was well done!”
To the amazement of Dick himself, he thrilled with satisfaction on
hearing those words of praise from Frank. But he would not try to catch
any more then.
“That’s right,” laughed Ready. “You have a level head, for you know
when to retire on your laurels. I wish I knew as much. I would have
retired long ago.”
Then Bart Hodge put on the big mitt, while Ready stood up to strike
the ball. A flat stone was the plate, and from it Frank paced off the
regular pitching-distance.
Then, with great speed, Frank pitched the ball. Ready fanned, and Bart
caught it, close under the bat.
Dick Merriwell caught his breath, and watched with still greater
interest.
“Fooled me that time,” said Jack. “Put ’em over now, and I’ll drive out
a three-bagger.”
“What is a three-bagger, Dick?” asked Felicia, who had found his side
again.
“I don’t know,” he was forced to admit.
“You did catch the ball, didn’t you?” she said proudly.
“Yes,” was all he answered.
“But it wasn’t near so high as they knocked it before.”
Dick shrugged his shoulders, declaring:
“If I had some practise, I could catch it just as high as anybody.”
“But it must be dangerous. You won’t do it, will you, Dick?”
Now, danger was the very thing that served as a lure to lead the boy
on, and he retorted:
“Oh, I’m going to try it some more. I like it.”
Frank sent in another swift one, and again Jack failed to hit it,
though he struck at it handsomely.
“The double-shoot!” he shouted. “Oh, Laura! but that was a peach! It
twisted both ways as quick as a flash.”
“What is he talking about?” muttered Dick. “I didn’t see it twist.”
He moved around to get another position, and chance happened to lead
him behind Bart, at some distance.
Then, when Frank pitched again, Dick saw the ball come whistling
straight ahead, and suddenly dart off to one side, while Ready missed
it a third time.
“Nothing but an out!” said Jack, in disgust. “And I thought it was
going to be another double.”
“No wonder he can’t hit it,” thought Dick. “Why, the ball didn’t go
straight! I wonder what made it go off to one side like that.”
The next one, however, amazed him more than anything else he had seen,
for it seemed to start curving one way, and then suddenly change and
curve the other.
“Another double-shoot!” exploded Ready, in disgust. “Say, stop it, will
you! You’re the only pitcher in the country who can throw the ball, so
I don’t care to practise batting against it. Give me just the plain,
ordinary curves.”
“All right,” laughed Frank. “I was trying it simply to see if I had
good control and command of it. Next one will be of the ordinary kind.”
It was an in shoot, but Jack hit it a good crack, and joyously cried:
“Safe hit! Oh, me! oh, my! Wasn’t that clever of me?”
“You’d never got a hit like that off him in a game, and you know it,”
said Hodge, while Merry was after the ball. “He’s the greatest pitcher
who ever came out of a college in this country.”
“Admitted, my boy,” nodded Jack. “And he has a reputation from the
Atlantic to the Pacific. He’s a wonder, and everybody knows it.”
Again Dick Merriwell felt a strange thrill of satisfaction and pride,
and to himself he unconsciously whispered:
“He’s my brother!”