A MEAN TRICK
"You can't go, Frank!" exclaimed Andy, after a moment's thought.
"Why not?"
"Because we're going to race Waterside to-morrow."
"I know it, but this is to-night. I've got lots of time."
"Perhaps you have, but you heard what Wallace said. He wants us to get
a good sleep, and be fresh for to-morrow. If you go chasing over to
Dailsburg you won't get home until late and you'll be all broken up.
Besides you may get in trouble with the deputy sheriff in possession,
and have a row. Or you may get caught coming in late and be suspended.
It's too risky."
"I tell you I'm going," said Frank determinedly. "I promised to help
them and I'm going to keep my word."
"That's all right," half grumbled Andy, "but what's the matter with
that lawyer, Mr. Bolton? I thought he was going to see to this."
"Perhaps he has forgotten it, or Thorny's lawyer may have played a
sharp trick. Anyhow, I'm going to see what I can do."
"But if you're caught?"
"I won't be--don't worry."
"I say, what's up?" asked Jack, seeing that something was exciting the
Racer brothers.
"I've got to go out of town on a little business," explained Frank
quickly. "Oh, I'll be back in time to row the race," he added, as he
saw looks of apprehension come over the faces of Jack and Ward.
"Well, if you have to--you have to, that's all, I suppose," commented
Jack. "But take care of yourself--and get back soon."
Frank promised, and then started off to catch the first trolley car for
Dailsburg.
"If Old Thorny comes to our room while I'm out, rig up some sort of a
dummy in my bed," Frank instructed his brother. "Then you snore double,
and if he does come in, tell him I'm not feeling well--which is the
truth. If he sees a hump in the bed he'll think it's me."
"Do you think he'll be especially on the lookout to-night?" asked Ward.
"I believe he'd do anything to prevent me rowing in the race," answered
Frank grimly. "Well, so long, fellows."
He hurried off, and his chums walked back to the school buildings
discussing the coming race.
"Jove! I hope Frank gets back in time, and isn't caught!" exclaimed
Andy a bit apprehensively. "He's taking chances--and all for a girl.
Well--I guess I'd do the same if I had to."
Frank's first act, on reaching Dailsburg, was to go to a telephone and
hold a conversation with Mr. Bolton, the lawyer his father had engaged.
It was news to Mr. Bolton to learn that he had been outwitted.
"Go right to the Morton house," he directed Frank, "and stay until I
come. Tell the widow and her daughter that I will soon have matters
straightened out. I'll do it if I have to get a writ from the Supreme
Court justice by waking him out of bed. Callum's lawyer has been up to
some sharp practice."
The elder Racer lad found Mrs. Morton and Gertrude in a very nervous
state when he arrived. In the parlor sat a burly representative of the
sheriff's office. He was smoking and sat in one chair with his feet on
another.
"Don't you know how to behave?" asked Frank indignantly. "This isn't
a stable," and he knocked the cigar from the man's lips with a folded
newspaper.
"Here! What are you up to?" yelled the fellow. "I'll have you in jail
for that. I represent the law!"
"Then I'm sorry for the law," was Frank's rejoinder. "You stop smoking
or I'll notify the sheriff of your conduct. I don't believe he'd stand
for that."
"Oh, you mind your own business!" grumbled the deputy. But he did not
light another cigar, and he took his feet from the chair.
Frank quickly told Mrs. Morton of the measures he had taken, and
assured her that the fellow would soon have to leave.
"Oh, I don't know what we would ever do if it wasn't for you, Frank!"
exclaimed Gertrude, blushing as she used his name. "I was desperate
when that horrid man came in, and I could only think of one thing to
do--notify you."
"I'm glad you did," he said heartily.
"And to-morrow is the day of the race," the girl went on. "I do hope
this won't make you lose it! Grace and I are coming to see you win!"
"Then we surely will!" the lad exclaimed.
With Mrs. Morton they sat talking in the kitchen to be farther away
from the obnoxious deputy. Two hours passed and there came a ring at
the bell. It was Lawyer Bolton and he had succeeded in getting an order
from the justice which amounted to a stay in the proceedings. The
deputy was ordered to withdraw.
"How do I know this is genuine?" asked the fellow with a sneer, when
the paper had been served on him.
"Oh, you'll find it's proper, my man," said Mr. Bolton. "If you like
you can call up the sheriff, I have communicated with him. At any rate
the house isn't going to be moved. Now you clear out!"
Grumblingly, and with a malevolent look at Frank, the fellow went out.
"This was partly my fault," apologized Mr. Bolton. "I should have been
prepared for sharp practice on the part of Callum's representative,
but I did not dream he would dare do this. He took advantage of a
technicality in the law to get this writ of possession. But it is
vacated now, and he can't do anything more until the case comes up for
a hearing."
"And then what will happen?" asked Mrs. Morton.
"By that time my father will have the bonds sold and you can pay
Professor Callum," said Frank quickly.
There was some further talk and Mr. Bolton left. Then, as it was
getting late and Frank did not want to miss getting a trolley car back
to school, he took his leave.
"And you must be sure to win!" Gertrude whispered to him.
"Yes. And you must be sure to be there."
"I will!"
Frank looked carefully about as he approached the campus of Riverview
school. As he came near the place where the racing shell was kept he
saw a light in the boathouse.
"That's queer," he mused, coming to a halt. "It's too late for any of
the fellows to be in there. I wonder who it can be? It won't do any
harm to take a look."
Cautiously he approached the building and peered in through a window.
The sight he saw almost caused him to cry out in anger and amazement.
For there, standing over the shell, was Gerald Welter, the school
bully. He had a lantern, and by the light of it Frank saw the gleam of
a knife in his hand. As Frank looked he saw Gerald prepare to rip up
the bottom of the shell, which act would utterly ruin it.
"The scoundrel!" murmured Frank.
The next instant the knife descended, its sharp point going clear
through the frail shell. And then, with a cry of righteous anger, Frank
dashed himself against the door of the boathouse, and fairly threw
himself inside to confront the amazed and startled bully, who paused in
the act of again plunging the knife into the racing craft.