“I’m awful-l-ly gl-l-lad to meet you! Bil-l-ly’s tol-l-ld me a l-l-lot
about Chip Merriwel-l-l!”
“We seem to have come along just right,” said Merry, shaking hands with
Chub. “But we’d better get home, Billy Mac. We seem to attract a good
deal of attention in these running togs.”
Billy Mac nodded.
“Sure. You’d better come with me, Chub. We’ll go down to the swimming
hole near the house and have a plunge.”
Chub looked disappointed.
“I’m sorry, fel-l-lows, but I can’t. I’m workin’ at the grocery, you
know, and I got to get orders this morning. I’l-l-l see you l-l-later,
though.”
“You come down to the swimming hole,” offered Billy quickly, “and I’ll
help you make up for lost time by covering this street and taking
orders.”
“Wil-l-l you, honest!” cried Chub! “Oh, hurray! Watch me go!”
“Well, chase along to the river, then. We’ll get our duds and be right
down.”
Chub went capering off at full speed, while Chip and Billy trotted off
to the McQuade home.
Here they secured their clothes and towels, saying nothing to Mrs.
McQuade of what had happened that morning. Billy was full of fears,
but he forced them down in her presence. He did not want to worry his
mother unnecessarily.
When they left the house to get to the river, they passed a corner of
the orchard. It was bright with blossoms, whose scent came sweetly on
the breeze, and Billy jerked his head toward the gnarled trees.
“I’d hate to see those trees piling up an income for Colonel Carson,
Merry.”
Chip Merriwell nodded in comprehension.
“It would be hard, old chap. But that’s exactly what they’re doing,
right now, since you’ll have to pay the loan a second time. Even that
will be better than letting the place fall into his hands.”
“Can’t help it,” and Billy shook his head gloomily. “The mortgage is
overdue, and he could foreclose any time he wanted to, you see. He’s
going to be sore as blazes over what happened this morning, too.”
“He doesn’t seem to be very fair-minded, for a fact,” agreed Merry.
“But it’s a bad plan to worry over what hasn’t happened, Billy. Just
forget about financial troubles, and enjoy your swim.”
It would have been hard for the most hardened pessimist _not_ to have
enjoyed that plunge into the cool, quiet old river, whose waters were
backed up for half a mile by the dam below, forming an ideal swimming
pond. The warm air was fresh with the breath of fruit blossoms, for
Carsonville was in the fruit belt, and surrounded by orchards.
After twenty minutes of vigorous exercise, the three friends pulled
themselves out on the grassy bank and enjoyed a sun bath.
Somewhat to his surprise, Chip Merriwell found that Chub Newton was
older than he appeared, and was an expert swimmer. Also, he had no high
opinion of the autocrats of his native town.
“I hope the Cl-l-lippers get l-l-lambasted good and proper this
year,” he announced pleasantly. “Bul-ly Carson has the worst case o’
swel-l-led bean you ever saw!”
“He looks like it,” said Chip, stretching out lazily. “Can he pitch?”
Chub Newton snorted disgustedly, but Billy spoke up.
“Sure he can pitch, Chip. Chub has a private grouch on, that’s all.
Bully isn’t any great favorite off the diamond, but he has the knack of
tossing the ball, all right.”
“Yah!” sniffed Chub. “He’s got l-l-luck with him.”
“That’s what he said about Billy,” said Merriwell. “What’s your private
grievance against the colonel’s son?”
“Why, I wanted to pl-l-lay on the Cl-l-lippers,” bubbled the little
chap. Every time he struck the letter “l” his tongue seemed unwilling
to let go of it. “I tried out with ’em and made good. Then a bunch o’
city fel-l-lers come out here and got jobs whil-le they pl-l-layed
bal-l-l. They done me, al-l-l right, and three or four other
fel-l-lers, too. I was too short to pl-l-lay third, and one o’ them
guys was a swel-l-l shortstop. That l-let me out. L-l-lot o’ folks
think that Colonel Carson ought to ’a’ favored home pl-l-layers.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Merry thoughtfully. “Of course,
sentiment can’t enter into ball games that way, Chub. If the odds were
about even, though, he might have done so, I should think. Those city
chaps aren’t ringers, are they?”
“No, I guess not,” spoke up Billy. “I don’t think that even Colonel
Carson would try that game, Chip. He made quite a bit of bad feeling
among the young fellows here, just the same.”
“Time we were gettin’ dressed,” observed Chub uneasily. “I hate to go,
but those orders have to be in before noon.”
The three took a last plunge into the cool water, had a quick rub down,
and dressed. Then Chub and Billy Mac departed to take a short cut
back to town along the river banks, while Merry returned to the house
in order to write a letter to his father. On the way, however, he
reconsidered.
“I think I’ll let it wait till to-night,” he reflected. “I’ll have a
talk with Mrs. McQuade first, if I can work it, and see how the idea
strikes her.”
As he passed the corner of the orchard, and came to the garden patch
that stretched below the house, he paused suddenly. A sound of vehement
talking drifted down to him, and he recognized the deep voice, with a
thrill of alarm.
The next moment he made out a horse and buggy standing in front of
the house, in the drive. An exclamation of dismay burst from him, for
he recognized it at once as the same which he had encountered at the
horseshoe bend that morning.
“It isn’t possible!” he murmured. “Colonel Carson wouldn’t try such a
trick!”
He approached the house, and, as he did so, his alarm increased. There
was no doubt that the autocrat of Carsonville was present, and that
he was extremely angry. As Merriwell sprang to the wide veranda, he
clearly heard the vibrant tones.
“Yes, that graceless son of yours publicly assaulted my boy in the
streets, not half an hour ago, Mrs. McQuade. It’s the last straw, I
tell you! First he tries to frighten my horse, then he assaults my son.
If it hadn’t been for the spectators, he might have killed the poor
fellow. Now, you’ve either got to pay that mortgage or move out.”
Merry chuckled at this version of the incident. Then his face became
serious.
“Billy is a good son,” faltered the voice of Mrs. McQuade. “I’m sure
there’s some mistake, Colonel Carson. He’s going to start to work
Monday at the store, and we hope to pay you that loan before long.”
“You’ll pay up inside of five days,” stormed the angry man. “I’m sick
of this fool way of conductin’ business, mind my words! You’ve got till
Monday mornin’, then out you go, if you don’t settle.”
Merriwell stepped to the door, his eyes snapping. Colonel Carson stood
inside, and Mrs. McQuade was helplessly facing him.
“I think you’ve made a mistake, sir,” said Chip quietly. Carson swung
around. “I was present at the encounter in the street, and I assure you
that your son was in no danger. Billy hit him twice, and he lost his
nerve and started for home.”
Colonel Carson’s face purpled with fury.
“So you admit it, hey?” he roared. “You can be mighty thankful, young
man, if I don’t have both o’ you arrested for this business! Nice
goings on, this is!”
“I guess you won’t do any arresting in a hurry,” said Chip calmly. “It
wouldn’t make a very nice story to get out about your son. The ‘poor
fellow,’ as you call him, was brutally beating little Chub Newton, and
Billy stepped in to prevent it, that’s all. If there’s any arresting to
be done, it might be the other way around, for your son assaulted Billy
first.”
Mrs. McQuade gave Merriwell a grateful glance. Colonel Carson sputtered.
“That’s a lie!” he broke out.
Chip’s eyes flashed.
“I think we’ve had enough of your brand of politeness,” he said
quickly. “You have given Mrs. McQuade until next Monday to pay you, and
that settles your business in this house, Colonel Carson.”
“What’s that to you?” shouted the enraged autocrat. “You ain’t got any
right here neither----”
“I think you had better go, Colonel Carson,” and Mrs. McQuade gestured
toward the door, with quiet dignity. “I have no legal proof of the
mortgage having been paid, although the fact is morally certain. If we
are not able to pay you before Monday, we cannot resist eviction, of
course.”
“Fine chance you have of raising two thousand dollars by then!” sneered
Colonel Carson, grasping his hat. “I’ll be around at eight o’clock
Monday morning, so you’d better be packed up.”
And with that he left, still muttering threats.
“I’m sorry about this, Mrs. McQuade,” said Merriwell. “But don’t give
up hope yet. Billy told me about the matter after we met Colonel Carson
this morning.”
“It’s hard to keep up heart,” and the good woman looked out the door,
her face strained and hopeless. “You see, we are positive that Mr.
McQuade paid off that loan long ago, but we have no proof that would
stand in law. It seems hard that such a man as Colonel Carson should
drive us out!”
“He’s not done it yet,” responded Chip cheerfully. “I never knew
chicanery to get a man anything lasting, Mrs. McQuade. It may seem to
win out, but there are other things more important than money, you
know.”
“You’re a good comfort, Mr. Merriwell,” and she gave him a smile, as
she dabbed at her eyes with her apron. “Well, I’ll have to see about
those cookies----”
And she went to the kitchen, leaving Chip in a thoughtful mood. When
Billy returned half an hour later, he was wrathful at hearing of the
colonel’s ultimatum, but could see no hope ahead. During luncheon,
however, Merry made a proposition.
“If I could get a thousand dollars to add to your thousand, Mrs.
McQuade, would you let me lend it to you? You could pay me interest,
of course, and give me a mortgage to that amount, if you liked, as
security.”
This proposal was argued pro and con., but Chip had made it in such a
way that it was a straight business proposition, and in the end Mrs.
McQuade assented, providing that Merriwell could get the money.
So that night Chip wrote his father at Bloomfield. He related the
situation at Carsonville, told what had happened that day, and stated
that since he felt responsible in some measure, he would like to borrow
a thousand dollars from his father in order to help out the McQuades.
It never occurred to him that his father might refuse the loan.