A HELPING HAND.
The explosion of a bomb could not have caused greater consternation
among the throng on the mesa than that official action of the deputy
sheriff. Hawtrey, erect and with a soldierly stride, passed out of the
stunned crowd and placed himself beside Hawkins.
Merriwell, giving Darrel a reassuring look, also advanced. He had
a sweater on his arm, and began pulling it over Darrel’s head and
shoulders.
“You’d better keep out of this, Merriwell,” Hawkins murmured in Frank’s
ear. “I warned you. The kunnel means biz, and no mistake.”
“So do I,” Frank answered, with a flash of his dark eyes. “Keep your
nerve,” he added, in a low tone to Darrel; “we’ve got a few cards of
our own to play.”
“You are Frank Merriwell?” inquired Colonel Hawtrey, leveling his gaze
at Frank.
“Yes, colonel.”
“The son of Frank Merriwell, of Bloomfield, and the T-Bar Ranch, in
Wyoming?”
“Yes.”
“You are also seeking to befriend this misguided young man, here?”
“I am Darrel’s friend,” said Merry, with spirit, “right from the drop
of the hat.”
“Then, my lad, your father will some time hear of it with regret. What
Hawkins said is the truth. This fellow opened my safe and took from it
a thousand dollars in cash night before last. I have the proof.”
“Pardon me, colonel,” returned Frank respectfully, “but inasmuch as I
am Darrel’s friend, will you let me handle this case for him in my own
way?”
“If you mean to defend him,” frowned Hawtrey, “you will have your
trouble for your pains. He has no defense!”
“Will you let me try and see if I cannot make one, and one that will
command your attention and best judgment?”
“Sufferin’ centipedes, Merriwell!” broke in Hawkins. “I never reckoned
you’d be tryin’ to save the scalp of a plain, out-and-out thief!”
The white ran into Darrel’s face and his hands clenched. Merry laid a
soothing hand on his arm.
“This isn’t a time for any snap judgments, Hawkins,” said Frank.
“First,” and he turned to the Gold Hillers, “I want to ask if this boy
from Nowhere has proved that he is Ellis Darrel, of Gold Hill?”
“Yes!” came a chorus of responses.
Merry partly turned to face Lenning. The latter, a sneering smile on
his dark face, was standing at a little distance, keenly alive to
everything that was said and done.
“How about you, Lenning?” queried Frank.
“He’s my half brother, all right,” was the answer. “I reckon there’s
not a shadow of doubt about that.”
“You agree, too, colonel?”
“I knew the fellow was Darrel before the race,” answered Hawtrey. “If
he had proved to be an impostor, this accusation of theft might not
have carried. Now it is absolutely proven—ab-so-lutely.”
“Darrel has been accused here, before all his old friends,” Frank
continued, marshaling all his wits to acquit himself creditably of the
task of clearing Darrel, “and it’s only a fair shake that he should be
proven innocent before them. Colonel, will you please tell us of the
robbery, and show your proofs?”
Hawtrey was visibly annoyed. Nevertheless, he was a great stickler for
fair play, and he had to acknowledge that the position taken by Merry
was logical.
“I have been away from Gold Hill for a week,” said he, “visiting some
of my mining properties. Before I went, I drew a thousand dollars
in cash from the bank to pay to a man from whom I was purchasing an
interest in a ‘prospect.’ I was called from town hurriedly, before the
payment was made. The money was locked up in the safe in my study, at
home. Jode, here, who knows the combination of the safe, was to pay
over the money if the man presented himself during my absence. The man
did not come, and Jode started off on this camping trip, three days
ago. When I reached home yesterday morning, I found the window of my
study unlocked, the safe door swinging open, the thousand dollars gone,
and this knife lying under the window, inside the room. Hand the knife
to Darrel, Merriwell, and see if he recognizes it.”
The colonel seemed averse to having any direct dealings with Darrel. He
gave the pocketknife to Frank, and the latter presented it to Hawkins’
prisoner.
“It’s mine,” admitted Darrel huskily.
“Haff, an official of our athletic club, told Hawkins and me,” the
colonel proceeded, “that a fellow answering Darrel’s description had
been in town the night before I got home, that he had made inquiries
about me, that he had told the fellow I was away from home, and that
Jode was off on a camping trip, and that Darrel started down the cañon
to join the Gold Hill campers. Hawkins and I got horses and hurried on
to Tinaja Wells. Ask Darrel, Merriwell, if he denies being in my house
night before last?”
“No, colonel,” spoke up Darrel, without waiting for Merriwell to put
the question, “I do not deny it. I was there. I pushed open the sash
lock with this knife, and went in through your study and up to my old
room. I had the key to my room—have had it in my pocket for a year. All
I wanted to get was my running suit. After I had taken that, I locked
up the room and left by the window. Naturally, I could not relock the
window from the outside. That’s all, sir. I did not tamper with your
safe.”
A sneer of incredulity crossed Lenning’s face. It faded into a
sorrowful look, however, as the colonel gave him a swift glance.
“You admit being in the house,” said the colonel harshly, “so why not
admit the rest of it?”
“Because it is not the truth,” Darrel answered, with spirit.
“Did you know the combination of the safe, Darrel?” asked Frank.
“Yes—that is, if it hasn’t been changed during the past year.”
“It hasn’t,” put in the colonel. “That was my fault, I suppose.”
“Then, three of you knew the combination,” went on Frank, “yourself,
colonel, and Darrel and Lenning.”
“That is the way of it.”
The crowd on the mesa was listening with absorbed attention to the
talk which was going forward over the hapless head of the “boy from
Nowhere.” Nearly all, perhaps, felt that Darrel’s admission that he had
gone to the house for his running suit was a trivial excuse to cover a
design on the safe. Dark looks were thrown at Darrel, and only here
and there was anything bordering on sympathy shown for him.
“Now,” said Frank, keeping the points he wanted to make well in mind
and working toward them with all the skill he could muster, “you said,
colonel, that Lenning and his camping party left Gold Hill three days
ago?”
“Yes.”
“Less than half a day would be required to make the trip from Gold Hill
to Tinaja Wells, for a mounted party with pack animals. How does it
happen, then, that the Gold Hillers only reached the Wells yesterday
afternoon?”
Colonel Hawtrey seemed puzzled. He turned to Lenning.
“Explain that, will you, Jode?” he requested. “Why didn’t you reach the
Wells day before yesterday?”
“Well, sir,” Lenning answered, “we were about halfway between town and
Tinaja Wells when we found out that Merriwell and his crowd were camped
at the place we wanted.”
“Ah! And what did you do then?”
“I had the boys make temporary camp in a side cañon while I—er—went
back to Gold Hill.”
“That,” said Frank, “would bring you in Gold Hill night before last—the
night of the robbery?”
Lenning reddened and looked confused.
“Why,” he faltered, “I reckon it would.”
“What was your business in Gold Hill, Lenning?”
“I don’t know,” snapped Lenning, “that you’ve got any call to pump me.”
“Answer his question, Jode,” put in the colonel.
“Well, if you want to know,” scowled Lenning, “I went back to the Hill
to lease Tinaja Wells from Struthers.”
A growl ran through the ranks of the Ophirites. Frank silenced the
growing indignation with a quick glance.
“That was hardly fair,” he went on to Lenning. “We were in peaceable
possession of the camping ground, and you deliberately set about
getting a lease and kicking us out.”
“Tut, tut, Merriwell!” interposed Hawtrey. “Jode is not that sort of a
lad. I am sure he would not intentionally inconvenience you.”
“Ouch!” cried Clancy, and the colonel stared sternly at him in rebuke.
“Well,” went on Frank, “we’ll not tangle up with that part of the
proposition. The fact remains that, on the night of the robbery, two
persons who knew the combination of your safe were in Gold Hill. As
soon as Lenning got his lease, he came on to Tinaja Wells—which brought
him here yesterday afternoon. Now, colonel, why do you suspect Darrel,
and not Lenning?”
“Because,” and the colonel’s voice showed that he was nettled. “Jode is
worthy of my confidence, while Darrel has proved that he is not. Were
you at the house, Jode, during the time you were in Gold Hill after the
lease?”
“No, sir,” answered Lenning.
“There you have it,” said the colonel, in a tone of finality. “All this
talk, Merriwell, is getting us nowhere. I have excused Darrel once, but
I cannot do it a second time. Although he is my sister’s son, he must
bear the consequences of this piece of wrongdoing. I feel it a duty to
press the matter to an issue. Where will he end if he keeps on as he is
going?”
There was a triumphant look on Lenning’s face. Darrel, on the other
hand, seemed utterly crushed.
“There’s no use, Merriwell,” breathed Darrel, in a broken voice. “The
plot is too deep, and you are only injuring yourself by trying to
defend me.”
“Kunnel,” spoke up Hawkins, who had been following every angle of
Frank’s work with closest attention, “don’t you lay anythin’ up agin’
Merriwell. He’s sized Darrel up wrong, but he’s the clear quill, as I
happen to know.”
“I have only the highest respect for Merriwell,” said the colonel. “He
tries to stand by his friends to the utmost of his ability—and his
ability, let me tell you, is of no mean order. But, my lad, you can
accomplish nothing in the face of the facts,” he added, in a kindly
voice, to Frank.
“Let us see,” Frank went on. “Pink,” he said to Ballard, “just step up
and show the colonel what you have in your pocket.”
Then another surprise was sprung. Ballard, taking a package of bills
from his pocket, handed it to the colonel.
“Is that the stolen money, colonel?” he asked.