CHAPTER XI.

A PARTIAL VICTORY.

The colonel started back from the package of bills as though from

a coiled and striking serpent. A breath of icy air seemed to cross

the hot mesa, bringing a weird shiver to more than one of the crowd

surrounding the actors in that little drama of check and countercheck.

Necks were craned forward, and fascinated interest showed in every face.

But there was something more than interest in the face of Jode Lenning.

A flicker of consternation, and of wild despair, pulsed through his

features—but only for a moment. He was quick to get himself in hand.

“It—it’s the same package of bills which I drew from the bank,”

murmured the distracted colonel, taking the bundle from Ballard and

looking at the inclosing band. “Where did you get it, young man?”

“He’s a chum of Merriwell’s,” spoke up Lenning, with ugly significance,

“and Merriwell is helping Darrel. It’s easy to guess where Ballard got

the money.”

Ballard jumped for Lenning with a savage exclamation.

“You mealy-mouthed runt,” he cried, “you can’t plaster me with the same

pitch you’ve got on yourself. I’ll——”

Merriwell leaped in between Ballard and Lenning.

“Now, Pink,” said Merry, “just stow your temper. We’ve got to keep our

heads, you know, if we pull Darrel through. It’s Colonel Hawtrey we

want to convince, not Jode Lenning.”

Ballard, with a fierce, warning glance at Lenning, drew back.

“Fritz!” called Frank.

“On teck, you bed you,” boomed the Dutch boy.

“Where were you last night, Carrots?” inquired Frank.

“Hunding puried dreasures mit Pallard,” beamed Fritz. “I haf a tream

mit meinselluf dot I findt more goldt as I can tell a shtone under mit

a gross on. Pallard goes mit me, last nighdt, to get der dreasure. Ve

go down der gulch, und ven ve vas a leetle vays from der camp, along

comes a feller pehind us alretty. Ve hite, und dot feller hites der

money under a rock. Ve get him oudt, und Pallard takes him, und ve keep

it on der q. ts., excepting dot it vas toldt to Merrivell. Dot’s all

aboudt it.”

“What foolishness is this?” demanded the colonel.

Merry smilingly explained Fritz’s delusion about buried treasure, and

how a joke had been played upon him and Silva, in the cañon. Then

Ballard, dipping into the details, recited his midnight adventure with

Fritz. Ballard threw so much fun into his account that more than one

laugh went up from the bystanders. A little merriment, dropped into a

serious situation, is an excellent thing occasionally.

“Merriwell,” said the colonel, “you could not be the son of your

father and be anything else but trustworthy. I do not know your father

personally, but I have seen him pitch many a game of ball, and I honor

him as a man, and as one of the greatest wizards of the national game

that ever lived. All this nonsense about the German youth and his

buried treasure makes not the least impression on me; but, if you say

that this money came into Ballard’s hands in the manner just described

to me, I will believe it.”

“You have heard the exact truth, colonel,” answered Frank, thrilled at

this expression of the colonel’s confidence in him.

“Very good,” went on Hawtrey. “Now, Ballard,” he continued, facing

Pink, “who was the man you and the German youth saw hiding the money in

the cañon?”

“Neither of us was able to recognize him, colonel,” Ballard answered.

“What?” cried the colonel. “You could not recognize the fellow when

you, by your own statement, were close enough to reach out and touch

him?”

“Remember, sir, that it was midnight, and that the walls of the cañon

make the trail pretty dark. I couldn’t tell who the fellow was from

Adam, and that’s the truth.”

“Why didn’t you spring upon him and capture him?”

“You forget, colonel,” put in Frank, “that the fellow was gone before

Ballard and Fritz found out what he had cached. And you also forget

that, at that time, none of us knew that Darrel was suspected of

robbing your safe—or, for that matter, that any robbery had occurred.

Another thing: Last night Darrel was sleeping in our tent, in a blanket

bed between Clancy and me. He could not have stirred without wakening

us. From ten o’clock last night until six this morning Ellis Darrel

never left that tent.”

“Then, of course,” deduced the colonel, “he could not have been the one

who hid the money.”

“Nor the one who took it from your safe, sir,” added Merriwell; “for

the one who did the stealing must certainly have kept the money in his

hands until he attempted to secrete it in the cañon.”

“That,” said the colonel, “is plausible, but not conclusive. Darrel

might have given the money to some one to take care of for him, and

that some one may have been the person who hid it under the rock. I do

not say that this is so,” he added, “but that it might have happened.

As the matter now stands, the whole thing is a mystery. By your

excellent work, Merriwell, you have thrown doubt upon my suspicions of

Darrel. Possibly—I may say probably—he had no hand in taking the money

from my safe. But who did commit the robbery?”

“I reckon Merriwell’s right,” spoke up Hawkins, his face glowing with

delight over the way Frank had conducted the defense of Darrel. “You

never could send this feller up, kunnel, agin’ the showing Merriwell

has made for him.”

“I shall not try to,” said Hawtrey. “I am happier than I know how to

express over the outcome of this little conference here on the mesa.”

Impulsively Darrel started toward his uncle with outstretched hand.

“Uncle Alvah,” said he, his voice tremulous with emotion, “I thank you

for giving me any consideration at all. I——”

The colonel, giving Darrel a stern look, put his hands behind him.

“Thank Merriwell,” said he curtly, “and not me. You are freed of this

charge of robbery, but you are just where you were before, in my

estimation—just where you were when that railroad accident was reported

to us, and everybody believed you had been a victim of it. I have

tried to forget you, for that thing you did, more than a year ago, is

something I cannot overlook, or forgive. However, I am not willing that

you should be penniless; I feel that I should make up to you, in some

way, for the unpleasant position in which my suspicions placed you.

Take this thousand dollars, Darrel, and try, from now on, to be a true

sportsman. Cultivate Merriwell—he will point you along the right road.

But as long as you are under that cloud—you know what I mean—there can

be nothing in common between you and me. That is all.”

The colonel’s form was bowed, as he turned away, and there were lines

of suffering in his face. He had flung down the packet of bank notes,

but Darrel caught it up and ran after him.

“Your money is of no use to me, colonel,” he said, with a touch of

pride, “and I want none of it. I can work and earn my own way, just as

I have done for the last year.”

There were tears in his eyes as he thrust the money into the colonel’s

hand and came back to Merriwell.

“Chip,” said Clancy, “here’s where you win and lose, both at the same

time. You’ve kept Darrel out of Hawkins’ hands, but you haven’t been

able to win over that high-strung old boy to Darrel’s side.”

“Maybe,” said Frank, taking Darrel’s hand, “that will come later. We——”

“Look!” called Ballard, pointing off toward the edge of the mesa.

“There’s a man on horseback just riding up from the flat and handing

something to Hawtrey. What’s this? Another knock for Darrel?”

“I reckon,” returned Darrel, with a wan smile, “that I’ve had about all

the knocks I’m entitled to. Merriwell, you’re a friend worth having!”

“Whoosh!” laughed Frank. “I’m a pretty bum lawyer, Darrel, and only won

out because we had such a clear case. Surprised you, didn’t we?”

Before Darrel could answer, Colonel Hawtrey was seen to turn back from

the edge of the mesa and start toward the crowd that still lingered

about the scene of the race. He held an open letter in his hand.

“Here’s where the lightning strikes again,” muttered Clancy.

Frank Merriwell, Jr.'s, Helping Hand; Or, Fair Play and No Favors · 第 11 / 48 章