COLE’S CHANGE OF HEART.
When Cole again came to the surface Merriwell was near enough to make a
quick, forward lunge and seized him. Fortunate indeed was this for the
fellow entangled in the rope, as he could make no effective efforts to
keep himself afloat, and his struggle to free his limbs was sufficient
to cause him to sink again only for Dick’s promptness in reaching him.
Fortunately for the would-be rescuer, Cole’s hands were bound to his
sides by the rope which had become wound about him, and, therefore, he
could not clutch Merriwell.
Nevertheless, he struggled to free himself, at the same time choking and
strangling as Dick sought to keep his mouth and nose above the surface.
“Be still!” ordered Dick. “Are you anxious to drown? If you keep still
we’ll get you out all right.”
At first the helpless fellow did not seem to hear, but after a while
Merriwell succeeded in impressing upon him the idea that he was
hindering his own rescue by his efforts, and when Cole gave up
struggling Dick found it no great task to keep him afloat.
By this time Buckhart had brought the canoe round close to them and
cautiously reached over to grasp Cole by the shoulder.
“Don’t let him catch hold and upset me, Dick,” warned the Texan. “He’s
liable to do it.”
“Not now,” answered Merriwell. “Not until he can use his hands.”
By the time Dick freed Cole from the rope, which he finally succeeded in
doing, both he and Brad had impressed it upon the fellow that it would
be fatal to catch hold of the side of the canoe. They induced him to
wait until the stern of the canvas craft was swung round to him, and
then, directed by Dick, he got hold of it.
“Paddle toward the shore, Buckhart!” cried Merriwell. “You will have to
tow him into shallow water.”
“Why can’t I git into the canoe?” asked Cole. “I’m afraid I’ll let go
and sink.”
“If you attempted to get into that canoe you’d upset it, and then you
would have a chance to sink or swim,” answered Dick. “If you keep the
hold you have we’ll get you close to shore so that you can wade out.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I am going to stay with you,” assured Dick. “Don’t be afraid of that.
I’ll not try to get into that canoe.”
“Could you do it without upsetting it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why can’t I?”
“You don’t know the trick.”
“Is it a trick?”
“Certainly it is. Not one man in a hundred who uses a canoe can do it.”
In spite of his peril Cole’s curiosity seemed to be aroused, and he
asked:
“How did you know the trick?”
“It was taught me by an Indian,” answered Merriwell.
In the meantime Buckhart was carefully and slowly paddling toward the
near shore. As has been stated, this shore was very rocky, and when the
prow of the canoe softly touched these rocks neither Cole nor Dick could
reach bottom with his feet and still keep his head above the surface.
“Jingoes!” exclaimed Merriwell, “it must fall off almost perpendicular
from the water’s edge here; but we’re close to the shore, and you can
swim that far, Cole.”
“I don’t know,” answered Jack doubtingly. “I’m afraid I can’t do it now.
My clothes are heavy as lead, and I can’t swim much, anyhow.”
“I opine it’s a whole lot lucky for you that my pard went into the drink
to give you a hand,” said the Texan. “Just hang on and I’ll swing the
prow round close to the rocks.”
This he finally did, and not until Jack Cole could almost touch the
rocks did his feet reach bottom. Even then the bank seemed so
precipitous that he was afraid to let go his hold on the canoe, and only
with the assistance of Dick did he finally succeed in dragging himself
out.
Merriwell followed him.
“There you are,” he said. “You had a pretty good bath, and you’re
fortunate to get out of it so well.”
For the first time Cole seemed to think of his late companion.
“Where’s Fernald?” he asked.
“Echo answers, ‘where?’” said Dick.
“What became of him?”
“He scooted.”
“Scooted?”
“Yes.”
“You mean that he left me to drown?”
“He didn’t linger long after you went overboard.”
Slowly a look of anger came to Jack Cole’s plain face.
“So that’s the kind of a man he is!” exclaimed the Maplewood boy
savagely. “Left me to drown when I was all tangled up in that rope, did
he? Well, he’ll hear from me!”
“In the future,” suggested Buckhart, “I should advise you to be some
particular in the choice of your side partners.”
“Who fired that shot from the island?” demanded Dick.
“What shot?” asked Jack, in apparent surprise.
“Don’t you know anything about it?”
“Not a thing.”
“Pitch him into the drink again, partner, if he doesn’t own up!” cried
the Texan, in exasperation.
Cole scrambled back from the edge of the water quickly, snarling:
“Don’t you try it! Don’t you touch me!”
“Don’t worry,” retorted Dick. “If you haven’t learned your lesson by
this time you never will. You’d better own up about the shooting.”
“Don’t know nothing about no shooting,” sullenly persisted the Maplewood
boy.
“Didn’t you hear the shot?”
“No.”
“Now you know he’s lying, Dick!” cried Buckhart. “Of course he heard it!
I reckon he fired it himself!”
“That’s a lie!” shouted Jack excitedly. “If any one says such a thing
about me he lies!”
“It was fired from that island,” said Merriwell, “and the bullet came
pretty near me, too. Weren’t you on the island with Fernald?”
“No.”
“But we saw you leaving it.”
“Never,” denied Cole. “We just paddled past the island and saw you
coming after us.”
“What made you try to get away?”
Jack hesitated, and seemed to find it difficult to answer. After a time
he muttered:
“That’s none of your business! Perhaps we wanted to see if you could
ketch us.”
“Well, I certain judge you found out,” said Buckhart.
“You came near drowning me!” grated Cole. “If that had happened you’d
been to blame.”
“You ought to be some ashamed to talk that fashion,” said the Texan;
“but I don’t opine there’s anything like shame in you. Come on, Dick,
we’ll go back and make out a complaint against him. We’ll have him
arrested for firing that shot.”
“Go ahead,” sneered Cole. “That’s all the good it’ll do you.”
Deciding it was useless to waste further words on the fellow, Dick
stepped into the canoe as Buckhart again swung the prow close to the
shore.
“You’ll have time to think it over while you’re walking round the shore
to Maplewood,” said Merriwell. “Remember that Tom Fernald deserted you
and left you to drown.”
“And don’t forget,” suggested Buckhart, “that Dick Merriwell jumped in
and pulled you out some.”
The Texan then swung the canoe round and began paddling away.
Cole remained watching them some minutes, but finally turned and plodded
off, soon disappearing from view.
Returning to the clubhouse, the boys told of their adventure, arousing
the indignation of the listeners.
“It was sheer carelessness for any one to be shooting in such a manner,”
said William Drake.
“It was a whole lot more than carelessness,” averred Buckhart. “I opine
one of us was the target aimed at.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed Drake. “I can’t believe such a thing. No, no, my
boy; you must be mistaken. No one round here would do such a thing.”
“I’m not disputing with you, sir,” retorted the Texan; “but I presume
you will let me hold my own opinion on that point.”
As the only change of clothing he had with him was a baseball suit, Dick
soon got into that, while his wet garments were hung out to dry.
Less than an hour after the adventure on the lake the boys were
surprised at the appearance of Jack Cole at the clubhouse. Cole’s
clothing still hung wet upon his limbs, and it seemed evident that he
had come at once to the clubhouse after tramping round the shore of the
lake.
“I’d like to speak with you, Dick Merriwell,” he said.
“All right,” said Dick, rising at once and approaching Cole. “Here I am.
Go ahead.”
“Won’t you jest step out here alone with me?” invited Jack. “I’d rather
talk to you where there won’t nobody hear us.”
“Keep your eyes open, pard,” warned the Texan.
“Don’t worry,” said Dick, and he followed Cole, who walked away a short
distance into the little grove.
The Maplewood boy seemed hesitating and downcast as he again turned to
face Merriwell.
“I’ve been thinking about that business over t’other side of the lake,”
he said. “The more I thought about it the sorer I got. I ain’t seen Tom
Fernald sence. When I do he’ll hear from me, and don’t you forgit it!
I’ll tell him something he won’t like. I’ve been thinking that it was up
to me to thank you for jumping in and keeping me from drowning.”
Dick was surprised, for gratitude from Cole had been the last thing
expected by him.
“I couldn’t leave you to drown after you were thrown into the water in
that manner,” he said.
“I guess you’re not the kind of a feller to go off and leave anybody in
such a situation. I’ve been thinking about you, too, while I was walking
round here. You know I took a dislike to you the fust time I saw you. I
thought your brother was coming here with a baseball team, and I was
down on him even before I saw him. That was ’cause I wanted to play
myself and I s’posed I wouldn’t have no chance. Then when we challenged
your fellers to play and you batted me out of the box it made me roaring
ugly. Right on top of that we sailed into you, and you got the best of
the fight, which didn’t make me feel no better toward you. I kept saying
I’d git even somehow, and I hoped I’d be able to do it while I was
playing on the team here, but the chance never came round. Then when
Hammerswell got his new team, he dropped me along with the others.”
“What are you driving at?” asked Dick. “I hope you didn’t fire that shot
from the island, Cole.”
“No, I didn’t!” cried the Maplewood boy quickly. “I’m going to tell you
the truth about that. It was Fernald who done it. He had a pistol. It
wasn’t no gun he used. I didn’t know why he wanted to land on the island
when he saw you coming over that way, but we landed and he watched until
you was close. Fust thing I knew I see him pull out a pistol and cock
it. Even then I didn’t s’pose he was goin’ ter shoot at nobody, but in a
minute he lifted it, and I came near spitting my heart right out, for I
saw he was pointing it at one of you fellers in the canoe. Jest as he
shot I gave his arm a poke and that spoiled his aim. He was mad, too, I
tell yer. When I asked him what he was trying ter do he said he could
tell anybody it was an accident—that we was jest firing at a mark on the
island. I was all-fired skat, and I wanted to git away. We hustled into
our canoe, and you know the rest. I don’t think he tried to shoot at
you. It seemed to me that he was firing at the other feller. Mebbe the
bullet went nearer you because I poked his arm.”
“Look here, Cole,” said Dick earnestly, “are you ready to swear to this
in court?”
The Maplewood boy betrayed evident alarm.
“No, no!” he exclaimed. “I won’t do that! Why, Fernald would lay it up
agin’ me, and I’d git soaked for it sometime.”
“But if you were compelled to tell the story in court you wouldn’t
perjure yourself?”
“I don’t know for sure that he really tried to shoot at either one of
you,” said Cole, a crafty look coming into his eyes. “If I had to tell
anything in court I’d say I didn’t know jest what he was tryin’ to shoot
at; but I saw you out there and knew the bullet was going to come pretty
near you, and so I poked his arm. If he said he was firing at a mark or
a bird I couldn’t deny it.”
Dick saw at once that any attempt to use Cole as a witness against
Fernald would fail.
“I ain’t going to be your enemy no more,” declared Jack. “I decided on
that while I was walking round the shore. If I can help you somehow I’ll
do it, too; but I won’t go into court and git into no trouble that way.”
“I suppose you know that the trolley car that was bringing us to
Maplewood this afternoon jumped the track, and that the rails had been
loosened and spread by some one?” questioned Dick.
“I heerd about it,” nodded Cole.
“When did you hear—in advance, or after it occurred?”
“I ain’t going to say nothing about that, either,” declared the
Maplewood lad, with a show of uneasiness. “I know lots of things I won’t
say nothing about.”
Although Dick questioned him in the cleverest manner, Cole persisted in
his determination to remain silent on the subject of the trolley-car
affair.
“But I want to tell you something that may help you some,” said Jack. “I
want you to know it so you’ll be prepared for what you’re goin’ against
this afternoon. Hammerswell means to beat you somehow, and he’s made
plans to do it. He’ll have a tough crowd on hand to rattle you and
bulldoze you. He’s got all the fellers around him to come to help him,
and paid ’em, too. Then he sent for Fernald, and Fernald picked up a
still tougher gang in Rockford. They’ll all be here in a bunch, and you
want to look out for a lot of trouble. I promised to help them, but I
won’t do it now. No, sir! Instead of helping them, I’m goin’ to holler
for you. If I can do anything more than holler I’ll do it, you bet! But
I’m afraid you’re goin’ ter lose the game. I’d like to see you win it
now, but I don’t believe you can.”
“Well,” said Dick, “I’m obliged for this warning, at least. If we get a
fair deal on the field, the crowd may hoot and yell as much as it likes.
I don’t believe it can rattle the boys very much. We’ll be ready for
hoodlumism, and the chances are that sort of business will simply serve
to make the boys play harder.”
“I hope so, blamed if I don’t!” nodded Cole. “Now I guess I’ll go home
and change my clothes. I wish I was goin’ ter play this afternoon, but
I’m glad I ain’t going ter play agin’ you.”
A sudden idea came to Dick.
“Are you in earnest about wishing to play?” he asked. “Do you really
want us to win?”
“Sure thing.”
“Then put on your suit and come to the field. I’ve seen you pitch, and,
with a catcher who knows his business under the bat, I am sure you can
do a good turn. I pitched a hard game yesterday and another the day
before that. Bold has rheumatism in the shoulder of his pitching arm,
and he’s afraid he’ll not last through the game to-day. This climate
with its fog has knocked his arm out. I shall start the game with Bold
in the box. If he is batted hard some one will have to take his place. I
don’t wish to use my own arm up, and it’s possible I might give you a
chance to hand the ball up a few innings in case you were on our bench.”
The eyes of Jack Cole actually gleamed. A strange look of eagerness came
to his plain face.
“You don’t mean it?” he cried. “You wouldn’t really and truly use me to
pitch for you? Why, I’ve thought a hundred times that if I could pitch
just one game with your fellers behind me I’d show some of the folks
round here what I could do. I never dreamed I’d have the chance.”
“I’m not promising you the chance to-day,” said Dick. “I am simply
promising to try you a few innings in case you’re absolutely needed; but
I wish you to understand that you must say nothing of this to anybody.
You’re not to let a soul know you may play with us until you reach the
field and sit on our bench. I don’t want any one to get after you and
make any talk to you.”
“I will keep mum,” promised Cole, “and I’ll be there, Mr. Merriwell. You
can depend on me, you bet!”
Saying which, he hastened away.
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