AN ADVENTURE ON THE ROAD.
Grody soon had Nemo saddled and bridled. The horse was eager to be away,
as he showed by his tossing head, fluttering nostrils and restless feet.
"Whoa, boy," said Frank, soothingly. "Don't be so impatient. We'll get
away in a moment."
He swung into the saddle, the stable doors rolled open, and away sprang
the gelding.
The remaining lads hurried out of the stable to watch Frank ride, Grody
accompanying them.
"He seems like he were a part of the horse," declared the hostler,
admiringly. "That young gentleman were born to handle horses, he were."
"He is, indeed, a graceful rider," nodded Diamond. "I am sure he did not
learn in any riding academy, for he rides naturally. The riding
academies all turn out riders with an artificial and wooden style. There
is no more distressing sight than the riders to be seen in Central Park,
New York, almost any afternoon. They bounce around in the saddle like a
lot of wooden figures, and it is plain enough that many of them do not
bounce because they want to, but because they think it the proper thing.
Southerners ride naturally and gracefully. Mr. Merriwell rides like a
Southerner."
"He rides like Buffalo Bill," said Browning, with an effort. "Bill is
the best rider I ever saw."
Diamond was watching Merriwell and the horse, a queer look on his face.
Finally he exclaimed:
"By Jove! there's something the matter with Nemo!"
"What is it?" asked Griswold. "I didn't notice anything."
"The horse shows a suspicion of lameness," asserted Jack.
"You have good eyes to detect it," observed Browning, doubtingly. "I
can't see that anything is the matter with the horse."
"I'll wager he goes lame before Merriwell returns."
"If he does, I shall think you have great discernment."
Merriwell turned a corner and disappeared.
"Come, fellows," said Griswold, "let's shuffle along."
"Merriwell is altogether too generous," declared Diamond, as the trio
walked away.
"In what way?" asked Browning.
"With his enemies. I know you and I were both enemies to him in the
beginning, and----"
"He threw us down hard."
"That's all right; but there are enemies you have to hold down."
"Merriwell didn't do a thing to Hartwick!" exclaimed Griswold, grinning.
"He scared the fellow so he ran away from college, and nobody knows
where he went."
"Yes, but Merriwell gave him the opportunity to skip and escape the
disgrace that must follow public exposure of his acts. Some fellows
would have exposed him and brought about his expulsion."
"That's right," chirped Griswold. "Merriwell was as generous with
Hartwick as he could be with such a fellow. He might have used him much
worse than he did."
"And do you fancy Hartwick thinks any more of Merriwell for not exposing
him publicly?" asked Jack.
"Oh. I don't know."
"Well, I will wager that he does not. More than that, I'll venture that
Hartwick, wherever he may be, cherishes a fierce desire for revenge, and
longs for the day when he will be able to get back at Frank. Merry will
hear from that chap again."
And there the subject was dropped.
Frank enjoyed the ride upon Nemo's back, for the horse seemed
intelligent and something of a comrade. The boy talked to his mount as
if the animal could understand every word he uttered.
He had ridden beyond the limits of the city before he noticed that Nemo
was limping the least bit.
"What's the matter, old fellow?" asked Frank, with concern. "Have you
hurt yourself some way?"
Nemo shook his head. It almost seemed that the animal was answering the
question in the negative.
"You must have stepped on a stone," Merriwell declared. "Why, you are
really beginning to limp in earnest!"
Frank immediately dismounted, after having decided it was Nemo's left
hind leg or foot that was lame.
"I'll make an inspection, and see if I can discover what is the matter,"
said the boy, anxiously.
He examined both of the horse's hind feet, but could not see that
anything was wrong.
"If that rascally shoer has blundered in his work he'll not get another
chance at you, boy," Merriwell declared.
After patting Nemo's neck and fondling the fine creature a bit, Frank
mounted once more.
But Nemo limped worse than ever.
"This is singular," muttered the perplexed lad. "I don't understand it
at all. There's something wrong, for a fact."
He watched the horse, and decided that he had made no mistake in
locating the lameness in the left hind leg.
Again he dismounted and made an examination, and again the result was
far from satisfactory.
"I wish you might speak and tell me what is the matter," said Frank, in
dismay. "I'll have you examined without delay by somebody who knows his
business."
He rode slowly into the outskirts of the city.
Of a sudden there was a rattle of wheels and a clatter of hoofs behind
him.
He turned and looked back, to see a carriage coming along the road at a
reckless rate. Two persons were seated in the carriage, and the horse
was covered with sweat.
"Why are those fools driving like that?" muttered Merriwell. "Are they
drunk, or is it a matter of life or death?"
"Get out of the road!"
The command was hoarsely shouted, and Frank reined aside, having no
desire to get in the way of the reckless driver.
Once more the boy on the horse turned to look back.
"Drunk, sure enough," he decided. "And they are two young fellows, too.
Students on a tear, perhaps."
The occupants of the carriage had been drinking heavily, but they were
not so drunk that they did not recognize the boy in advance when he
turned in the saddle the second time.
"Hey, Rolf!" exclaimed the one who was not driving. "It's Merriwell!"
"That's what it is!" cried the driver. "I haven't seen him for some
time, but I know his face too well to ever forget it!"
"He's out on his new horse."
"Sure."
"Run him down! run him down! Throw him off! Now's our chance!"
The driver was just intoxicated enough to be utterly reckless of
consequences, and he snarled:
"Hang me if I don't do it!"
And then, when they were very near the boy and the horse, he suddenly
reined toward Frank with the intention of running into Merriwell's
mount.
In another moment there might have been a grand smash there on the road,
but Frank had caught the words "Run him down!" and he gave Nemo a light
cut with the whip, at the same time pulling him still farther into the
ditch.
Nemo was not used to the whip, and he leaped like a flash. Such a spring
would have unseated any but a most expert rider, but the boy in the
saddle seemed to move as a part of the horse. Into the ditch they went,
and past them spun the carriage containing the two reckless young men.
The carriage came very near upsetting. It careened and spun along on two
wheels, threatening to hurl its occupants into the ditch, for the driver
had reined the horse back toward the middle of the road. Both clung on
for life.
"Don't blame me!" muttered Merriwell, through his teeth. "You were
looking for a smash."
But the carriage did not go over; it righted at last. One of the young
men looked back and shook his fist at the boy on the horse, and then
away they went in a cloud of dust.
"If that was not Evan Hartwick, I am greatly mistaken!" exclaimed Frank,
as he reined Nemo back into the road. "So he is back here as soon as
this? I know what that means. He is looking for revenge on me."
Frank had seen the face of the driver as the carriage spun past, and he
added:
"Hartwick's companion is somebody I know. I did not obtain a fair look
at him, but--great Scott! it was the card sharp, Rolf Harlow!"
Harlow was a fellow who had entered Harvard, but had not completed his
second year there, leaving suddenly for reasons not generally known.
A Yale man by the name of Harris, familiarly known as "Sport," because
of his gambling inclinations, had known Harlow, and had introduced him
to a number of Yale students.
Harris and Harlow were both poker players, but they claimed that they
played the game "merely for amusement."
A number of Harris' acquaintances had been induced to enter into the
game, and there had been some very "hot sittings."
No one seemed to suspect that Harlow was crooked, for he almost always
lost, although he never lost large sums.
Harris won almost continually. He seemed to be the luckiest fellow in
the world in drawing cards. He would hold up one ace on a large jackpot
and catch two more aces and a small pair. It seemed the greatest kind of
"bull luck."
Harry Rattleton, Merriwell's roommate, was following the game. Frank
tried to induce him to keep away, but it was without avail.
Then Frank seemed to take an interest in the game, and it was not long
before he proved that Harlow was a card manipulator, and caught him at
one of his tricks.
That finished Harlow's career at plucking Yale "fruit," and the fellow
left New Haven suddenly.
Harris had remained under a cloud of suspicion since that time, as there
seemed very little doubt but he had been in league with Harlow, and they
had divided the plunder between them.
The proof had not been sufficient to incriminate Harris, but it had been
enough to make him unpopular and cause him to be shunned.
He had seemed to take this very meekly, but some of Merriwell's friends
declared that Harris had not forgotten or forgiven, and that he would
strike back at Frank if the opportunity ever presented.
Now Harlow was back in New Haven, and Hartwick, who had been forced to
leave college to escape expulsion, was also there.
That meant something.
"Hartwick, Harlow and Harris--the three hard tickets. They are birds of
a feather. All they need is Ditson to make a most delectable quartet!"
So muttered Frank Merriwell, as he gazed at the receding cloud of dust.
Frank began to realize that there was more trouble in store for him.
"I shall not deal gently with that gang this time," he declared, with a
hard-set face. "This little adventure has put me on my guard, and I
don't propose to let them have much fun with me. Those two fools were
just full enough to drive right into me with the hope of doing me an
injury, without a thought of their own necks. They might have been
thrown out and killed, but they did not hesitate because of that. The
one thought was to do me some way--any way. Hartwick always was a
desperate fellow, but I did not fancy Harlow could be such a chap.
However, he was driving that horse, and the way he drove was proof
enough that he is careless of life and limb at times."
For some time Frank paid very little attention to Nemo, but the lameness
of the horse became so pronounced at last that he could not help
observing it once more.
"That worries me, old fellow," he admitted, with a troubled face. "It is
something I can't understand."
He rode slowly back to the stable.
It was growing dark when he arrived at the stable. A strange man was
standing outside as Frank rode up. The man looked keenly at the boy and
the horse, and then, as the doors rolled open, followed into the stable.
"Horse is lame, eh?" he said, questioningly. "I didn't notice that when
he went out. He wasn't lame then, was he?"
Frank paid not the least attention to this question. The man was a
stranger, and the boy did not care to talk with him.
"I spotted that horse when yer rode out, young man," the stranger
persisted. "Fine lookin' critter--just the kind I've been wantin' some
time for a saddle horse. Whose critter is it?"
"Grody," said Frank, utterly ignoring the man, "I want you to see if you
can tell what ails Nemo. He is lame in one of his hind feet. He was
taken that way after I had been out a while. I think it possible there
is something the matter with the way he is shod. Will you look after him
without delay?"
"To be sure, sir--I'll not fail, sir," said Grody.
"Then the horse belongs ter you, does it?" asked the strange man, coming
forward and addressing Frank in a point-blank manner. "I am a horseman,
and I know all about critters. If there's anything the matter--and there
seems to be--I can tell what it is in five minutes. Shall I make an
examination, young man?"
"No, sir!" came sharply from Merriwell's lips. "I do not propose to have
strangers fooling around my horse. I do not know you, sir, so your offer
is respectfully declined."