RUN TO EARTH.
“Great ginger!”
“Holy smoke!”
“Did yer see that!”
“It’s dr’amin’ Oi am!”
“The young feller kicked the slugger out!”
“That’s what he did!”
“And it’s the first time anything like that ever happened to the
slugger.”
“McGinty’ll come back for his gore!”
“Young chap, you’d better skip out by the other door, or he’ll kill
you.”
“Thank you,” said Frank, quietly, his eyes flashing. “I am minding my
business, and I shall not run away from that tough. If he bothers me
again I’ll kick him so hard he won’t be able to walk for a week.”
“That’s the stuff!” roared Col. McGraw of Topeka. “The boy is all right!
He’s no baby, and anybody who thinks he is makes a mistake. What’ll you
have, young man? If I have been touched, I’ve got enough red money left
to buy the drinks, and you can have anything you want.”
“I never drink, sir,” answered Frank, calmly.
“Wh-wh-what?” exploded the colonel. “Never drink?—and you kicked
McGinty? Oh, say——”
But Frank could not be induced to drink.
“What do you think of that, Kelley?” asked the Topeka man, in apparent
disdain, addressing one of the barkeepers.
The man spoken to seemed so busy that he paid no attention to the
question.
“Kelley! Kelley!” Frank mentally exclaimed, taking good note of the man
who had been called that. “This must be the Kelley Rafferty directed
Hodge to see.”
He felt that the scent was growing hot.
McGinty did not return, and two or three men went out to see what had
become of him. They came back carrying the man Frank had kicked through
the door.
“He’s done,” one of them said. “Found him lying outside, and he said he
couldn’t get up.”
“Well, why in blazes did you bring him in here?” shouted one of the
barkeepers. “Take him into the back room, now.”
As McGinty was carried along he saw Frank.
“Say, young fellow,” he feebly asked, “do your legs run by steam? I was
kicked by a mule once, but that wasn’t a patch to this!”
Then they bore him into the back room.
Much to his dismay, Frank found that this little incident had sufficed
to draw attention to him. Again and again he was urged to drink. At
length, in order to get up to the bar and find a chance to speak to
Kelley, he consented to take a plain seltzer.
He reached the end of the bar and Kelley served him. As he did so, Frank
thrust a five-dollar bill over the bar, saying:
“Upper cut.”
“No good,” answered Kelley, shoving it back, to Frank’s dismay. “All
gone.”
“But Mr. Rafferty said——”
“Rafferty? Are you one of his?”
“Yes, he told me——”
“Then you’ve got the last one there is.”
The bill was taken, and a piece of pasteboard was tossed at Merry, who
caught it deftly.
On the pasteboard it said:
UNION ATHLETIC CLUB.
Sparring Exhibition.
Admit Bearer.
There was no date upon it.
“Is this good for to-night?” asked Frank.
“Sure,” nodded Kelley. “If you ain’t drinking anything but seltzer you’d
better be getting in so that you’ll have a chance as near the ropes as
you can get.”
“I am going in now,” said a man. “You can come along with me, young
fellow.”
Frank gladly availed himself of the opportunity.
“Well, if this isn’t luck!” he thought. “I am bound to get there now,
and I think I’ll be sure to find Hodge.”
He followed the man through a swinging door, and they passed along a
dark wall till they came to another door. Then they ascended a flight of
stairs, turned to the right, seemed to enter another building, traveled
another passage, ascended more stairs, and came to a door where their
tickets were taken.
“How long before the go?” asked the man with Frank.
“Not long,” was the doorkeeper’s response. “Fifteen or twenty minutes,
perhaps.”
They were admitted, and Frank soon found himself in quite a large room,
with something like a pit in the center. In this pit was a raised
platform, which was surrounded by ropes. All around this platform were
rows of seats, rising tier on tier, as they do in a theater.
From at least six different entrances people were streaming into that
room, and already a great crowd occupied the seats. Men were smoking
everywhere, but a huge fan ventilator seemed to carry off most of the
smoke and keep the air fairly clear.
Frank wondered if Hodge was there. He began to look around for Bart at
once.
“Come on,” urged his companion. “We must get as good a place to see as
possible. Let’s get down in front.”
But Frank was not so eager to get down toward the front, for he wished
to be where he could overlook the crowd of spectators. He permitted the
man to go ahead, but lingered behind.
It was wonderful how swiftly those seats filled up. It was not long
after Merry entered before every seat seemed taken and many were
standing. Betting talk was being made on all sides. The odds seemed in
favor of the “Sucker.”
Still Frank could see nothing of Hodge, and it seemed that he had
surveyed the face of every person present. He began to fear that Hodge
was not present and would not appear.
“If he ever dreams I have followed him he will stay away from here—he’ll
get out of St. Jo.,” thought Merriwell.
Although the seats were taken, still the spectators came pouring in.
A loud-voiced fellow appeared and made an announcement. He delivered
quite a speech, explaining how the referee had been chosen, and finally
introduced the referee, who followed with a speech of his own, in which
he boasted so much of his squareness that Frank decided he must be a
great rascal.
Then there was a howl from the assembled crowd:
“There comes the Maverick!”
Swathed in a blanket, one of the principals entered the roped arena,
accompanied by his second. The crowd thundered its applause, and he
bowed his bullet head several times in acknowledgment, finally sitting
down in a corner.
Then came the other fighter, also wrapped about by a blanket, and the
audience howled still more hoarsely.
Frank paid very little attention to this. He scarcely noted what
followed. Finally he heard the clang of a gong, and then he knew the
fighters were at it. He glanced toward the “squared circle” and saw them
sparring, lunging, dashing, retreating and dancing about each other, but
his heart was sinking more and more as he failed to see anything of the
one person he sought.
And then, right in the midst of the very first round, came a startling
cry:
“The police! the police!”
“We’re raided!”
There was a hammering at the doors.
At that very instant Frank Merriwell’s eyes rested on the face of the
one he sought. There he was, almost directly opposite.
“Bart!” he shouted—“Bart Hodge!”
Hodge must have heard the cry, for he looked across and his eyes found
Frank’s.
A moment later Hodge was swept out of sight by the stampeding crowd.
Frank felt himself lifted, carried, whirled about, borne onward despite
himself. He struggled to run back, to force his way toward the spot
where he had seen Hodge. It was useless.
Bang! bang! bang!—the police were hammering at the heavy doors.
Crash!—a door fell.
The police rushed in and the lights went out!
How it happened Frank Merriwell was unable to tell, but in the darkness
he was swept along through a doorway, down a flight of stairs, carried
onward again by the rushing men, to finally stumble down another flight
and grope his way out into the street by a basement door.
He had escaped arrest, but had lost Hodge. He found his way back to the
saloon where he had purchased the ticket, but that was in the hands of
the police.
Evidently the officers of St. Jo. were not so slow, after all. They had
made a goodly haul, and patrol wagons were bearing the prisoners away by
the twenties.
“I’ll bet anything Hodge was nabbed!” thought Merry. “If so, that will
be all the better, for I’ll be able to reach him when he is arraigned in
court to-morrow morning.”
Till midnight he remained up trying to find something of Hodge, and then
he sought his hotel, more than satisfied that Bart had been captured by
the police.
In spite of his exciting adventure, Frank slept well after retiring to
bed. He had a way of relaxing his nerves and throwing off all worry and
care, enabling him to sleep under the most trying circumstances.
In the morning Merry arose much refreshed, even though he had retired
late. The theatrical business had accustomed him to late hours.
He ate a good breakfast, and was on hand when court opened. He saw the
prisoners arraigned, and, to his unspeakable disappointment, Bart Hodge
was not among them.
“But Hodge is here in St. Jo.,” thought Frank. “That is, he is here
unless, after seeing me last night, he took alarm and fled. It’s
probable he may have done that. It was foolish for me to shout to him
just as the police were breaking in.”
It was useless, however, to regret this action.
Frank went to Kelley’s barroom. The place was wide open and doing
business, as if nothing had happened.
Merry inquired about Hodge, and, after a time, Kelley seemed to remember
Bart.
“Dark-faced chap,” said Kelley. “Rafferty sent him here, same as he did
you?”
“Yes,” nodded Frank, eagerly.
“You want to find him?”
“Yes.”
“I dunno how you will.”
“I’ll give twenty-five dollars to find him!” cried Merry.
A man who had been listening stepped forward.
“Do you mean that, young feller?” he asked.
“I do!” declared Frank.
“Will you give me that to tell you where to find him?”
“I will.”
“All right. I know the fellow you mean. He said he had a lot of money,
or he made some of Mike Roper’s gang believe he had. But the gang got
left on him, for they didn’t find enough on him to pay them for doping
him.”
“Then Hodge has fallen in with a tough crowd?”
“He’s the only one to blame for it. They’d let him alone if he hadn’t
put up such a bluff about having a lot of money.”
“And he didn’t have any?”
“Well, Frosty Ike said he didn’t have enough to buy drinks for the crowd
all round.”
“Take me to him. You shall have the money I said I would give.”
Frank followed the man from the saloon.
“Now, look here,” said the stranger, who was rather disreputable in
appearance, “you’ve got to promise not to blow to a living soul that I
put you onto this.”
“I’ll agree to that,” said Frank.
“And you’ve got to agree not to pull me into court over it.”
“If you are pulled into court it will be well worth your while.”
The man stopped, irresolutely.
“I don’t reckon I’ll go along with ye,” he said. “I can’t afford to get
Frosty Ike down on me.”
“Who’s Frosty Ike?”
“The worst man in St. Jo. He eats railroad iron when he’s hungry! I
wouldn’t make him a bite.”
“Well, now, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If you lead me to my friend you
shall have the twenty-five dollars. If it is true that this Frosty Ike
and his gang have not robbed my friend there will be no danger of your
getting into court. If they have robbed him I’ll give you a hundred
dollars to testify against them, in case I think it best to prosecute. I
may not prosecute.”
“You will have to agree not to prosecute before I’ll go any further. I
wouldn’t get mixed up with Ike for two hundred dollars.”
Frank was not long deciding. He realized that he could not prosecute
Frosty Ike’s gang without having all the facts come out concerning the
manner in which Hodge obtained the money, and he concluded to give the
man the desired pledge.
He was led to a low quarter of the city near the river. Down among a lot
of storehouses they went, and entered one of the old buildings.
“He’s in here somewhere,” said Merry’s companion. “We’ll have to hunt
for him.”
Frank was on guard for a trap, for it seemed quite possible he had been
led into a snare. The search began. From room to room they went. At last
they came to a wretched room, filled with old boxes and barrels. Frank
was in advance. He entered the room, and there lay Hodge on the floor,
drugged or—drunk!
It was hours later that Bart came to himself in a respectable room of a
hotel. He opened his eyes, and they rested on Frank Merriwell, who was
sitting there, watching and waiting.
Bart did not speak. He lay there, wondering where he was and if he had
been dreaming.
After a little, Frank moved nearer the bed, smiling in his old, pleasant
way, and said:
“Well, old man, I expect you feel pretty rocky?”
Still Hodge did not speak.
“The doctor said he thought you’d come round all right in a short time,”
observed Merry. “He hasn’t been gone long.”
“Frank!”
“What is it, old man?”
“Have I been ill?”
“Well, you were about as ill as knockout drops could make you without
doing you serious damage.”
“Knockout drops! Then it was no dream! Then I did talk like a fool to
you in Atchison and run away! Then I did resolve to go straight to the
devil in a hurry and try to make a start on the road! Then I really saw
you at the prize fight just as the police broke in! Then I really did
get in with a gang after that and drink with them! I have betrayed you,
Frank! I ran away from you, like a miserable sneak! I felt I was doing a
mean thing after I had started, but it was too late then!”
“It is never too late to mend, you know.”
“A fool said that! In my case, it is too late!”
Still he had said nothing of taking the money. Frank wondered at that.
“What made you follow me, Frank?” said Bart. “Why didn’t you let me go?
You have bothered with me enough. There is no reason why you should do
so any more. You must despise me now. Why did you follow me?”
“I thought I might overtake you in time to save you, but you fell into
the hands of those toughs, and they stripped you. You did not have coat,
hat, watch or money when I found you.”
“They didn’t get much money,” said Bart, “for I didn’t have much. My
watch was valuable, of course, but——”
“What became of the money you had?” asked Frank.
“Why, I didn’t have much,” said Bart, “though I put up a bluff with the
sports that I did. I took only twenty dollars, you know, and I left the
note telling you I had taken that. I thought that was not too much for
my work.”
Frank sat still some seconds, staring at Bart. Then he rose to his feet,
and the look on his face caused Hodge to rise to his elbow and cry:
“What is it? What is the matter, Merriwell?”
“Bart,” said Frank, slowly, “every dollar I had in that grip was gone
when I looked for it after your departure.”
That brought Hodge out of bed.
“Gone?” he gasped, in horror. “Gone? Why, how could that be?”
“I don’t know.”
“Frank—Frank, you don’t think I took that money? My God! you don’t think
I took it? I have fallen pretty low, but you don’t think I would rob
you—you who have been the only true friend I had in all the world? Why,
Merry, I’d starve—I’d suffer the tortures of hell before I’d do such a
thing!”
Frank did not doubt him then; he felt in his heart that Bart spoke the
truth. And Merry’s heart leaped with joy and triumph. Hodge was not
guilty!
Who was?
But Bart was completely “broken up” by what he had heard. Never had
Frank seen him look so overcome by horror.
“Merry, Merry!” he gasped, “did you think I had stolen your money? Was
that why you followed me?”
“No!” cried Frank. “That was not why I followed you, Hodge. I followed
because I hoped to overtake you and bring you back—because I wished to
save you from the consequences of your folly.”
“But you thought I had taken the money?”
“I hoped not.”
“Still, you thought I had! Oh, heavens! Frank, Frank, this is enough to
break a fellow’s heart!”
He dropped down on the bed, burying his face in his hands and shaking
all over.
Frank’s distress was great, but it was mingled with a feeling of
triumph.
“Bart,” he said, speaking swiftly, “I could not account for the loss of
the money. It was gone, and on the little table was your note, in which
you said you had taken enough to meet your needs. What was I to think?
It was your handwriting—I knew that. How could I account for the
disappearance of the money?”
“How can you account for it now?” groaned Hodge. “Frank, are you sure it
was gone—are you sure you made no mistake?”
“Yes, sure.”
“It doesn’t seem possible!” panted Hodge.
Then he caught sight of Frank’s grip, sprang for it, caught it up.
“Open it, Frank!” he cried—“open it and let me see! I shall not be
satisfied till I look!”
“It is no use,” said Merry. “The money is gone.”
“Open it!” Hodge shouted.
Frank did so. Bart tore out the contents. He sprang the fastening that
held the false bottom in and removed the bottom.
“Yes, gone!” he groaned, thrusting in his hand and feeling about. “But
as there is a God, I swear I did not take it! Do you believe me, Frank?”
“Yes, Bart, I believe you.”
“Thank Heaven!”
“More than that, I never did believe that you took it. My doubts caused
me to keep silent when I made the discovery. Not a single person knows I
lost the money.”
“You—you kept silent—for my sake?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, Frank, again you have shown yourself the noblest fellow in the
whole wide world. But I was not worth it! Oh, I am so ashamed of myself!
I am such a mean, degraded creature!”
“You are nothing of the sort, Bart. You are too quick and passionate,
and you have made a false step, but there is plenty of time to turn
back.”
“I’ll never rest till I bring the real robber to justice!” vowed Hodge.
Then he gave a sudden cry:
“What’s this?”
He took something out of the grip—a ring!
Frank snatched it from Bart’s fingers and looked at it. Then, with
remarkable coolness and a feeling of unspeakable satisfaction, he said:
“This is the evidence that will convict the real robber! Look at the
monogram on that ring—‘L. V.’”
“‘L. V.’ Why, that stands for——”
“Lester Vance!”
* * * * *
Frank and Bart returned to Atchison. Of course Merry provided Hodge with
a coat and hat. Fortunately, Bart had left his overcoat at a lodging
house where he had stopped, so that was not stolen from him.
As soon as possible Merriwell summoned Lester Vance to his room. Vance
came in, looking rather uneasy. Hodge was there.
“Mr. Vance,” said Frank, “have you found your ring which you lost
yesterday?”
“No, I have not,” confessed Lester.
“I have.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Under the false bottom in my grip, where I used to keep my money!”
Lester was thunderstruck. He turned deathly white and trembled all over.
“Vance,” said Merriwell, his eyes seeming to flash fire, “you can save
yourself from disgrace, exposure and imprisonment by returning every
dollar of that money. Otherwise, you go to prison!”
Vance broke down immediately and confessed. He told how he had slipped
down to the office after Hodge and obtained the key to Frank’s room when
the clerk was not looking, and how he had been able to take the false
bottom out of the grip and secure the money. He restored the whole of
it, and left the company suddenly and mysteriously.
The various members of the company, with the exception of Frank and
Bart, believed Vance had departed thus hurriedly because of Hodge’s
return.
Frank did not betray Vance, and he caused Hodge to keep silent.