A SURPRISE AT THE GULCH.
“Don’t be in a rush with your suspicions, Barzy,” Merriwell advised.
“Accusing a man of robbing an old lady like Mrs. Boorland is pretty
serious business. From what I heard her say to you, she thinks she may
have lost the money.”
“Not on your life, she doesn’t think that!” returned Blunt. “That’s her
way--always trying to screen everybody. She didn’t lose the money. It
was stolen from the hand bag, and Shoup and Lenning are the ones that
did it. I’m going after them, and I’ll get the money and wring their
necks into the bargain. I can’t remember when anything has happened that
has worked me up like this.”
Blunt was a cowboy, and, as Frank knew very well, inclined to be rough
and reckless whenever he thought he was dealing with guilt or injustice.
If he found Shoup and Lenning and recovered the money, there was no
doubt but that he would attempt to give them a lesson they’d long
remember.
“When are you going to start on this warpath of yours, Blunt?” Merriwell
asked.
“Right now, just as quick as I can do it. I’ve told mam that I had to go
back to the ranch, but that was only to ease her mind. Instead of loping
for the Bar Z I’m going to hunt the trail of Shoup and Lenning, and run
it out. If I don’t they’ll be apt to have all that money spent. I know
their caliber, all right. For the last week they’ve been gambling in
Gold Hill, I’ve heard, getting rid of the thousand Colonel Hawtrey gave
Lenning when he kicked the fellow out of his house.”
“I guess,” said Frank, “that I’ll go with you, Barzy.”
The sloe-black eyes of the cowboy softened a little, then flamed.
“No, you won’t, Chip!” he declared. “This is my business and you’ll keep
out of it. I know what’s on your mind. You think there are two of them,
and that they’ll be one too many for me.” He flung back his head and
laughed derisively. “Why,” he finished, “they’re both cowards from the
ground up. They’ll be scared to death just at the sight of me. I can
handle ’em.”
“I’d like to go along, anyhow,” insisted Frank. “A little excitement
wouldn’t come amiss, just now. We’re going to leave Arizona pretty soon,
and we’d like to keep keyed up with something or other until we go.”
“That’s you!” grinned Blunt, “but you can’t drive such palaver down my
throat. You’re afraid I’ll get into trouble, and you’re making excuses
to go along, but this is a single-handed expedition, and I’m going to
see it through all by my lonesome. Mam is feeling pretty chipper, and
she won’t need me for a while. It isn’t that I wouldn’t be glad of your
company, Chip, but I just want to nail these fellows myself, and do it
good and proper. You’re a crack hand at everything--get it from your
dad, of course--but Barzy Blunt is pretty good at a thing like this.
_Buenos!_”
Merry had not another word to say. He watched Blunt run down the steps,
pull the reins over his saddle-horn, and spring to the back of his
horse. A moment later he had vanished in the direction of the cañon
trail.
“That’s three times in one afternoon,” grumbled Merry. “And the last
time it comes from Blunt, who ought to know better.”
“Chip’s hearing funny noises, Pink,” remarked Clancy to Ballard. “What
do you suppose has got into him? He’s breaking out in an unexpected
place.”
“Three times!” mused Ballard. “What has happened three times, Chip?
Maybe I’m thick, but I can’t follow you.”
“Blunt said that I’m a crack hand at everything, which is coming it
rather strong, and that I get it from my dad, _of course_. Everybody has
suddenly begun throwing that handicap at me.”
“Not much of a handicap,” said the red-headed chap. “If my governor was
the best all-round athlete in the country, I’d be tickled to death over
it.”
“You’re not getting me right, Clan,” returned Merry earnestly. “I’m
proud of dad, but the things he has done he did himself, and against a
whole lot of discouraging circumstances at the outset. I want to make
the same sort of a record, see? But how can I when everybody insists
that what dad has done makes my imitation easy? If a fellow goes wrong
because his father went wrong, he’s a pretty poor stick; and if he goes
right just because his father went right, what credit is it to him?
Anyhow, there’s nothing in that theory. If a fellow wins or loses, it’s
his own doing--_his own_, mind you.”
Frank was nettled. It was unusual for him to show his feelings so
plainly, but he was human, and there were a few things that struck
pretty hard at his self-restraint.
“I’m glad you didn’t run off with Blunt,” said Ballard, after a moment,
“for that would have knocked our trip to the gulch in the head. We’re
going?”
“Yes,” Frank nodded. “Early in the morning we’ll ride for the gulch.”
“Hooray!” jubilated Clancy. “What you need, Chip, is a little outdoor
exercise--a little of the summer ozone which we’re getting, in this part
of the country, in the middle of November. Let’s make the most of it.
When we leave southern Arizona, we’ll probably land somewhere in the ice
and snow.”
The boys saw little of Mrs. Boorland until evening. At supper, she came
down from her room and Frank introduced her to Professor Borrodaile, who
was tutoring the three lads, getting his health back in the splendid
climate, and incidentally waiting to claim the half of fifty thousand
dollars, which he and Mrs. Boorland were to receive for the mining
claim.
The more the lads saw of the little old lady the more they liked her. It
was plain that she was all wrapped up in Barzy Blunt; and that, when she
got through with her half of the fifty thousand, it would be passed on
to Barzy. Nor would this be long, Merriwell thought, as he saw how frail
and worn she was through years of misfortune.
Frank and his chums were in bed early, that night, and next morning they
were up and on the road to the gulch before either Mrs. Boorland or the
professor was stirring.
It was a crisp, bright morning. The air, pure and clean from the wide
deserts, acted like a tonic. Ballard, in spite of himself, burst into
song, and Clancy had a time of it smothering the ragtime airs that
Ballard insisted on trying to sing.
The trail was wide and fine for the fifteen miles that lay between Ophir
and Dolliver’s. Dolliver, the ranchman, was well known to the boys.
“What d’you reckon,” he asked of the boys, as they halted to water their
mounts, “Lenning and that white-faced feller trailin’ along with him is
doin’ in these parts?”
The boys were startled.
“Do you mean to say they’ve been around here, Dolliver?” Frank asked.
“That’s what,” was the reply. “They was here late yesterday arternoon,
ridin’ a couple o’ hosses. The white-faced feller had a roll of bills
enough to choke a dog. They’re up to somethin’ crooked, I’ll bet you.”
“Which way did they go when they left here?”
“Quién sabe?” answered Dolliver. “They jest went, an’ I didn’t see ’em
when they shacked away.”
“You know Barzy Blunt?” went on Frank, casting a look at his chums that
kept them silent.
“Well, I reckon. I’ve knowed Barzy ever since he was gopher-high.”
“Did you see him yesterday afternoon?”
“Nary I didn’t. He ain’t around in these parts. If he was, ye can gamble
he wouldn’t pass without sayin’ how-de-do to Dolliver.”
At Dolliver’s, the boys turned from the wide trail and started into
Mohave Cañon. Here the road narrowed, and angled back and forth until
the mouth of the gulch was reached, and the riders turned to follow the
dammed-up waters that sparkled in the late forenoon’s sun.
“I’ve a hunch,” Frank remarked, “that Blunt will get into trouble with
Lenning and Shoup.”
“Chances are, Chip,” cried Clancy, “Blunt will never find them. They’re
a foxy pair, and if they really stole that money, then they’ll be mighty
careful to keep out of sight.”
“Maybe Shoup didn’t take the money, after all,” suggested Ballard.
“He’s a thief, Pink,” said Frank, “and I wouldn’t put it past him. The
fellow’s not in his right mind for very much of the time.”
“That’s so. Do you think Lenning would stand for thieving of that sort
on Shoup’s part?”
“Sure he would,” asserted Clancy. “That cub would stand for anything
that didn’t call for any particular nerve on his part. He’s as crooked
as Shoup; or, if he isn’t, he’ll be as crooked as Shoup before he’s been
with him very long.”
“They say Lenning’s father was wild, and was killed in a brawl somewhere
in Alaska,” remarked Ballard. “I suppose we couldn’t expect much better
things of Lenning.”
“There you go, Pink!” exclaimed Merry. “What Lenning’s father did isn’t
any excuse for Lenning.”
“Right!” laughed Ballard. “Lenning’s handicap is a bit different from
yours, Chip, but I spoke before I thought.”
The walls of the gulch widened out, and as the boys rode along the
border of the pent-up waters, they came presently into view of three
white tents, pitched on a strip of clean, sandy beach.
Dinner was being made ready. A fire had been started, and the campers
could be seen moving about, each doing his allotted part of the work.
Half a dozen canoes were drawn up on the sand, a little way from the
tent, and off shore a float was anchored for the use of swimmers. It was
a pleasant scene for the three lads, just a little tired from their long
morning’s ride.
A moment after the travelers sighted the camp, the campers sighted them.
Instantly all work among the tents came to a standstill.
“Here’s the Merriwell crowd!” whooped one of the Gold Hill fellows.
“Good old Merry!”
“Just in time for grub pile!”
A rush was made for the newcomers, and they were dragged from their
horses, pounded on the back, and punched in the ribs with all the
delight and good feeling imaginable.
Hotchkiss, another lad whom Frank and his chums knew pretty well, took
charge of the three horses, and led them away to be picketed with the
rest of the live stock. Bleeker, who seemed to be in charge of the
camping party, led the visitors into the camp and showed them their
quarters.
“We’re all mighty glad you’ve come,” said Bleeker heartily. “We’re going
to have great times while you’re here. Didn’t see anything of Lenning
and Shoup on the road, did you?”
“Lenning and Shoup?” returned Merriwell, startled. “No, we didn’t see
them, but we hear they were at Dolliver’s late yesterday. Have they been
here?”
“They were here last night, and I ordered them out of camp. Nearly had a
fight getting them to go, but we got rid of them. Last night, though,
one of our canoes was stolen. Of course,” he finished, “it’s not much of
a guess who took it. Shoup’s a thief, and Lenning isn’t much better.
We’ll get that canoe back, though, you can bet on that.”