THE SAVING GRACE.
For several minutes Jode Lenning continued to lie on the warm sand. He
could not have been very comfortable, for his hat was gone and his
clothes were soaking wet. Bleeker had removed his coat in order to work
over him to better advantage, and Hotch now took the garment and wrung
it out. But if Lenning was not comfortable, he was at least getting his
strength back and beginning to feel more like himself.
When he next opened his eyes, he sat up suddenly and looked out over the
shimmering expanse of water. His lips twitched with some passing
emotion, and he finally withdrew his gaze and fixed it upon Bleeker.
“Did Shoup hit me over the head with his paddle?” he asked, in a low,
colorless voice.
“Yes,” was the answer.
“Merriwell and Clancy pulled me out of the water?”
“That was the way of it.”
“Where’s Shoup now?”
“Suffering horn toads!” gasped Bleeker. “Say, I had clean forgotten
about that fellow. What became of him? Anybody know?”
“I can tell you,” one of the lads spoke up. “Two or three of us hustled
ashore to try and head him off, but he was too quick for us. There were
a couple of horses, hitched in the chaparral, and Shoup took one of them
and got away.”
A baleful glitter shone in Lenning’s shifty eyes.
“He tried to do me up,” Lenning muttered.
“Why?” asked Bleeker. “I thought you and he were pards.”
“You never can tell what a pard like Shoup is going to do. But I gave
him cause to have it in for me. Help me up, Bleeker. I’m not going to
ask much of you, nor bother you very long. Five minutes will do the
trick.”
Bleeker reached down and took Lenning’s hand. The lad was weak, as yet,
for it would be some time before he recovered entirely from his recent
ordeal.
“Let’s go to the place where Shoup got the horse,” went on Lenning. “I
want the rest of you to come, too, especially Merriwell.”
Those who had followed Shoup to the chaparral placed themselves in the
lead. Bleeker and Hotch followed, with Lenning between them.
Less than twenty yards up the slope of the bank the strange party came
to the edge of the chaparral.
“Pick up that stone there,” said Lenning, pointing.
A stone about the size of a man’s two fists was indicated. Clancy
stooped and removed the stone. As he did so, he gave vent to a low
whistle, and exclamations of astonishment came from others clustered
around him.
A roll of bills had been brought into view by the removal of the
stone--a large roll with a yellowback on the outside.
“You take the money, Merriwell,” said Lenning, “and give it to Blunt.
It’s the roll Shoup stole from Mrs. Boorland. I didn’t know the old lady
was Mrs. Boorland until I found Blunt was after us. Shoup did the
stealing, and he did it without my knowledge or consent. Maybe you
fellows won’t believe that, but it’s a fact. I reckon I’ve come pretty
low, but I couldn’t stand for what Shoup did. All the money’s there but
twenty dollars. Shoup used that to buy a supply of dope in Ophir and to
hire a couple of horses.”
Lenning paused. He was getting stronger, and he drew away from Bleeker
and Hotchkiss.
“I took that money from Shoup last night, while he was asleep,” Lenning
went on. “We brought our horses over here before daylight, and hid them
in the chaparral. When we did that, I sneaked around and got the roll
under that stone, and Shoup didn’t see me. I intended to let Blunt know,
in some way, where the money was. That’s something else you can believe
or not, just as you please, but it’s the truth.
“There was merry blazes to pay when Shoup found the money was gone out
of his pocket. He accused me of taking it, and I admitted it. He
threatened me, and even threw me down and went through my clothes to see
if he couldn’t find it. Blunt made things so interesting for us that
Shoup didn’t have any time to keep nagging at me. When we tried to get
across the river to the horses, directly after that bowlder dropped from
the cliff, Shoup found his chance to hand me a rap over the head. You
saw him do it; and now I’ve explained why he had it in for me.
“Of course,” and Lenning’s glance wandered to Merriwell, “you fellows
can take me to Ophir and put me in the lockup on a charge of highway
robbery. The question is, are you going to do it? I’ve tried to do the
right thing, and now it’s up to you either to let me go or hand me over
to the law. Which is it to be?”
“Get his horse for him,” said Merriwell, “and let him go. He’s had a
hard enough time of it, and the way Shoup treated him proves that his
story is straight.”
Lenning, most unexpectedly, had done a good deed, and it was the saving
grace of that act which led many of the boys to agree with Merriwell.
The horse was led out of the bushes, and Lenning, with some difficulty,
climbed into the saddle.
“Where are you going?” Merriwell asked.
“I don’t know,” was the answer, “and I’m not caring a whole lot.”
“Why don’t you buck up, Lenning, and try to be different?”
Lenning studied Merriwell for a moment with moody eyes.
“What’s the use?” he asked, at last. “I’m down and out. I’ve been a
fool, but that doesn’t count any in my favor. When a fellow makes his
bed, he’s got to lie in it.”
“If it doesn’t suit him he can get up and make it over.”
“You’ve always been at the top of the heap, Merriwell, so it’s easy for
you to give advice. Try to be the under dog once, and maybe you’ll
change your mind about what a fellow can or can’t do.”
Without another word, Lenning turned the horse’s head up the slope.
Hatless as he was, and with his wet clothing clinging to his limbs, he
was a melancholy figure as he rode to the top of the bank and then
vanished from the gaze of the lads below.
“Well, I’ll be hanged!” exclaimed Bleeker. “I’m struck all of a heap, no
two ways about that. To think that Jode Lenning should make a play of
that kind! He hasn’t a sou in his jeans, and yet he took that roll from
Shoup and was doing what he could to get it back into the hands of
Blunt. Well, well!”
“It only goes to prove,” chuckled Merriwell, “that lawlessness wasn’t
born in Lenning, and that he can make a pretty decent sort of a fellow
out of himself if he tries.”
“I reckon,” said Bleeker thoughtfully, “that all of us are handicapped
in one way or another.”
“We are,” agreed Frank, “but it’s our own doing.”
“That so, Chip?” put in Clancy.
Merriwell stared at him for an instant, then caught his drift and nodded
emphatically.
“Yes, that’s so, Clan, and I’m not backing away from that statement
because I’ve got a little handicap of my own. Who won that race, anyhow,
Bleeker?” he finished, with a grin.
“You and Clancy did,” was the prompt reply.
“We can try it over again to-morrow forenoon, if you say so.”
“Not much! Single paddles are trumps, to-morrow forenoon, and I’ll see
if we Gold Hillers can’t have a little luck. Now let’s get back to
camp.”
A return was quickly made to the other shore; and, while Merry and
Clancy were in their tent, giving all the news to Ballard, and, at the
same time, getting into their clothes, Barzy Blunt stuck his head in at
the flap.
“Somebody beat me to it,” he remarked. “Call that a fair shake, Chip?”
There was a laugh in Blunt’s voice, so the lads knew his words were not
to be taken seriously.
“Where were you while all the trouble was going on?” demanded Frank.
“I was a heap nearer the scene of trouble than you imagine. I’ve found
out something, too, that will probably change your opinion of Jode
Lenning.”
“Come in, then,” said Merry, “and bat it up to us. We’re getting sort of
hardened to surprises, so I guess we can stand this one.”