AN ENEMY’S APPEAL.
“You saved a fellow’s life here yesterday, didn’t you, Chip?” Brad
asked.
“Clancy and I pulled Jode Lenning out of the water,” Frank answered.
“That’s about the way I’d expect you to tell it. Well, Lenning has asked
for a job at the Ophir mine. He hasn’t much left in the way of
reputation, and when the super asked my father what to do, pop told him
to let Lenning hunt a berth somewhere else. Lenning came straight to
pop’s office from the mine. He told pop that he knew he hadn’t done
right, but that he had cut loose from his rowdy friends, had turned over
a new leaf, and was going to make something of himself. Pop thought that
was a pretty good thing to do, and told him so, but couldn’t give him
any encouragement. The company had made it a rule not to hire anybody
who couldn’t give a clean bill as to character. Lenning wanted to know
if somebody couldn’t be responsible for him, and pop answered that it
all depended on who the ‘somebody’ was. The next minute pop was almost
knocked off his feet.”
Brad paused. “Who hit him?” asked Merry, with a twinkle in his dark
eyes.
“Lenning,” said Brad promptly. “He hit pop with a few words that almost
took his breath. ‘Chip Merriwell will be responsible for me,’ is what he
said. Do you wonder that the governor was floored?”
Frank did not. In fact, Frank was almost floored himself.
“Pop told Lenning that he’d have to talk with you,” Brad went on, “and
Lenning wanted him to get you to Ophir as soon as possible. Well, it
wasn’t exactly that that brought me after you, Chip. Pop telephoned to
Colonel Hawtrey, Lenning’s uncle, in Gold Hill, and the colonel’s coming
to Ophir himself to see about it. We all know that Colonel Hawtrey hates
Lenning like poison, and, while I can’t understand why you want to help
a fellow who has done you so much dirt as Lenning has, all the same I
thought I’d hustle out here and tell you about Hawtrey. If you want to
help Lenning, you’ll have to see pop before the colonel gets to Ophir. I
rushed to Dolliver’s in the automobile, and came on up the cañon on
foot. If you want to go back with me, it won’t take us long to get to
the car.”
Merriwell was in a quandary. At first, a blunt refusal to do anything
for Lenning was on his lips. Something held it back.
“It’s up to you, Chip,” said Brad. “What are you going to do? You stand
pretty high with pop. I’ll bet a good deal that one word from you would
get the job for Lenning--providing you get busy before the colonel
reaches Ophir. It’s your own business, and I’m only butting in to help
you do what you want to do.”
“I know that, Brad,” Merry answered. “I can’t tell you what I want to
do, offhand. I’ve got to think it over.”
“You haven’t much time.”
“I’ll have to take time to get into my clothes. Dinner’s about ready,
too, and there won’t be much more delay if we eat in camp. After that,
Brad, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do.”
“All right, old man,” assented Brad, and turned away to shake hands
with Clancy, Ballard, and a few other fellows with whom he was
acquainted.
Merriwell was still in a quandary as he went to one of the tents and
began getting out of his wet bathing suit and into his other clothes.
Jode Lenning had appealed to him for help, and such a move was so unlike
Lenning that Merry thought there must be something crooked back of it.
On the other hand, Lenning might really be trying to turn over a new
leaf, and, if that was the case, Frank was the last one in the world to
hold back when a word from him to Mr. Bradlaugh would help set an enemy
in the right road.
Jode Lenning and his half brother, Ellis Darrel, had lived with their
uncle, Colonel Hawtrey, in Gold Hill. Lenning had gone wrong, but he had
managed cleverly to pull the wool over his uncle’s eyes for a year or
more. Merriwell had befriended Darrel, and, in so doing, had earned the
enmity of Lenning. The latter had done a number of treacherous
things--ugly, underhand deeds, some of which had only failed of
accomplishing desperate ends by a narrow margin--and when the colonel
finally had his eyes opened to the truth, he cast the scheming,
unscrupulous nephew adrift.
Was Lenning trying honestly to turn over a new leaf? This was the
question Merriwell was turning over in his mind. If he was, then he
deserved and ought to have Merriwell’s help.
Nevertheless, Merriwell could not forget the past. Lenning had been sly,
and treacherous, and cowardly. His whole nature could not be changed in
twenty-four hours, and to be responsible for his honesty at the mine
would perhaps prove dangerous business.
The only square thing Merriwell had ever known Lenning to do was in
taking that stolen money of Mrs. Boorland’s from Shoup and returning it
to Barzy Blunt. If the principle of right and justice had swerved
Lenning, then certainly he was trying to put himself on a proper footing
and deserved encouragement.
While Frank was considering the question that had been so suddenly put
up to him, Blunt, Clancy, and Ballard came into the tent to dress and
make ready for dinner. They were curious to learn what errand had
brought Brad to the gulch; and Frank, after a little reflection, told
them.
“Crawling side winders!” muttered Blunt, his face flushed with
indignation and anger. “That juniper’s the limit! Think of him calling
on Chip for help when it hasn’t been a day since he tried to smash Chip
and Clancy with that bowlder! How’s that for nerve, pards?”
“Nerve is his long suit,” grunted Ballard. “Now that he’s out with
Shoup, he’s trying to curry favor with Chip.”
“And of course Chip will give him the cold shoulder,” put in Clancy,
with an air of conviction. “He’d be foolish to tangle up with Lenning in
any way.”
“Suppose Lenning is trying to square away and do the right thing?”
queried Merriwell.
“That’s a bluff,” asserted Blunt. “Lenning is more kinds of a crook than
I know how to tell about. It’s a cinch he wants to get in at the mine so
he can pull off some scheme or other that he’s been hatching. He’s a
master hand at schemes.”
“He’s up against a tough proposition,” went on Merriwell, “and if he’s
trying to be square I don’t want to turn him down.”
“If you’re fool enough to help him, Merriwell,” growled Blunt, “you’ll
get yourself in trouble. Mark what I say.”
“Give Chip credit for having a little horse sense,” said Ballard. “Brad
makes me tired. What the deuce did he want to come out here for? He
might have known Chip wouldn’t have anything to do with Lenning’s
affairs.”
“The trouble with Brad is, he never stops to reason a thing out,”
observed Clancy. “He means all right, and I’ll bet he thought he was
doing Chip a bigger favor than he was Lenning.”
“His own uncle ought to know him pretty well,” continued Ballard. “Let
him handle Lenning.”
“I’m going in with Brad, anyhow,” said Merry, his face set and a
resolute gleam in his eyes. “You fellows can follow along with the
horses and pick up my mount at Dolliver’s.”
“What are you going in for?” demanded Ballard suspiciously.
“I want to get deeper into this business,” was the reply. “It won’t do
any harm for me to have a talk with Mr. Bradlaugh.”
“Maybe not,” said Blunt, “but I’ll gamble my spurs it won’t do you any
good, either. Lenning’s a cur, and he’s proved it.”
“What’s the use of jumping on a fellow when he’s down, Barzy?”
“It amounts to the same,” was the fierce retort, “as putting your heel
on the head of a rattler before it can strike. Chip,” and his voice grew
intensely earnest, “I don’t want you to do anything you’ll be sorry
for.”
Merriwell laughed and thumped the cowboy on the back.
“Why, you crazy chump,” said he, “what do you take me for? There’s the
call for grub pile. Come on and let’s eat.”
Following dinner, Frank caught up his horse, put on the riding gear, and
then mounted and took up Brad behind him. All the Gold Hillers were
sorry to see Merriwell go, but he and his chums had only come out to the
gulch for overnight, and in two short days they had managed to crowd a
lot of sport and excitement.
“Hope we’ll see you again before you leave Arizona, Chip,” said Bleeker,
who was last to grip Merriwell’s hand. “You’re a true sportsman, and it
was an honor to compete with you--even if we did get left. Adios, and
good luck!”
“So long, fellows!” called Frank, waving his hand.
“We’ll be along later, Chip,” sang out Clancy.
At a word, Frank’s horse broke into a gallop along the gulch trail. The
white tents faded slowly into the background and the cheers of the Gold
Hillers grew fainter and fainter in Frank’s ears until they died out
altogether.