THE YELLOW STREAK.
An hour after Merry and Brad had left the office of the general manager
of the Ophir Mining Company, Merry was sitting alone on the veranda of
the Ophir House, waiting for his chums to arrive from the camp in the
gulch. He was wondering, a little dubiously, whether he had done right
by setting his judgment against the colonel’s in the matter of Jode
Lenning.
In matters of sentiment, and quite apart from ordinary business,
Merriwell knew that Colonel Hawtrey was far from infallible. The colonel
himself had mentioned the fact that he had been wrong and Merriwell
right in affairs connected with Ellis Darrel. The same sort of a “hunch”
that had led Merry to befriend Darrel was now spurring him on to help
Lenning. If it was right in one case, he felt in his bones it must be
right in the other.
And then, too, Lenning was absolutely friendless. In this sorry plight,
he had smothered his pride and appealed for aid to a fellow whom he
considered an enemy. This touched Merry, as he might have expressed it,
pretty close “to where he lived.” Lenning had asked for help, and Merry
would have felt like a cur if he had turned him down.
The lad on the veranda was unable to find any fault with himself for his
generous action. He did not mix any hard-headed logic in his reasoning,
but considered the affair almost entirely from the standpoint of doing
the right thing by a chap who was down and had every man’s hand against
him.
“I say, Merriwell!”
Frank started at the sound of the voice. Looking up, he saw a lad
leaning over the veranda rail not more than a couple of yards away. His
face was haggard, and his clothes, although of good quality, were dusty
and rumpled. A pair of eyes, by nature of the shifty sort, were fixed
with some steadiness upon Merry’s face.
“Oh, hello, Lenning,” said Frank, with a certain amount of constraint in
his voice and manner. “I thought you were out at the mine.”
“I was there,” came the answer, “until I heard a little while ago that I
was to have a job as night watchman, and that I owed the job to you.
That sent me to town. Can you give me a little of your time? I--I’ve got
something I want to say to you.”
“Sure! Come up here and take a chair. We’ll palaver as long as you
please.”
“I’d rather not do my talking here. If you’re agreeable, suppose we walk
out along the road to the mine. I’ll feel more like loosening up if I
knew there’s no one around to overhear.”
“That suits me,” and Frank left the veranda and started south with
Lenning, through the ragged outskirts of the town.
Lenning did not travel the main street, but avoided it, finally leading
Frank out on the trail to the mine by a roundabout course. A short mile
lay between the settlement and the Ophir “workings,” and Lenning did not
speak until the last house in the town had been left behind. If he had
much to say, Frank thought, he would have to talk fast if he got through
before they reached the mine.
But Lenning did not propose to walk while he was easing his mind. He
found a place at the trailside where they could sit down, and after
they had made themselves comfortable, he began:
“I reckon you think I had a good deal of nerve to drag you into this,”
said he, “but I knew if you wouldn’t give me a good word no one else
would, and the jig would be up. I’m obliged to you. I hadn’t a notion
you’d help me, but I took the only chance I had. You’ve acted white, and
I want you to know that I appreciate it and that I’m going to make
good--if it’s possible.”
“I don’t know why it isn’t possible,” said Merriwell, “so long as you
keep away from Shoup.”
A scowl crossed the other’s haggard face. Instinctively his hand went to
the back of his head, where the paddle had left its mark.
“You can bet all you’re worth I’ll keep away from that crazy dub. He had
a lot to do with getting me into trouble. The responsibility isn’t all
his, by a long shot, for I was born with an inclination to be
crooked--and you can’t get away from what’s bred in the bone.”
“Who pounded that into you, Lenning? Was it Shoup?”
“I don’t know. He was always harping on that idea, and maybe I got a
little of it from him.”
“Well, it’s the wrong idea, I don’t care where you got it. Cut it out.
Don’t hamper yourself with any such foolishness. You’ve got a hard fight
on your hands, and if you go into it without any confidence in yourself,
you’re going to lose out.”
Lenning stared at Merriwell blankly.
“Don’t you believe that some traits are handed down to a fellow?” he
asked.
“They may be handed down, but that’s no sign a fellow’s got to let them
get a strangle hold on him,” Frank answered, with spirit. “Some
fellows,” he added, “take all the credit if they make a show in the
world; but, if they go wrong, they put all the blame onto some one else.
You’re responsible for what you do, or don’t do. A fellow’s a pup if he
can’t take all the responsibility for his own actions, or----”
Frank broke off with a laugh.
“Hang it!” he grunted, “I don’t know what license I’ve got to preach.
What I’ve said is the truth, though, so we’ll let it pass and go on to
something else.”
“I don’t want to go on to anything else,” said Lenning, “at least, not
just yet. This is a mighty important matter, to me. I’ve got a yellow
streak--in some things, I’m a plain coward--and I’ve sort of thought I
came by it naturally. My father----” he paused. “I suppose,” he went on
presently, a shamed look crossing his face, “that you’ve heard how my
father was killed in Alaska, years ago, in a row?”
“I’ve heard something about it; but you don’t have to go into that,
Lenning.”
“I want you to know,” said Lenning, almost savagely, “I want you to
understand how that idea of Shoup’s has been taking a hold on me. My
father was killed while--while he was trying to take another man’s bag
of gold dust.”
“What has that got to do with you?” demanded Frank sharply.
“Don’t you think I come in for any of my father’s failings? Most people
think that way.”
“Forget it. That kind of talk makes me sick. A fellow ought to be man
enough to stand on his own feet.”
“You know I’m a coward. I rolled that rock off Apache Point, and I hoped
it would ‘get’ you--providing I could skip out and you’d never know who
it was loosened the bowlder.”
In spite of himself, Merry felt his whole nature shrink from the fellow
who was admitting such an act of treachery. By an effort, however, he
succeeded in getting the whip hand of his feelings.
“Then,” proceeded Lenning, “when Shoup knocked me on the head with that
paddle and you pulled me out on dry land and kept me from drowning, I
felt like a hound. That’s why I tried to square things by giving up that
money.”
“I thought you did that because Shoup had stolen it.”
“I reckon I talked that way, but it wasn’t the truth. I took the money
from Shoup and thought I’d get away with it. When you and Clancy saved
me, and when I knew that I was done with Shoup, I began thinking about a
job at the Ophir mine. I wondered if I could be different--if I could
get the respect of people, same as you have done--and I thought maybe
I’d try it. The super wouldn’t have me, so I went to the general
manager. He wouldn’t have me, either, until you had asked him to give me
a chance.”
Lenning swallowed hard and his voice shook as he went on:
“What you’ve done to-day, Merriwell, has done more to make me see what
an infernal cur I’ve been, and to want to be different, than anything
else that ever happened to me. If I can keep that yellow streak from
getting the upper hand, I’ll make good at the mine.”
“You’ve got to make good,” said Frank, “because I’ve become responsible
for you. What became of Shoup?”
“He has left the country, I reckon. I haven’t seen him since yesterday
afternoon.” Lenning muttered a fierce exclamation. “I wish he’d hang
around for a spell so I’d have a chance to get even with him.”
“That’s a sentiment you’d better side-step. You’ll have your hands too
full straightening yourself out to get even with anybody.”
“I reckon you’re right; I’ve got a job on my hands if ever a fellow had.
But Shoup’s crazy, plain crazy. I’m glad I’m rid of him. I--I guess
that’s about all.” He got up from the bowlder where he had been sitting.
“You’ve done more for me than my own uncle would do. I’ll not forget it,
Merriwell. You have less reason to help me than the colonel had. I say
you’ve acted white, and you can bet I’m going to see to it that you
never have any reason to be sorry for it.”
“Let it go at that, Lenning. I guess the best of us make mistakes.
You’re to be night watchman at the cyanide plant?”
“Yes. It’s a responsible place. I have to watch the valves, regulate the
flow of solution, and do a lot of other things connected with the plant.
They’re just finishing a clean-up this afternoon, and will be running
the bullion into bars this evening. The gold will have to be kept in the
laboratory safe until morning--and I’ll be a guard as well as night
watchman. I’m beginning at sixty a month.”
It was odd to hear Jode Lenning talk of work, and of getting “sixty a
month.” When he was in favor with Colonel Hawtrey, he had had no work to
do worth mentioning, and a liberal allowance had been given him for
spending money. Now he had to buckle down, and earn less than his
allowance had been, with his own hands.
There was something vaguely disturbing to Merriwell in that mention of
the clean-up, and of the gold which was to be put in the laboratory safe
for the night, with Lenning for guard. That bullion might prove a
temptation, right at the beginning of Lenning’s attempt to be honest and
to turn over a new leaf. Frank mentally resolved that he would visit
the cyanide plant that night, and stick around for a while to see how
matters were going.
“Sixty a month is a whole lot of money,” Frank remarked.
“It’s a whole lot when you make it yourself,” said Lenning. “I reckon
I’ll have to mosey back. The super is going to show me the ropes before
it’s time for me to go on duty, and I was to report to him at
four-thirty.”
“You’ve got plenty of time,” said Frank.
As he got up, he looked southward along the trail. A cloud of dust was
moving northward, and, while he watched, three riders broke out of
it--one of them trailing a led horse with an empty saddle.
“Blunt!” gasped Lenning, wild fear surging in the word.
He was right. One of the riders was Barzy Blunt, and the others were
Clancy and Ballard. Blunt was leading Merry’s horse, Borak.