HATCHING A PLOT.
“You know what there is in this letter, Curly?” Frank asked.
“Pretty nearly,” was the reply. “Uncle Alvah is afraid, from something
he has heard, that you’re going to have Jode Lenning in your team. If
that is your plan, he sincerely hopes you’ll reconsider; for the move
would arouse resentment in Gold Hill, and might lead to the canceling of
the game. You know, of course, that Lenning’s past record is all against
him, that he’s a vicious young scamp, and so forth, and so forth. Isn’t
that about what the colonel wrote to you, Chip?”
“Just about,” Frank answered glumly.
“I heard, although I don’t know how straight I got it, that some of the
Ophir chaps refused to play with Jode, and that he’s out of the game for
good. Is that right?”
“There were objections when I tried to get Lenning on our nine, and
Blunt and Handy aired their grievance right in front of Lenning. That
fixed it. Lenning couldn’t go on when he saw how those two felt about
it.”
“What’s the matter with Blunt and Handy?” demanded Darrel, his voice
quivering with anger. “Are they so all-fired righteous that they can’t
associate with a fellow who’s trying to live down his past?”
Darrel’s attitude set Merriwell to wondering. He had suffered at his
half brother’s hands more than any one else, and yet here he was,
apparently championing his cause and taking his part.
“It’s hard to tell what’s biting Blunt and Handy, Ellis,” said Frank.
“Looks like they’re trying to make out that they’re ready for harps and
halos, while they’re only convincing people that they’re snobs, with
little, two-by-four dispositions that are anything but heavenly.”
“Well, even at that, the feeling against Jode is pretty general, isn’t
it?”
“There are more than Blunt and Handy against his playing ball to-morrow,
but the rest have the decency to keep their objections to themselves.”
“Isn’t there any possible chance for getting Jode into the game, Chip?”
Darrel spoke earnestly, almost eagerly.
“Do you mean to say, Curly,” asked Merriwell, “that you’d like to see
him play against Gold Hill?”
“I’d like to see him give a good account of himself on the diamond. He
has squared away, and is trying to make something of himself. I think it
would help him to brush up against fellows who used to be his friends,
and corral a little of the good feeling that breaks out in a snappy,
well-fought game of ball.”
“Well, I’ll be darned!” muttered Merriwell. “What would the colonel say
if he heard you talk like that?”
“I don’t know as that would make any difference. I think a heap of the
colonel, Chip, but I haven’t reached the point where he does my thinking
for me. I’m not sore at Lenning. We have had our differences, and I’ve
managed to come out on top. Jode is the under dog, and now that he’s
trying to be white, I’d like to help him.”
“Put it there, Darrel!” cried Merriwell heartily, thrusting out his
hand. “I wish Blunt and Handy were here to absorb your sentiments.
Hearing you talk like that ought to make them feel pretty small.”
“The colonel wanted me to come over to Ophir to-night,” went on Darrel,
“in order to get that letter into your hands. You know the sort of a
fellow Uncle Alvah is. He’ll crowd a chap mighty hard if he’s given half
a chance. He’s more bitter against Jode than he ever was against me--and
I reckon you know what that means. I’ve argued with him to give Jode
another chance, but he’s as hard and set in his way as the rock of
Gibraltar. You can’t budge him. There’s only one thing that might pull
him over a little in Jode’s direction, Chip.”
“What’s that?”
“You know how wrapped up the colonel is in every sort of sport? Well,
his biggest favorite of all the sports is the national game. He’s the
most inveterate fan that ever came down the pike. What’s more, he’s too
good a sportsman to be much of a partisan. Naturally, he likes to see
the Gold Hill fellows win; but to-morrow, if an Ophir chap makes a star
play, you’ll find the colonel cheering himself blue in the face. Simmer
the thing right down, and it’s the game itself he loves--the man in the
box with the clever ‘wing,’ the chap who makes a running catch with all
the odds against him, the fellow who steals and slides to the bag,
keeping the base on a close decision. You understand what I mean, Chip,
a heap better than I can tell it. That’s what gets under the colonel’s
skin. A little, snappy baseball, and he’s sure to bring his best side
uppermost.”
“I don’t get you exactly,” said Merriwell. “What has the colonel’s love
for baseball to do with Jode?”
“If Jode’s in the game, and makes good with a few star plays, it will
start the good suggestions to working in his favor. See what I mean?”
By a queer twist of the imagination, Merriwell began thinking of the
thermometer which Clancy had manipulated on the veranda of the Ophir
House, two or three days before. The colonel’s very words, in
commenting on the thermometer incident, recurred to Frank: “Start a
train of suggestions properly, and, if they lead in the right direction,
you can mold nearly any one to your will.” Was that foolish little joke
of Clancy’s to bear fruit in the affairs of Jode Lenning?
“I see what you mean, all right, Curly,” said Frank, “but Lenning has
told me that he doesn’t care to curry any favor with the colonel. He has
decided to make his fight single-handed, without putting himself under
obligations to any one. Good idea, too, strikes me.”
“What he’d do in that ball game, Chip,” declared Darrel, “is part of his
fight. He’d not only impress the colonel, but a rush of true
sportsmanship over the diamond would blot out all the hard feelings
Jode’s old friends are holding against him. Just one snappy double play,
in the last of the ninth, with the score tied and the bases full, might
make or mar Lenning’s whole future. Maybe it seems foolish to talk like
that, but human nature is a queer problem, Chip. I’ve studied it a
little, and there are times when it only takes a mere trifle to start a
flood of sentiment moving in a right or wrong direction.”
“I think you’re right about the things that are liable to happen during
a ball game, Curly,” Merriwell answered, “but would luck favor Lenning?
Is he a good enough player so that he could confront an issue like that
and make good?”
“Jode? Why, he’s one of the best ball players in this part of Arizona.
An all-around player, Jode is. I’ve known him to pitch a no-hit game, to
put up one of the smoothest performances as backstop that I’ve ever
seen, to play first, and short, and all around the diamond in a way that
made everybody sit up and stare. He knew that baseball was the colonel’s
favorite game, and he studied and worked to perfect himself in it.”
“More to make a hit with the colonel than anything else?”
“I suppose that was his real motive at that time. Since then, though,
everything has changed.”
“Well, admitting all that this game might mean to Lenning, how are we to
get him into it?”
“That’s what I came over here to talk with you about. By all means, Jode
must play. Couldn’t you make a decided stand in his favor? If you
threatened to quit, yourself, unless Jode was given a chance on your
team, I think all the objections would melt away. Don’t you?”
“I don’t want to get any player into the game by making threats,”
demurred Merry. “That’s not my style, anyhow, Curly. And, even if I took
such a stand, Lenning himself wouldn’t put up with it. There’s such a
feeling against him that he’s made up his mind to stay out of the game.
Up to now, I’ve given him a whole lot of credit for that.”
“Somehow,” insisted Darrel, “we’ve got to have Lenning play. Can’t you
think of some plan, Chip?”
Frank walked back and forth the length of the shadowy veranda, racking
his brain to evolve some expedient or other that would fit the case.
Suddenly the message from Burke occurred to him, and he whirled on
Darrel and thrust the crumpled note into his hand.
“Read that, Curly,” said he. “Maybe it opens up a situation which can be
used to help Lenning. I’m giving you a lot of information about our
troubles, but I guess it won’t hurt our chances much. The whole thing is
a mighty delicate matter, and will have to be handled with gloves.”
“I’ll handle it,” returned Darrel, “if you give me a tip as to what to
do.”
He stepped over to the lighted window and slowly read the message which
had caused Frank so much chagrin and disappointment. Darrel turned from
the window with a puzzled face.
“What’s the idea?” he asked. “I don’t exactly grasp it, Chip.”
“Why, I had thought that, if it could be arranged, a substitute----”
“Strike me lucky!” gasped Darrel. “That’s just the thing, by George!
Say, Chip, that idea is a humdinger!”
“I don’t know about that. The success of it hangs on a good many
contingencies. You’ll first have to win over Lenning to the scheme----”
“Leave that to me. He works nights, doesn’t he? I’ll go over to the mine
and see him the moment I leave here.”
“Then, again,” said Merriwell gravely, “there’s a suggestion of trickery
about the move that I don’t like.”
“Trickery nothing! It’s strategy, that’s all. Consider the motive, Chip.
The play is being made for a good purpose--a purpose that could not be
accomplished in any other way.”
“Well, it’s up to you, Curly. You belong with the other team, and if
you’re willing to put the deal through I don’t see why I should object.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll have a good, long talk with my half
brother, and I’ll bet I can make him see things as I do.”
Darrel was full of generous enthusiasm. With a final word for Merry, he
darted down the veranda steps, unhitched his horse, mounted, and bore
away in the direction of the Ophir Mine.
The plot had been hatched, and Darrel had gone actively to work to carry
it out. Were they right or wrong in taking the stand they had done?
Merry fretted over that part of it for a little while, and came to the
conclusion that if Darrel, the captain of the Gold Hill team, thought
the proceeding was justified, then no one else had any reason to
complain.
Half an hour later, as Merriwell crawled into bed, he was taking an
optimistic view of events to come. The disappointment that had come to
him with Burke’s message would be obliterated by the success of Darrel
in carrying out their plot. And, somehow or other, he had a feeling that
Darrel was going to be successful.