A DARK OUTLOOK FOR LENNING.
Merriwell and Burke looked at each other so long and so significantly
that Ballard became curious.
“What’s biting you two, anyhow?” he asked.
In the fewest possible words, Frank told Ballard and Blunt about the
robbery in the cañon.
“Thunder!” exclaimed Ballard. “Why, the stage went past us with both
horses on the run while we were tangled up with that pig. I wondered
then why the mischief the driver was in such a tearing hurry.”
“That must have been right after the robbery,” said the excited cowboy,
“and the driver was in a rush to get to town and spread the news. Gee,
but this is a stunner!”
“Those two fellows we saw on horseback were the robbers,” went on
Ballard. “The things they had in front of them were the mail bags!”
“Great head, Pink!” approved Clancy.
“But, of course,” observed Blunt, “the juniper we thought was Lenning
couldn’t have been Lenning at all. Looked a heap like him, though.”
“Um!” grunted Burke; “I don’t know about that. Lenning left the mine
yesterday and hadn’t returned up to something like an hour ago. He took
my horse when he went--and my horse is a sorrel, with a white stocking
foot.”
Frank was sorry the superintendent had thought it necessary to throw in
any comments about Lenning. The only result would be to crowd suspicion
upon the absent watchman, when, in all likelihood, he was as blameless
of the robbery as Burke himself.
The superintendent, however, was never backward about airing his views.
Ballard stared as he listened to Burke, and then turned and looked at
Barzy Blunt.
Blunt’s face was a study. Up to the time of that ball game with Gold
Hill, the cowboy had had no sort of use for Jode Lenning. In fact, right
to Lenning’s face, Blunt had declared that no respectable fellow would
take part in a game in which a crook like Lenning was booked to play.
But the game itself had changed all that. Blunt, and all the players,
had been won over by Lenning’s clever work, and by his meeting in
masterly fashion that thrilling moment when victory or defeat for Ophir
hung on his efforts alone.
Had the enthusiasm inspired by Lenning’s splendid work in a crisis
developed a friendship that could not last? Frank watched Blunt
critically.
“I reckon you haven’t got it right, Burke,” said the cowboy finally. “It
wasn’t so mighty long ago when I’d have believed Lenning equal to any
sort of skullduggery. It used to make me sore to see Chip, there,
standing up for the fellow, getting him a job, and all that; but, on the
day of that ball game, I made up my mind that Chip Merriwell’s judgment
was warranted not to come out in the wash. ‘What’s good enough for
Chip,’ I said to myself, ‘is good enough for me, and right here’s where
I quit handing it to Lenning every time a chance comes my way.’ I’d be a
pretty measly sort of a coyote if I shook hands with Lenning on Saturday
and then turned against him Monday. Sorrel horse or no, that couldn’t
have been Lenning we saw in the cañon.”
“Bully for you, Barzy!” exclaimed Merriwell, deeply gratified by the
stand the cowboy had taken.
Burke shook his head, by way of dissent.
“The circumstantial evidence is pretty strong,” said he.
“The same kind of circumstantial evidence, Burke,” returned Merry, “that
led you to think Lenning had made off with that bullion. Remember that?
Lenning was missing, and the bullion was missing, so you thought----”
“This isn’t the same, Chip, not by a whole row of ’dobies,” broke in the
superintendent. “Lenning’s record is all against him.”
“So it was the night the bullion was taken,” said Frank warmly, “and
Lenning has been making a mighty fine record since then.”
“Well, this sort of talk won’t get us anywhere. It doesn’t make any
difference, just now, whether Lenning was one of the thieves or whether
he wasn’t. The main point is, Ballard and Blunt saw the thieves
galloping off after the stage was held up. Hawkins ought to be put in
possession of what they know without loss of a moment’s time. I’m going
to hustle for town and tell some one who can get the news to the deputy
sheriff in short order.”
His spurs rattled, and he kicked up the dust on the road to Ophir.
“It gets my goat,” muttered Ballard, “the way Lenning drops into
trouble. Just as he gets started on the right road, something like this
has to happen and put him all to the bad again. I’ll be hanged if I can
understand how he manages it.”
“Somebody else manages it for him,” said Clancy. “That’s an easy guess.
It was Shoup that engineered the bullion plot.”
“Who engineered this one?” queried Ballard.
“Maybe it was Shoup again.”
“Did the fellow you saw with the one who looked like Lenning resemble
Billy Shoup?” asked Frank.
“No more than I do,” said Blunt. “He was a square, chunk of a man. Of
course, you understand we weren’t near enough to see either of ’em very
clearly.”
“I understand that. Well, let’s get to town, fellows. I’m all worked up
about this thing. The professor’s check was in that batch of stolen
mail, and if he doesn’t get it back we’ll have to hang out here until
another check can come on from New York.”
“How many more will that mule carry?” inquired Ballard, looking at Uncle
Sam wistfully.
“He’s loaded to the guards now, Pink,” answered Clancy. “If you got on
with Chip and me, we’d swamp him. Besides,” and here the red-headed
chap’s voice grew rather lofty, “you don’t know how to ride a mule,
anyway. There’s a knack about it that only comes of long practice.”
“Oh, splash!” grunted Ballard. “You’re sitting up there like a frog on a
toadstool. Let’s see what sort of a mule rider you are.”
He was standing within arm’s length of Uncle Sam, and he reached out
suddenly and touched the mule’s flank with one end of the ear of corn.
Thereupon Uncle Sam tried to stand on his head, Blunt had to dodge his
flying heels, and Ballard, in trying to get out of the way, stumbled
over the pig and fell flat. As for Clancy, in spite of his implied
prowess as a mule rider, he was jolted off, and Merriwell had all he
could do to stick in the saddle.
“There, Pink, cut that out!” cried Merry. “We want to get back to town,
and we don’t want any more foolishness. This business of Lenning’s needs
attention.”
“I’m anxious to get back to town, too,” said Ballard, picking himself
up, “but we can’t leave Woo Sing. Suppose we rope the pig and let it
ride in Clancy’s place, Chip? I don’t believe the mule will know the
difference.”
“Good idea,” approved Merry. “Tie the pig and boost it up here.”
“Velly fine!” cried the Chinaman, his slant eyes sparkling.
Blunt, Ballard, and Woo Sing fell upon the small porker, and, while the
air was torn with squeals, they bound his feet together and then hoisted
him to Uncle Sam’s back. There was a good deal of wriggling and
squirming on the pig’s part, but Uncle Sam took it good-naturedly, and
ambled off.
Clancy, Ballard, Blunt, and Woo Sing kept pace with the mule, and they
all arrived in town together. The pig was unloaded in the waiting pen,
out back of the hotel, and Uncle Sam was turned into the small corral
where he passed most of his time. The Chinaman was so happy over the
safe ending of his work with the pig that he almost shed tears.
“Melliwell,” he snuffled, “you do a heap plenty fo’ Woo Sing. China boy
nev’ fo’gettee.”
“Not a word for us,” said Ballard disgustedly, as he walked away with
Frank and the rest, “and Blunt and I helped capture the porker in the
cañon. I always said that chink had a wooden head. Next time he goes pig
catching, by George! he can take Clancy and Chip.”
There was a buzz of excitement in Ophir’s main street. Everywhere the
stage robbery was being discussed. Riders were leaving town by twos and
threes, all heading for the cañon, and fired with a desire to do
something to help run the robbers to earth.
The boys saw Burke just as they turned to mount the steps leading to the
hotel veranda. Burke was sitting on his horse by the hitching pole in
front. He had just mounted, it appeared, preparatory to returning to
the mine.
“Hawkins was gone long before I got here,” said he, “but I sent word to
him by two or three of those who just pulled out for the cañon. Maybe
they’ll see the deputy sheriff, and maybe they won’t. I’ve done the best
I could, though.”
“Telephone in, will you, Burke,” requested Merry, “in case Lenning is at
the mine when you get there?”
“Glad to,” was the answer, “but,” and a grim look crossed the
superintendent’s face as he spoke, “don’t waste any time waiting for the
message, Chip. Lenning’s in this up to his eyes.”
It was dinner time at the Ophir House, and the gong which called guests
to meals had long since sounded. Frank and his friends, as soon as they
could get some of the dust off their faces and hands, went into the
dining room and took their places at the table.
As the robbery had been the one exciting topic in the street, so was it
now the principal event discussed by those at the tables. Lawlessness is
always a theme that draws universal attention, and this was particularly
the case in a town like Ophir.
Although a Western town with a past that was pretty turbulent, in later
years it had settled down into a peaceful and orderly little burg. The
robbery, therefore, had caused a ripple of excitement, since crime of
any sort was in such decided contrast to the ordinary mood of the place.
Frank was no more than half through his meal when, somewhat to his
surprise, Pophagan called to him from the dinning-room door: “Ye’re
wanted at the phone, Merriwell!”
“There it is!” exclaimed Blunt, with much satisfaction. “Burke’s calling
to tell you that Lenning’s at the mine.”
“That must be the case!” exclaimed Frank, hurrying from the room to
answer the call.
The rest of the boys finished their meal hurriedly, and, by the time
they were done and out in the office, Frank came out of the little booth
where he had been receiving his message. There had been a change in his
face. It no longer wore a pleased expression, but was heavy and
troubled.
“What’s to pay, pard?” demanded Blunt.
“The message wasn’t from Burke,” said Merry, “and that’s about all I can
tell you now. Will you take a ride with me, Barzy?”
“A ride? Where?”
“Tell you later. This is a rush order, and we’ve got to be on the move.”
“Sure, I’ll ride with you, Chip--anywhere.”
“Come on, then,” said Merriwell, and hurriedly led the way out of the
office.