“STOP THIEF!”
Of course, there was not enough paper left to completely cover all the
boards, but Frank was determined to hide King’s stuff, so he went to the
printing office and secured a supply of white paper. Then he would put
up two or three three-sheet posters on a large board, covering
everything else with the white paper. In this manner he hid all of
King’s advertising on the billboards.
He saw nothing more of Delvin Riddle while he was at work.
Leaving the janitor to finish the last of this work, he took some window
posters and started out.
He found King’s stuff in all the best windows, but in many of them got
his in beside the other.
The story of his encounter with Riddle had spread through the place, and
everybody seemed anxious to know the particulars.
Frank took pains to tell just what kind of a trick Julian King had tried
to play on them in that place, and he had a way of telling it so that it
made a very good story and gave a favorable impression of the “Empire
Theater Comedy Company.” Frank was satisfied that the things which had
happened in Salacia would be strictly to the advantage of the show with
which he was connected.
He was judicious but not niggardly in giving out passes.
Before night Jesper, the editor of the local paper, hunted him up and
asked for particulars concerning his encounter with Riddle. Frank made
the account very ludicrous, and Jesper promised to put it in the paper
in such a manner that it would make Merriwell appear to advantage.
Then Frank had a hustle to catch a train—and missed it!
This filled him with dismay, for he had spent a day in Salacia when he
should have been in Dundee.
He found there were no other trains over that road that would take him
to Dundee that night, but there was a train over another road some ten
miles away that might be flagged at a little village, and that would
carry him to the place he wished to reach.
Immediately Frank made a rush for the nearest livery stable.
“I want to hire a good horse,” he said.
“What for?” asked the hostler, shortly.
“To take me to Kilmerville in time to catch the night train west.”
“Train doesn’t stop there.”
“But it can be flagged, can’t it?”
“Guess so.”
“Then I’ll try to flag it.”
“Don’t believe you can get there in time.”
“Haven’t you got a horse that can take me there? I must get there.”
“Well, I don’t know about letting you have Jack.”
“Which is Jack?”
“Black horse in that stall.”
“He looks all right. Can he get me to Kilmerville in time for me to flag
the train?”
“I reckon.”
“Then I want him.”
“Don’t know you.”
“My name is Merriwell. I’m in advance of the ‘Empire Theater Comedy
Company.’”
“Oh! Then you’re the fellow that stopped Sam Henson’s horse?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve heard all about that. You look all right.”
“I hope so.”
“And you pasted up the other show chap?”
“Well, we had a little trouble, and I believe he did get covered with
paste.”
“I like your appearance,” said the hostler. “I reckon you’re all right.
Where’ll you leave Jack?”
“At the station at Kilmerville.”
“Get somebody to take him to Pete Newell’s stable. I’ll send over for
him in the morning.”
“Then I may have him?”
“For five dollars—yes.”
“Here’s your cash.”
Frank had the money out in a moment and into the hand of the hostler.
“Get the saddle on that horse in a hurry!” he exclaimed. “I’ll have to
get my satchel from the hotel, but I’ll be back here right away.”
“Horse’ll be ready when you get back.”
Merry made a run for the hotel. Up to his room he dashed, catching up
his satchel and securing it over his shoulder by the strap. Down to the
office he plunged.
No one there.
He pounded on the desk.
No one appeared.
Down to the cardroom he rushed. Outside the door he stopped suddenly,
hearing a voice saying:
“His name is Frank Merriwell. Here’s your warrant, sheriff. Arrest him
on sight. I’m sure you’ll find my watch on his person. If not, then he’s
got rid of it.”
Delvin Riddle was speaking.
For one moment Frank was aghast, dazed, bewildered.
What did it mean?
Through his brain flashed the explanation.
Riddle, driven desperate by his failure to frighten Frank, furious over
the treatment he had received at Merriwell’s hands, had put up a job to
detain Merriwell in Salacia. He had sworn out a warrant, charging Frank
with stealing his watch, and Merriwell was to be arrested.
“Nice trick!” thought Merry.
He felt like walking into that cardroom and finishing the half-completed
job of thrashing the tricky advance man of the “Julian King Stock
Company.”
But he knew that would not do, for he would be arrested and detained in
Salacia just when it was most important that he should reach Dundee and
attend to his business.
He stepped a bit nearer the open door. Inside the room was a mirror, and
in that mirror he saw the reflection of two men. One was Riddle,
smooth-faced, crafty, malicious; the other was the sheriff, large,
rough, booted. The latter was looking at the warrant just given him by
Frank’s enemy.
“All right,” he said. “You’d better come along with me and point the
fellow out.”
“It’s time to be moving!” thought Merry.
Up the stairs he skipped.
The clerk had just come in, and was at the desk.
“My bill!” said Frank, sharply.
“Your bill?” said the clerk, languidly. “Aren’t you going to stop
overnight?”
“No.”
“How’s that?”
“Business. Got to go. My bill, quick! I’m in a hurry!”
The clerk looked at the register and then told him what his bill would
be. Frank flung down some money. He heard heavy feet ascending the
stairs to the office. He heard voices. Riddle and the sheriff were
coming.
“Keep the change,” said Merriwell. “Can’t stop for it.”
He bolted out of the door, leaving the amazed clerk staring after him.
Straight for the livery stable he darted. The hostler was in the wide
open door, holding the black horse, ready saddled and bridled.
“Hold on!”
Behind Frank there was a hoarse command. He looked over his shoulder and
saw the sheriff and Riddle come rushing out of the hotel.
“Stop!” yelled Riddle. “Stop thief!”
Frank reached the stable door.
“What’s that they’re yelling at you?” asked the hostler, with an air of
sudden distrust.
“They’ll tell you when they get here,” half laughed Frank.
“Well, I don’t think I’ll let you have this horse just now. You’ll have
to wait a while before you——”
“Can’t stop, sir. I’m in a great hurry.”
“But I won’t——”
“Yes, you will!”
Frank caught him by the collar, at the same time grasping the horse by
the bit. With all his strength, the ex-Yale man gave the burly hostler a
snap and a fling.
The hostler was literally lifted off his feet and sent spinning through
an open door into the little room that served as an office.
The horse reared and snorted. He came down and reared again. When he
went into the air Frank went with him, swinging onto his back.
“Stop!”
“Git!”
Out of the stable door shot the black horse, bearing Frank on its back.
“Good-by!” he called. “I’ll see you later, Mr. Riddle!”
“Stop him!” howled Riddle.
The sheriff tried to catch the horse by the bit, missed, grasped at
Frank’s leg, touched it—that was all.
Onward shot the horse and rider. Frank turned and waved his hand with a
taunting movement.
“Thief! thief!—stop thief!”
“That is a pleasant cry to hear!” commented Merry, grimly. “I’ll
remember Mr. Delvin Riddle for this little piece of business.”
He looked back and saw men and boys running after him, shouting for him
to stop.
A cloud of dust rose behind the heels of the horse, for it was dry in
the streets of the town.
The cries grew fainter and fainter. Frank turned onto another street,
and his pursuers were seen no more for a time.
------------------------------------------------------------------------