clancy, ballard, and blunt, on their way to town from the gulch, came charging toward merriwell and lenning at full gallop. they drew to a quick halt, very much surprised at sight of merry and his old enemy. nor were the newcomers pleasantly surprised, as they were quick to make manifest.
“chip, or i’m an indian!” exclaimed ballard.
“and i’m another indian,” snorted blunt, “if he isn’t chin-chinning with one of the fellows who stole mrs. boorland’s money!”
clancy had nothing to say, but he looked his violent disapproval of his chum’s actions.
“if that’s the way you fellows feel,” said frank, temper flashing in his eyes, “you can leave my horse here and ride on.”
that lenning was in deadly fear of blunt was plainly to be seen. the cowboy had taken the trail of lenning and shoup, immediately after mrs. boorland had been robbed, and for a time he had crowded the pair pretty hard. lenning, evidently, was still in doubt as to the cowboy’s intentions toward him. his haggard face went white as chalk, and he crouched shivering away at the trailside.
“don’t get excited,” sneered blunt, leveling his cold black eyes at the youth. “if chip merriwell has taken you under his wing, i won’t lay a hand on you. how about it, chip?” he demanded, shifting his gaze to frank.
“i’ve helped lenning get a job at the ophir mine,” merry answered.
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“that settles it,” grunted blunt, tossing the reins of borak to frank.
scowling blackly, the cowboy pulled down the brim of his hat and set spurs to his horse. he had not a word to say. frank looked after him grimly, then laughed a little, and vaulted into his own saddle.
with the going of blunt, lenning revived considerably. straightening his shoulders, he stepped back to the trail. clancy and ballard watched him with a gaze far from friendly.
“good-by, lenning,” frank called from the saddle. “do your best, over there, and everything will come out all right.”
“thank you, merriwell,” lenning answered. “if i do come out all right you can bet i’ll know who to thank for it.”
he threw a defiant glance at clancy and ballard, a look of gratitude at merriwell, then turned on his heel and started south. slowly frank put borak in motion the other way.
clancy and ballard rode on either side of merriwell, and both preserved a glum silence. they were displeased, but merry had done what he thought was right, and the attitude of his chums did not worry him.
“have you hooked up with that crook, chip?” asked ballard, as they rode into town and headed for the corral.
“i’m trying to help a fellow who doesn’t seem to have a friend in the world,” was the answer. “if that’s what you call ‘hooking up’ with a crook, pink, i guess you’ve nicked it.”
“it was a foolish move,” began clancy, “and i didn’t think——”
“it’s my move, clan,” interrupted merry, “so you
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needn’t sob your head off about it. your fingers won’t be burned if the move’s a bad one.”
nothing more was said, and the ride to the corral was finished in an atmosphere that was not particularly pleasant for anybody. when the horses had been taken care of, and the three chums started on foot for the hotel, clancy’s loyalty to merry got the better of his wrathful feelings.
“oh, well, hang this lenning business, anyhow!” he exclaimed. “you never go very far wrong, chip, and if you think you’ve done right, why, that’s enough for me.”
“same here,” said ballard, but rather gloomily. “whenever i think of apache point and that falling rock, i’m mad enough to fight. you’re generous to a fault, but it’s your own fault, and why the blazes should we take it out on you? but it’s still my private opinion that lenning’s a skunk.”
“i’m not trying to change your opinion,” merry laughed, “so you needn’t get your back up if i want to do a little reasoning for myself. now, forget it.”
they did forget it, and by the time they reached the hotel they were laughing and jollying each other in their usual fashion. blunt was sitting on the veranda, when they arrived, and his burst of indignation had also subsided.
“you’re one too many for me, chip,” he remarked, shaking his head in a puzzled way, “but i’m not the one to jump on you for making friends with a rattler. if the varmint makes a strike at you, though, i reckon i’ll show my hand quick.”
what frank had done for lenning was no longer discussed. the lads got together on the less dangerous and more interesting ground of the canoe race in the gulch,
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and talked it over until the hotel chinaman came out in front and pounded the supper gong.
the evening meal out of the way, barzy blunt went off to spend the evening with mrs. boorland, clancy and ballard got into a game of checkers in the hotel office, and merry went upstairs to his room.
frank was pestering himself with the question of that cyanide clean-up, and the gold in the laboratory safe which lenning was to guard. when he had first heard of the clean-up and the gold, he had made up his mind to stroll out to the ophir workings during the evening, and sort of reconnoiter the situation at the cyanide plant. later, he had decided that such an act would be foolish, and would show his distrust of lenning. now he was again wondering if he had not better go to the mine.
he recalled that he had told mr. bradlaugh that he would be responsible for the way lenning did his duty. suppose, on the first night of his work, lenning should yield to temptation and run off with a few bars of bullion? frank’s promise to the general manager would oblige him to go down in his pocket and make good the mining company’s loss.
frank could not believe that lenning would do such a thing. he believed that the fellow was honestly trying to retrieve his good name. reformation comes slow, however, and is not secured at a single jump. guarding bullion was a pretty hard position in which to place a fellow like lenning, on the very first night of his work. his newly formed resolution would be put to a hard test.
merriwell’s mind revolved around the subject until it began to get on his nerves. at last he jumped up and began pulling off his coat.
“i’ll go batty over this if i don’t get it out of my mind
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somehow,” he muttered. “maybe if i go to bed i can sleep and forget it.”
he began to unlace one of his shoes, paused, then laced it up again.
“i don’t believe i could sleep, anyhow,” he grumbled. “the quickest way to get this out of my system is to do a little reconnoitering around that blooming cyanide plant.”
he looked at a tin clock which hung from a nail in the wall. the hands indicated a quarter past nine.
“i can get back here by eleven,” he thought, “and have plenty of time to look around at the mine. clancy will wonder where i am, i suppose, but what he doesn’t know hadn’t ought to trouble him. here goes.”
clancy occupied the room with merry, and, when he came to bed, would, of course, note his chum’s absence. it was possible that frank might get back before clancy and ballard broke away from the checkerboard; at any rate, he would certainly be back very soon afterward.
owing to the hostile attitude of his chums toward lenning, frank did not intend to tell them where he was going. it would only open up a subject on which he and they could not agree, but it would tend to show that frank had not the confidence in lenning which he professed. this would have been a false impression, and yet it would have been difficult to explain the matter so clancy and ballard could understand the real motive which sent frank to the mine. it was a whole lot better to slip away quietly, and then slip back again, without inviting questions or trying to explain.
frank went down the back stairs, then stole through the dining room to the door that communicated with the office. clancy and ballard were absorbed in their game.
“wow!” clancy was saying, “here i go slap into your
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king row, pink! why don’t you wake up and make this game interesting for me?”
“i’ll make it interesting enough, you red-headed chump, before i’m done,” grinned ballard.
frank turned back from the door and gumshoed his way into the kitchen and then out at the rear of the hotel. there was no moon, but the sky was clear and the stars were bright. he had no difficulty in following almost the identical course lenning had led him over in the afternoon. when he struck the trail beyond the town, the thunderous roll of the stamps from the gold mill came to him on the night wind. there were a hundred stamps in the mill, and they raised a din like muffled thunder.
there was a crispness in the cool air that ran through merry’s veins like a tonic. his step was light, and he threw back his shoulders, sniffed the air delightedly, and pushed on.
the desert, with its shadowy clumps of greasewood, stretched away into the dim distance on either side of the trail. now and then some bird fluttered in the brush, or some skulking animal raced across the road, but there was no other human being going or coming along the trail at that hour.
as frank drew nearer the mine, the steady clamor of the stamps grew in volume. at last, when he stood on the slight rise overlooking the shaft house, the bunk house, the mill, and the cyanide plant, the lad paused, admiring the shadowy scene that lay stretched before him.
there were lights in the windows of the bunk house, but they were dull gleams compared with the brightness that shone through every crack and cranny of the great building that housed the beating stamps. there was something ghostlike in the scene, and the effect was heightened by
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the steady moaning of the mill. an uncanny sensation ruffled frank’s nerves, but he smothered it with a laugh and started down the slope.
suddenly he paused. he had heard something—something like a smothered cry breaking through the low growling of the stamps. what was it?
he bent his head and listened intently. two or three minutes passed. the sound was not repeated, and he laid it to his imagination, or to some prowling coyote off in the hills.
he had no sooner started on again, however, before the muffled cry once more struck on his ears. this time there was no mistake. it was a human voice that had given the cry, and it seemed like a call for help.
locating the spot from which it apparently came, frank started at a run to investigate the cause. before he had taken a dozen steps he heard the cry more distinctly, and felt positive that some one was in distress and calling for aid.
sure of the location of it, by then, he darted into a chaparral that lay directly in front of him.
