"Pretty tough," admitted Frank Merriwell; "but brace up. Who can tell——"
"I can. Bens Clark is at the end of his trail. Young man, I want you to see me properly planted. You'll find enough in the saddle-bags here and in the belt around my waist to pay you for your trouble."
"I want no pay, sir."
"Well, I reckon you may as well have it, as I have neither kith nor kin in the wide world, and most of my friends have cashed in ahead of me, so I'm left all alone—me and Boxer."
The dying man lifted his hand with a great effort and caressed the dog. The animal whined and snuggled nearer, fixing his eyes on his master's face with an expression of devotion and anxiety that was quite touching to see.
"Good old Boxer!" sighed the man, with deep feeling. "You'll miss me, boy, and you're the only one in all the wide world. What will become of you, Boxer?"
[Pg 171]
Again the dog whined a little, touching the bloodless cheek of the man with its tongue.
"I'll do what I can for your dog, sir," said Frank Merriwell.
"What do you mean? Will you take Boxer and care for him?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do it! You'll never be sorry. You'll find him the most faithful, devoted, and intelligent of dumb animals. Truly, he knows almost as much as a man—more than lots of men. It's a shame he can't talk! He knows what I say to him almost always. I've almost fancied he might be taught to talk; but that's ridiculous, I know. Take him, Frank Merriwell, treat him well, and you'll never regret it."
The dog seemed listening. He looked from one to the other in a peculiar manner, and then, as if realizing what had passed and that he was soon to part with his master forever, he uttered a whining howl that was doleful and pathetic.
"Poor old Boxer—good boy!" said Benson Clark. "I've got to go, boy."
The dog crept close, and the dying man weakly folded the animal in his arms.
Frank Merriwell turned away. The sunlight was so bright and strong on the plain that it seemed to cause him to brush a hand over his eyes. He stood looking far off for some moments, but was given a start by hearing a weak call from the man.
"I'm going!" breathed Clark huskily. "Here—in[Pg 172]my pocket here you will find a rude chart that may lead you to my rich mines in the Mazatzals. Feel in my pocket for the leather case. That's it. Take it—keep it. It's yours. The mines are yours—if you can find them. Boxer is yours. Be good to him. Poor old Boxer!"
He closed his eyes and lay so still that Frank fancied the end had come. But it was not yet. After a little he slowly opened his eyes and looked at Merry. Immediately Frank knelt beside him, with uncovered head.
The dying man then looked at the dog.
"Boxer," he said faintly, "I'm going off on my long trail, and we'll never meet up again this side of the happy hunting-grounds. Good-by, old dog! This is your new master. Stick to him like glue, old boy. Fight for him—die for him, if you have to. I opine you understand what I mean."
A strange sound came from the throat of the dog—a sound that was almost like a human sob. If ever a dog sobbed that one did. Agony and sorrow was depicted in his attitude and the look in its red eyes.
The miner took the dog's paw and placed it in Frank Merriwell's hand, his body lying between them.
"I make you pards," said Benson Clark.
Then he whispered to Frank:
"Can't you pray? I've clean forgot all the prayers I ever knew. But I feel that I need a prayer said for me now, for I'm going up before the judgment bar.[Pg 173]Pray, partner—pray to the Great Judge that He will be easy with me."
So Frank Merriwell prayed, and that prayer fell upon the heart of the dying man with such soothing balm that all fear and dread left him, and he passed into the great unknown with a peaceful smile on his weather-worn face.
[Pg 174]
Frank found the saddle-bags and the belt about the dead man's waist heavy with gold. It took him some time to make preparations for transporting the precious stuff, and it was no easy task for him to quiet his horse and induce the animal to stand while he lifted the corpse and placed it where it could be tied securely on the horse's back.
He had no thought of leaving the body of Benson Clark to be devoured by wolves and vultures.
The sun was resting close down to the blue tops of the western mountains when everything was ready to start.
The dog had watched every move with eyes full of singular intelligence, but made no move or sound until Merry was ready to go.
Then Frank turned more water from the canteen, after taking a few swallows himself, placing it before Boxer in the tin plate. The dog licked it up.
"Good Boxer!" said Merry, patting the beast's head. "I'm your master now, my boy. Your other master is dead. He has told you to stick to me. Did you understand?"
The dog made some strange swallowing and mumbling[Pg 175]sounds in its throat, as if trying to talk back in words.
"By Jove!" said Merry, gazing at the creature with great interest. "You are a knowing fellow, and you actually try to talk. Your master fancied you might be taught to talk."
Again those strange swallowings and mumblings issued from the dog's throat, and the creature wagged its tail a little.
"We'll go now," said Frank. "It's a good distance to the mine, and we have something to do before we can set out in earnest."
So they started off, Frank leading the horse bearing the ghastly burden, while the dog walked behind with hanging head, the perfect picture of sorrow.
A strange funeral procession it was, making its way toward the setting sun and the hazy mountains. The dead horse was left behind, while far in the sky wheeled two black specks, buzzards waiting for the feast.
The Indians had long vanished from the face of the plain, yet Frank knew their nature, and he was not at all sure he had seen the last of them.
The sun vanished behind the mountains and the blue night lay soft and soothing on the hot plain when the funeral procession came into the foot-hills.
It was not Frank's intention to carry the dead man farther than was needful, and, therefore, he kept his eyes about him for some place to bestow the body where it might rest safe from prowling beasts.
[Pg 176]
This place he found at last, and, with the aid of a flat stone, and with his bare hands, he scooped a shallow grave. Into this the body was fitted. Over the man's face Frank spread his own handkerchief. Then he besprinkled the dry earth lightly over the body at first, afterward using the flat rock to scrape and shovel more upon it, ending with covering it heavily with such stones as he could find, knowing well with what skill the ravening beasts of the desert could use their claw-armed paws.
For a time the dog sat and watched everything. When his late master was placed in the grave he whined and cried softly; but when the body was covered he lay down beside the grave in silence, and there was in his posture something so heartbroken that Frank was moved to a great pity.
"Poor old Boxer!" he murmured. "It is the end to which all living things must come, each in its own time. But it is the law of nature, and it is not so bad, after all. Blessed is he who goes to his last deep sleep without fear, feeling that he has done his best and is willing to trust everything in the hands of Him who sees and knows all. The fear of death and what may follow is such as should trouble alone the coward or the wicked wretch. Boxer, your master seemed to pass without fear, and something tells me it is not so bad with him. His case is in the hands of the Great Judge, and we may rest sure that he will be done no wrong."
Was there ever such a strange funeral oration! A[Pg 177]youth with bared head and solemn face, speaking above a grave, and a silent, grief-stricken dog as the only mourner and attendant! The still Arizona night all around, with no sound of humming insect, no stir of foliage, no whisper of moving breeze, the dome of heaven above, studded with millions of clear stars! The dog did not move or lift its head, but Frank saw the starshine glint upon his eyes, which were wide open and fastened upon the speaker.
When the work was completed Frank knelt for a moment beside that grave, praying softly, yet with an earnestness that bespoke his faith that his words were heard.
It was over. His horse was at a little distance. He went and brought the animal up and adjusted the saddle. The dead man's belt, stuffed to bursting and wondrous heavy, he had fastened about his own waist.
"Come, Boxer," he said, again stooping to pat the head of the dog. "We must go. Bid farewell to your master's grave. It's not likely you may ever again come beside it."
The dog stirred. He sat up and lifted his muzzle toward the stars. From his throat came a low note that rose and swelled to the most doleful sound imaginable.
With his blood chill in his body, Frank listened while the dog sang a requiem above that grave. Tears started from Merry's eyes, and never while life was his could he forget that sound and that sight. Never[Pg 178]chanted words of mass had more of sorrow! No human tongue could speak greater grief.
At last the sound died away into silence, and the dog stood on all fours, with hanging head and tail, his muzzle kissing some of the rough stones heaped on that grave. How long he might have remained in that attitude cannot be said; but soon Frank spoke again and called him to follow. At the word he turned, and his manner denoted he was ready.
Merry swung into the saddle and started, looking over his shoulder. In dead silence, the dog followed.
And so they passed into the still night.
[Pg 179]
The town of Holbrook had been greatly stirred. It had not yet settled into its accustomed grooves. The proprietor of the best hotel in town had received a consignment of fine furniture, carpets, draperies, wallpaper and pictures, and he had set about renovating and decorating several of the largest rooms in his house, having for that purpose a number of workmen imported from some Eastern point. It was said that the rooms had been rearranged to connect with each other in a suite, and that when they were completed, and furnished, and decorated they were dazzlingly magnificent, nothing like them ever before having been seen in the place. The good citizens of Holbrook wondered and were amazed at all this; but they did not know that not one dollar had been expended by the proprietor of the hotel. All this work had been done without expense of his to accommodate some guests who came in due time and took possession of those rooms.
The California Special had dropped four persons in Holbrook, who regretfully left the comfort of a palace car and looked about them with some show of dismay on the cluttered streets and crude buildings of the Southwestern town. Holbrook was even better in general[Pg 180]appearance than many Western towns, but, contrasted with clean, orderly, handsome Eastern villages, it was offensive to the eyes of the proud lady who was aided from the steps of the car and descended to the station platform with the air of a queen. She turned up her aristocratic nose a little on glancing around.
This woman was dressed in the height of fashion, although somewhat too heavily for the country she now found herself in; but there was about her an air of display that betokened a lack of correct taste, which is ever pronounced in those who seek to attract attention and produce astonishment and awe. She had gray hair and a cold, unattractive face. Still there was about her face something that plainly denoted she had been in her girlhood very attractive.
She was followed by a girl who was so pretty and so modest in appearance that the rough men who beheld her gasped with astonishment. Never in the history of the town had such a pretty girl placed her foot within its limits. She had a graceful figure, fine complexion, Cupid-bow mouth, flushed cheeks, large brown eyes and hair in which there was a hint of red-gold, in spite of its darkness.
A colored maid followed them.
From another car descended a thin, wiry, nervous man, who had a great blue beak of a nose, and who hastened to join the trio, speaking to them.
The hotel proprietor had at the station the finest carriage he could find, and this whisked them away to the hotel as soon as they had entered it, leaving[Pg 181]the loungers about the station wondering, while the train went diminishing into the distance, flinging its trail of black smoke against the blue of the Arizona sky.
At the hotel the lady and her daughter occupied two of the finest rooms, the colored maid another, less expensively furnished, and the man with the blue nose was given the fourth.
Holbrook wondered what it meant.
The lady ordered a meal to be served in her rooms.
The report went forth at once, and again Holbrook stood agog.
The hotel register was watched. Finally the man with the restless eyes and blue beak entered the office and wrote nervously in the register.
Barely was he gone when a dozen persons were packed about the desk, seeking to look over one another's shoulders to see what had been written.
"Whatever is it, Hank?" asked one. "You sure kin read writin'. Whatever do you make o' it?"
"'Mrs. D. Roscoe Arlington,' the fust name," said the one called Hank. "Then comes 'Miss Arlington,' arter which is 'Mr. Eliot Dodge,' an' lastly I sees 'Hannah Jackson.'"
"Which last must be the nigger woman," said one of the rough men.
"I allows so," nodded Hank. "An' it 'pears to me that name o' Arlington is some familiar. I somehow thinks I has heard it."
"Why, to be course you has!" said another of the[Pg 182]men. "D. Roscoe Arlington, did you say? Who hasn't heerd that name? He's one o' them big guns what has so much money he can't count it to save his gizzard. Ev-rybody has heerd o' D. Roscoe Arlington. If he keeps on gittin' rich the way he has the past three years or so, old Morgan won't be in the game. Why, this Arlington may now be the richest man in this country, if ev'rything were rightly known about him. He owns railroads, an' mines, an' ships, an' manufacturin' plants, an' nobody knows what all."
"That sartin explains a whole lot the fixin' up that has been a-doin' around this ranch," said a little man with a thirsty-looking mouth. "They was a-preparin' fer the wife o' this mighty rich gent."
"But say!" exclaimed a young fellow with a wicked face, "ain't she got a slick-lookin' gal with her, what?"
Some of them laughed and slapped him on the back.
"Go on, Pete!" cried one chap. "You're a gay one with greaser gals, but you won't be able to make a wide trail with that yar young lady, so don't be lookin' that way."
"Wonder whatever could 'a' brought such people here," speculated a man with tobacco juice on his chin. "They must mean to stay a while, else they'd never had them rooms fixed up the way they are."
A ruffianly-looking man with a full beard broke into a low laugh.
"Why, ain't none o' you heard about the fight what's bein' made to git holt o' a certain mine not so very[Pg 183]fur from yere?" he asked. "I mean the mine owned by a young chap what calls himself Frank Merriwell. You oughter know somethin' about that."
"Why, 'pears to me," observed the fellow with tobacco juice on his chin—"'pears to me I did hear that thar was trouble over a mine somewhar down in the Mogollons, an' that Cimarron Bill had been sent to take it."
"He was sent," said the full-bearded man.
"Then I 'lows he took it, fer Bill's sure to do any job he tackles."
"He ain't took it none. Frank Merriwell is still a-holdin' the mine, an' Bill has had his troubles, leavin' a good part o' his backers stiff arter the ruction."
"Say you so? Waal, this Merriwell sure must be a hot fighter. But Bill will down him in the end, an' you kin bet your last simoleon on that."
To which the man with the full beard said nothing.
"All this don't explain any to me jest why this lady an' her party is hyer," said the one with the thirsty mouth.
"It ain't noways likely she's lookin' arter Cimarron Bill none," said another.
"Whoever is a-takin' my name in vain?" demanded a voice that made them all start and turn toward the door.
"It's Cimarron Bill hisself!" gasped one, in a whisper.
And the entire crowd seemed awe-stricken and afraid.
[Pg 184]
The black maid stood over the little table at which mother and daughter sat taking tea.
"Sugar, Jackson," said the lady wearily.
The maid lifted the sugar-bowl, but, finding no tongs, was compelled to use a spoon.
"Why don't you use the tongs, Jackson?" asked the woman.
"Dar am no tongs, ma'am," answered the maid.
"No tongs? no tongs?" exclaimed Mrs. Arlington, in astonished surprise. "And I directed that everything should be prepared here—that we should have every convenience of a first-class hotel. Dear me! Why, I've found nothing right! The hardship of spending some days in such a place will prostrate me. I know it will!"
"But why have you come here, mother?" asked June Arlington, in a voice that denoted culture and a refined nature. "I cannot understand it. You told me in the first place that you were going to Mexico. Then I heard you urging father to come here. When he said it was not possible, you seemed to get angry, and you declared that you would come here yourself. But why should you come because he could not? That I wonder at."
[Pg 185]
"He would not!" exclaimed Mrs. Arlington, sipping her tea. "It was his duty. Never mind the particulars, June; you may know some time, but not now."
"And I did not wish to come here, mother. You knew that."
"My daughter, I have decided that it is necessary to keep you with me. I determined on that after your surprising behavior the last time you went to Fardale. You deceived me, June! I cannot forget that."
The words were spoken with cold severity. June flushed a little.
"It was for Chester's good, as I explained to you," she said somewhat warmly. "He has never thanked me for it, yet it is I who have kept him in Fardale Academy. Had I not entreated Dick Merriwell to be easy with him, Chester must have been compelled to leave or be expelled before this."
"I cannot believe that, June. But, were it true, it is no excuse for your action. I want no favors from either of the Merriwells. I will accept nothing from them! Dick Merriwell is my boy's enemy, and he shall know what it is to have an Arlington for a foe. I have determined on that. I repeat that I'll accept nothing from him."
"Once——" June stopped short. She had been on the verge of telling her mother that once that lady had accepted something from Dick Merriwell—her life! For, as Mrs. Arlington slipped on the icy platform of the railway-station at Fardale and was falling[Pg 186]beneath the wheels of a moving train, Dick had grasped and held her till the cars passed and she was safe.
But June had seen her mother turn blue with anger at mention of this affair, so she checked herself now, not wishing to arouse the lady.
Tea was finished in silence, mother and daughter being occupied with their thoughts.
The maid moved softly about the table.
They had just finished when there came a tap on the door.
"See who it is, Jackson," directed Mrs. Arlington.
The man with the blue beak was at the door.
"I must speak with Mrs. Arlington," he said, and entered, hat in hand.
"What is it, Mr. Dodge?" asked the lady, frowning coldly and plainly annoyed.
Eliot Dodge paused and looked at June significantly.
"Oh, is it a private matter?" asked the lady.
Flushing a bit, June arose at once and withdrew, from the room.
"William Lamson has arrived in town, and demands to see you," said Dodge, when June had disappeared, the maid having likewise withdrawn.
"That man?" said Mrs. Arlington, with a little start and a slight shiver. "I have brought you to do the business with him. You are a regular attorney of the C. M. A. of A., and you have my instructions."
"So I told him."
"Well?"
[Pg 187]
"He refused pointblank to do any business whatever with me."
"He did."
"Yes. I talked to him pretty straight until—ahem!—until I could say no more."
"You could say no more?"
"No, madam; it was impossible."
"Why impossible?"
"He had drawn and cocked a revolver and pointed it at me. He told me to shut up and take word from him to you at once or he would shoot me."
"What a dreadful creature!"
"He is, indeed, madam; he's a typical ruffian of the worst sort."
"And, therefore, the very man to accomplish the work," said she, with growing interest. "But I dislike very much to have dealings with such a fellow."
"I thoroughly understand that, madam."
"You might attend to the matter fully as well."
"That is true, Mrs. Arlington."
"You told him so?"
"I did."
"And still——"
"And still he drew a gun on me. He is bound to see you. He says he will, and I am sure he is a man to make his word good. Really I don't know how you are going to get out of it."
"Then I shall not try," said the lady, composing herself.
"You mean——"
[Pg 188]
"I'll see him."
"Here?"
"Yes."
"Now?"
"Send him up at once. I may as well have it over."
Eliot Dodge hesitated.
"I shall be in my room," he said. "If you need me——"
"I understand. Go bring this man to my door."
Dodge departed, and Mrs. Arlington waited. When there came a knock on the door she coldly said:
"Come in!"
Cimarron Bill entered the room!
Mrs. Arlington had not called her servant to let this man in. She glanced toward the door of the room into which her daughter had retired, and the look on her face was one of apprehension. Cimarron Bill was a wicked man, as his every aspect betokened, and this woman could not think without shame that June should have any knowledge of her dealings with such a creature.
So she arose hastily, which was quite unlike her, and crossed the floor to close the door, a strange thing, considering that she seldom did a thing that another could do for her.
When June was thus shut out, the woman recrossed the floor to likewise close the door of the room into which the colored maid had retired.
All the while Cimarron Bill, hat in hand, stood watching her closely with his evil eyes. For him it[Pg 189]must have been a most exceedingly strange thing to come thus into the presence of a woman whose husband was known far and wide as a money king, a woman whose every wish that wealth could serve was sure to be granted almost as quickly as expressed.
When she had closed the doors she turned about and faced him, surveying him from head to feet with her cold and penetrating eyes. He looked back at her with a sort of boldness, for this man was not one to be in the least downcast in the presence of a human being of whatever degree.
Mrs. Arlington motioned toward a chair.
"Will you sit down, sir?" she invited.
"Thank you, madam," said Bill, casting aside the rough manner of speech that he sometimes assumed and now using very decent English. "I don't care if I do."
Whereupon he placed his hat upon the table and sat upon a chair, with a certain pantherish undulation of his body, as if his muscles flowed beneath his skin.
"Mr. Dodge saw you," said the woman, remaining standing. "I directed him to inform you that he was my accredited agent and prepared to transact any business with you. I thought it better for him to attend to this affair."
"And I, madam, if you will excuse me, thought it best that we should come face to face and have our dealings thus. That is why I declined to do any business whatever with the gent with the blue nose."
[Pg 190]
"I did not suppose it would be necessary for me to go so far into this matter until I was informed of your failure to take possession of the property that rightfully belongs to the Consolidated Mining Association of America. I must say, sir, that I am very much displeased over your failure."
"And you can be no more so than am I myself," returned Bill, civilly enough, yet with a sort of boldness that did not please her, as she was accustomed to much deference and respect. "But you must know it is difficult, even in this country, to find men who are eager to put on themselves the brand of outlaws, and I acknowledge that my force was not sufficient. The young dog is a stiff fighter, and that I had not counted on, him being a tenderfoot to a certain degree—though," he added, as if on second thought, "he's not so very tender, after all."
"You were told to collect an army, if necessary. Mr. Dodge informs me that you were directed to get together a force sufficient to make failure out of the question. Yet you were repulsed and beaten off when you went to seize the mine."
"Twice," said Bill grimly. "And the second time a full half of my men were dropped cold or hurt so bad that they were put out of the fight. It was not just my fault that I failed then, for the treachery of a Mexican girl betrayed my plans to Merriwell, so he was ready with a trap when I expected to take him by surprise. That is how it came about, madam. I had his foreman bribed and should have walked into[Pg 191]possession of the mine with little or no trouble but for the girl I mention. It was a bad piece of business."
"Bad!" she exclaimed, nodding a little. "It was very unfortunate!"
"A word that scarce expresses it, madam. The rest of my men, the curs, with one or two exceptions, weakened and gave it up as a bad job. And then, on top of that, I was informed that the syndicate had grown disinclined to press the matter further in such a manner, fearing to get itself into serious trouble."
"That's it!" said the woman sharply. "But I have taken hold of this matter. The syndicate seems willing to obtain the mine by some other and slower method. I am not. I cannot brook delay! I have a reason why I wish the taking of the mine with the smallest possible delay, and it makes no difference to me how the work is accomplished. That is why I am here on the scene of action. I shall remain here until I triumph! If you are able to accomplish the work, well and good. If you are not, then another man must be found for it."
Cimarron Bill smiled in a most evil manner.
"Madam," he said, "I think you will have trouble to find in all this country another man so well prepared to accomplish the task."
"Yet you confess that you have failed twice."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"For which reason," he averred, "I am all the more dangerous. There is an old saying that the third time never fails. I am ready for the third trial."
[Pg 192]
"I am glad to hear you speak this way. What will you do?"
"Gather a stronger force and lay my plans so there can be no failure."
"It is well."
"But that will take much money, madam. You have it at your command. It is almost certain that all of us, to the last man, will bear the brand of outlaws. We may be hunted. It may be necessary for me to hasten into Mexico and lose myself there for a time. I must have money in abundance for myself. As for the men who take part with me, they will all demand high prices. When it is over and the mine is delivered into the possession of the syndicate, I shall not trouble about any one save myself. The men who are with me may look out for themselves."
This was said in a most cold-blooded manner, speaking plainly the real character of the wretch.
"I care nothing about that," said the woman. "Fix that matter as you choose. How much money will you require?"
"Let me see," said Bill, as if meditating. "It will take, I am sure, at least fifty men. They may be got at various prices, some more, some less; but there will be the bringing of them together and other expenses. I should say that they must cost at least two hundred dollars each, which makes a pretty little sum of ten thousand dollars."
"Then it will cost ten thousand dollars?" said Mrs.[Pg 193]Arlington quickly. "I'll draw the sum from my own private account."
"Wait a bit, madam," said the chief of desperadoes. "I have reckoned for the men, but that does not include myself. I have said that I must be well paid. I value myself quite as much as fifty common men, and that is another ten thousand, or twenty thousand dollars in all, for which sum I am ready to undertake the job. I'll add, also, that I guarantee it shall not fail this time."
It seemed that such a sum must have staggered the woman. Indeed, her face went a trifle pale, but her lips were pressed together, and she coldly said:
"It is a bargain! You shall have the money, but not until you have accomplished the work. Understand that, not until the work is done!"
[Pg 194]
Never before had there been such a bargain between such a man and such a woman. It was the strangest compact on record. And no wonder Mrs. Arlington had closed the doors that her daughter and her maid should not hear! Had June known all she must have turned with loathing and horror from the woman.
Had D. Roscoe Arlington known he must have been shocked and heart-torn beyond measure. Had he known he must have wondered if this woman had matured from the sweet country girl who once declared with blushes and hanging head that love in a cottage with him was all the happiness she asked. Had he known he might have remembered the soft moonlight night in June when beneath the fragrant lilacs they plighted their troth, and surely his gold-hardened heart would have melted with anguish over the frightful change.
In truth, Mrs. Arlington had become deranged, as it were, on one point. Her son was her idol. She had petted, and flattered, and spoiled him. She had sent him off to school at Fardale with the conviction that he was certain to rise superior to all other boys there. And from him she had come to learn that he[Pg 195]had not risen, but had been imposed upon, defeated, baffled, and held down by another lad who was the recognized leader in the school. Into the ears of his astonished and angry mother Chester Arlington had poured his tale of woe, and it had filled her soul with intense hatred for this other boy by the name of Merriwell who had dared think himself better than her Chester. She had gone to Fardale to set things about as they should be, and had failed. That seemed to fill her with such bitterness that she was quite robbed of sober judgment and reason.
When Mrs. Arlington learned that the mining syndicate had claims to the mines belonging to Frank and Dick Merriwell, she was aroused. When she came to understand that the taking of those mines by the syndicate would leave the Merriwell brothers almost penniless and would be the signal for Dick Merriwell to leave Fardale, she determined that the thing should be brought about at any cost of money, or time, or trouble to herself.
And it was in pursuit of this determination that the wife of D. Roscoe Arlington had come to Arizona and placed herself face to face with a ruffian like Cimarron Bill, with whom she now struck a bargain that was most astounding.
Was the woman in her right mind?
It made little difference to Bill if she were sane or not, as long as he obtained possession of that money. But when he asked for it in advance she smiled upon him coldly, almost scornfully.
[Pg 196]
"You were paid money by the syndicate, and you pledged them to accomplish a task at which you failed. This time there will be no money forthcoming until the work is done."
In return the man smiled back at her, and he said:
"That settles it! I'm not a fool. When the work is done I may find myself on the run for Mexico, with the law reaching for me. In such a case I'll have no time to collect. Cash in advance is my motto. You'll bargain with me, or you'll fail, in everything. You cannot get another man to fill my boots in the whole country. And if you were to throw me down and give the job over into the hands of another gent, I'd speak one word to him that would be enough."
"What do you mean?" she asked, wondering and angry. "What word?"
"The word 'stop,'" said Bill. "When Cimarron Bill says 'stop,' you can bet they stop. They know what it means if they don't. If you don't think so, count the notches on my guns."
"You mean that you would turn against me?"
"Not exactly, madam; I mean that I have no idea of letting any other gent get my job. I do this piece of work—or no one does it. I rather admire the sand of this Merriwell, though I'd slit his throat, just the same, for the price. If there was no object in being against him, I'd surely be for him; and it seems that you ought to know better than to put Cimarron Bill in the ranks of the enemy."
"It's a threat!" cried the woman.
[Pg 197]
"Not so; it's a business statement, begging your pardon, madam. I don't propose that any gent shall jump my claim."
"How can I be sure you'll not play me false? How can I know you'll not take the money and do nothing?"
"The syndicate paid me in advance, as you know. I did my best to earn the money. It was not my fault that I failed. In this case, if you pay the sum I have named, I swear to you I'll know no rest until I have succeeded. If I cannot succeed in one way, I will in another."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I'll capture or kill Frank Merriwell himself."
"If you could do that!" said the woman, with great eagerness. "He is the great stumbling-block."
"That's right. With him out of the way, taking the mine would be easy."
"Is there no way this can be done before you try to seize the mine?"
"He keeps pretty close to it. If he could be caught by himself. I have had my hands upon him twice, and he has slipped me both times. Next time he will not!"
"Next time——"
"An accident will happen to him," assured Bill, with deadly meaning. "That will be the simplest method."
"You are right!" she said, in a whisper. "If that could happen——"
"Would you pay the money?"
"I would. Understand, I make no bargain with[Pg 198]you for such a thing, but that mine must be torn from him somehow. I have with me some money."
Cimarron Bill understood her well, and he nodded.
"Madam," he said, "give me a little time and I'll find a way to see to it."
At this moment there was a commotion in the street, the sound of fighting dogs, shouts of men, and the clatter of horses' hoofs.
Bill rose quickly and strode to the window, looking down into the street. A handsome Irish setter had been attacked by two mongrel dogs, and he was giving those dogs the surprise of their lives. He had one by the neck in a moment, and the mongrel was shaken like a rat. When the setter let go the mongrel took to his heels, howling with pain and terror. Then the setter turned on the other dog and a battle that was fierce enough for a few moments ensued, which ended again in the complete triumph of the setter.
Two young men had ridden into town behind the setter, and they had drawn up to witness the result of the fight. A crowd had quickly gathered, and the triumphant setter was loudly applauded.
At sight of one of the two horsemen Cimarron Bill burst forth with an exclamation of excitement.
"Look!" he said, pointing from the open window. "See—see that fellow on the dark horse!"
Mrs. Arlington was near the window.
"The one with the small mustache?" she asked.
"Yes, that's the one."
"I see him."
[Pg 199]
"Well, that's Frank Merriwell!" said Bill.
Cimarron Bill was right. Frank Merriwell and Bart Hodge had ridden into Holbrook, and with them had come Boxer, the dog. Boxer had been attacked by the mongrel curs, and he showed his mettle by quickly putting them to flight.
As Bill gazed down from that window the evil light in his eyes deepened.
"Remember our bargain!" he said in such a terrible voice that the woman at his side shuddered.
Then she saw him bring forth a revolver, and, knowing what he meant to do, she uttered a little scream and ran back into another part of the room, unwilling to witness the dark deed.
Quickly kneeling, Bill rested his elbow on the window-ledge and took aim, meaning to send a bullet through the heart of the rightful owner of the Queen Mystery Mine.
The commotion in the street and her mother's cry had brought June Arlington into that room. June saw the man with the revolver, and her eyes fell on the horseman below. She recognized Frank Merriwell, for all that he was bronzed and changed, and had a small mustache.
With a sudden scream, the girl flung herself on Bill and spoiled his aim, so that when the revolver spouted smoke the bullet flew wide of the mark intended.
Bill uttered a savage snarl, wheeling about.
"You wretch!" panted the girl, who was now pale as snow. "You murderer!"
[Pg 200]
The man was dazzled by her beauty. Immediately he moved back from the window, bowing low.
"Beg your pardon, miss," he said. "He sure is an enemy of mine, and out here we shoots on sight. But mebbe he is your friend, in which case I lets up and gives him another show."
In that moment of excitement he had fallen into the frontier manner of speaking.
She looked at him with unspeakable horror in her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" she panted. "You—you—murderer! Mother—this man—why is he here?"
But Mrs. Arlington, usually cold as ice and perfectly self-possessed, had quite lost her nerve. She sank into a chair, seeming on the verge of fainting, while she gave Bill a look that, ruffian though he was, he understood as an appeal to be left alone with June.
Nor was he loath about getting out of that room. His pistol had been discharged from the window, and, though the bullet had found no human target, men might come in haste to ask unpleasant questions.
"I begs your pardon, madam," he said, hurriedly picking up his hat. "I thinks I'll call again and finish this yere bit o' business. Just now I has another matter to attend to."
Then he hastened out.
June had flown to her mother.
"Tell me—tell me, mother, what it means!" she implored.
[Pg 201]
"My smelling-salts," faintly breathed the woman. "My heart, June! I—I'm afraid!"
Now, June knew well that the one great fear of her mother's life was sudden death from a heart trouble that came upon her at times, and so the girl hastened to bring out the bottle of salts and hold it beneath the pale lady's nose till she was somewhat recovered, though still resting limp on her chair and breathing heavily.
"What does it mean, mother?" asked the girl again. "I do not understand these strange things. I do not understand why such a wicked-looking man should be here in this room and about to shoot down in cold blood a young man in the street. He would have shot him from this very window had not I spoiled his aim."
Mrs. Arlington turned her eyes toward her daughter's face, but looked away quickly, still trembling.
"Did you know him at whom the man was about to shoot?" she weakly asked.
"Yes, I knew him, or I am much mistaken. It was Frank Merriwell. I saw him at the hotel in Fardale the day I returned to him those papers. You recollect, mother?"
"Yes, I remember it all too well, and it was the giving back to him of those papers that has made no end of trouble for us all. But for that foolish act of yours, June, he would not still be holding the mines that are rightfully the property of the C. M. A. of A."
[Pg 202]
"If those mines do not belong to him, how is it that he can hold them?"
"He has possession, and he holds it with armed men."
"But the law——"
"The law is slow, and, without those papers, it is not very sure. It is your folly, girl," declared the woman reproachfully, "that has made no end of trouble. It is your folly that brought Frank Merriwell near to his end a few moments ago, though you it was who saved him then."
"Mother, you speak in riddles! How can that be? I gave him back what was his. And have you forgotten that it was his brother, Dick, who kept you from slipping beneath the car-wheels, where you must have been maimed or killed?"
At this Mrs. Arlington sat up, and something like anger took from her her great pallor.
"No," said she, "nor have I forgotten that it was Dick Merriwell who brought upon my son all his trouble at Fardale! Dick Merriwell has been his blight there! Dick Merriwell is his enemy. He has tried to set himself over my boy, and no one shall do that!"
June knew how useless it was to talk of this matter with her mother, who refused to listen to reason, and so she did not try to press it further; but she again asked who was the man who had tried to shoot from the window.
"He was a miner," said Mrs. Arlington.
[Pg 203]
"And what business had he here in this room?"
"That is nothing to you, girl. Forget that you saw him here."
"A thing easier said than done, mother. I saw his face and his eyes, and I know he is a wicked man and one to be greatly feared. Why should you have dealings with such a wretch?"
"You ask too many needless questions, June. Look out and tell me if you still see anything of—of—Frank Merriwell."
But when June looked from the window Frank Merriwell was not to be seen on the street, which had again resumed its usual aspect.
"I must have a spell of quiet to restore my nerves, June," said Mrs. Arlington, when the girl had told her. "Leave me. Call Jackson. I think I will lie down."
So the colored maid was called, and June lingered to make sure there was nothing she could do for her mother, who coldly bade her go.
In her own room June found herself filled with tempestuous thoughts and vain speculations. She was bewildered by it all, and there was much that she could not understand, for her mother had told her little or nothing of what had brought them to that Arizona town. She was wise enough to know full well that the lady had not come there in search of health, and surely it could not be pleasure she expected in such a place, which left but one thing to suppose—it was business. But what sort of business could she[Pg 204]have there? and why should she meet and do business with a murderous wretch like the man who had tried to shoot Frank Merriwell from the open window?
Knowing there was little danger of interruption, June found pen, ink, and paper and sat herself down to write a letter. She thought at first that she would make it very brief, and she found it exceedingly hard to begin; but when she had begun it, it ran on and on until she had written many pages. Sometimes she laughed over it, and sometimes she blushed; once her chin quivered and tears seemed to fill her splendid eyes. When it was all finished she read it over, her cheeks glowing, and at the end she kissed the paper, at which the blush swept down to her very neck, and in great confusion she folded it all hastily and put it into an envelope, which she hurriedly sealed. Although she was not aware of it, she had spent nearly two hours over the letter. On the envelope she wrote a name and address, and then, finding her hat, she slipped out to mail it.
[Pg 205]
Frank's little "scout," as he called it, on which expedition he had driven the redskins from the wounded miner, had convinced him that Cimarron Bill and his gang had withdrawn from the vicinity of the Queen Mystery Mine.
So it came about that Merry and Bart Hodge started for Holbrook, bringing with them the gold Frank had found in the saddle-bags and belt of the dead miner.
Boxer would not be left behind. Since the death of his former master the dog kept close to Frank, for whom he seemed to have formed an affection quite as deep as that he had entertained for Benson Clark.
Frank and Bart came, dust covered and wearied, into Holbrook.
Boxer's engagement with the mongrel curs, who set upon him, was an incident to enliven their advent in town, and it demonstrated the mettle of the setter.
The shot that came from the window of the hotel was somewhat surprising; but, as the bullet failed to pass anywhere near either Bart or Merry, they did not fancy it was intended for them. Still Frank dropped a hand toward the pistol swinging at his hip, thinking the lead might be intended for Boxer.
A puff of smoke was dissolving before the open window,[Pg 206]but Cimarron Bill had vanished, nor did he again appear there. Neither Frank nor Bart had seen him.
So they were not greatly alarmed, and they laughed over the manner in which Boxer had put his assailants to flight, merriment which was joined in by many of the spectators who had gathered to witness the fight.
"Good boy, Boxer!" said Merry. "You did that up slickly."
At which the setter turned toward Frank and showed his teeth in a grin, and something followed that caused several of the bystanders to gasp and stagger or stand dazed and astounded.
When Frank and Bart rode on two or three of those men hurried into Schlitzenheimer's saloon, where one of them banged the bar with his clenched fist, and shouted:
"By thunder! that's the first time I ever heard a dog talk! Was I dreaming?"
"None whatever, pard!" declared another, mopping sweat from his face. "I heard it plain enough. For the love of goodness, Fritz, give me a snifter of tanglefoot! I need something to brace my nerves after that!"
"Vot id vos you peen sayin'?" asked the fat Dutchman behind the bar. "Vot vos dot voolishness apoudt der talkings uf a tog?"
"No foolishness," declared the sweating individual, as whisky and glasses were placed on the bar. "I'll swear to it. The dog that came in with those young gents an' whipped two other dogs in short order sartin[Pg 207]made an observation in good, clean United States, or I'm the biggest liar on two legs."
"Say, Benchy!" said the Dutchman scornfully, "I pelief you vos readiness to haf anoder attack py dose delerium triangles, ain'd id! Uf you vill undertook my advice, you vill off svear alretty soon und safe yourseluf from der snakes some droubles."
"This is my first drink to-day," asserted Benchy, as he poured with shaking hand; "and I'd not take this if I didn't need it a whole lot to steady my nerves arter hearin' a dog talk."
"It's on the level, Fritz," assured the man who had banged the bar with his fist. "I heard it myself. The young fellow with the mustache says to the dog arter the dog had licked t'other dogs, says he, 'Good boy, Boxer; you done that up slick.' Then the dog turns about and grins up at him and winks, and he opens his mouth, and I hope I may be struck dead where I stand this minute if he didn't answer and say, 'Oh, that was no trick at all, Frank; those low-bred curs haven't any sand.' I heard it, Fritz, and I'll swear to it with my last breath!"
"You vos craziness!" said the Dutchman. "Oh, you vos drying some jokes on me to play alretty."
But now several of the others asserted that they also had heard the dog speak, and that the animal had uttered the very words quoted by the man called Spikes.
"Id peen a put-up jobs!" shouted Schlitzenheimer angrily. "Uf vor a greadt vool you tookit me, you[Pg 208]vos not so much uf a jackass as I look to peen! Id vos nod bossible a tog vor to speech, und I vill bate zwi t'ousan' tollar it on!"
"But I heard him!" declared Benchy.
"I'm another!" averred Spikes.
"We all heard him!" cried the others at the bar.
"You got vrom my blace uf pusiness out britty queek!" ordered the Dutchman, in a great rage. "I vill not had so many plame liars aroundt! Und dond you back come some more alretty undil you vos readiness apology to make vor me drying to vool!"
"Look here, Fritz," said Benchy, leaning on the bar, "I'll bet you ten dollars coin of the realm that the dog can talk! If I had been alone in hearing the beast, I might have thought myself fooled; but all these other gents heard him, and so there is no mistake. Do you take me?"
"Den tollars haf nod seen you in a month," declared Schlitzenheimer disdainfully. "Howeffer, uf you prings pack by you dot tog und he vill speech my saloon in, I vill gif you den tollars my own moneys out uf, and all der drink you can a whole veek vor. Now, you tookit my advice und shut upness or make goot britty queek."
"I'll do it!" cried Benchy, and he hastened forth.
Frank and Bart had proceeded directly to the bank, where their dust was weighed and taken on deposit. This done, they left and sought a square meal in the very hotel where Mrs. Arlington and June were stopping. Fortunately the presence of his guests, who paid[Pg 209]extravagantly well, had caused the proprietor to have on hand an unusual stock of cooked food, and he was able to see that the young men from the mines were provided for in a manner that surprised and pleased them not a little.
Although he took good care to keep out of sight, Cimarron Bill knew Frank Merriwell was in the hotel. At the bar of the place Bill found a rough, bewhiskered fellow, whom he drew aside.
"Bob," said Bill, in a whisper, "are you ready to tackle a tough proposition?"
"For the needful, Bill," was the quiet answer of the man, who, in spite of his rough appearance, was known by his mild manner of speech as Gentle Bob. "What is it?"
"You know the young tenderfoot gent what I have been stacking up against—the one what I spoke to you about?"
"I reckon."
"Well, he is now eatin' in the dinin'-room."
"Sho!" said Bob, in placid surprise.
"Fact," assured Bill. "Him an' one of his pards is thar. They came inter town together a short time ago. Now, I could pick a quarrel with them, and I allows I could shoot 'em both; but it would be knowed agin' me that I had been tryin' to jump their claim, which sartin' would rouse feelin's. In your case, as you were nohow consarned in the raid on the mine, it would be different, an' I 'lows you might find a way o' doin' the job easy an' slick. You kin plead self-defense,[Pg 210]an' I promise you there will be plenty o' money to defend ye."
"It's the money fer the job I'm a-thinkin' of first, Bill," said Bob.
"A good clean thousan' dollars if you shoots the young gent with the mustache," whispered Bill.
"Do you mean it?" asked Bob, looking at him hard. "Where does it come from?"
"That I allow is none of your business. You has my word that you gets it. And I opine the word o' Cimarron Bill is knowed to be good."
"As his bond," said Gentle Bob, taking out a brace of pistols and looking them over. "I takes the job, Bill; and there sartin will be a funeral in these parts to-morrer."
[Pg 211]
When Frank and Bart came out of the hotel, with Boxer at their heels, they found a group of men on the steps engaged in earnest discussion. Immediately, on sight of the two young men and the dog, the babel of voices fell to a hush and the men all squared about and stared. But Merry immediately noticed that it was not at Bart or himself that they were staring, but at Boxer. The dog seemed to observe this, likewise, for he stopped short, with one paw uplifted, surveyed the men, and Frank, who was a clever ventriloquist, made the animal apparently say:
"Say, Frank, what do you suppose the ginnies are gawking at?"
"Mother av Moses!" cried an Irishman in the group. "Oi swear be all the saints the baste did spake!"
"Yah! yah!" chattered a pig-tailed Chinaman by the name of Sing Lee, who ran a laundry in town. "Dogee talkee allee samee likee Chinyman."
"Go on, you rat-eater!" contemptuously exclaimed the dog. "If I couldn't talk better than you I'd go drown myself!"
Needless to say this brought the excitement of the crowd to a high pitch.
[Pg 212]
Benchy and Spikes were on hand, and now the former appealed to Frank.
"Is that your dog?" he asked.
"Well, I lay claim to him," smiled Merry.
"He—he—can he talk?"
"Didn't you hear him?"
"Yes, but——"
"Well, what better evidence do you want than your own ears?"
"That's enough; but Schlitzenheimer called me names and said I was trying to put up a joke on him because I told him I heard the dog talk."
"Who's Schlitzenheimer?"
"He runs the saloon down the street right in front of which your dog whipped those other dogs what jumped on him. He's a black-headed Dutchman. Come on down and show him the dog."
"Come on!" cried others.
Merry didn't mind the lark, but he now turned to the dog, with a very serious expression on his face, saying:
"How about it, Boxer? I believe you told me you hold an antipathy against Dutchmen. Will you go down to Schlitzenheimer's with me?"
The dog seemed to hesitate, and then he answered:
"Oh, I don't care; go ahead. I'm not stuck on Dutchmen, but I'll teach this one a lesson."
"All right," said Merry. "Come on."
Benchy triumphantly led the way, being followed by Frank and Bart and the dog, with the crowd at the[Pg 213]heels of them. The Irishman was protesting his wonderment, while the Chinaman chattered excitedly.
Within the hotel a man had been watching and listening. He was a bewhiskered ruffian, and he strode forth and followed the crowd to the Dutchman's saloon. Cimarron Bill watched his tool depart, smiling darkly and muttering to himself:
"Good-by, Bob! You're going up against a hard proposition in Frank Merriwell, and it's not likely you'll call to collect that little sum of money from me. All the same, I hope you get in a shot, for you shoot straight, and you may make a round sum for my pocket, as I'll compel the old lady to lay down the cash. I'll be able to scare her into it by threatening to tell the whole story and bring her into the game as an accomplice. That will yank her around to her feet in short order, I opine."
For all of Bill's reputation as a "killer," he was willing to let this piece of work over to the attention of another.
So Gentle Bob followed Merriwell, an evil purpose in his black heart, nor knew that his employer believed and half-hoped he might be going to his own end.
Benchy burst into the saloon, uttering a cry of triumph.
"Here comes the dog!" he said. "Now I have you, you old duffer! You'll find out he can talk."
Schlitzenheimer stared at the door, through which the crowd followed Frank, and Bart, and the dog.
"Vos dot der tog?" he said.
[Pg 214]
"Do you take me for a monkey, you lobster-faced frankfurter?" saucily demanded the dog.
"Hey?" squawked the saloon-keeper, turning purple. "Vot id vos? Dit I hear correctness?"
"Be careful, Boxer," said Frank reprovingly. "Don't be so free with your lip. You may offend the gentleman."
"Gentleman!" exclaimed the setter, in a tone of profound contempt. "Do you call that sourkraut-barrel a gentleman? I'm surprised at you, Frank!"
At this there was a burst of laughter, and Schlitzenheimer turned as red as he had been pale a moment before.
"Vot vor did dot tog vanted to insult me?" he exclaimed indignantly. "I dit not someding to him do!"
"Boxer, I'm surprised!" cried Frank. "You will get me into trouble with your careless language. I insist that you apologize immediately to the gentleman. I insist, sir!"
"Oh, very well," said the dog; "if you insist, I'll apologize. I was joking, anyway."
"And I add my own apology, Mr. Schlitzenheimer," said Merry. "I hope this will be sufficient?"
"Oh, yah, dot peen all righdt," said the Dutchman at once. "But py dunder! der tickens id does peat to heard a tog dalking!"
"It's a good one on you, Fritz!" cried Benchy triumphantly. "Remember your agreement! You're stuck!"
"Vale, I will stood py dot agreements," said the saloon-keeper,[Pg 215]rather reluctantly, "efen if in pusiness id does preak me up. Und I vill sdant treat der crowdt vor. Sdep up, eferpody, und your trink name."
"That's the talk!" cried the dog. "You're not such a bad fellow, Schlitzy."
Schlitzenheimer leaned on the bar with both hands and looked over at Boxer.
"Vot will you haf yourseluf?" he asked.
"Excuse me," said the setter; "I'm on the water-wagon. Go ahead, gentlemen, and don't mind me."
So they lined up in front of the bar, expressing their amazement over the accomplishment of the dog and burdening Merriwell with questions, all of which Frank cheerfully answered or skilfully evaded.
Boxer had been lifted and placed on one end of the bar, where he immediately sat, surveying the line of men with his clear, intelligent eyes.
"Hello, Mike!" he called to the Irishman. "When did you leave the Old Dart?"
"It's goin' on three year now," answered the son of the Old Sod civilly; "and me name's not Moike—it's Pat."
The dog seemed to wink shrewdly.
"It's all the same," he declared; "Mike or Pat makes no difference, as long as your last name is Murphy."
"But me last name's not Murphy at all, at all—it's O'Grady, av yez plaze."
"Thanks," snickered the dog. "I have it down pat now. It's a way I have of finding out a man's name when no one takes the trouble to introduce him. Drink[Pg 216]hearty, Pat; the whisky'll add to the beautiful tint of your nose."
"Begorra! it's a divvil the crayther is!" muttered Pat, nudging his nearest neighbor.
"Ah, there, Chink!" called the setter, seeming to get his eye on the Chinaman, who was staring open-mouthed. "How's the washee-washee business?"
"Oh, velly good, velly good!" answered the Celestial hurriedly, backing off a little, his face yellowish white.
"Vele," said Schlitzenheimer, holding up a glass of beer; "here vos goot health to der smardest tog vot effer vos."
"Drink hearty," said Boxer; and, with the exception of Frank and Bart, all swallowed their drinks. Not wishing anything to drink, and still desiring to join in so that the saloon-keeper might not be offended, Frank and Bart had taken cigars, which they slipped into their pockets.
"Dot tog peen der vonder der vorld uf," said Schlitzenheimer, gazing admiringly at Boxer. "Vot vill you soldt him vor?"
"There's not enough money in Arizona to buy him from me," answered Frank at once.
"You know a good thing when you see it," chuckled the dog.
"Vos there anything exception talk vot he can do?" asked Fritz.
"Lots of things," answered Merry. "He can play cards."
[Pg 217]
"Beenuckle?" asked the Dutchman.
"You bet! He's a dabster at pinocle."
"Easy, Merry!" cautioned the setter, in a whisper. "If you want to skin the old bologna-sausage out of his shekels, don't puff me up. I can't beat him at his own game."
"Vale, I pet den tollars you can't dot do!" cried Schlitzenheimer. "I nefer vould acknowledgment dot a tog could peat me!"
Frank sternly turned on Boxer.
"What do you mean by getting me into such a scrape?" he demanded, shaking his finger at the setter. "You know I never gamble, and I will not bet on a game of cards. If you make any more such foolish talk, I'll not let you play at all."
The dog hung his head and looked quite ashamed.
"Beg pardon," he whined softly. "I was joking again!"
"I'll blay der fun uf him vor," said Schlitzenheimer. "Id vill peen a creat jokes to said I had a came uf beenuckle blayed mit a tog. Come on."
He hurried out from behind the bar.
"Begorra! Oi'd loike to take a hand in this!" cried Pat O'Grady, as a square table was drawn out and the cards produced. "It's a shlick game av peenockle Oi play."
"But three-handed——" said Frank.
"Be afther makin' the fourth yesilf."
"I have to hold the cards for Boxer, he having no hands of his own," explained Merry.
[Pg 218]
Then it was that Gentle Bob stepped forward, saying, in a very quiet voice and polite manner, that he would be pleased to enter the game.
Now, with the exception of Frank and Bart, all knew that Bob was a very bad man to offend, and so they were willing enough that he should play, and it was soon arranged.
Frank was keen enough to see in what manner the ruffianly looking fellow with the quiet voice was regarded, and, as he was not in Holbrook in search of a quarrel, he raised no dissent. However, he gave Hodge a look that Bart understood, and the silent youth nodded. From that moment Bart watched Gentle Bob closely.