CHAPTER XII.THE RUNAWAY.
“Now, sir, what can I do for you?”
Standing at a distance, watching with anxious impatience and taking care to keep out of sight, Roland Ditson muttered a little exclamation of satisfaction as he saw Frank Merriwell turn to Jack Cunningham, speaking these words.
The train was starting to pull out from the station.
“I came here to see yo’, suh,” declared Cunningham, turning his chew of tobacco. “I’ve brought ye somethin’.”
“What is it?”
“This.”
He handed over the forged letter. A moment later Frank was reading:
“Dear Frank: I am in serious trouble, and I wish you to come to me alone without a moment’s delay. I know I shall not appeal to you in vain. Tell no one where you are going, for I do not wish it known that I would trouble you at such a time, but I must see you—I must! Don’t lose a minute! Mr. Muldoon will take you in the carriage direct to the house where I am stopping, and you will have plenty of time before the game. Do come, dear Frank. Yours, as ever,”Elsie."
“Dear Frank: I am in serious trouble, and I wish you to come to me alone without a moment’s delay. I know I shall not appeal to you in vain. Tell no one where you are going, for I do not wish it known that I would trouble you at such a time, but I must see you—I must! Don’t lose a minute! Mr. Muldoon will take you in the carriage direct to the house where I am stopping, and you will have plenty of time before the game. Do come, dear Frank. Yours, as ever,
”Elsie."
Frank was not looking for a trick, and his hasty glance over the letter gave him no warning of anything wrong. Ditson had performed a very clever job in imitating Elsie Bellwood’s handwriting.
Merry was aware that Elsie had returned from Florida and was stopping in Charlottesville, a fact which Roland had somehow learned, so the note gave him no surprise. He had anticipated seeing her while in the place. Hodge also anticipated that pleasure—or pain. She had taken care to let the knowledge reach him that she was in Charlottesville.
For a moment Merry seemed to hesitate. In the distance Ditson held his breath.
“Will the fool refuse?” he inwardly cried. “Why, no! for he is in love with the girl!”
Frank turned to Cunningham again.
“Mr. Muldoon?” he said.
“Yes, suh,” declared the ruffian, though he feared some one might hear and expose him. But Jack Cunningham was known and feared in Charlottesville. And King Jimmy was proudly displaying to his admiring subjects the decoration of honor conferred upon him by Merriwell the Great, therefore he did not get at what was going on.
“You have a carriage here?” asked Frank.
“Yes, suh; right over yander.”
“How far must we go?”
“Oh, just out beyond the town a short distance.”
“How many miles?”
“Something over two, perhaps.”
Frank looked at his watch.
“All right,” he said. “Fellows, I’ll have to leave you for a short time, but I won’t be gone much over an hour.”
Then without further explanation he motioned for Cunningham to lead the way.
Roland Ditson chuckled when he saw Frank follow the ruffian out round the station to the place where the team was watched by a colored man.
“He’s going into the trap!” muttered Roland. “And I’ll make a big pot on the ball-game to-day, besides getting even with Merriwell to some extent. My fifty dollars to that big whelp Cunningham will be well spent, for I’ll make more than five hundred if U. V. beats Yale to-day. And I can get more bets, too, with plenty of odds, for it seems the general impression that Yale is bound to win, for all of Paragon’s skill as a pitcher.”
He had taken pains not to explain to his hired tool his full reason for wishing to get Merriwell out of the way, well knowing Cunningham would strike him for more money if he knew he was to win a large sum if Yale met with defeat.
“All right, Sam,” said Cunningham, as he took the reins. “Here’s a plug of tobacco for you.”
He threw a piece of tobacco toward the colored man, who caught it skilfully.
“Thank yo’, suh,” grinned the negro. “Dat off hoss am po’erful nervous, suh, when der cayars come along, suh.”
“Jump right in, Mr. Merriwell,” invited Cunningham.
Frank did so, and the ruffian followed suit, swinging the horses toward the road that led from the station.
The Yale men had started for the nearest hotel, followed by a throng of men and boys, both white and black. At the head of this throng marched King Jimmy, with his head erect and the Yale badge secure upon his breast. After him flocked his new subjects, while behind them walked the deposed king, Scrubby Watson, with his hands thrust into his pockets, his hat pulled over his eyes, and his entire aspect one of hopeless dejection.
Jimmy stared as Cunningham’s team went past with Frank Merriwell seated beside the sandy-haired giant, then off came the little fellow’s hat in a profound salute.
And off came the caps of the followers of King Jimmy.
Frank waved his hand, and away went the team through the outskirts of Charlottesville, soon turning from the town to the country.
April in Virginia is fair and beautiful. The world was green and fresh, and in the purple haze of the west the Blue Ridge rose against the sky. Frank drew in great breaths of the pure air, his eyes glowing as he looked about at the attractive scene. The negro huts were picturesque, and the colored men and women smoking in the shade, with dancing pickaninnies here and there, were sights to delight the eye of an artist.
“Beautiful!” said Frank.
“Hey?” grunted Cunningham.
“I say this is a beautiful section.”
“Yes, I s’pose it is.”
“I presume it does not look as beautiful to you because of long familiarity with it.”
“I dunno. I ain’t been here so long, yo’ see.”
“Haven’t? Are you employed by the Parkers?”
“The Parkers? No, suh.”
“Then how does it happen that you came to the station for me?”
“Oh,” said Cunningham, “she just asked me, an’ I come. I’d do anything fo’ her, suh.”
“That is likely. Any one who knows Miss Bellwood is usually ready to do anything possible for her. Is this your own team, Mr. Muldoon?”
“Yes, suh. Great pair of hosses. Git, there, Demon! Hi, there, Ginger! Yes! Take ’er out!”
Cunningham cracked his whip over the horses, and put them both into a mad run, while with a leering grin he looked sideways at Frank to see the college chap get pale and frightened.
“What do yo’ think of this fer goin’?” he demanded.
“Oh, it’s fair,” answered Frank, “but you haven’t the right kind of a carriage for it.”
“Hey?” roared Cunningham, in astonishment. “Ain’t you satisfied with this? Well, I’ll touch ’em up a little more, suh!”
Then he rose to his feet and—swish, cut! swish, cut!—the whip whistled through the air and twined aboutthe horses. The animals tried to go out of their harnesses, and the carriage careened along the road at a wild rate of speed.
But when Cunningham looked to see the effect on his companion he was astonished to discover that the “college chap” was still unruffled and serene.
“How does this suit yo’, suh?” inquired the ruffian.
“This is very fair, if your horses can do no better.”
“Almighty gizzards!” gasped the brother of the notorious Blue Ridge outlaw. “What do you want, suh?”
“I wouldn’t whip the horses any more, if I were you,” said Frank quietly. “They are already doing their level best. Besides, it is cruel to hit them that way.”
This seemed to make the man furious, for he shouted:
“I judge, suh, I have a right to hit my own hosses! I’ll give yo’ the liveliest ride yo’ evah took, by smoke!”
Then he arose and cut both the frightened horses again. The animals made a mad leap, and—snap!—one of the reins broke in Cunningham’s hand.
The angry man dropped back with a gasp.
“Good Lord!” he said. “The rein is broke, an’ them critters are going to raise some dust now! Whillikens! what a scrape!”
Now he showed alarm himself, but still the youth at his side was perfectly calm.
“You made a fool of yourself, Mr. Muldoon,” Frankgrimly observed. “In your attempt to frighten me you have done a very bad job.”
“Them hosses will never stop runnin’ now till they’ve smashed thunder out of this rig!” the man observed. “Yo’ had better jump for it, youngster.”
Then, from another road, an old negro appeared, seated on a wabble-wheeled cart and driving a decrepit horse. The colored man turned into the road directly in front of them.
“Jump!” yelled Cunningham. “Things are goin’ to smash in a jiffy! Jump!”
He rose to leap out, but Frank’s strong hand grasped him and flung him back on the seat, while Frank’s clear voice rang out:
“If you want to escape a broken leg or neck keep still! There is one chance to stop the horses!”
Then, having risen to his feet, with a long clean leap he flung himself over the dasher of the carriage and landed astride of the “near” horse.