During the remainder of the day Juanita avoided Greg Carker.
Evening came. Within the house the boys were singing the old college songs to the accompaniment of a piano as Juanita stole away alone and listened a long time from a corner of the veranda. Tears dimmed her eyes, and she whispered soft words to herself.
"I know I'm a veree fooleesh girl," she said. "I cannot help eet. Eet ees not to be that he should care for me."
Her heart throbbed with bitter disappointment. She left the house behind and wandered away through the dusky June night. Crossing the road and the fields, she came at last to Ripple Lake, on the edge of which she lingered while the moon crept up in the east.
"I ought to return," she murmured. "If they mees me, they will become alarmed. But I cannot go back there yet—I cannot go back!"
Her restless spirit led her round the shore of the lake until she finally found herself on a bluff that rose from the water's edge. The moon was now behind her back. At the brink of the bluff she peered over into the shadow below.
A footstep startled her.
With a smothered cry, she turned and found herself face to face with—Jose Murillo.
"It is you, Juanita!" he exclaimed, in Spanish. "All day I have waited and watched for the opportunity to speak with you!"
"Señor Murillo, why did you come here? You promised——"
"What is a man's promise to a gringo!" he retorted. "Did you think they could frighten Jose away from you? No, no, Juanita!"
"But I do not want to see you."
"You're a foolish girl. Why are you so determined against me? Your father gave me his promise——"
"It will do you no good to speak of that, señor. I tell you now for the last time that I do not care for you—I never can. If you are a gentleman, you will bother me no more. I'm going back now."
He placed himself before her.
"Not yet!" he exclaimed.
"You cannot stop me, señor!"
"Oh, yes, I can, señorita. Don't fancy I've followed you all the way from Mexico to be baffled so easily. The Murillos are determined men. I have resolved that you shall be mine!"
"Never!"
"That word is easy to speak. What have I done that you should despise me?"
"You say the Murillos are determined men. They are, likewise, bloody men. I know not why my father favored you. I do know that my mother feared all Murillos, even as I fear you."
"It is good for a woman to have a husband whom she fears and respects."
"In this case fear and respect do not go together, señor. I have no respect for you."
"Then I will teach you respect when you are mine."
"That opportunity will never be given you. Look, señor, we stand at the edge of this cliff. The water is very close at hand. I wish you to understand me. Rather than become your wife, I'd leap into that water. I cannot swim."
"Leap!" he exclaimed. "I will leap after you, and I cannot swim!"
"Are you mad?"
"It is madness perhaps, señorita, but it is the madness of love. You must understand me now. You must understand how useless it is to fly from me. Once I thought you cared for another man. Once I was jealous of Emmanuel Escalvo. He never knew how close he walked with death. When I learned you did not care for him I put away my knife. There can be no others—unless you have met him within a few hours. I am satisfied that there is no other."
With sudden indiscretion and defiance, she exclaimed:
"You're wrong, Señor Murillo! There is another!"
He uttered a sudden curse.
"Who is the man? Tell me his name, and he shall have what Emmanuel Escalvo escaped!"
She was frightened by her folly.
"Who is the man?" he snarled, suddenly seizing her. "Speak quick—speak at once!"
"You hurt me, señor!" she panted, striving to break from his grasp. "Let me go!"
"I will not! I have you now, and I'll keep you! I'll never let you go!"
"I beg your pardon," said a quiet voice, "but I think you're mistaken."
Jose Murillo found himself sprawling on the ground. He looked up, and in the moonlight he saw Gregory Carker offering Juanita support.
"Oh, why deed you come?" panted the girl. "Now he weel know! He weel keel you!"
Snarling like an angry dog, Murillo leaped to his feet. The moonlight shimmered on a blade he had whipped from his bosom.
"This ees the man!" he panted triumphantly, as he sprang at Greg.
Carker flung up his arm, and Murillo's knife slashed his sleeve from shoulder to elbow.
In a twinkling Greg had closed with the Mexican, grasping the man's wrist and holding him in an effort to keep him from using the knife.
Juanita sought to interfere, but the cool, determined young American warned her back.
"Leave this man to me," he said.
"He has the knife!"
"But I don't think he'll use it," said Carker, as he backheeled Murillo.
In a moment they were down, twisting and squirming and writhing on the ground.
With her hands clasped, and her lips parted, Juanita looked on, standing ready to do her best should she see Murillo free his knife hand.
Carker had once been an athlete. He was not now in the best condition, but, nevertheless, he was stronger than his foe, and he finally pinned Murillo to the ground.
"Drop that knife!" commanded Greg, seeking to force the weapon from the Mexican's fingers.
In this attempt he had almost succeeded, when of a sudden Murillo squirmed away, rolled over and over and scrambled up.
Carker rose on the brink of the cliff and again faced the man. Murillo came at him with a leap, making a savage slash with the knife. Carker dodged just in time and thrust out his foot. Over that outthrust foot the Mexican tripped. Straight forward he plunged, with a cry and a splash, into the water below.
"Perhaps a cold bath will do him good," observed Carker, breathing a trifle heavily.
Juanita seemed ready to faint.
"Oh, señor, you are the brave man!" she breathed. "Oh, my heart eet beat so for you! I have such a terrible fear that he would keel you!"
Carker felt a strange thrill that ran over him from head to feet.
"Would you have cared so much?" he asked hoarsely.
"Eet would have keeled me, too, señor!" she answered. "The lake—I should have leaped into eet! Like Murillo, I cannot swim."
"Like Murillo, eh?" exclaimed Greg. "Then the fellow can't swim? Well, I think it's up to me to pull him out."
He stripped off his coat, ran some distance away to a point where he could descend to the water's edge and made his way along the foot of the little bluff. Peering into the shadows, he called in vain to the Mexican.
Out beyond the point where the cliff shadow lay on the water there were tiny shimmering waves, but in that shadow he could see nothing.
"I'm afraid this is rather a serious matter for Jose Murillo," he muttered. "Had I realized the scoundrel couldn't swim, I'd followed him into the lake and pulled him out. I take it he's gone."
Juanita called to him from above:
"Can't you see him, Señor Carkaire?"
"Don't be alarmed, Juanita," he answered. "I'm coming back there. I'll be with you in a moment."
He took one last look in search of the Mexican.
"I had to defend myself," he thought. "I'm sorry I was concerned in it, but I think Jose Murillo will trouble Juanita no more."
She was waiting in a trembling anxiety as he reappeared. He picked up his coat and put it on.
"Deed you find heem?"
"Not a trace," answered Carker. "He must have sunk like a stone. It's an unfortunate affair, Juanita, but you have no further cause to fear that man. Come, little girl, I'll take you back to the house. Give me your arm."
Timidly she clung to his arm, and they turned their steps toward Merry Home.
"Do you believe in fate?" asked Carker.
"Si, señor. Eet was fate that I should meet Señor Murillo as I deed."
"And it was fate that led me here. I have been seeking an opportunity to speak with you all the afternoon. You would not give me a chance. Every time I approached you ran away from me. Why did you do so, Juanita?"
"Why deed you weesh to speak with me?"
"I had something I wished to say. Juanita, I can't seem to find the words. I presume I'm rather excited. That's natural under the circumstances. It was something about you that bewitched me. It must have been your eyes."
"Oo, what ees eet you say, señor? You theenk I do not know sometheeng. On the train you tell of the girl who would not marree you—the girl who marree the other man. You meet her in the car with Señora Badgaire. I know! I know! She ees the one! You luf her!"
"I may as well make a clean breast of it," said Carker. "I thought I did once. She gave me the shake, Juanita. It's all over now."
"How can you say that? You theenk me a foolish girl to believe you? Wait and I weel tell you what I see. This afternoon you meet her in the little retreat of the shrubbery. I deed not know you were there. I walk out alone. I pass the place. I see you with her."
"That was unfortunate—for me. I presume it looked like an appointment. It was an accident, Juanita. It's all over between Mrs. Morton and Gregory Carker."
But the girl remembered how she had seen them standing there looking into each other's eyes, while the woman's arm was on Carker's shoulder.
"Wait, señor!" she panted. "Many time I have been told all the Americans are deceivers. I know what I see with my eyes. Juanita ees no longer a child."
"Oh, won't you listen? Won't you take my word?"
"I weel not leesten now," she declared. "Some time when you prove to me that you no longer care for her, maybe I weel leesten. I must have the proof, señor."
"I'll prove it somehow!" vowed Carker.
Having escorted Juanita back to the house, Carker called Frank aside and told him what had happened at the lake.
"I'm afraid I'm responsible for a dead Mexican," said Carker. "I think Murillo was drowned."
"It's unfortunate that you are concerned in it," said Frank; "but Murillo will be no great loss to the world. Nevertheless we'll do our duty and report the affair to the authorities without delay."
Making an excuse to the rest of the party, Frank and Greg walked into the village, found Bill Hunker, the constable, and told him precisely what had taken place.
"The Mexican pulled a knife on ye, did he, young feller? Well, consarn them Mexicans! I've allus heerd they was dangerous critters. 'Cordin' to your story, you wan't none to blame in this affair. So the dod-rabbited critter kinder went in swimmin' arter that, did he? Think he's drowned, do ye? Um-her! I don't s'pose it'll do no good for us to go fishin' for him to-night. I'll git some fellers and drag for him in the mornin'. Don't s'pose you want him to soak there in your lake, Mr. Merriwell, and spile the water. We'll dig him out and bury him in the pauper's lot, ifnobody don't claim his carkiss. I judge there'll be a settin' of the coroner's jury on the case, but I kinder guess you needn't worry, young man. A Mexican that tackles a woman gits what he desarves if he's drownded same as this one. Don't you worry. Don't you fret. I s'pose this'll make plenty of talk for the boys at Applesnack's to-night. I was over there a while ago and hung around a-listenin' to Cy Tellmore yarnin' it until he made me sick and I had to git out. I swan that man can lie more inside of five minutes than any human critter that ever breathed."
Frank smiled.
"Cyrus has a vivid imagination," he observed.
"'Magination? 'magination?" squawked Hunker. "Mebbe that's what you call it, but I'd give it a stronger name than that. When I tell him about this affair I bet a squash he'll have some kind of a story 'bout drowndin' seventeen Mexicans all in a bunch. Say, have any of your folks down that way seen anything of Eli Given this arternoon?"
"Why," answered Frank, "we saw Mr. Given, Mr. Small, and Deacon Hewett shortly after midday."
"Er-haw! haw! haw!" laughed Hunker. "I reckon the whole town seen 'em, too. Say, they hit up Applesnack's cider barrel, and the stuff fixed 'em—it suttinly fixed 'em. They were corned for keeps. Went through town a-hoorayin' and a-whoopin' for you and for all your friends. Said they was goin' down toshow their good feelin's toward ye. Applesnack and a few of the boys tried to keep 'em away, but 'twan't no use. Ten minutes arter they went down the road Mis's Given come lookin' for Eli, and some one told her where he'd gone. She hit the trail, and next we saw she was marchin' him back through town, with Uncle Eb and the deacon peggin' along behind, lookin' as meek and meechin' as wet cats.
"I dunno what happened arter Mis's Given gut Eli home, but he broke out ag'in and took to the woods or somewheres, and she ain't been able to find him. She was so all-fired mad that she come to me and wanted him 'rested. I had hard work to persuade her not to have him jugged. 'Course if it had been some feller who was inclined to git on a tear and raise thunder, I'd 'a' jest gone out and muckled onto him and shoved him into the lockup. But I did kinder hate to lock Eli up.
"I went over to Uncle Eb's lookin' for him, and there was Eben out in the woodshed a-snoozin' on a hoss blanket. Took me 'bout fifteen minutes to wake him up. He didn't know nuthin' 'bout Eli, so I went over to Deacon Hewett's. Er-haw! haw! haw! The deacon's wife had him on the lounge a-bathin' his head with cold water and a-holdin' smellin' salts to his nose. She said he'd been took sick sudden and was havin' a crackin' headache. She was in for callin' the doctor, but the deacon he wouldn't have it. He jest laid onthe lounge and groaned and kept sayin' he was a poor sinful worm of the earth.
"When I left Mis's Hewett she follered me outside, pulled me by the sleeve and kinder looked shamed and downcast and asked me did I believe the deacon had been drinkin'. She said he told her he jest took a little medicine when the headache fust struck him. I didn't give him away. I looked s'prised and shook my head and told her he wasn't a drinkin' man, so 'course there wan't no question on that p'int. But we're kinder worried 'bout Eli. If he don't turn up before long, we're goin' to send out searchers for him."
"You needn't bother to do that, Bill," said a mild, mournful voice, as a dusky figure came round the corner of the house. "I'm all right. I'm purty well straightened out now, and I guess I'll go back home and kinder quiet mother's narves. You see she was rather excited and disturbed over the affair, and she wouldn't let me rest arter I gut to the house, so I sneaked off into Silus Cobb's barn, crawled into the haymow and slept a while. It was dark when I woke up, and I didn't know jest where I was. 'Twixt you and me, I'm going to tell Rufe Applesnack what I think of him. That cider was the most violent stuff I ever put down my woozle. It had an awful kick. I s'pose me and Eben and Elnathan are disgraced in Bloomfield for the rest of our lives. I don't think I'll show my head outside of the house for a month."
Frank slapped the downcast old man on the shoulder and tried to brace him up, but Given was so depressed that he refused to cheer up in the slightest.
"Think you can find your way home, Eli?" asked Hunker.
"Well, I'm over seven and I'm sober now," was the answer. "Don't you fret 'bout me. I'll git home, all right."
Bright and early the following morning Hunker and several villagers appeared at Merry Home and asked leave to use Frank's boats in the search for the body of the Mexican.
After breakfast Merriwell and a number of his friends went over to the lake and found the searchers at work.
Hunker reported that they had discovered no trace of the missing man. Carker, Hodge, and Merriwell launched a boat from the boathouse and joined in the work.
"It was on this cliff here that we had the encounter," explained Greg, as they rowed back and forth beneath the bluff. "The man's body should be here somewhere. There seems to be no particular current at this spot to carry it away. I think we'll find Jose Murillo within thirty yards of this locality."
There was a harsh, unpleasant laugh, and a voice cried:
"Señor Carkaire ees right. Jose Murillo ees witheen thirtee yards of heem thees minute."
Looking up in astonishment, the trio in the boat beheld the Mexican standing on the brink of the cliff. His clothes were somewhat wrinkled and soiled, seeming to need cleansing and pressing. But the man was there in the flesh, grinning at them in a malicious, triumphant manner.
Greg Carker smothered an exclamation of amazement.
"Evidently you were mistaken in thinking the man drowned," said Frank quietly. "We've had all this trouble for nothing."
"Oh, eet ees not so easee to keel Jose Murillo!" sneered the rascal. "Where he fall in the lake the water ees not so deep. He stand up, with hees head out. He walk to the shore. He see Carkaire look for heem, and he keep steel. Now he look for Carkaire. Better have a care, gringo, for Jose Murillo weel find the time to strike you yet!Adios!He weel see you lataire!"
The man turned and hurried away.
When the Farnham Hall baseball team came out for practice that afternoon they found another team on the field. This team was dressed in blue suits, and on the breast of each shirt was a large white letter M.
Frank Merriwell had found these old suits stored away and brought them forth. At sight of them his friends were seized with the old-time enthusiasm for the great American game, and it did not take them long to get into the suits and onto the field.
"What's this?" cried Dale Sparkfair, as he surveyed Merry's team. "We seem to have intruders here. We'll have to put them off the field, boys. We'll have to do them up."
Hans Dunnerwurst paused, with his hands on his hips, and stared at Dale. Half a dozen persons shouted at the Dutchman, but he failed to heed their warning, and a ball thrown at him struck him on the head, bounding off.
"Hey!" squawked Hans. "Who threw me at dot brick? Vos dot der vay you vill dood us upness? Py Chiminy! You fellers vant to vade right in und let it try you. I pelief ve can play paseball all aroundt yoursellufs. You vos challenched to meet us a game into. Yah! Vill you exception dot challench?"
"Where's the interpreter?" asked Spark.
"Der vot?"
"The interpreter."
"Vot you vant py him?"
"You need some one to interpret your conversation, my Irish friend."
"Irish? Irish?" yelled Hans, in exasperation. "Don'd you callt mineselluf Irish! Parney Mulloy vos der only Irishman der party into, und he vos der greenest pogtrotter dot efer come der Emerald Isle oudt uf."
"G'wan, yer Dutch chaze!" said Barney. "Go talk to yersilf. Nobody understands yez at all, at all."
"If you're looking for practice, Dale," said Frank, "perhaps we can accommodate you. We feel like playing a little baseball ourselves."
"Yah!" put in Hans, who declined to be repressed. "Ve pelief der game uf paseball can play us some. Der practice vos oudt uf us a whole lot, but all der same ve vill dood our pest to dood you up. Between der acts I vill gif you a melodious selection der flute on. Der flute brought me vid it to der paseball groundt."
"Av you attimpt to toot thot flute, Oi'll hit ye wid a bat!" growled Mulloy.
"Oh, you vos chealous—you vos chealous pecause der flute coot not play you!" sneered Dunnerwurst. "As Spokeshire observations, 'Show me der man who haf not music into his soul alretty, und I vill show youa son uf a gun dot vos fit for blotting assinations, general defiltry und all padness.' Dot vos you, Parney Mulloy."
The idea of playing a practice game with Merry's team delighted the Farnham Hall lads, and arrangements were quickly made.
"I presume you'll give us a show, Mr. Merriwell," said Sparkfair. "Are you going to pitch?"
"I don't think I'll start the game," said Merry.
"I vill pitch mineselluf," announced Hans. "I vos der createst paseball pitcher dot efer seen you."
Sparkfair flipped a coin, and the choice of innings fell to Merry.
"We'll take the field," said Frank. "Go behind the bat, Hodge. Dunnerwurst will pitch. You'll play your old position at first, Browning. Diamond will cover second, and we'll have Mulloy on third. I'll play short."
"The middle lawn for me," announced Ephraim Gallup.
"That's all right," nodded Frank. "Badger will take left field and Carson right field."
When the players had taken these positions Dunnerwurst held up his hand and asked permission to pitch a few over the plate.
"Chust gif me the privilege of letting my arm limber me up, vill you?"
"Go ahead," laughed Sparkfair.
Hodge adjusted the body protector and pulled on the big catching mitt.
"Keep open your eye for der curf uf der ball," warned Hans. "Uf I use too much speed for you, chust let me tell you so."
He presented a comical spectacle as he flourished, his arm with a windmill motion and delivered the ball to Bart. It was high and wide, but Hodge cuffed it down.
"Ho! ho!" shouted the Dutchman. "Did dot rise see you? Vosn't it a peauty, Part?"
"That was a great rise!" said Hodge. "Better try a drop next time. Get 'em lower."
On receiving the ball Hans made another flourishing motion, shut his eyes, and threw the sphere with great force straight at the ground in front of him.
"Mine cootness!" he gasped. "I vill haf to look oudt for dot drop. It vos a corker."
"Better start off with a straight ball," advised Hodge. "Give these youngsters a show. They can't hit your curves, Hans."
"I pelief me," nodded Dunnerwurst soberly. "Your advice vill took me."
A few moments later he announced that he was ready, and Bob Bubbs stepped out as the first batter.
Hans hit Bob with the first ball pitched, and Kilgore, who was umpiring, sent Towser to first.
"Vy did you not dotge?" demanded Dunnerwurst,in exasperation. "Any vun vould pelief der ball did not see you coming. Vos you plind your eyesight in?"
"Oh, I knew I couldn't hit," chuckled Bubbs, "so I got hit. That's part of the game."
"Veil, mebbe dot vos so, but you don'd pelief it. Der next man vill haf something different to did."
Netterby was the next man.
After pitching a ball behind Net's back and another one over his head, Hans managed to get one across the pan.
Net hit it and drove it out of the diamond, although Mulloy made a desperate effort to reach it.
"Vat vos you goot for, you Irish pogtrotter?" demanded Hans. "Vy did dot ball not stop you?"
"G'wan! g'wan!" retorted Barney. "It was a clane hit, Dutchy."
"You dood not pelief it. I vill haf to struck efry patter oudt. Der vos no udder vay when a pitcher gets dot kind of rotten suppordt."
Hiram Bemis stood forth to the plate and waited until Dunnerwurst had pitched four balls.
The bases were filled, and Hans began to growl at Kilgore.
"Vere did der umpiring efer learn you?" he demanded.
"Gol ding it!" shouted Ephraim Gallup from the field. "Yeou didn't git one of them balls within fourfeet of the pan! Yeou can't pitch! Yeou never could! Better let me go in and show 'em haow to pitch."
"Go avay pack and sit down," advised Hans derisively. "You vould dood a lot uf goot uf you vould pitch, vouldn't you!"
"If I couldn't do better than yeou're doing naow, I'd never play another game of baseball!" retorted Gallup.
"He's envious," said Sparkfair. "Don't listen to him. I know you'll strike me out. You can't help it."
The first ball pitched to Spark happened to be just where he wanted it. He met it squarely and drove it Over Carson's head in right field.
It was a clean three-bagger, and three runs came in.
"Well, I think that will about do for you, Hans," said Frank. "Come in here, Gallup, if you want to show what you can do."
Ephraim promptly accepted the invitation and came galloping in from the field.
"You vill be a peach!" sneered Hans, as he passed Gallup. "I vos ashamed for you alretty soon."
"I can't do any worse than you done if I tried a month!" retorted Ephraim.
After warming up a bit, Gallup pitched to Hollis.
Fred dropped a Texas Leaguer over the infield, and Sparkfair scored.
Dunnerwurst whooped derisively.
Then came young Joe Crowfoot, who also connected with the ball, lacing it out cleanly for two bases.
Hollis scored from first.
"They seem to be hitting you, Ephraim," observed Frank.
"Jest wait a minute," observed Gallup. "I ain't settled down yet."
Jack Lander wearily dragged his feet out to the plate, stood there with his eyes shut and permitted Kilgore to call two strikes on him.
"I've gut him," thought Ephraim. "He's in a trance."
Gallup attempted to put another one straight over, but to his consternation Lander woke up, hit the ball a crack and drove it skimming along the ground out of the diamond.
"You vos a dandy—you vas a dandy!" squawked Dunnerwurst.
Perspiration started out on Ephraim's face, and he looked decidedly annoyed. His annoyance reached a climax when Brooks landed on the ball for two bases, scoring Crowfoot and Lander.
"I guess that's enough for me, Frank," said Ephraim, as he walked out of the box. "I kinder judge you'll have to go in yourself. Them fellers has made seven runs, and there ain't a tarnal man out."
"Yes, it's about time for you to go in, Merry," nodded Hodge.
Frank thought so himself.
Gallup retired to his regular position in center field.Dunnerwurst took right field, and Carson came in to play short.
Merry entered the box. And Thad Barking astonished every one by lacing out a clean single.
Following this Bob Bubbs put up a foul, which was captured by Hodge. Brooks was caught off his base, and the agony ended when Netterby struck out.
Merriwell's team came to bat, facing the handicap of seven runs.
In the meantime at least twenty boys from the academy had gathered to watch the game.
Gregory Carker appeared, escorting Inza, Elsie, Winnie Badger, Teresa Gallup, Mrs. Morton, and Juanita Garcia.
"Now we've got to play real baseball, fellows," laughed Frank, as Carker escorted the ladies into the stand, where they took the most convenient seats. "The girls will be ashamed of us if we continue this monkeying. Start it up, Hodge. You're the first batter."
Bart Hodge stepped out, picked out one of Sparkfair's curves and smashed a hot grounder at Bubbs, who gathered the ball up cleanly and whipped it across to Brooks.
"Out at first!" announced Kilgore.
"Oh, Bart! Bart!" cried Elsie laughingly. "Can't you do better than that?"
He shook his head as he walked back to the bench.
"Your turn next, Mulloy," said Frank.
Sparkfair seemed to be in good trim, for he whipped over a couple of benders which fooled Barney, who missed them both.
"Vait till der pat gets holdt uf me," muttered Dunnerwurst. "Der ball nefer coot hit dot Irishman."
Barney struck out.
"Don'd some more fun make uf me," advised Hans.
There was a hush as Frank Merriwell picked up a bat and stepped into the box.
"Now something vill see you," observed Dunnerwurst, in a low tone. "Der ball vill hit him a mile."
Sparkfair did his best to deceive Merry, but finally put one over, and Frank drove it far into the field.
Hiram Bemis covered ground rapidly as he raced for the ball, but no one fancied he could catch it. Making a final desperate spurt, Hi leaped into the air and pulled the globule down.
It was the third out, and Merry's team had not scored.
"I'm sorry for you, Mr. Merriwell," laughed Sparkfair, "but we can't afford to let you have this game now. It would be simply awful after getting seven runs in the first inning."
"The game is young," reminded Frank.
Having escorted the ladies to seats, Gregory Carker deliberately placed himself at the side of Juanita Garcia.
"Oh, Greg," called Madge Morton, "come here. I have something to show you."
"Excuse me just now," he answered, "I'll come directly. The señorita is telling me something."
Then he whispered to Juanita:
"Tell me something quick."
"Why do you not go, señor?" she asked.
"I prefer to remain here."
"But you weel have to go."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Oh, I'll have to be polite, but I shall return."
"She weel not let you."
At this moment Mrs. Morton rose and changed her seat, placing herself at Carker's side as she laughingly observed:
"Don't let me interrupt you. When the señorita has finished I will take a little of your time—just a little."
Juanita flashed her a look.
"I am sure Señor Carkaire weel geeve you the time now," she said. "Eet ees not important what I have to say."
Madge had a delicate gold chain about her neck, and to the end of this chain was attached a small locket. This locket she now displayed, asking Carker if he remembered it.
"I think I do," he answered.
"I should think you would!" she laughed. "You gave it to me. Don't you think it a pretty little locket, señorita?"
"Veree," answered Juanita.
"Yes," said Madge, with a sigh, "Gregory gave methis little trinket. He gave me something else. Let's see if I can open it."
She succeeded in opening the locket, and again held it up before Carker.
"See," she went on, "it's your picture, Greg—your picture and mine. I've worn this locket every day since you gave it to me."
"Oo!" murmured Juanita, with just the least touch of malice. "Deed you show eet to your husband, señora?"
Mrs. Morton shrugged her shoulders and lowered the corners of her mouth.
"He saw it," she replied. "We had more than one little disagreement over it. He threatened to take it away from me."
Carker was decidedly uncomfortable. Glancing toward Juanita, he observed that her cheeks were flushed and she seemed decidedly disturbed.
"It was rather a piece of folly on my part," he said. "You know a man gets foolish at times, Mrs. Morton."
"Oh, Mrs. Morton!" exclaimed Madge. "How formal you are, Gregory! You were not nearly so formal yesterday. You were not nearly so formal when I met you alone."
Her eyes were on Juanita as she uttered these words. She saw the girl bite her lip.
"Eet ees a veree strange game thees baseball," said Juanita, turning to Teresa. "Do you understand eet?"
"Never mind her," said Madge Morton, pulling at Carker's sleeve. "Why do you pay her so much attention?"
"Do you wish to know?" he asked, in a low tone. "Then I'll tell you. I'm in love with her."
The woman looked at him with incredulous eyes, then threw back her head and laughed.
"More of your folly, Greg," she said. "You always were a silly chap. In love with that girl? Don't be foolish, my boy. She's nothing but a kid."
"I don't like that word kid."
"Oh, I suppose you think it very unladylike to use such slang. Children like this girl are amusing, but only unsophisticated boys and doddering old men fall in love with them. You're neither, Greg Carker."
"No, I'm neither. I'm old enough to know my own mind."
"I don't think you do. You're bewitched by her eyes and her way of talking. Her dialect sounds rather cute to you. Don't be foolish, Greg."
"Mrs. Morton, I tried to make you understand yesterday. There was a time when I believed I cared a great deal for you. That's all over now. You chose your own course, and you have no one save yourself to blame because there is now in my heart not the least spark of anything like love for you."
"You may think there's no spark, but I believe theembers are still smoldering and I propose to fan them into a flame."
"Evidently you don't understand men, Mrs. Morton. I don't think a woman ever yet caught a man by telling him what she proposed to do. It's a man's nature to pursue. He loves the chase. Let's watch this baseball game."
With the greatest difficulty, she repressed her annoyance and anger.
The game was progressing, and with Frank Merriwell in the box it became decidedly interesting. The second inning passed with neither side securing a score.
At the opening of the third inning Jose Murillo appeared on the field, attired in a fresh suit and looking cool and dapper. He carried a light cane and wore a straw hat. Glancing around, he discovered the ladies in the stand, lifted his hat, made a graceful bow, and showed his teeth in a smile.
To the astonishment of every one, the Mexican entered the stand and approached the party. Juanita Garcia was agitated and frightened. Seizing Carker's arm, she whispered:
"Don't let heem come near me!"
"I'll look out for him," promised Greg.
Murillo bowed low before them.
"I beg pardon for thees eentrusion," he murmured. "Eet happens that I know Señora Gallup and Señorita Garcia. I am a man of impulse. I do manee theengsI afterward regret. I presume Señorita Garcia has been annoyed by me, and now I weesh to ask her pardon. I have taken the time to considaire. I have thought eet all ovaire. Eet ees no use. When a girl een thees country decides that she weel not have anytheeng whatevaire to do with a man, he may as well gif eet up. Eet ees my decision to geeve eet up. I am going back to Mexico. I shall leave to-morrow. I have come to bid Señorita Garciaadios."
"I don't beleef heem! I don't beleef heem!" whispered Juanita, cowering close to Carker's side. "He ees lying!"
"I think you have decided wisely, Murillo," said Greg. "If I were in your place, I'd git. In fact, unless you do git, I've decided to swear out a warrant for your arrest. I've decided to make complaint against you for attacking me with a deadly weapon."
Jose made a gentle gesture with his hand.
"Some day in the future perhaps we weel settell that, Señor Carkaire," he said. "Save yourself the trouble to swear out the warrant. I shall go."
With another sweeping bow, he turned and left the stand.
"Oh, I don't like this game at all!" exclaimed Mrs. Morton. "I never did like baseball. I think I'll go to the house."
She likewise left the stand.
Madge Morton overtook Jose Murillo.
"A word with you," she said. "We are far enough from the field so that we'll not be seen if we step aside beneath the trees."
"Eet ees a pleasure," he bowed, although his face wore a puzzled expression.
Beneath the trees the woman turned and faced him squarely.
"There's a girl back yonder that you're smashed on," she said.
He shook his head.
"What ees eet to be smashed?"
"Oh, I mean you're struck on her—you're in love with her. It's that little soft-spoken, black-eyed chit."
"You mean Señorita Garcia?"
"Yes, that's the girl. You've followed her here all the way from Mexico."
"Eet ees right. I have follaired her."
"Now what do you propose to do? Are you going to quit? Are you going to throw up your hand? Are you going to lay down?"
Again he shook his head.
"Eet ees not plain to me what you mean, señorita."
"I'm married—at least, I have been. Call me señora,if you don't choose to call me Mrs. Morton. Are you going to give that girl up? Are you going to let her baffle you? You're a man of determination. I understand you had trouble with Gregory Carker last night."
"Si, si, señora.Eet ees lucky for heem I deed not reach heem with my knife. I weel reach heem yet!"
She clutched his arm.
"No," she cried, "you must not! I love him! I'm going to marry him!"
"Ees eet true?" gasped Murillo, in surprise. "I thought he was——"
"Oh, he has a silly notion that he cares for your black-eyed Juanita. He's mistaken, that's all. Keep her away from him a week, and he'll forget her. Give me a week, and I'll win him back again. Instead of trying to harm him, why don't you carry off the girl?"
"How can eet be done?"
"She's afraid of you. If you can get her away from here, I think she will cow down and do anything you say. I don't believe she has real courage. I'll help you."
"How?"
"Let me think. You must take her away to-night. Bring a carriage. Stop near Merry Home, but far enough away not to be discovered. Come to the house at an hour past midnight. You know the back way? If you don't, you can find it. I'll be waiting for you.I'll let you in, and I'll help you take that girl out of the house."
He looked at her with an expression of mingled doubt and admiration.
"You are a woman," he said. "How you dare to do such a theeng?"
"Dare?" she hoarsely cried. "I dare anything in a case like this!"
"But how can we take her out? She raise the disturbance."
"Oh, no, she won't. I know her room. She sleeps alone. A little chloroform will quiet her. Leave the matter to me. Will you come? Do you dare? If you haven't the courage to play this game, say so."
"I haf the courage!" cried Murillo suddenly. "I weel be there! Eef eet ees a trap, look out for me! I am not the man who forgets!"
"Save your breath," said the woman. "Don't bother to threaten me. I'll see you again to-night."
Then she turned and walked back to the athletic field, rejoined the party in the grand stand, announced that she had changed her mind about watching the game, chatted, laughed, and appeared wholly care-free and at ease.
Not until the fifth inning could Merriwell's team score against the Farnham Hall lads. It was mainly Sparkfair's wonderful pitching that kept Frank and his friends from circling the bases. Dale had splendidspeed, dazzling shoots, and masterly control. In the fifth the Merries tried the bunting game and filled the bases, with only one out. Badger then came up and smashed out a fine two-bagger, driving in three runs.
Sparkfair then struck out Carson and Dunnerwurst. Although the head of Frank's batting order came up in the sixth and Hodge reached third, no scores were secured. In the seventh Gallup crossed the pan with a run.
Neither side could secure a tally in the eighth, and the ninth inning opened with Merriwell's team three runs behind the youngsters.
"Oh, we've got you!" laughed Sparkfair. "We haven't been able to make a run since the first inning, but those seven scores were enough."
"Yah," said Dunnerwurst "Dot Ephraim Gallup he didid der pizness. Der game threw him avay."
"Gol dinged if yeou've gut anything to say!" rasped the Vermonter. "Yeou started all the trouble."
"Uf Frankie had let der pitcher's plate stay py me a vhile longer, it vould haf peen different. Der ball was chust gittin' control uf me ven he tookt me oudt."
Farnham Hall did not score in the first half of the ninth.
Diamond was the first batter up for the Merries, and he laced out a clean single.
"That's the stuff!" cried Frank. "Only three scores! We'll get 'em right here!"
Browning lifted a fly to left field, and Bemis scooped it. Diamond reached second. Gallup dropped a Texas Leaguer over the infield, and Buck Badger walked out With a bat on his shoulder.
"It peen up to you, Padger!" cried Dunnerwurst. "See vot you coot dood py der ball."
At this juncture Sparkfair issued his first pass, and Badger walked, filling the bases. Berlin Carson tried to drive in some runs, but popped up an infield fly and was out. Then Hans Dunnerwurst started forth.
"Oh, crackey!" groaned Ephraim Gallup. "It's all over naow!"
"Yah, it vos all ofer," nodded Hans. "A home run vill knock me. Der game vos seddled."
It is probable that almost every one expected to see Hans strike out. After making two strikes, the Dutchman secured a clean single, on which Diamond and Gallup scored.
"Dot vos a mishdake," declared the Dutchman. "Der ball meant to strike me twice as far as dot."
There was great anxiety on both sides as Bart Hodge walked out.
"You can dood it, Hotch!" shouted Hans.
Bart smashed the second ball pitched him, driving it out on a line. Little Bob Bubbs thrust out his left mitt, and the ball spanked into it. It stuck there.
The game was over, and Sparkfair's team had defeated the Merries by a single run.
Gregory Carker never knew exactly why he rose in the night and stole out of his room with catlike steps. He had a vague idea that he would move silently in order not to disturb or awaken any one sleeping in the house.
Near the head of the stairs he paused and backed into a shadowy corner.
Two persons came up the stairs. One of them bore a candle which flickered and flared, the fitful light showing her features plainly.
It was Madge Morton. She was deathly pale, and the hand that held the candle shook like that of a person with the palsy. Behind her was a man. As she reached the head of the flight she paused, turned to this man, and whispered:
"Follow me closely. The girl's room is two doors to the left."
Carker saw the man's face, and he recognized Jose Murillo.
Forth from his nook leaped Greg, seizing Murillo as the Mexican placed his foot on the last stair. Mrs. Morton gave a gasping cry of dismay, dropped the candle, and fled. The candle did not go out. Although it fell on its side, it continued to burn fitfully.
At the head of those stairs a sharp, savage struggle took place. The Mexican uttered a smothered oath and sought to produce his knife.
"Thees time I fix you, Carkaire!" he panted.
The dim light of the candle gleamed on the blade. Greg Carker tore himself free and struck a swinging blow which landed on Murillo's jaw. The Mexican crashed to the foot of the stairs, where he lay groaning while the aroused household flocked to the spot.
"What is it, Carker? What the dickens is the matter?" demanded Frank, as he seized Greg's shoulder.
Carker had picked up the candle and was holding it in his hand.
"I think we'll find a man at the foot of these stairs," he said, his voice not quite steady in spite of his effort to command himself.
They did find a man down there. Jose Murillo had struck on his own knife and was seriously wounded. Doctor Schnitzle was promptly brought over from Farnham Hall, but after taking a look at Murillo's wound, he turned and whispered to Frank:
"Maype he vill last vun halluf hour, but it iss not to be expectioned. It vos der end uf him."
The doctor was right. To the end Murillo protected his accomplice, claiming he had broken into the house by himself, with the intention of carrying Juanita off.
And Gregory Carker said nothing.
The following day, however, Carker found an opportunity to speak privately, as he supposed, with Mrs. Morton. He followed her from the house and stopped her at a point where there was little likelihood that they would be seen.
"You'll take the next train out of Bloomfield," he said. "I thought you might have good sense enough to take the first one, but you don't seem inclined to go without being invited."
"Oh, Greg——"
He put up his hand.
"Stop where you are," he said. "Not a word from you. You let that sneak into the house last night. You're responsible for the whole miserable tragedy."
"But you will not expose me—you will not tell them?"
"No, I'll say nothing about it—in case you take the next train."
"You despise me! I see it in your face!"
"You're right, I do. I despise you most thoroughly, and I pray it may never be my misfortune to see your face again."
"Oh, that girl—that wretched black-eyed——"
"And you may stop there," interrupted Carker. "You refer to Juanita. I'm going to marry her."
"I suppose you are. I'd like to strangle her!"
"You'll not be given an opportunity. I'm going to ask Mr. Merriwell to have a rig hitched up rightaway. It will take you to the station. Make any excuses you choose or no excuses whatever—but you're going. Better hurry back to the house now and pack up. Go on!"
She saw words were useless, and, therefore, she turned and hurried away toward the house.
Carker stood there, his right elbow in his left palm, his chin resting on his hand. He heard no sound and was unaware of any one's presence until a hand touched his arm.
With a start, he found himself face to face with Juanita. There was a strange rapturous light in the girl's eyes.
"I asked for the proof," she whispered. "You gif eet to me when you deed not know I was there behind the shrubberee. I hear you tell her she must go. I hear you tell her that you—that you—that you——"
"That I'm going to marry you," said Carker, taking both her hands in his. "I mean it, Juanita. I've decided on my course in the future. If I'll quit lecturing on socialism and suppress my thoughts and theories in that line, Carker, senior, will give me a lift in the world. He'll change his will if he becomes satisfied that I've reformed. I'm a socialist, Juanita, and I shall always remain a socialist. But, perhaps, I've been a little too rabid—perhaps I've been a little too rank. Socialism is all right, but home is a great deal better. I'm going to have a home of my own, and I'm goingto have you for the chief director of that home. I think I'll be satisfied to settle down with you there to anchor me. I'm going to kiss you now, Juanita."
"Oh, Gregoree——" she murmured.
His lips smothered the remainder of the protest.
Honk! honk! honk!
Frank glanced over his shoulder.
"Automobile coming, Bart," he said. "She's raising a cloud of dust. Better give her plenty of room."
Frank and Bart were out for a morning horseback ride through the country. After a dash of an hour or more, they had turned back and were now in sight of Farnham Hall and Merry Home.
Bart's mount began to dance and lunge.
"Whoa, Pansy—whoa, lady," he said soothingly. "She doesn't fancy buzz wagons a great deal, Merry."
"She never did," replied Frank, "but she'll get used to them. They're growing thicker every day. I've ordered one myself."
"Honk! honk! honk!" sounded the automobile horn close behind them.
With a purring of the valves, a soft panting from the exhaust, and a whir of wheels, a huge red machine flew past them in a cloud of dust.
"Forty miles an hour," said Hodge, blinking his eyes and turning his cap brim down to the cloud of dust. "That's some speed for these roads, Merry."
"And I'll guarantee they'll go through town likethat," returned Frank. "Whew! Some of these machines ought to have a sprinkler attachment."
"They're stopping," said Bart. "By George! they're turning into your place. Did you know any one in the car?"
"Got only a glimpse of them, and they seemed to be strangers to me."
"That's a flyer they have. What make is it, do you know?"
"It's a French machine, I believe. It looks to me like a Mercedes."
"Are you going to have an imported machine, Frank?"
"Oh, no. I'm satisfied with the best American makes. A good American machine is better adapted for our roads than any of the crack foreigners."
"How do you make that out?"
"It's simple enough. In France they have grand roads everywhere. Their machines are made for such roads, and on such roads they can fairly fly. In this country we have a few fairly good roads, but the majority of our highways are wretchedly bad. The American makers have built machines adapted for such roads, and on these roads our better-made motor cars are superior to anything we can bring across the water."
"But I understand that most of the American machines are fakes. I've been told they are far from perfect."
Frank laughed.
"The perfect automobile has not been made, and I doubt if it ever will be," he answered. "The honest American manufacturers who know their business are making honest machines. It's true that there are a host of fakers in the business. It's true that nearly seventy-five per cent of the machines turned out at the present time are built for the sole purpose of making money for the manufacturers. The American public has not yet been educated to the point of discerning between the fake and the honest article. Nevertheless they're learning mighty fast, and within a very few years the fakers are bound to reach the end of their ropes and go to the wall. Unless they change their methods, five years from now one-third of the concerns now doing business will no longer be in the field. Ten years from now a half of the present manufacturers will be out of it."
"That sounds a little pessimistical for you."
"Oh, no, Bart; it's optimistical. I'm confident that the sharks and sharpers will fail and the honest concerns will endure and prosper. The automobile has come to stay. There is no question about that. The majority of the present-day buyers are going to be defrauded, and many of them will become disgusted. In purchasing a machine I've not relied on my own judgment, but I've sought the advice of friends who were competent to advise. I hope and I believe that I've got my money's worth. Here we are, and there are the gentlemen of the red bubble talking with some of the fellows."
The machine stood on the driveway in front of the house, with the chauffeur still in his seat. Two of the four men had stepped out of the car and were talking with Buck Badger, Ephraim Gallup, and Barney Mulloy. Mrs. Merriwell was with a group of her friends on the veranda.
Badger waved his hand as Frank and Bart turned in at the wide gate.
"Here are some gents what are looking for you, Merry," called the Kansan.
Frank clattered up and drew rein, but Bart's horse was frightened and shied at the machine. Hodge gave the little mare a touch of the spur and reined her toward the automobile. After a time he succeeded in bringing her close to it and guiding her round it, although she snorted and fretted and betrayed great alarm and excitement.
"You countrymen will have to kill off a few of your skittish horses," observed a stout, sandy-mustached man, one of the two who had left the car. "If you don't, they're liable to kill you."
"I don't think there's any great danger of that as long as a man knows how to handle them properly,"said Frank, as he patted the neck of his own horse. "Dick was afraid of automobiles, but I've succeeded in eliminating that fear, and you can see how he behaves now."
"You never can be sure what a horse will do," returned the stout man. "There never was one yet that had an ounce of brains. They're all fools."
"Do you think so?" smiled Merriwell. "Of course you have a right to your opinion, but I don't believe many people will agree with you. I've seen horses which were more intelligent than many men."
"Bah! bah!" retorted the stranger. "They can't reason. They can't think. All they know is enough to eat and work. The best horse in the country is none too good to pull a plow."
A queer twinkle flashed in Frank's eyes.
"Perhaps I can convince you of your mistake, sir," he said. "I don't happen to know your name, but——"
"My name is Basil Bearover. This young man here"—with a jerk of his thumb toward Badger—"informs me that you are Frank Merriwell."
"Yes, I'm Frank Merriwell, Mr. Bearover. We were speaking of horses. Now I'll admit that Pansy yonder hasn't been properly educated. In time I hope to improve her greatly. In time I hope to teach her to perform a few simple mathematical problems, although I doubt if she'll ever be able to talk."
"Huh?" blurted Bearover. "Mathematical fudge! Able to talk? What sort of rot are you trying to give me, young man?"
"Have you never seen a horse that could add, subtract, multiply, and divide?" asked Merry, with pretended surprise.
"No, sir, I never have, nor has any one else."
"Wait a moment before you make such a confident statement. Now this horse of mine can do all those little things and still other things a great deal more surprising. I'll prove the truth of my statement to you. Hey, Dick—Dick, my boy, give me your attention. Now, sir, I wish you to do a little sum for me. Are you ready? Are you listening? Are you attentive?"
The horse nodded its head as if in answer to these questions.
"Very good, Dick," said Frank. "I'll give you a small sum in addition. How many are two and two?"
The horse lifted its forward right foot and struck the ground four times.
"That's right, Dick—that's right," laughed Merry, patting the creature's neck. "Now we'll take a little example in subtraction. If we subtract five from ten, how many have we left?"
The horse struck the ground five times with its foot.
"That's right again, Dick. Let's see what you cando in multiplication. Three times two make how many?"
Six times the horse struck the ground.
"You're right up to the mark this morning, Dick," said the animal's master. "We'll finish up with a little subtraction. If we take seven from fourteen, how many will be left?"
Seven times Dick pawed the ground.
"There you are, Mr. Bearover," nodded Merriwell. "Are you satisfied that even horses have brains?"
"I'm satisfied that you've trained that critter to do a few tricks," was the answer. "You must think I'm purty dull witted. Why, you begun with an example that made the horse paw the ground four times. Your next question required five strokes of the critter's foot. Then came six, and you followed it up with seven. Come, come, Mr. Merriwell, you're not dealing with chumps. I've seen horses that could do them little things, but it's no sign of brains. You're on the critter's back. By training it, you could git it so it would paw the ground every time you pressed your knee against its shoulder. Git off the horse and stand away; then let's see what it will do. Then let's see you make it do sums in addition, subtraction, and so forth."
"Very well," said Merry, as he dismounted, dropping the bridle rein on Dick's neck. "We'll see what he'll do in that manner."
He stroked the horse's muzzle, and the animal placed its head on his shoulder.
"Dick," said Frank, "this doubting Thomas thinks it's all trickery. He can't believe that you're a finished mathematician. We must convince him, Dick. Now be careful and give your answers correctly. Stand where you are, sir."
Frank retreated fully ten feet. With his hands on his hips and a smile on his face, he said:
"We'll take a simpler sum in addition, Dick. You understand this is addition, old boy. Two and one make how many?"
The horse lifted his foot and struck the ground three times.
"Let me give him a question," grinned Bearover. "Let's see if he'll answer me."
"Oh, very well," said Frank. "Dick, do you see this gentleman here? Take a look at him. He's going to give you a problem, and you must answer it. I trust he'll make it a simple one. You haven't been brushing up in mathematics lately, and a difficult problem might bother you a little. Will you kindly make it a simple question, Mr. Bearover?"
"Oh, yes; oh, yes," chuckled the stout man, "I'll make it simple enough. Let's see if your wonderful horse can tell us how many ten and five added together be."
The horse stood quite still for a moment and didnot lift its foot. Instead of that, the creature seemed to be eying Basil Bearover with a look of disdain. Finally a most astounding thing happened, for Dick's lip curled back, exposing his teeth, and from his mouth there seemed to issue these words:
"Any blamed fool would know that ten and five make fifteen!"