CHAPTER XII.
FRANK TALKS PLAINLY.
Merry listened breathlessly to hear what Hodge would say to that.
There was a few seconds of silence, during which Frank fancied he could hear Bart breathing heavily. Then Hodge spoke, and the scorn and contempt in his voice was withering.
“You have proved yourself to be just the cheap cur that I thought you were at first!” he said. “Nobody but a dirty dog would try to get the best of a rival in such a manner!”
Frank felt like crying out, “Good for you!” but clasped a hand over his mouth and held back the words, while he laughed softly with intense satisfaction.
Noon uttered a curse.
“Do you dare to talk to me like that, you miserable freshman!” he grated. “Why, I’ll—I’ll——”
“What will you do?” asked the voice of Hodge, trembling with eagerness. “I wish you would do something! I’d like to have you lift your hand to me, Noon! I’d take delight in soaking you just once, and I do not feel like it as long as you keep your hands down. Oh, do put ’em up! I don’t know but I’ll let you hit me once, if you will!”
Frank laughed out loud, but the excited lads within the doorway did not notice it.
“That’s Hodge—the same old Hodge!” thought Merry. “The blood in his body is boiling now. He would eat Noon.”
“Oh, so you’re a fighter!” sneered Noon. “Well, I am not going to fight with you. I would not disgrace myselfby fighting with such a fellow as you are. But I want your answer.”
“You shall have it. Here it is!”
A second later, Noon came tumbling down the steps, assisted by Bart Hodge’s boot, which struck with violence beneath Ned’s coattail, fairly lifting the fellow off his feet.
“That’s my answer!” called Hodge, from the doorway. “Now, go ahead and do your worst, you dirty sneak!”
Noon picked himself up, cursing bitterly. One of his hands was cut and bleeding, and the left knee of his pants was torn.
“That settles your hash!” he snarled, shaking his fist at Bart, and failing to observe Merriwell in his rage. “I’ll cook you for that!”
He turned away, and, with a biting laugh, Hodge disappeared, ascending the stairs.
Frank started after Noon, quickly overtaking him.
“I want to speak with you,” he said, quietly.
Noon started and turned pale. He was tying a handkerchief about his injured hand.
“What do you want?” he huskily asked.
“Hold on a minute, and I will tell you.”
“I don’t want to stop here,” said Ned, looking around. “I have fallen and torn my trousers, besides hurting my hand here. If you wish to talk to me, you know where to find my room.”
“I am not going up to your room,” said Frank, quietly; “and I am going to talk to you now. What I have to say will not detain you long.”
“All right, go ahead,” snapped Ned, scowling.
“I happened to see you when you took your tumble,” said Frank, still speaking smoothly and serenely. “I know all about it, for I overheard by accident some of the conversation between you and Hodge.”
Noon’s face turned paler than it had been, and he bit his lip. Then, with a sudden effort at bravado, he snapped:
“Well, what of it?”
“I heard your threat to blow on Hodge.”
“What of that?”
“You will not blow.”
“By the eternal blazes, I will!” cried Noon, his eyes glaring. “I will get even with that fellow!”
“You will do nothing of the sort.”
“Who will prevent me?”
“I will!”
The eyes of the two met squarely. For some moments Ned tried to look straight at Frank, but, after a little, his eyes drooped, but he sneered:
“You? I know you are the chum of that sneaking freshman, but I fail to see how you can keep me from blowing on him.”
“I’ll tell you how,” came quietly from Frank. “If you blow on him, I am going to blow on you.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that I will tell what I know—what I overheard. I will tell how you tried to frighten Hodge into giving up the attempt to make the nine. How you threatened to blow on him about the affair with the cop if he didn’t withdraw, and how he booted you out of Farnham Hall, as you deserved. How do you like that?”
“It won’t save Hodge,” muttered Noon, sullenly.
“Perhaps not; but it will cook you. How much show do you think you will stand when it is known that you resorted to such an expedient to get a rival out of the way? You will be branded as a sneak, and your friends will avoid you.”
Noon was whiter than ever.
“I don’t know,” he said; “perhaps my word is as good as yours.”
“Perhaps so. If you think so, go right ahead and see where you land. I’ll go you ten even that you strike on the back of your neck. I know you will not make the nine. You will defeat yourself by your own meanness.”
Frank was talking plain. He believed it was necessary to talk thus to a fellow like Ned Noon. He felt that Noon could not be shamed into abandoning his plot against Hodge, but he might be brought to do so through fear.
Ned ground his teeth, for he began to realize that Merriwell was right in saying he could do so much. Frank had influence, and he would be believed.
“I am giving it to you straight, Noon,” said Merry. “Have a little reason. Do you want to knock yourself out just to down a rival? You say Hodge does not stand much of a show getting on the nine. Then, if this is the case, you are liable to beat him in a fair and square manner. It strikes me that such a thing would be far better revenge than beating him in a sneaking manner. It would be far better to beat him in an honest struggle than it would to have him withdraw and thus give you a better chance of getting on the nine. Isn’t that plain? If you won over him fairly, you would have a chance to crow.”
Frank was talking in his smoothest manner, and he was making his words count.
“Perhaps you are right,” admitted Noon, after a time. “I had not thought of it in that light. But, if I agree to let Hodge alone, you must promise not to tell what you overheard. Will you promise?”
“Sure.”
“Then it’s a bargain.”
Soon after they separated.
Frank sought the officer who had been hurt, and found him in the hospital. The little Irishman did not recognize Frank as one of the students.
“Mr. O’Farrel,” said Frank, “I wish to speak with you concerning a matter of importance.”
O’Farrel gave Merry a close scrutiny.
“Pwhat’s thot ye want to spake about?” he asked, suspiciously. “It’s yersilf Oi dunno at all, at all.”
“My name is Merriwell,” said Frank, “and I am a student.”
A look of anger came into the face of the injured cop.
“An’ is thot pwhat ye are?” he cried, glaring at Merry. “May th’ ould b’y floy away wi’ all studints, yersilf included! Divvil a bit av good are they at all, at all. Look at me, mon! Oi’m here fer doin’ av me duty an’ attimptin’ to arrist wan av thim spalpanes, bad cess to him!”
“That is what I wished to see you about, sir,” said Merry, in a manner that seemed to indicate that he had something he wished to say to O’Farrel in confidence.
“Well, now, me b’y, Oi dunno pwhat ye want ter see me about thot fer. There’s some av thim hillions thot Oi’ll make sorry they iver bothered wid Patsy O’Farrel in th’ discharge av his duty. Here Oi am in bid, wid me body bruised, an’ it’s a miracle that none av me bones are broken.”
Frank started slightly.
“It was fortunate that none of your bones were broken,” he said.
“But me back is spraint so it pains me th’ whole toime,” said O’Farrel, hastily.
“I believe it was thought at first that some of your ribs were broken?”
“Yis, Oi thought so mesilf, but th’ docthers say Oi’m not thot bad hurrut.”
Frank drew a breath of relief, feeling thankful, indeed, for this knowledge.
The little cop began to scowl again, and pucker up his homely face.
“So it’s a studint ye are?” he exclaimed. “Well, Oi dunno thot Oi want to talk wid ye at all, at all.”
“But I know something you may desire to know, Mr. O’Farrel.”
“Oi’m not sure av thot.”
“I understand you are anxious to learn just who it was that threw you against the post and injured you?”
“Pwhat av thot?”
“Perhaps I can tell you.”
An eager look came into the face of the man on the cot.
“Av ye can do thot——” he began; then he stopped short, showing suspicion. “Pwhy should ye be afther doin’ such a thing?” he asked. “Is it not a studint ye said ye wur?”
“Yes; but I might tell you what you want to know, just the same.”
“Divil a bit ye will! Thim studints shtick by ache ither too well fer anything loike thot. It’s foolin’ me ye’re troying to do.”
“You are hasty in your conclusions, sir,” said Frank, calmly. “I know that, as a rule, students stand by each other; but there are exceptions to every rule. Now it is possible that, for some very good reason, I may wish to divulge to you the name of the fellow who laid you up. It is possible that he is an enemy of mine, and I am taking this means to hurt him.”
“Is thot it?” said O’Farrel, slowly, again keenly scrutinizing Frank’s face. “Oi’ll confiss Oi didn’t take ye fer thot sort av a chap at all, at all.”
“You can’t always tell what a man will do by the looks of his face,” laughed Frank, flushing.
“An’ ye want to blow on another studint?”
“Well, I saw a part of your encounter with the students, and I know who it was that did you up. If you aregoing to make it hot for him, it is possible that I will tell what I know.”
“Oh, Oi’ll make it hot fer th’ spalpane! An Oi’ll make it hot fer th’ rist av th’ gang! They intherfered wid an officer in th’ discharge av his duty, an’ a sorry piece av business it will be fer thim!”
“How long will you be laid up, do you know?”
“A week, th’ docthers say.”
“Perhaps two weeks?”
“Oi can’t afford thot. Oi have me family to support.”
“How much is your salary a month?”
O’Farrel told Frank.
“And you may lose half a month’s wages. That is tough.”
“Sure an’ it is!”
“Now, Mr. O’Farrel,” said Merry, in his most suave manner, “there is such a thing as a misfortune that is a blessing in disguise. You have no accident policy, and you need money. How would you feel if you were to receive during the time that you are idle a sum every week double your regular salary, besides having all your bills paid?”