CHAPTER X.A HELPING HAND.

The explosion of a bomb could not have caused greater consternation among the throng on the mesa than that official action of the deputy sheriff. Hawtrey, erect and with a soldierly stride, passed out of the stunned crowd and placed himself beside Hawkins.

Merriwell, giving Darrel a reassuring look, also advanced. He had a sweater on his arm, and began pulling it over Darrel’s head and shoulders.

“You’d better keep out of this, Merriwell,” Hawkins murmured in Frank’s ear. “I warned you. The kunnel means biz, and no mistake.”

“So do I,” Frank answered, with a flash of his dark eyes. “Keep your nerve,” he added, in a low tone to Darrel; “we’ve got a few cards of our own to play.”

“You are Frank Merriwell?” inquired Colonel Hawtrey, leveling his gaze at Frank.

“Yes, colonel.”

“The son of Frank Merriwell, of Bloomfield, and the T-Bar Ranch, in Wyoming?”

“Yes.”

“You are also seeking to befriend this misguided young man, here?”

“I am Darrel’s friend,” said Merry, with spirit, “right from the drop of the hat.”

“Then, my lad, your father will some time hear of it with regret. What Hawkins said is the truth. This fellow opened my safe and took from it a thousand dollars in cash night before last. I have the proof.”

“Pardon me, colonel,” returned Frank respectfully, “but inasmuch as I am Darrel’s friend, will you let me handle this case for him in my own way?”

“If you mean to defend him,” frowned Hawtrey, “you will have your trouble for your pains. He has no defense!”

“Will you let me try and see if I cannot make one, and one that will command your attention and best judgment?”

“Sufferin’ centipedes, Merriwell!” broke in Hawkins. “I never reckoned you’d be tryin’ to save the scalp of a plain, out-and-out thief!”

The white ran into Darrel’s face and his hands clenched. Merry laid a soothing hand on his arm.

“This isn’t a time for any snap judgments, Hawkins,” said Frank. “First,” and he turned to the Gold Hillers, “I want to ask if this boy from Nowhere has proved that he is Ellis Darrel, of Gold Hill?”

“Yes!” came a chorus of responses.

Merry partly turned to face Lenning. The latter, a sneering smile on his dark face, was standing at a little distance, keenly alive to everything that was said and done.

“How about you, Lenning?” queried Frank.

“He’s my half brother, all right,” was the answer. “I reckon there’s not a shadow of doubt about that.”

“You agree, too, colonel?”

“I knew the fellow was Darrel before the race,” answered Hawtrey. “If he had proved to be an impostor, this accusation of theft might not have carried. Now it is absolutely proven—ab-so-lutely.”

“Darrel has been accused here, before all his old friends,” Frank continued, marshaling all his wits to acquit himself creditably of the task of clearing Darrel,“and it’s only a fair shake that he should be proven innocent before them. Colonel, will you please tell us of the robbery, and show your proofs?”

Hawtrey was visibly annoyed. Nevertheless, he was a great stickler for fair play, and he had to acknowledge that the position taken by Merry was logical.

“I have been away from Gold Hill for a week,” said he, “visiting some of my mining properties. Before I went, I drew a thousand dollars in cash from the bank to pay to a man from whom I was purchasing an interest in a ‘prospect.’ I was called from town hurriedly, before the payment was made. The money was locked up in the safe in my study, at home. Jode, here, who knows the combination of the safe, was to pay over the money if the man presented himself during my absence. The man did not come, and Jode started off on this camping trip, three days ago. When I reached home yesterday morning, I found the window of my study unlocked, the safe door swinging open, the thousand dollars gone, and this knife lying under the window, inside the room. Hand the knife to Darrel, Merriwell, and see if he recognizes it.”

The colonel seemed averse to having any direct dealings with Darrel. He gave the pocketknife to Frank, and the latter presented it to Hawkins’ prisoner.

“It’s mine,” admitted Darrel huskily.

“Haff, an official of our athletic club, told Hawkins and me,” the colonel proceeded,“that a fellow answering Darrel’s description had been in town the night before I got home, that he had made inquiries about me, that he had told the fellow I was away from home, and that Jode was off on a camping trip, and that Darrel started down the cañon to join the Gold Hill campers. Hawkins and I got horses and hurried on to Tinaja Wells. Ask Darrel, Merriwell, if he denies being in my house night before last?”

“No, colonel,” spoke up Darrel, without waiting for Merriwell to put the question, “I do not deny it. I was there. I pushed open the sash lock with this knife, and went in through your study and up to my old room. I had the key to my room—have had it in my pocket for a year. All I wanted to get was my running suit. After I had taken that, I locked up the room and left by the window. Naturally, I could not relock the window from the outside. That’s all, sir. I did not tamper with your safe.”

A sneer of incredulity crossed Lenning’s face. It faded into a sorrowful look, however, as the colonel gave him a swift glance.

“You admit being in the house,” said the colonel harshly, “so why not admit the rest of it?”

“Because it is not the truth,” Darrel answered, with spirit.

“Did you know the combination of the safe, Darrel?” asked Frank.

“Yes—that is, if it hasn’t been changed during the past year.”

“It hasn’t,” put in the colonel. “That was my fault, I suppose.”

“Then, three of you knew the combination,” went on Frank, “yourself, colonel, and Darrel and Lenning.”

“That is the way of it.”

The crowd on the mesa was listening with absorbed attention to the talk which was going forward over the hapless head of the “boy from Nowhere.” Nearly all, perhaps, felt that Darrel’s admission that he had gone to the house for his running suit was a trivial excuse to cover a design on the safe. Dark looks were thrownat Darrel, and only here and there was anything bordering on sympathy shown for him.

“Now,” said Frank, keeping the points he wanted to make well in mind and working toward them with all the skill he could muster, “you said, colonel, that Lenning and his camping party left Gold Hill three days ago?”

“Yes.”

“Less than half a day would be required to make the trip from Gold Hill to Tinaja Wells, for a mounted party with pack animals. How does it happen, then, that the Gold Hillers only reached the Wells yesterday afternoon?”

Colonel Hawtrey seemed puzzled. He turned to Lenning.

“Explain that, will you, Jode?” he requested. “Why didn’t you reach the Wells day before yesterday?”

“Well, sir,” Lenning answered, “we were about halfway between town and Tinaja Wells when we found out that Merriwell and his crowd were camped at the place we wanted.”

“Ah! And what did you do then?”

“I had the boys make temporary camp in a side cañon while I—er—went back to Gold Hill.”

“That,” said Frank, “would bring you in Gold Hill night before last—the night of the robbery?”

Lenning reddened and looked confused.

“Why,” he faltered, “I reckon it would.”

“What was your business in Gold Hill, Lenning?”

“I don’t know,” snapped Lenning, “that you’ve got any call to pump me.”

“Answer his question, Jode,” put in the colonel.

“Well, if you want to know,” scowled Lenning,“I went back to the Hill to lease Tinaja Wells from Struthers.”

A growl ran through the ranks of the Ophirites. Frank silenced the growing indignation with a quick glance.

“That was hardly fair,” he went on to Lenning. “We were in peaceable possession of the camping ground, and you deliberately set about getting a lease and kicking us out.”

“Tut, tut, Merriwell!” interposed Hawtrey. “Jode is not that sort of a lad. I am sure he would not intentionally inconvenience you.”

“Ouch!” cried Clancy, and the colonel stared sternly at him in rebuke.

“Well,” went on Frank, “we’ll not tangle up with that part of the proposition. The fact remains that, on the night of the robbery, two persons who knew the combination of your safe were in Gold Hill. As soon as Lenning got his lease, he came on to Tinaja Wells—which brought him here yesterday afternoon. Now, colonel, why do you suspect Darrel, and not Lenning?”

“Because,” and the colonel’s voice showed that he was nettled. “Jode is worthy of my confidence, while Darrel has proved that he is not. Were you at the house, Jode, during the time you were in Gold Hill after the lease?”

“No, sir,” answered Lenning.

“There you have it,” said the colonel, in a tone of finality. “All this talk, Merriwell, is getting us nowhere. I have excused Darrel once, but I cannot do it a second time. Although he is my sister’s son, he must bear the consequences of this piece of wrongdoing. I feel it a duty to press the matter to an issue. Where will he end if he keeps on as he is going?”

There was a triumphant look on Lenning’s face. Darrel, on the other hand, seemed utterly crushed.

“There’s no use, Merriwell,” breathed Darrel, in abroken voice. “The plot is too deep, and you are only injuring yourself by trying to defend me.”

“Kunnel,” spoke up Hawkins, who had been following every angle of Frank’s work with closest attention, “don’t you lay anythin’ up agin’ Merriwell. He’s sized Darrel up wrong, but he’s the clear quill, as I happen to know.”

“I have only the highest respect for Merriwell,” said the colonel. “He tries to stand by his friends to the utmost of his ability—and his ability, let me tell you, is of no mean order. But, my lad, you can accomplish nothing in the face of the facts,” he added, in a kindly voice, to Frank.

“Let us see,” Frank went on. “Pink,” he said to Ballard, “just step up and show the colonel what you have in your pocket.”

Then another surprise was sprung. Ballard, taking a package of bills from his pocket, handed it to the colonel.

“Is that the stolen money, colonel?” he asked.

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