CHAPTER XXIII.STARTING OUT.

CHAPTER XXIII.STARTING OUT.

The following morning Frank was up bright and early and ready to take the train.

Havener came to the station to see him off, together with Ephraim Gallup and Hans Dunnerwurst.

“Gol dinged if I ain’t sorry yeou’re goin’ to leave us!” said the Yankee youth, dolefully.

“Yaw,” nodded the Dutch boy, sniffing; “you vos sorry I vos goin’ to left you, Vrankie.”

“Haow long do yeou expect to be aout ahead of the show?” asked Ephraim.

“I can’t tell about that,” answered Frank. “Perhaps not very long, for I may not suit.”

“I’ll risk that,” said Havener. “You’ll be all right. There’s something rather odd I’ve been thinking about—something of a mystery.”

“What’s that?”

“Why should Delvin Riddle try to pump you and get our route from you?”

“Why, I suppose he wanted to know what towns we were going to play in so he could——”

“But Collins knew the route.”

Frank started.

“That’s so!” he exclaimed. “Never thought of that.”

“King gobbled up Collins, and so, of course, Collins told him the route.”

“It seems so.”

“Of course it was so.”

“Then why——”

“That’s it, exactly—why did Riddle take so much trouble to try to pump it out of you? I’ve been puzzling over that. There’s some kind of a mystery here.”

“Where’s Riddle?”

“Nobody knows. He didn’t stay at our hotel last night, and Haley was not able to find him in town. He suddenly and mysteriously disappeared. There is something queer about this business, Merriwell.”

“I scent a mystery!” cried Frank. “Mysteries always interest me. Wish I had time to solve this one.”

“Well, don’t let it bother you. Here comes the train. Remember your instructions. Of course, you know just how the company stands, but Haley is holding fast to Hawkins, and the old man will be able to work the ‘angel’ if we get into another hard place. We must strike better business soon, and I guess we’ll pull out all right.”

A short time later, Frank was seated on the train, waving a farewell from the window to his two friends and the stage-manager.

Hans and Ephraim stood side by side in solemn sorrow, one tall, lank, angular, the other short, stout, rotund. They presented a strong contrast, and Merry could not help smiling a bit. Then came a thought that saddened him somewhat. He could see there was a big change in himself since the old, rollicking days at Fardale—he could feel it. He had been forced to face the world and battle for bread, and the circumstances and his advance in years had wrought the change. He was no longer a thoughtless boy; he felt the blood and vigor of dawning manhood in his veins. Boyish things were past. Still he could enjoy fun as well as ever, but the time when he was continually planning and carrying into execution practical jokes was gone.

Frank believed that Hans and Ephraim saw the change in him. Still he was sure their affection for him was as strong and enduring as ever.

They, too, had changed somewhat, for they had been forced, like Frank, to win their way in the world.

Thinking it all over, Merry did not long to go back to his boyhood days, pleasant though they had been. He realized that he was enjoying life as he had never before enjoyed it. The battles, the rebuffs, the triumphs, they were something, worth living for, and they gave such a pleasure to existence that it took away all regrets for his lost boyhood.

Then he thought of Yale—dear old Yale! Then a pang of regret shot through his heart, for he had not completed his college course—he had not graduated with honors, as he had believed he some day should.

But the man who had robbed him of his fortune had not prospered. For a long time the sword of justice had been suspended over Darius Conrad’s head, and it had seemed that it would never fall. The unscrupulous rascal had gone on his wicked way unmolested till the tide turned against him.

Then his downward course had been swift and the end awful. His ill-gotten gains melted away, and the man who had been rich and the ruling power of the Blue Mountain Railroad at last stood face to face with ruin.

Then came another thought that added to his heartsore feeling. Ephraim Gallup had brought him unpleasant news of Elsie Bellwood. Her father was dead, and Elsie was alone in the world, save for some not very closely connected relatives.

Poor Elsie! Thrown on her own resources, she must find the struggle hard and trying. He did not even know her address, so he could not write to her.

Had fate parted them forever?

That thought was maddening. He would not believe anything so cruel had happened. Some time he would find his little, blue-eyed sweetheart, and then they would be parted never again.

Frank was musing thus when a man came out of the smoker and dropped into the seat at his side, coolly observing:

“Fine morning, Merriwell.”

Frank looked up quickly.

“Riddle!” he exclaimed.

“Sure thing,” nodded the advance man for the “Julian King Stock Company.” “We seem to be traveling in the same direction.”

Frank was not pleased. He did not like Riddle. There was something about the fellow that struck him unfavorably.

“Yes,” he said, shortly.

“Been having an after-breakfast smoke,” explained Riddle. “Bad habit to smoke in the morning, but I’ve fallen into it. Old Haley was looking for me last night, wasn’t he?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, I knew better than to let him find me. He’s ugly sometimes, and he hates King as much as King hates him. He got King into a wild-cat scheme once and did him out of a pretty little boodle. When they saw the show was going to pieces, Haley planned to sell off a lot of the stuff and get enough money to jump back to New York and leave the company. King got ahead of him, though, and did the trick first. Since then they have been ready to shoot each other on sight.”

This was a different version of the story from the one told Merry by Haley, and was an illustration of the old axiom “there’s always two sides to a story.”

Riddle rattled away with his talk. He told some stories, one or two of which were not at all to Merriwell’s relish. He cracked a few jokes, and he tried to show himself as an all-round good fellow.

“The real fact is,” he finally said, “that old Haley is a skin. He does everybody he can, and he’ll do you. Bet he’ll stick you a right good bit by the time he gets ready to drop you—that is, if he is able to hold his old show together, which I doubt most mightily. Think he’ll be able to keep it running another month?”

“Do you think I would tell you if I didn’t believe he’d be able to do that?” asked Frank.

“Oh, you’re too stiff, my boy. You’ll get over that by the time you’ve associated with theatrical managers as long as yours truly. Now, look here, I’ve got a proposal to make to you.”

Frank was silent.

“It’s this,” Riddle went on; “you give me the route of your company, and I’ll give you mine. If you think this isn’t a fair exchange, I might make it an object to you. Old Haley needn’t know anything about it, and you can nail a tenner down into your inside pocket. What do you say?”

“I say, Mr. Riddle,” said Frank, rising, his eyes flashing, “that you are a confounded scoundrel! I don’t know what your object is in wishing to learn the route of our company, but I do know it cannot be an honest one, and I do not wish to have anything further to do with you. There are lots of vacant seats in this car, so be good enough to get out of this one, or I shall throw you out!”

That was straight talk, and Delvin Riddle did not misunderstand it. He looked Frank over rather sneeringly, then laughed in a most cutting manner.

“All right, my young gamecock,” he chirped, “I’ll leave you, for you are altogether too touchy. You are a very fresh duck, and I’ll show you before many days that you’re not half as smart as you fancy you are.”

Then he got up, still laughing sneeringly, and retired to the smoker.

Frank sat down.

“I don’t like to be taken for a scoundrel by such a fellow,” he thought. “It galls me. But it certainly is a singular thing that Riddle is so anxious to learn our route, and it is far more singular that he has not learned it through Collins. As Havener said, there is a mystery about it.”

Frank was provided with a ticket to Dundee, but he decided to get off at Salacia, the town from which Collins had wired Haley that he had abandoned his job and joined King’s company.

Something made Merry desirous of asking a few questions about Weston Collins.

It was near eleven o’clock in the forenoon when the train arrived at Salacia.

Frank got off.

So did Delvin Riddle!

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