Frank came to a decision the next morning. A long deferred interview with his stepfather was necessary. Having made up his mind, he entered the room in which his stepfather sat. His air was manly and his bearing that of a boy who respects himself, but there was none of the swagger which some boys think it necessary to exhibit when they wish to assert their rights.
Mr. Manning, in a flowered dressing gown, sat at a table, with a sheet of paper before him and a lead pencil in his hand. Short as had been the interval since his accession to the property, he was figuring up the probable income he would derive from the estate.
He looked up as Frank entered the room, and surveyed him with cold and sarcastic eyes. His soft tones were dropped.
"Mr. Manning," said Frank, "I wish to talk to you."
"You may, of course," his stepfather replied mildly. "It is about the will," Frank advised him.
"So you would complain of your poor mother, would you?" said his stepfather, in a tone of virtuous indignation.
"I cannot believe that my mother made that will."
Mr. Manning colored. He scented danger. Should Frank drop such hints elsewhere, he might make trouble, and lead to a legal investigation, which Mr. Manning had every reason to dread.
"This is very foolish," he said, more mildly. "No doubt you are disappointed, but probably your mother has provided wisely. You will want for nothing, and you will be prepared for the responsibilities of manhood under my auspices."
Mr. Manning's face assumed a look of self-complacence as he uttered these last words.
"I have no blame to cast upon my dear mother," said Frank. "If she made that will, she acted under a great mistake."
"What mistake, sir?"
"She failed to understand you."
"Do you mean to imply that I shall be false to my trust?"
"Not at present, sir. I don't wish to judge of you too hastily."
As the boy turned to go, he said. "I have nothing further to say, sir."
"But I have," said Mr. Manning.
"Very well, sir."
"I demand that you treat my son Mark with suitable respect, and forbear to infringe upon his rights."
Frank looked up, and answered, with spirit: "I shall treat Mark as well as he treats me, sir. Is that satisfactory?"
"I apprehend," said Mr. Manning, "that you may make some mistakes upon that point."
"I will try not to do so, sir."
Frank left the room, and this time was not called back.
His stepfather looked after him, but his face expressed neither friendliness nor satisfaction.
"That boy requires taming," he said to himself. "He is going to make trouble. I must consider what I will do with him."
As Mr. Manning reviewed Frank's words, there was one thing which especially disturbed him—the doubt expressed by his stepson as to his mother's having actually made the will.
He saw that it would not do for him to go too far in his persecution of Frank as it might drive the latter to consult a lawyer in regard to the validity of the will by which he had been disinherited.
Frank rather gloomily made his way to the stable. As he reached it, Richard Green came out.
"I'm sorry for you, Mr. Frank. But your mother was a saint. She was too good to suspect the badness of others, Mr. Frank. She thought old Manning was really all that he pretended to be, and that he would be as kind to you as she was herself. When she was alive, he was always as soft as—as silk."
"His manner has changed now," said Frank, gravely. "Excuse me, Richard, for finding fault with you, but don't call him old Manning."
"Why not, Mr. Frank?"
"I have no liking for Mr. Manning—in fact, I dislike him—but he was the husband of my mother, and I prefer to speak of him respectfully."
"I dare say you are right, Mr. Frank, but, all the same, he don't deserve it. Is Mr. Mark to ride Ajax then?"
"If he asks for it, you are to saddle Ajax for him. I don't want you to get into any trouble with Mr. Manning on my account."
"I don't care for that, Mr. Frank. I can get another place, and I don't much care to serve Mr. Manning."
"I would rather you would stay, if you can, Richard. I don't want to see a new face in the stable."
"I don't think he means to keep me long, Mr. Frank. Deborah and I will have to go, I expect, and he'll get some servants of his own here."
"Has he hinted anything of this, Richard?" asked Frank, quickly.
"No; but he will soon, you may depend on it. I won't lose sight of you, though. I've known you since you were four years old, and I won't desert you, if I can do any good—nor Deborah, either."
"I have two friends, then, at any rate," said Frank to himself. "That is something."
Early Monday morning it had been the custom for Frank and Mark to take the train for Bridgeville, to enter upon a new week at the academy.
Frank felt that it would be better for him to go back without any further vacation, as occupation would serve to keep him from brooding over his loss.
"Are you ready, Mark?" he asked, as he rose from the breakfast table.
"Ready for what?"
"To go back to school, of course."
"I am not going back this morning," answered Mark.
"Why not?" asked Frank, in some surprise.
"I am going to stay at home to help father," said Mark, with a glance at Mr. Manning.
"If I can be of any service to you, sir, I will stay, too," said Frank, politely.
"Thank you, but Mark will do all I require," replied his stepfather.
"Very well, sir."
Frank appeared at the academy with a grave face and subdued manner, suggestive of the great loss he had sustained. From his schoolfellows, with whom he was a favorite, he received many words of sympathy—from none more earnest or sincere than from Herbert Grant.
"I know how you feel, Frank," he said, pressing the hand of his friend. "If I could comfort you I would, but I don't know how to do it."
"I find comfort in your sympathy," said Frank. "I look upon you as my warmest friend here."
"I am glad of that, Frank."
To Herbert alone Frank spoke of his mother and her devoted affection; but even to him he did not like to mention the will and his disinheritance. He did not so much lament the loss of the property as that he had lost it by the direction of his mother, or, rather, because it would generally be supposed so.
For himself, he doubted the genuineness of the will, but he felt that it was useless to speak of it, as he was unprepared with any proofs.
So it happened that when, on Wednesday afternoon Mark Manning made his appearance, Frank's change of position, as respected the property, was neither known nor suspected by his schoolfellows. It was soon known, however, and of course, through Mark.
The boys immediately noticed a change in Mark. He assumed an air of consequence, and actually strutted across the campus. Instead of being polite and attentive to Frank, he passed him with a careless nod, such as a superior might bestow on an inferior.
"What has come over Mark?" asked Herbert of Frank, as the two were walking together from recitation.
"How do you mean?"
"He holds his head higher than he used to do. He looks as if he had been elected to some important office."
"You will soon learn, Herbert," said Frank. "Make a pretext to join him, and let the news come from him."
Herbert looked puzzled.
"Do you wish me to do this?" he asked.
"Yes, I have a reason for it."
"Very well. I am always ready to oblige you, Frank, but I hope Mark won't think I have suddenly formed a liking for his society."
"If he does, you can soon undeceive him."
"That is true."
Herbert left the side of his friend, and sauntered toward Mark.
As Herbert was known as Frank's especial friend, Mark was at first surprised, but quickly decided that his improved position had been communicated by Frank, and that Herbert was influenced by it. That is to say, he judged Herbert to be as mean and mercenary as himself.
Herbert's position was too humble to entitle him to much notice from Mark, but the latter was pleased with the prospect of detaching from Frank his favorite friend.
"You came back rather late, Mark," said Herbert.
"Yes," answered Mark, with an air of importance. "I remained at home a short time, to help my father in his accounts. You know the property is large, and there is a good deal to do."
"I should think that was Frank's place, to help about the accounts."
"Why?"
"The property is his, of course!"
"Did he tell you that?" asked Mark, sharply.
"He has not said a word about the property."
"No, I suppose not," said Mark, with a sneering laugh.
"Has anything happened? Didn't his mother leave as much as was expected?" went on Herbert, quite in the dark.
"Yes, she left a large estate, but she didn't leave it to him."
"To whom, then?"
"To my father!" replied Mark, with conscious pride. "Frank has nothing. He is entirely dependent upon father."
"Did his mother leave him nothing, then?" asked Herbert, in pained surprise.
"Nothing at all," assured Mark, complacently.
"That is very strange and unjust."
"I don't look upon it in that light," said Mark, nettled. "My father knows what is best for him. He will provide for him just as his mother did before."
"But when Frank is of age, doesn't he come into possession of the estate then?"
"No, of course not. Didn't I tell you it belongs to father? Frank is a poor boy—as poor as you," said Mark, in a tone of evident satisfaction.
"Or you," added Herbert, pointedly.
"You are mistaken," said Mark, quickly. "I am father's heir."
"Suppose your father dies—how will the property go?"
"I suppose something will be left to Frank, unless my father leaves me the property, with directions to provide for him."
"Would you think that right and just?" demanded Herbert, indignantly.
"Of course I would. My stepmother knew what she was about when she made her will. I see you are surprised. You won't be quite to thick with Frank, now, I expect."
"Why shouldn't I be?"
"Because he is just as poor as you are. He never can help you."
"Mark Manning, I believe you are about the meanest boy I ever encountered, and you judge me by yourself!"
"Do you mean to insult me? Mind what you say!" blustered Mark, unpleasantly surprised at this outburst from a boy whom he expected would now transfer his allegiance from Frank to himself.
"I mean that you and your father have robbed Frank of his inheritance, and glory in it, and you think that I am mean enough to desert him because he is no longer rich. It makes no difference to me whether he is rich or poor. I think I like him all the better because he has been so badly treated. As for you, I despise you, and shall continue to, even if you get the whole of Frank's money."
"You forget that you are talking to a gentleman, you low-born mechanic!" said Mark, angrily.
"You a gentleman!" replied Herbert, contemptuously. "Then I never want to be one!"
He walked away, leaving Mark very much incensed.
"He is a fool!" muttered Mark. "When I am a rich man, he may repent having insulted me."
Herbert went back to Frank.
"Did he tell you?" asked Frank, quietly.
"Yes; and he actually appeared to think I would be ready to desert you because you were poor, and follow him about."
"I am not afraid of that, Herbert."
"I don't think Mark will have that idea any more. I gave him a piece of my mind, and left him very angry. But what does it all mean, Frank?"
"I know no more than you do, Herbert. I cannot understand it."
"What could have induced your mother to make such a will?"
"I cannot believe my poor mother ever made such a will; but, if she did, I am very sure that she was over-persuaded by my stepfather, who is one of the most plausible of men."
"What shall you do about it?"
"What can I do? I am only a boy. I have no proof, you know."
"How are you likely to be treated?"
"I have had a little foretaste of that."
"It looks very bad for you, Frank," admitted Herbert, in a tone of sympathy.
"I don't so much care for the loss of the property, Herbert," said Frank, "but I am afraid I shall have sorts of annoyances to endure from Mark and his father. But I won't anticipate trouble. I will do my duty, and trust that things will turn out better than I fear."
The next afternoon a letter was placed in Frank's hands. It was in a brown envelope, and directed in a cramped and evidently unpracticed hand, with which Frank was not familiar.
On opening it, a glance at the signature showed that it was from Richard Green, the coachman. It commenced:
"Dear Mr. Frank: This comes hoping you are well. I have no good news to tell. Mr. Manning has sold your horse, Ajax, and he is to be taken away to-night. I thought you ought to know it, and that is why I take my pen in hand to write."
There was more, but this is all that was important.
Frank's face flushed with anger. He immediately went in search of Mark, who, he felt assured, knew of the sale.
It may be said here that Ajax was one of Frank's dearest trophies, a gift from his mother.
Mark was in his room, where Frank found him trying on a new necktie. Though decidedly plain, Mark fancied himself very good-looking, and spent no little time on personal adornment. In particular, he had a weakness for new neckties, in which he indulged himself freely.
When the boys came to the academy, the principal proposed that they should room together; but both objected, and Mark had a room to himself—no one caring to room with him.
"Take a seat, Frank," said Mark, condescendingly. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Yes," answered Frank. "I hear your father has sold Ajax, or is intending to do so. Will you tell me if it is true?"
"I believe it is," answered Mark, indifferently.
"And what right has he to sell my horse?" demanded Frank, indignantly.
"You'd better ask him," said Mark, with provoking coolness.
"It is an outrage," said Frank, indignantly.
"As to that," said his stepbrother, "you can't expect father to be at the expense of feeding your horse."
"With my money?"
"The money is legally his," replied Mark.
"Do you know to whom your father has sold Ajax?"
"To Col. Vincent, I believe."
"I am glad, at any rate, that he will have a good master."
Frank felt that there would be no advantage in prolonging the interview, or carrying on further a war of words.
He sought out his friend Herbert, and communicated to him this last infraction of his rights.
"It is too bad, Frank!" said his sympathizing friend.
"Yes, it is," said Frank, gravely; "but I fear it is only the beginning of annoyances. I don't believe I can ever live in any place with Mr. Manning or Mark."
"Will it be necessary?"
"I suppose so. I have no money, as you know. All has gone to him. Herbert, I tell you frankly, I envy you and your position."
"Though my father is a poor man?"
"Yes; for, at any rate, you have a peaceful home, and a father and mother who love you. I have a stepfather, who will do all he can to make me miserable."
"Would you be willing to work for your own support, Frank?"
"Yes; far rather than remain a dependent on Mr. Manning."
"Suppose you should run away," suggested Herbert.
Frank shook his head.
"I wouldn't do that except in case of extreme necessity. I know that if my mother knows what goes on here, it would grieve her for me to take such a step."
"Suppose your stepfather should consent to your leaving home?"
"Then I would do so gladly. I am willing to work and I think I could make a living in some way."
"Why not ask him?"
Frank's face brightened.
"Thank you for the hint, Herbert," he said. "I will think of it, and I may act upon it."
Frank was naturally self-reliant and energetic. He was not disposed to shrink from the duties of life, but was ready to go forth to meet them. The idea which Herbert had suggested commended itself to him the more he thought of it.
In spite, therefore, of the news which he had received about Ajax, he resumed his cheerfulness, considerably to the surprise of Mark, whose natural suspicion led him to conjecture that Frank had some plan in view to circumvent his father.
"If he has, he'd better give it up," reflected Mark. "The old man's as sly as a fox. A raw boy like Frank can't get the better of him."
At the close of the week, both the boys went home. They were on board the same train and the same car, but did not sit together. When they reached the house, Mr. Manning was not at home.
Frank went out to the stable at once to see Richard Green, the coachman.
He found him, indeed, but he also found another man, a stranger, who appeared to be employed in the stable.
"Who is this, Richard?" asked Frank.
"My successor," answered the coachman.
"Are you going to leave?" asked Frank, hastily.
"Come out with me, Mr. Frank, and I will tell you," said Richard. "I've had notice to leave," he said, "and so has Deborah. It came last evening. Mr. Manning got a letter from Bridgeville—I know that, because I brought it home from the post office—which appeared to make him angry. He called Deborah and me and told us that he should not need our services any longer."
"Did he give you any reason?"
"Yes; he said that he could have our places filled for a good deal less money, and he had no doubt we could do as well elsewhere."
"He has filled your place pretty soon."
"Yes. This man came this morning. I think Mr. Manning had sent for him already. I told you the other day we should soon be discharged."
"I know it; but I can tell you what has hastened it."
"What, then?"
"Mark wrote his father that I had learned about the sale of Ajax, and that the information came from you or Deborah."
"I think it likely, Mr. Frank, for the old gentleman seemed mighty cool. I hope you won't take it too much to heart that Ajax is sold."
"I am not sure but I am glad of it," said Frank.
The coachman looked at him in surprise.
"I thought you would be very angry," he said.
"So I was at first, but he has been sold to a man who will treat him well, and I shall be glad to think of that when I'm away from home."
"You don't mean to run away, Mr. Frank?"
"No; but I mean to get my stepfather's permission to go, if I can."
"Where do you mean to go, Mr. Frank?"
"Somewhere where I can earn my living, without depending upon anybody. You know very well, Richard, how miserable I should be to stay here in dependence upon Mr. Manning."
"But to think that you, to whom the property rightfully belongs, should go away and work for a living, while that man and his boy occupy your place. I can't bear to think of it."
"I have done a good deal of thinking within a few days, and I don't shrink from the prospect. I think I should rather enjoy being actively employed."
"But you were to go to college, Mr. Frank."
"I know it, Richard, but I am not sure whether it would be for the best. My tastes are for an active business life, and I don't care for a profession."
"Do you think your stepfather will give you a start?"
"In the way of money?"
"Yes."
"I don't know. If he won't, I have still fifty dollars in the savings bank, which I have saved from my pocket money. I will take that."
"Mr. Frank, will you promise not to be offended at what I'm going to say?"
"I don't think you would say anything that ought to offend me, Richard."
"Then I want you to take the money that comes to me by the will—Mr. Manning is to pay it to me on Monday. I don't need it, and you may."
Frank shook his head.
"You are very kind, Richard, but I will get along with fifty dollars, unless Mr. Manning supplies me with more. If I really need money at any time, I will think of your offer."
"That's something, at any rate," said Richard. partly reconciled. "You won't forget it now, Mr. Frank?"
"No, Richard, I promise you."
Frank left the stable and went thoughtfully into the house.
Frank and Mark took supper alone, Mr. Manning having left word that he would not return till later in the evening.
After supper, Frank decided to go over to call upon Col. Vincent, the new owner of Ajax. His estate was distant about three-quarters of a mile from the Cedars.
As Frank started, Mark inquired:
"Where are you going, Frank?"
"To see Ajax," answered our hero.
"Do you mean to make any fuss about him? I wouldn't advise you to."
"Thank you for your advice."
"I wonder what he is going to do?" thought Mark. "Of course he can't do anything now."
He did not venture to propose to accompany Frank, knowing that his company would not be acceptable.
"Is Col. Vincent at home?" asked Frank, at the door of a handsome house.
"Yes, Mr. Courtney," replied the colored servant, pleasantly, for Frank was a favorite among all classes in the neighborhood. "Come right in, sir. De colonel am smoking a cigar on de back piazza."
Frank followed the servant through the hall which intersected the house, and stepped out on the back piazza.
A stout, elderly gentleman was taking his ease in a large rustic rocking chair.
"Good-evening, Col. Vincent," our hero said.
"Good-evening, Frank, my boy," said the colonel, heartily. "Glad to see you. Haven't you gone back to school?"
"Yes, sir; but I came home to spend Sunday. It doesn't seem much like home now," he added, as his lip quivered.
"You have suffered a great loss, my dear boy," said the colonel, feelingly.
"The greatest, sir. My mother was all I had."
"I suppose Mr. Manning will keep up the establishment?"
"I suppose so, sir; but it is no longer home to me."
"Don't take it too hard, Frank. I was sorry about the will."
"So was I, sir; because it makes me dependent on a man whom I dislike."
"Don't be too prejudiced, Frank. I never took any fancy to your stepfather myself; but then we don't need to like everybody we associate with."
"I hear you have bought my horse, Col. Vincent," said Frank, desiring to change the subject.
"Was Ajax your horse?"
"Yes. It was given to me as a birthday present by my mother."
"I had some such idea, and expressly asked Mr. Manning whether the horse was not yours."
"What did he answer?"
"That it was only nominally yours, and that he thought it best to sell it, as both you and Mark were absent at school, and had no time to use it."
"I am not surprised at anything Mr. Manning may say," said Frank.
"It's too bad! I'll tell you what I will do, Frank. I haven't paid for the horse yet. I will return it to Mr. Manning, and tell him that I bought it under a misapprehension of the ownership. I don't think he will make any fuss."
"I would rather have you keep it, sir."
"You would!" exclaimed the colonel, in surprise.
"Yes, sir. If you should return Ajax, Mr. Manning would sell him to some one else, and you, I know, will treat him well."
"But you will lose the use of him. No, you won't, though. Come over to my stable when you like, and, if he is not in use, you can take him out."
"Thank you, sir! You are very kind. While I am in the neighborhood, I won't forget your kind offer. But I mean to go away."
"You mean to go away! Where?"
"Out into the world. Anywhere, where I can find work and make a living."
"But surely this is not necessary. Your stepfather will provide for you without your working."
"I have no reason to doubt it, Col. Vincent; but I shall be happier in the world outside."
"Of course you will let Mr. Manning know of your intention to leave home?"
"I shall ask his permission to go at the end of my school term. That comes in a couple of weeks."
"Where will you go?"
"A cousin of my father is at Newark, New Jersey. I think I shall go to him first, and ask his advice about getting a place either there or in New York."
"You will need some money to start with. Do you think Mr. Manning will give you any?"
"I don't know, sir! That won't prevent my going. I have fifty dollars in a savings bank, saved up from my allowance, and that will be all I shall need."
"If you have any difficulty on that score, Frank, remember that I was your father's friend, and mean to be yours. Apply to me at any time when you are in a strait."
"I will, sir, and thank you heartily."
"That was a strange will, Frank. I don't want to put any ideas into your head to disturb you, but had your mother ever led you to suspect that she intended to leave you dependent on your stepfather?"
"Never, sir!"
"Don't you think she would have done so, had she had such a plan in view?"
"I do," said Frank, quickly.
The colonel's eye met his, and each knew what the other suspected.
"There is nothing for me to do at present, sir," said Frank. "If Mr. Manning does not interfere with my plans, I shall not trouble him."
"I will hint as much when I see him. It may clear the way for you."
"I wish you would, sir."
"Come and see me again, Frank," said the colonel, as Frank rose to go.
"I certainly will, sir."
"Your father's son will always be welcome at my house. When did you say your school term closes?"
"In a fortnight."
"I will see your stepfather within a few days. By the way, Frank, wouldn't you like a gallop on Ajax to-night?"
"Yes, sir; I should enjoy it."
"Come out to the stable with me, then."
Ajax whinnied with delight when he saw his old, or rather his young master, and evinced satisfaction when Frank stroked him caressingly.
"Sam," said Col. Vincent, "Frank is to ride Ajax whenever he pleases. Saddle him for his use whenever he asks you."
"That I will, sir" answered Sam. "Often and often I've seen Mr. Frank on his back. Doesn't he ride well, though?"
"Don't flatter me, Sam," said Frank, laughing.
Five minutes later he was on the back of his favorite horse, galloping down the road.
"I hope I shall meet Mark," thought Frank. "I would like to give him a sensation."
Considering the manner in which Mark had treated his stepbrother, Frank may be excused for the wish to puzzle him a little.
Finding himself lonely, Mark decided to take a walk not long after Frank's departure. He was sauntering along the road, when he heard the sound of hoofs, and, to his surprise, saw his stepbrother on the back of Ajax.
His first thought was that Frank had gone to Col. Vincent's stable and brought away Ajax without permission, in defiance of Mr. Manning's will. He resolved to take him to task for it immediately. Frank purposely slackened the speed of his horse in order to give Mark the chance he sought.
"Why are you riding Ajax?" asked Mark.
"It is a pleasant evening," answered Frank, "and I thought I should enjoy it."
"Where did you get him?"
"From Col. Vincent's stable, where he never ought to have been carried," answered Frank, with spirit.
"You seem to think you can do anything you like, Frank Courtney," said Mark, provoked, deciding that his suspicions were well founded.
"Is there any particular reason why I should not ride Ajax?" demanded Frank.
"You have made yourself liable to arrest for horse stealing," said Mark. "It would serve you right if Col. Vincent should have you arrested and tried."
"I don't think he will gratify your kind wishes, Mark."
"Just wait and see what my father has to say to you."
"I have only done what I had a perfect right to do; but I can't stop to dispute with you. I must finish my ride. Hey, Ajax!"
As he spoke the horse dashed into a gallop, and Mark was left looking after him in a disturbed frame of mind.
"I'll tell my father as soon as he gets home," he decided; and he kept his word.
In consequence, Frank, by that time returned, was summoned into Mr. Manning's presence.
"What is this I hear?" he began. "Did you ride Ajax this evening?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where did you find him?"
"In Col. Vincent's stable."
"This is a high-handed proceeding, Frank Courtney. Have you any excuse to offer?"
"None is needed sir. Col. Vincent has given me permission to ride him whenever I please."
"It appears to me, Mark," said Mr. Manning, sharply, "that you have made a fool of yourself."
"How should I know?" replied Mark, mortified by the collapse of his sensation. "Frank didn't tell me he had leave to use the horse."
And he left the room, looking foolish.
There are some boys, as well as men, who cannot stand prosperity.
It appeared that Mark Manning was one of these.
While his stepmother was living and his father's prospects—and consequently his own—were uncertain, he had been circumspect in his behavior and indulged in nothing that could be considered seriously wrong.
When his father came into possession of a large fortune, and his pocket money was doubled, Mark began to throw off some of the restraint which, from motives of prudence, he had put upon himself.
About the middle of the week, as Frank was taking a walk after school hours, he was considerably surprised to see Mark come out of a well-known liquor saloon frequented by men and boys of intemperate habits.
The students of Bridgeville Academy were strictly forbidden this or any other saloon, and I am sure that my boy readers will agree with mo that this rule was a very proper one.
Mark Manning appeared to have been drinking. His face was flushed, and his breath, if one came near enough to him, was redolent of the fumes of alcohol. With him was James Carson, one of the poorest scholars and most unprincipled boys in the academy. It was rather surprising that he had managed for so long to retain his position in the institution, but he was crafty and took good care not to be caught.
To go back a little, it was chiefly owing to James Carson's influence that Mark had entered the saloon.
When he learned that Mark's worldly prospects had improved, and that he had a large supply of pocket money, he determined to cultivate his acquaintance—though privately he thought Mark a disagreeable boy—with the intention of obtaining for himself a portion of Mark's surplus means.
At the first of the term he had made similar advances to Frank, but they were coldly received, so much so that he did not think it worth while to persevere in courting our hero's intimacy.
He succeeded better with Mark, his crafty nature teaching him how to approach him.
"Mark," he said, with a great show of cordiality, "I am delighted to hear of your good fortune. I always liked you, and I think you deserve to be rich."
"Thank you!" said Mark, much gratified, for he liked flattery. "I am sure I am very much obliged to you."
"Oh, not at all! I only say what I think. Shall I tell you why I am particularly glad?"
"Yes, if you like," returned Mark, in some curiosity.
"Because I like you better than that young muff, your stepbrother. I hope you won't be offended at my plain speaking," he added, artfully.
"Certainly not!" said Mark.
"I suppose," said James, "you will see a little life now that you are your own master and have plenty of money."
"I don't know exactly what you mean, James. There isn't much life to be seen in Bridgeville."
"That is true; but still there is some. Suppose now"—by this time they were in front of the saloon, which, besides a bar, contained a billiard and pool table—"suppose now we go in and have a game of billiards."
"It's against the rules, isn't it?" asked Mark.
"What do you care for the rules?" said James, contemptuously.
"If the old man hears of it, we shall get into hot water."
By the "old man" Mark meant the Rev. Dr. Brush, the venerable and respected principal of the Bridgeville Academy, but such boys as he have very little respect for the constituted authorities.
"Why need he know it? We will slip in when no one is looking. Did you ever play a game of billiards?"
"I never played over half a dozen games in my life."
"Yon ought to know how to play. It is a splendid game. Come in."
Mark did not make very strong opposition, and the two boys, first looking cautiously in different directions, entered the saloon.
Toward the entrance was a bar, and in the roar of the saloon were two tables.
"Won't you have a drink, Mark?" asked James.
Mark hesitated.
"Oh, come now, it won't hurt. Two glasses of whisky, John."
"All right, Mr. Carson," said the barkeeper, to whom James was well known.
James tossed off his glass with the air of an old drinker, but Mark drank his more slowly.
"There, I know you feel better, Mark."
"Now, John, give me the balls. We'll play a game of billiards."
"All right, sir."
"I'll discount you, Mark," said James, "to give you a fair chance. It is about the same thing as giving you half the game. Or, if you like, I will give you seventeen points to start with, and then you will only have seventeen to make, while I am making thirty-four."
"I like that best."
"Now shall we play for the drinks?"
"We have just had a drink?"
"We'll have another."
"Won't that be too much? I don't want to get drunk."
"Two drinks won't do you any harm. Very well. Now let us string for the lead."
There is no need of describing the game in detail. Mark was only a novice, while James could really make three or four points to his one. He restrained himself, however, so that he only beat Mark by two points.
"You did splendidly, Mark," he said. "Considering how little you have played, you did remarkably well. Why, you made a run of three."
"Yes, I did pretty well," said Mark, flattered by his companion's praises.
"I had hard work to beat you, I can tell you that. As it was, you came within two points of beating. Don't you like the game?"
"Very much."
"I thought you would. Shall we have another game?"
"I don't mind," answered Mark.
He knew that he ought to be in his room writing a composition to be delivered the next day, but such obligations sat easily upon Mark, and he did not hesitate long.
That time James allowed him to score sixteen, so that Mark was only beaten by one point.
"You see, you are improving," said James. "I played a better game that time than before, and still you came within one of beating me."
"I think I shall become a good player in time," said Mark, complacently.
"Yes, and in a very short time. Now," said James, "I have a proposal to make to you."
"What is it?"
"We'll bet twenty-five cents on the next game, to give a little interest to it."
Mark had no special scruples against betting, which is only one form of gambling, but he decidedly objected to losing money, so he answered, cautiously:
"I don't know about that. You beat me both of the other games."
"That's true; but you play better now than you did at first."
"That may be so."
"What are twenty-five cents, anyway? I expect to lose it, but it will increase the interest of the game."
So Mark was persuaded, and the game was played.
James Carson managed to let Mark beat him by five shots, and the latter was correspondingly elated.
"You beat me after all," said James, pretending to be much disappointed, "and by five points. I'll tell you what I'll do—I'll give you the same odds, and bet a dollar on the game. I suppose it's foolish, but I'll risk it!"
"Done!" said Mark, eagerly.
His cupidity was excited, and he felt sure of winning the dollar, as he had the twenty-five cents. But James had no idea of playing off now, and he played a better game, as he was well able to do. The result was that Mark was beaten by three points.
He looked quite crestfallen.
"I had better shows than you," said James. "I couldn't do it once in five times. Will you play again?"
Mark agreed to it with some hesitation, and he was again beaten.
"You had luck against you. Another day you will succeed better. Have you played enough?"
"Yes," answered Mark, annoyed.
He had four games to pay for and two dollars in bets, and it made rather an expensive afternoon.
"Have another drink? I'll treat," said James, who could afford to be liberal.
Mark accepted, and then, flushed and excited, he left the saloon, just as Frank came up, as described in the first part of the chapter. On the whole, he was sorry to meet his stepbrother just at this time.
Frank stopped, and his attention was drawn to Mark's flushed face.