“Wondaireful! wondaireful!” cried L’Estrange. “You are so ready to—to—what you call eet?—to catch on!”
The time was mid afternoon following the evening when the finals were “pulled off” at the great Omaha athletic club. Frank had met the fencing master, according to agreement, and for some time they had been engaged with the foils, Hugh Morton being the only witness. They were resting now.
“Look you, sare,” said the enthusiastic Frenchman, “in six month I could make you ze greatest fencer in ze country—in one year ze champion of ze world! Yes, sare—of ze world!”
“I fear you are putting it a little too strong, professor,” laughed Frank.
“O-oo, no, no! I did think Meestare Darleton very clever, but you are a perfect wondaire. You catch ze idea like ze flash of lightning. You try ze execution once, twice, three time—perhaps—and you have eet. Zen eet is only to make eet perfect and to combine eet with othaire work and othaire ideas. Three time this day you touch me by ze strategy. You work ze surprise. Twice I touch you in one way; but after that I touch you not in that way at all. I tried to do it, but you had learned ze lesson. I did not have to tell you how to protect yourself.”
“He seemed to hold you pretty well, professor,” put in Morton.
“Oui! oui!” cried L’Estrange, without hesitation. “He put me on ze mettle. Meestare Merriwell, let me make you ze greatest fencer in ze world. I can do eet.”
Merry smilingly shook his head.
“I am afraid I haven’t the time,” he said.
“One year is all eet will take, at ze most—only one little year.”
“Too long.”
“Nine month.”
“Still too long.”
“Zen I try to do eet in six month!” desperately said the fencing master. “In six month I have you so you can toy with me—so you can beat me at my own game. I know how to teach you to do that. You doubt eet?”
“Well, I don’t know about——”
“Eet can be done. You know ze man who teach ze actor to act on ze stage? He make of him ze great actor, still perhaps ze teacher he cannot act at all. He know how eet should be done. I am better teacher than zat, for I can fence; but I know ze way to teach you more zan I can accomplish. You have ze physique, ze brain, ze nerve, ze heart, ze youth—everything. In six month I do it.”
“But I could not think of giving six months of my time to such as acquirement.”
“You make reputation and fortune if you follow eet up.”
“And that is the very thing I could not do, professor.”
“Why not? You take ze interest in ze amateur sport. You follow eet.”
“Not all the time, professor. I have other business.”
“You have money? You are reech?”
“I am comfortably fixed; but I have business interests of such a nature that it would be folly for me to give six months over to the acquiring of skill in fencing.”
“What your business?”
“Mining.”
“O-oo; you have ze mine?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“One in Arizona and one in Mexico. I must soon look after those mines. I have been away from them a long time. All reports have been favorable, but a great company is soon to begin building a railroad in Mexico that will open up the country in which my mine is located. The mine is rich enough to enable me to work it and pack ore a great distance. When the railroad is completed I shall have one of the best paying mines on this continent. You will see from this explanation that I am not in a position to spend months in acquiring perfection in the art of fencing, and that it would be of little advantage to me in case I did acquire such a degree of skill.”
L’Estrange looked disappointed.
“I thought you were ze reech gentleman of leisure,” he explained.
“I am not a gentleman of leisure, although I occasionally take time to enjoy myself. When I work, I work hard; when I play, I play just as hard. I have been playing lately, but the end is near. I thank you, professor, for your interest in me and your offer; but I cannot accept.”
“Eet is a shame so great a fencer is lost to ze world,” sighed the Frenchman. “Steel, sare, if you evaire have cause to defend your life in a duel, I theenk you will be successful.”
Nearly an hour later Morton and Merriwell entered the card room of the club—not the general card room, but the one where games were played for stakes.
Two games were in progress. Several of the players had met Frank the night before, and they greeted him pleasantly.
Among the few spectators was Fred Darleton.
“I observe Darleton is not playing,” said Frank, in a low tone, to his companion.
“He never plays in the daytime,” answered Morton.
“Never in the daytime?”
“No.”
“But he does play at night?”
“Almost every night.”
“What game?”
“Poker. He is an expert. I’ll tell you something about it later. He’s looking this way.”
Darleton sauntered over.
“I presume you are quite elated about your victory over me, Merriwell?” he said unpleasantly.
“Oh, not at all,” answered Merry, annoyed. “It was not anything to feel elated about.”
“You are right,” said Darleton. “If we were to meet again to-night the result would be quite different. I confess that you gave me a surprise; but I was in my very poorest form last night. I am confident it would be a simple matter for me to defeat you if we fenced again.”
“Want of conceit does not seem to be one of your failings.”
The fellow flushed.
“I presume you are one of those perfect chaps with no failings,” he retorted. “At least, you are, in your own estimation. You are very chesty since you secured the decision over me.”
“My dear man,” smiled Merry pityingly, “that was a victory so trivial that I have almost forgotten it already.”
This cut Darleton still more deeply.
“Oh, you put on a fine air, but you’ll get that taken out of you if you remain in Omaha long. I shall not forget you!”
“You are welcome to remember as long as you like.”
“And you’ll receive something that will cause you to remember me, sir!”
“Look here,” said Frank earnestly, “I do not fancy your veiled threats! If you are a man, you’ll speak out what you mean.”
“I fancy I am quite as much a man as you are. You’re a bag of wind, and I will let down your inflation.”
“Hold on, Darleton!” warmly exclaimed Morton. “This won’t do! Mr. Merriwell is the guest of the club, and——”
“You brought him here, Morton—that will be remembered, also!”
“If you threaten me——”
“I am not threatening.”
“You hadn’t better! Perhaps you mean that you intend to lay for me and beat me up. Well, sir, I go armed, and I’ll shoot if any one tries to jump me. If you want a whole skin——”
“What’s this talk about beating and shooting?” interrupted one of the members. “It’s fine talk to hear in these rooms! drop it! If we have any one in the club who can’t take an honorable defeat in a square contest of any sort, it’s time that person took himself out of our ranks. I reckon that is straight enough.”
“Quite straight enough, Mr. Robbins,” bowed Darleton; “but it doesn’t touch me. I can stand defeat; but I am seldom satisfied with one trial. The first trial may be for sport, but with me the second is for blood.”
Having said this, he wheeled and stalked out of the room.
“We’ll never have peace in this club while he continues to be a member,” asserted Hugh Morton earnestly.
“I beg your pardon!” exclaimed one of the card players. “Don’t forget that Mr. Darleton is my friend, sir!”
“I’ve not said anything behind his back that I am not ready to repeat to his face,” flung back Morton.
“Well, you’d better be careful. He can fight.”
“I think this is quite enough of this fighting talk!” said the man called Robbins sternly.
“That’s right!”
“Quit it!”
“Choke off!”
“It’s getting tiresome!”
These exclamations came from various persons, and Darleton’s friend closed up at once.
Morton looked both provoked and disgusted.
“This is what the Darleton crowd is bringing us to,” he said, addressing Frank, in a low tone. “They have formed a clique and introduced the first jarring element into the club. In the end they’ll all get fired out on their necks.”
Frank and Morton sat down in a corner by one of the round card tables.
“I don’t mind Darleton’s talk,” protested Hugh, “for I reckon him as a big case of bluff. You called him last night, and he’s sore over it. Usually he makes his bluffs go at poker. He’ll find he can’t always make a bluff go in real life.”
“You say he is a clever poker player.”
“Clever or crooked.”
“Is there a question in regard to his honesty?”
“In some minds it’s more than a question.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s straight.”
“Well, in that case, it doesn’t seem to me that it should be a very hard case to get rid of him.”
“You mean——”
“Crooks are not generally permitted in clubs for gentlemen.”
“But no one has been able to catch him.”
“Oh; then it is not positively known that he is crooked?”
“Well, I am confident that there is something peculiar about his playing, and I’m not the only one who is confident. He wins right along.”
“Never loses?”
“Never more than a few dollars, while he frequently wins several hundred at a sitting.”
“It seems to me that catching a dishonest poker player should not be such a difficult thing out in this country.”
“We’ve had some of our cleverest card men watching him, and all have given it up. They say he may be crooked, but they can’t detect how he works the trick.”
“You stated, I believe, that he never plays in the daytime.”
“Never.”
“Have you noted any other peculiar thing about his playing?”
“No, nothing unless—unless——”
“Unless what?”
“Unless it is his style of wearing smoked glasses.”
“He wears smoked glasses when he plays?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Well, he claims the lights here hurt his eyes.”
“That seems a very good reason why he should choose to play by day.”
“Yes; but he always has an excuse when asked into a game in the daytime.”
Merriwell’s face wore an expression of deep thought.
“It seems to have the elements of a Sherlock Holmes case,” he finally remarked. “I’d like to be present when Darleton is playing. I think it is possible I might detect his trick, in case there is any trick about it.”
“Are you a card expert?”
“I make no pretensions of being anything of the sort,” answered Merry promptly. “Still I know something about the game of poker, and I did succeed in exposing card crooks, both at Fardale and at Yale.”
Morton shook his head.
“I think I’m ordinarily shrewd in regard to cards,” he said; “but I haven’t been able to find out his secret. I don’t believe you would have any success, Mr. Merriwell.”
Merry persisted.
“There is no harm in letting me try, is there?”
“The only harm would be to arouse Darleton’s suspicion if he caught you rubbering at him. I know he has thought himself watched at various times.”
“Leave it to me,” urged Frank. “I’ll not arouse his suspicions.”
“But it won’t do a bit of good.”
“If he is cheating, I’ll detect him,” asserted Merry, finding that it was necessary to make a positive declaration of that sort, in order to move Morton.
Hugh looked at him incredulously.
“You’re a dandy fencer, old man,” he laughed; “but you mustn’t get a fancy that you’re just as clever at everything. Still, as long as you are so insistent, I’ll give you a trial. Meet me in the billiard room at eight o’clock this evening. Play seldom begins here before eight-thirty or nine.”
“I’ll be there,” promised Frank, satisfied.
It was nine o’clock that evening when Morton and Merriwell strolled into the card room. They seemed to be wandering around in search of some amusement to pass away the time.
“Come on here, Morton,” called a player. “Bring your friend into this game. It will make just enough.”
Hugh shook his head.
“No cards for me to-night,” he said. “My luck is too poor. Dropped more than enough to satisfy me last week.”
“The place to find your money is where you lost it,” said another player.
“I’m willing to let it rest where it is a while. I have a severe touch of cold feet.”
“How about your friend?”
“He may do as he likes.”
“I know so little about cards—so very little,” protested Frank. “What are you playing?”
“Poker.”
He shook his head.
“I have played euchre,” he said.
“Quite a difference in the games,” laughed a man. “I suppose you have played old maid, also?”
“Yes,” answered Merry innocently, “I have. Do you play that?”
“He’ll spoil your game, fellows,” laughed Morton quickly.
“How do you know I would?” exclaimed Merry resentfully.
“Reckon Hugh is right, Mr. Merriwell,” laughed the one who had invited Frank. “You had better keep out of the game.”
Fred Darleton was playing at one of the tables. He regarded Frank with a sneer on his face.
“An innocent stiff,” he commented, in a low tone. “They say he never takes a drink, never swears, never does anything naughty.”
“He’s rather naughty at fencing,” reminded a man jokingly; but Darleton saw nothing to laugh at in the remark.
Morton was heard informing Merry that he must not ask questions about the game while play was in progress, as by so doing he might seem to give away some player’s hand.
“Oh, I can keep still,” assured Frank smilingly. “I’ve seen them play poker before.”
“No one would ever suspect it,” sneered Darleton under his breath.
This fellow was wearing dark-colored glasses, after his usual custom.
Merry found an opportunity to inspect the lights. While they were sufficiently bright for all purposes, they were shaded in such a manner that Darleton’s excuse for wearing smoked glasses seemed a paltry one.
“His real reason is not because the lights hurt his eyes,” decided Frank.
What was the fellow’s real reason? Merriwell hoped to discover before the evening was over. He seemed to take interest in the play first at one table and then at another, but finally settled on the one at which Darleton was seated.
As usual, Darleton was winning. He had a lot of chips stacked up before him.
“Why did you drop your hand after opening that last jack pot, Darleton?” inquired one of the players.
“Because I was satisfied that you had me beaten,” was the answer.
“You had two pairs to open on, and you drew only one card.”
“What of that?”
“I took three cards.”
“I remember.”
“Well, you wouldn’t bet your two pairs, and I raked in the pot. How did it happen?”
“I decided that you bettered your hand. My pairs were small.”
“I did better my hand,” confessed the man; “but I swear you have a queer method of playing poker! I don’t understand it.”
“My method suits me,” laughed Darleton, fingering his chips.
“It is a successful one, all right; but I never lay down two pairs after opening a jack pot, especially if the only player who stays in with me draws three cards.”
“You lose oftener than I do.”
“No question about that.”
“Then my judgment must be better than yours. Let it go at that.”
Frank had listened to all this, and he, likewise, was puzzled to understand why Darleton had decided not to risk a bet after the draw. It happened that Merry had stood where he could look into the other man’s hand. The man held up a pair of kings on the deal and drew another king when cards were given out. His three kings were better than Darleton’s two pairs; but Darleton knew he had the man beaten before the draw. How did he come to believe the man had him beaten after the draw?
Frank found an opportunity to look round for mirrors. There were none in the room.
Darleton was not working with an accomplice who could look into the other man’s hand. Merry was the only person able to see the man’s cards as he picked them up.
“I don’t believe he’ll suspect me of being Darleton’s accomplice,” thought Frank.
This was only one of the things which increased the mystery of Darleton’s playing. The fellow seemed to know exactly when to bet a hand for all it was worth, and once he persisted in raising a player who was bluffing recklessly. Finally the bluffer became angry and called.
“I have a pair of seven spots, Darleton? What have you got? I don’t believe you have much of anything.”
“Why, I have a pair of ten spots, and they win,” was the smiling retort.
“Bluffers, both of you!” cried another player. “But I swear this is the first time I’ve ever known Darleton to bluff at poker. And he got away with it on a show-down!”
The entire party regarded Darleton with wonderment, but the winner simply smiled a bit behind his dark goggles.
Morton glanced swiftly at Frank, as if to say: “You see how it goes, but you can’t make anything of it.”
Merriwell was perplexed, but this perplexity served as a spur to urge him forward in his desire to solve the mystery. For mystery about Darleton’s success there certainly seemed to be.
With an inquiring and searching mind, Merry was one who disliked to be baffled by anything in the form of mystery that might be legitimately investigated. A mystery amid common things and common events aroused him to insistent investigation, for he knew there should be no mystery, and that which was baffling should, in case it was natural, eventually develop to be simple indeed.
He now felt himself fully aroused, for he did not believe it possible that by any occult power or discernment Darleton was capable of reading the minds of his companions at the card table and thus learning when to drop two pairs and when to bet one very ordinary pair to a finish.
“The cards must be marked,” decided Frank.
At this juncture the player who had called Darleton asked for a fresh pack.
Merry saw the cards brought in by a colored boy. They were still sealed. He saw the seal broken, the joker removed from the pack, the cards shuffled, cut, and dealt.
“Now we’ll note if Darleton continues to win,” thought Merry.
He knew the fresh pack could not be marked. They were sealed, just as purchased from the dealer, when thrown on the table.
Morton spoke to Frank.
“Are you getting tired?” he asked.
“Oh, no,” was the immediate reply. “I am enjoying watching this game. I have nothing else to do to-night.”
Hugh pushed along a chair, and urged Merry to sit down. Frank accepted the chair. Without appearing to do so, he continued to watch Darleton.
Morton leaned on the back of Frank’s chair.
“Have they ever looked for marked cards after playing with Darleton?” asked Frank, in such a low tone that no one save Hugh could hear and understand him.
“Frequently.”
“Never found them marked?”
“Never. They are not marked. I fancied you might think they were. We’ve had experts, regular card sharps, examine packs used in games when he has won heavily.”
Still Merry was not satisfied on this point.
“If they are not marked,” he thought, “Darleton must have an accomplice who gives him tips. The latter seems utterly impossible, and, therefore, the cards must be marked.”
Occasionally Darleton glanced at Merriwell, but every time it seemed that Frank was giving him no attention at all.
Yet every move on the part of the successful player was watched by the young man who had resolved to solve the mystery.
For some time after the appearance of the fresh pack of cards Darleton did little betting. Still he seemed to examine each hand dealt him, and his manner of examining the hands was very critical, as if weighing their value. The cards interested him greatly, although he did not bet.
“Your luck has turned,” cried one of the players. “You haven’t done a thing since the fresh pack was brought.”
“Oh, I’ll get after you again directly,” smiled Darleton. “I’m waiting for the psychological moment, that’s all.”
Frank noted that the fellow frequently put his hand into the side pocket of his coat. Although he did this, he did not seem to take anything out of that pocket. Still, after a while, the watcher began to fancy these careless, but often repeated movements had something to do with the mystery.
At last, Darleton seemed to get a hand to his liking. It was on his own deal, and two other players held good hands, one a straight and the other a flush.
When Darleton was finally called he exhibited a full hand and raked in the money.
“You see!” muttered Morton, in Merry’s ear.
“No, I don’t see,” admitted Frank; “but I mean to.”
Morton was growing tired. He yawned, straightened up and sauntered about.
Frank rose, stretched himself a little, looked on at another table a few moments, and finally brought himself to a position behind Darleton’s chair without attracting Darleton’s attention.
From this point he once more began to watch the playing in which he was so keenly interested.
Morton observed this change, but said nothing, although to him it seemed like wasted time on Frank’s part.
From his new position Merriwell was able to see into Darleton’s hands, and the style of play followed by the fellow surprised him even more. At the very outset he saw Darleton drop two pairs, kings up, without attempting to bet them and without even showing them to any one. In the end it developed that another player held winning cards, having three five spots; but this player had drawn three cards, and before the betting began there seemed nothing to indicate that he could beat kings up.
On the very next hand something still more remarkable happened. The first man after the age stayed in and all the others remained. Observing Darleton’s cards, Merry saw he held the deuce, six, seven, and king of diamonds and the seven of spades. He split his pair, casting aside the seven of spades, and drew to the four diamonds.
The card that came in was the ace of diamonds, giving him an ace-high flush.
Two of the other players took two cards each; but Merry decided that one of them was holding up a “kicker”—that is, an odd card with his pair. This estimation of his hand Frank formed from the fact that the man had not raised the original bettor before the draw, although sitting in a fine position to do so. Had the man held threes he would have raised. It was likely he had a small pair and an ace, and also that he knew the style of play of the original bettor and believed this person was likewise holding a “kicker,” probably for the purpose of leading the other players into fancying he had threes.
This being the case, Darleton’s ace-high was a fancy hand and would be almost certain to rake down the pot.
Even supposing it possible that both players who called for two cards held three of a kind, it was not, in the natural run of the game, at all likely they had improved their hands.
Still when the original bettor tossed four blue chips into the pot and one of the others called, Darleton dropped his handsome flush, declining to come in and, remarking:
“I didn’t catch.”
He lied, for he had “caught” and filled a flush.
What was his object in lying?
A moment later the original bettor lay down three jacks and a pair of nine spots.
The hand was superior to Darleton’s flush.
Beyond question Darleton knew he was beaten, and therefore he chose to pretend he had not filled his hand.
But how did he know?
“The cards must be marked!” was the thought that again flashed through Frank Merriwell’s mind.
But if they were marked and it was impossible to detect the fact, there was no way of exposing the crooked player. If they were marked, however, Merry believed there must be some way of detecting it.
Frank kept very still. Slipping his hand into an inner pocket, he brought forth something he had purchased that very afternoon, after talking with Morton concerning Darleton’s success at poker and his methods. Quietly he adjusted his purchase to the bridge of his nose.
He had bought a pair of smoked glass goggles!
The cards were being shuffled. The goggles changed the aspect of the room, causing everything to look dim and dusky.
The man who was dealing tossed the cards round to the different players. As this was being done, Frank detected something hitherto unseen upon the cards.
On the backs of many of them were strange luminous designs, crosses, spots, circles, and straight lines. These marks could be distinctly seen with the aid of the smoked glasses.
Lifting his hand, Merry raised the glasses.
The glowing marks vanished! A feeling of satisfaction shot through the discoverer.
“I have him!” he mentally exclaimed. “I have detected his clever little trick!”
It happened that Darleton received a pair of jacks and a pair of sixes on the deal.
One of the players “stayed” and Darleton “came up.”
On the draw Darleton caught another six spot, giving him a full hand.
He seemed to be looking at his cards intently, but Frank observed that he had watched every card as it was dealt.
In the betting that followed Darleton pressed it every time. At the call he displayed the winning hand.
But just as he reached to pull in the chips his wrist was clutched by a grip of iron.
Frank Merriwell had grasped and checked him.
“Gentlemen,” cried Merry, “you are playing with a crook! You are being cheated!”
Instantly there was a great stir in the room. Men sprang up from their chairs.
Darleton uttered an exclamation of fury.
“What do you mean, you duffer?” he snarled. “Let go!”
Instead of obeying, Merry pinned him fast in his chair, so he could not move.
“Yes, what do you mean?” shouted one of Darleton’s friends, leaping from another table and endeavoring to reach Frank. “Let go, or I’ll——”
Hugh Morton grappled with the fellow.
“I wouldn’t do anything if I were you,” he said. “Take it easy, Higgins. We’ll find out what he means in a minute.”
“Find out!” roared Higgins. “You bet! He’ll get all that’s coming to him for this!”
“Explain yourself, Mr. Merriwell,” urged one of the players. “This is a very grave charge. If you cannot substantiate it——”
“I can, sir.”
“Do so at once.”
“These cards are marked.”
“It’s a lie!” raged Darleton.
“You must prove that the cards are marked, Mr. Merriwell,” said another player. “They were but lately unsealed, and it seems impossible.”
“They have been marked since they were opened.”
“How?”
“With the aid of luminous marking fluid of some sort, carried in this man’s pocket. I have watched him marking them.”
“Liar!” came from the fellow accused; but he choked over the word, and he was white to the lips, for he had discovered that Merry was wearing smoked goggles, like his own.
“Let me get at him!” panted Darleton’s friend; but Morton continued, with the assistance of another man, to hold the fellow in check.
“Under ordinary conditions,” said Frank coolly, “the marking cannot be detected. Mr. Darleton has pretended it was necessary for him to wear dark-colored goggles in order to protect his eyes from the lights. Why didn’t he play in the daytime? Because he would then have no excuse for using the goggles, which he does not wear as a rule. With the aid of the goggles he is able to see and understand the marking on the backs of the cards. This makes it possible for him to tell what every man round the table holds. No wonder he knows when to bet and when to drop his cards!”
“It’s false!” muttered the accused weakly.
“If any one doubts that I speak the truth,” said Merry, “let him feel in Mr. Darleton’s coat pocket on the right-hand side.”
A man did so at once, bringing forth a little, tin box, minus the lid, which contained a yellowish, paste-like substance.
“That is the luminous paint,” said Frank.
“Further doubts will be settled by taking my goggles, with which I detected the fraud, and examining the backs of the cards.”
He handed the goggles over, releasing his hold on Darleton, who seemed for the moment incapable of action.
The excited players tried the goggles and examined the cards, one after another. All saw the marks distinctly with the aid of the smoke-colored glasses. They discovered that the four aces were marked, each card with a single dot, the kings bore two dots, the queens three dots and the jacks four dots. The ten spot was indicated by a cross, the nine spot showed two crosses, the eight a straight line, the seven two parallel lines, the six a circle, and there the marking stopped. Evidently Darleton had not found time to finish his work on the remainder of the pack.
And now Darleton found himself regarded with intense indignation and disgust by all save the fellow who had attempted to come to his aid. Indeed, the indignation of the men was such that they threatened personal violence to the exposed rascal.
It seemed that the fellow would not escape from the room without being handled roughly. Before the outburst of indignation, his bravado and nerve wilted, and he became very humble and apprehensive.
No wonder he was alarmed for his own safety. Several of those present had lost heavily to him, and they demanded satisfaction of some sort.
“He has skinned me out of hundreds!” snarled one man. “I’ll take it out of his hide! I’ll break every bone in his dishonest body!”
Two men placed themselves before the infuriated one and tried to reason with him.
“What are you going to do?” he shouted. “Are you going to let him off without doing anything?”
“We’ll make him fork over what he has won to-night.”
“Little satisfaction that will be!”
“We’ll find how much money he has on his person and make him give that up.”
“That doesn’t satisfy me!”
“Then we’ll expel him in disgrace from the club.”
“That sounds better, but it isn’t enough. Just step out of the room, all of you, and leave him to me. While you’re outside, you had better call an ambulance for him.”
“I warn you not to offer me personal violence,” said Darleton, his lips quivering and his voice unsteady.
“You warn us, you cur!” snarled one, shaking his fist under the rascal’s nose. “Why, do you know what you deserve and what you would get in some places? You deserve to be lynched! There was a time in this town when you would have been shot.”
Frank stood back and let matters take their course. He had done his part, and he felt that he had done well in exposing the scoundrel. It was not for him to say how the man should be dealt with by the club.
Darleton drew forth a pocketbook and flung it on the table.
“There’s my money,” he said. “Go ahead and take it.”
“You bet we will!” was the instant response.
The money was taken and divided before his eyes.
Then the men of cooler judgment prevailed over their more excitable companions, whom they persuaded to let Darleton depart in disgrace.
The fellow was only too glad to get off in that manner, and he hastily slunk to the door.
There he paused and looked around. His eyes met those of Frank Merriwell, and the look he gave was pregnant with malignant hatred of the most murderous nature.
The Midwestern lost little time in calling a meeting for the purpose of considering Darleton’s case. In short order the fellow was declared expelled in disgrace from the organization. Following this, it was agreed that Frank Merriwell should be tendered a vote of thanks for his service to the club.
The outcome of the affair gave all of Merry’s friends a feeling of satisfaction, for they believed that the scoundrel had received his just deserts.
Bart Hodge expressed a feeling of intense regret because he had not been present to witness Darleton’s humiliation.
“I sized him up at the start,” declared Bart. “I knew he was a crook, and I knew no crook could defeat Merry.”
That afternoon Frank came face to face with Darleton in front of the post office. The fellow stopped short, the glare of a panther that has been wounded leaping into his eyes.
“You—you—you meddling dog!” he panted huskily.
Frank would have passed on without speaking, but the rascal stepped before him.
“Kindly stand aside,” said Merry. “I don’t wish to soil my hands on you.”
“Oh, you’re very fine and lofty! You think you have done a grand thing in putting this disgrace on me, I suppose.”
“I’m not at all proud of it; but I did my duty.”
“Your duty! Bah!”
“It is the duty of any man to expose a rascal when he can do so.”
“Bah! You did not do that from a sense of duty, but to win applause and lead people to think you very cunning and clever. You’re a notoriety seeker.”
“I don’t care to waste words with you.”
“You have ruined my good name!”
“You ruined it yourself by your crookedness. Don’t try to put the blame on me.”
“You did it!” panted Darleton; “but you shall suffer for it!”
“If you make too many threats, I’ll call a policeman and turn you over to him.”
“No doubt of it! That’s the way you’ll try to hide behind a bluecoat! You’re a coward, Frank Merriwell!”
“Your opinion of me does not disturb me in the least, sir.”
“I’ll disturb you before I am through with you! You have ruined me; but I’ll square it!”
“I don’t care to be seen talking with you.”
“One moment more. I’ll have my say! You triumphed and gloated over me when I was humbled at the club.”
“I never gloat over the fallen.”
“Oh, you are very fine and lofty in sentiment! You try to make people believe you are a goody-goody. You play a part, and play it well enough to deceive most persons; but I’ll wager there are spots in your career that will not bear investigation. If some of your admirers knew all about you they would turn from you in disgust. I’ve seen chaps like you before, and they’re always disgusting, for they are always hypocrites. You pretend that you do not play cards! How was it that you were clever enough to detect my methods? You claim you do not drink, but I’ll bet my life you do drink on the sly.
“You seem to have no vices, but no chap travels about as you do and keeps free from little vices. Small vices make men more manly. The fellow who has no vices is either cold-blooded or more than human. If I had time I’d follow you up and expose you. Then I’d strike you as you have struck me. But I haven’t the time. Still you needn’t think you’re going to get off. I’ll strike just the same, and I’ll strike you good and sufficient! When I land you’ll know it, and I’ll land in a hurry.
“That’s all. I don’t care to say anything more. I have some friends who will stick to me. Don’t fancy for a moment that I am friendless. I’ll see you again. If you get frightened and hike out of Omaha, I’ll follow. I’ll follow until I get my opportunity!”
Having expressed himself in this manner, he stepped aside and walked swiftly away.
“He’s the sort of chap to strike at an enemy’s back,” thought Merry.
That evening Frank took dinner with Morton at the latter’s home. He met Hugh’s mother and sister, and found them refined and pleasant people. After dinner he remained for two hours or more, chatting with them and enjoying himself.
Kate Morton was a cultured girl, having attended college in the East. She talked of books, music, and art, yet she was not stilted and conventional in her conversation, and she proved that she had thoughts and ideas of her own.
When he finally arose to leave, Merry felt that he had passed a most agreeable and profitable evening. He had met a girl who thought of something besides dress, society, and frivolity, yet who must appear at advantage in the very best society, and who undoubtedly enjoyed the pastimes which most girls enjoy.
Hugh was inclined to accompany Frank, but Merry dissuaded him, saying he would catch a car at the first corner and ride within a block of the hotel.
Merriwell whistled as he sauntered along the street. His first warning of danger was when he heard a rustle close behind his back. Before he could turn something smote him down.
“Here we are,” said a low voice.
The hack had stopped. Several persons sprang down from the top. The door was flung open and others issued from within.
“Drag him out.”
At this command a helpless figure was pulled forth.
The night was dark and the place the outskirts of the city of Omaha. Near at hand rose the black hulk of a silent and apparently deserted building.
“All right, driver.”
The door of the hack slammed, the driver whipped up his horses, and the men were left with the helpless one in their midst.
“Make him walk,” said the first speaker. “He’s conscious, for he tried to get his hands free inside.”
They moved, forcing along their captive. Close up to the wall to the wall of the building they halted.
“Have you the key?” asked one.
“Yes; here it is.”
“Open the door. Hurry up. The watchman may see us, and it will be all off.”
“That’s right,” put in another. “You know somebody tried to burn this place a week ago.”
Soon the man with the key opened a door and the captive was pushed into the building. Every man followed, and the door was closed.
Ten minutes later all were assembled in a bare room of the old building. One of them had brought a number of torches, which were now lighted. The light showed that there were ten of them in all, and with the exception of the captive, whose hands were tied behind his back and whose jaws were distended by a gag, they wore masks which effectually concealed their features.
The captive was Frank Merriwell.
One of the men stepped before Frank.
“Well, how do you like it?” he asked tauntingly. “What do you think is going to happen to you?”
It was impossible for Merry to reply.
“Remove that gag,” directed the taunting chap. “Let him talk. Let him yell, if he wants to. No one can hear him now.”
The mask was removed from between Frank’s teeth.
“Thank you,” said Merry, after a moment. “That’s a great relief to my jaws.”
“Oh, it hurt you, did it?” sneered the taunting fellow. “Well, you may get hurt worse than that before the night is over.”
“I suppose you contemplate murdering me, Darleton,” said Frank, his voice steady.
Immediately the other snatched off his mask, exposing the face of Fred Darleton.
“I’m willing you should know me,” he said. “You do not know any of the others.”
“I am quite confident that your chum, Grant Hardy, is one of them.”
“You can’t pick him out. You couldn’t swear to it.”
“If you put me out of the way, like the brave men you are, I’ll not be able to swear to anything.”
“Oh, we’re not going to murder you, you fool!”
“You surprise me!”
“But I have had you brought here in order that I may square my account with you.”
“In what manner? Are you going to mutilate me?”
“I may carve you up some before I am through with you. You think you are a great fencer, but I am satisfied that you are a coward. If you were forced to fight for your life you would show the white feather.”
“Do you think so?”
“I know it.”
“Give me half an opportunity.”
“I will, and you shall fight me!” cried Darleton viciously. “You did some very fancy work on exhibition. Now you can show what you’re capable of doing when your handsome body is at stake.”
“What do you mean?”
Darleton turned to his companion.
“Where are the rapiers?” he asked.
One of the masked men held out something wrapped in a black cloth.
“Here they are.”
“All right. Set him free. He can’t get away. Release his hands.”
A moment later Frank’s hands were freed.
“Strip down for business, Merriwell,” commanded Darleton, flinging aside his coat and vest and removing his collar. “You are going to fight me with rapiers.”
“A genuine duel?” asked Merry.
“That’s what it will be.”
Frank did not hesitate. He flung aside his coat and vest, removed his collar and necktie, and rolled back the shirt sleeve of his right arm.
The readiness with which he accepted the situation and prepared for business, surprised some of the masked men.
Before long Darleton and Frank were ready.
In the meantime, the cloth had been removed from the rapiers, revealing two long, glittering weapons.
“Give him the choice,” cried Darleton, with a flourish.
The man with the weapons stepped forward, holding them by the blades and having them crossed. Frank accepted the first that came to his hand. His enemy took the other.
“On guard!” cried Darleton savagely; “on guard, and defend your life!”
Steel met steel with a deadly click.
There was no fooling about that encounter. From the very start it was deadly and thrilling in its every aspect. The duelists went at it keyed to the highest tension.
Merry saw a deadly purpose in Fred Darleton’s eyes, and he knew the fellow longed to run him through.
On the other hand, only as a last resort to save himself did Frank wish to seriously wound his enemy.
Aroused by his fancied wrongs, Darleton handled the rapier with consummate skill. He watched for an opening, and he was ready to take advantage of the slightest mistake on the part of his opponent.
The torches flared and smoked, casting a weird glow over the scene. The fighters advanced and retreated. The rapiers glinted and flashed.
“Do your best, Merriwell!” hissed Darleton.
Frank was kept busy meeting the swiftly shifting attacks of the fellow, who was seeking to confuse him.
“I know your style,” declared the vengeful chap. “You can’t work the tricks you played on me at the Midwestern. Try any of them—try them all!”
Frank made no retort. He was watching for a chance to try quite a different trick.
Suddenly the opening came. He closed in. The rapiers slipped past until hilt met hilt. With a snapping twist Frank tore the weapon from the fingers of his foe and sent it spinning aside.
Darleton was at Merry’s mercy. Frank had been forced into this engagement in a way that made it something entirely different from an ordinary affair of honor. He was surrounded by enemies. No friends were present. He could have ended Fred Darleton’s life with a single stroke.
Instead of that, he stepped quickly aside, picked up the rapier and offered it to his foe, hilt first.
Chagrined by what had happened, Darleton snatched it and made a quick thrust at Merry’s throat.
By a backward spring, Merry escaped being killed.
Instantly a wonderful change came over Frank. He closed in and became the assailant. Twice he thrust for Darleton. He was parried, but he guarded instantly and prevented the fellow from securing a riposte.
Merry’s third attempt was more successful.
He caught Darleton in the shoulder and inflicted a superficial but somewhat painful wound.
Exclamations came from the masked witnesses.
Infuriated by his poor success and the wound, Darleton threw caution to the winds and sailed into Merry like a tornado.
“It’s your life or mine!” he panted, as he made a vicious thrust at Frank’s heart.
The thrust was turned.
Then a cry of horror broke from the spectators, for Frank seemed to have run his antagonist clean through the body.
Darleton fell. One of the masked men, who seemed to be a surgeon, knelt at once to examine the wound.
“I’m sorry,” said Frank grimly; “but I call on you all to bear witness that he forced me to it. As he said, it was his life or mine.”
The following day Frank visited Darleton in the hospital whither the unfortunate fellow had been taken. The wounded man’s injury had been pronounced very serious, but not necessarily fatal. The course of the steel had been changed by a rib, and only Darleton’s right side had been pierced.
The moment they were left alone, Darleton said:
“You did the trick, Merriwell. I didn’t believe you could, but you were justified in defending yourself. I made every man there take a solemn oath that he would keep silent no matter what happened.”
“I have been expecting and waiting for arrest,” said Frank. “I supposed you would have me arrested.”
“You’re wrong. You’ll never be arrested for this affair unless you go to the police and peach on yourself. They say I’ll get well, all right. I want to. Do you know what I mean to do?”
“No.”
“I’m going to practice until I can defeat you with the rapiers, if it takes me years. When I am confident that I can do the trick, I’m going to find you, force you to fight again and kill you. It would be no satisfaction to me to see you arrested for last night’s work. Unless you’re a fool, you’ll not be arrested. If you were arrested and told the truth, you could not be punished for defending yourself.”
“That’s the way I feel about it,” said Frank; “but I regret that you still thirst for my blood. I came here to find out if there is anything I can do for you.”
“I wouldn’t take a favor from you for worlds. I know I’m in the wrong, but that makes me hate you none the less. Go now. But expect to face me again some day and fight for your life.”
And thus they parted, still deadly enemies, much to Frank’s regret, for, in spite of Darleton’s dishonesty, there was a certain something in the make-up of the man that had won for him a feeling of sympathy in Merry’s heart. More than that, the courage displayed by Darleton in the duel caused Frank to think of him in a light of mingled admiration and regret. Although a scoundrel, not all the elements of his nature were unworthy.
The town of Cartersville is situated in the southern part of the State of Iowa. This was the first stop Frank and his party made after leaving Omaha. Their first view of the town was not particularly inviting, as the railway station, after the disagreeable habit of nearly all railway stations, was situated in the most unsightly and forbidding portion of the place. In the immediate vicinity were unpainted, ramshackle buildings, saloons, cheap stores and hovel-like houses. In front of the saloons and stores lounged a few slovenly, ambition-lacking loafers, while slatternly women and dirty children were seen in the doorways or leaning from the open windows of the wretched houses.
On the station platform had gathered the usual crowd, including those who came to the train from necessity and those drawn thither by curiosity. There was also a surprisingly large gathering of boys of various ages, from six to eighteen.
Frank walked briskly along to the baggage car and noted that the baggage belonging to his party was put off there. Then he glanced around, as if in search of some one.
“I wonder where Mr. Gaddis is?” he said. “He was to meet us at the station.”
A big, hulking six-footer, with ham-like hands and a thick neck, stepped forward from the van of a mixed crowd of about twenty tough-looking young fellows who had flocked down the platform behind Merry and his party.
“Are you Frank Merriwell?” asked the huge chap, who was about twenty years old, as he held the butt of a half-smoked cheroot in the corner of his capacious mouth.
“Yes, sir,” answered Merry promptly. “Do you represent Joseph Gaddis?”
“I should say not!” was the retort. “Not by a blame sight.”
“I thought not,” said Frank.
“Oh, ye did? What made ye think not, hey?”
“You are not just the sort of man I expected to meet. Do you know Mr. Gaddis?”
“Do I? Some!”
“Isn’t he here?”
“I reckon not.”
“Where is he?”
“Ask me!”
Although the manner of the big fellow was openly insolent, Merry did not seem to notice it.
The motley crowd accompanying this man were grinning or scowling at Merriwell and his friends, while some of them made half-audible comments of an unflattering sort. They were tall, short, stout, and thin, but one and all they carried the atmosphere of tough characters.
“It’s rather odd, Bart,” said Frank, speaking to Hodge, who was surveying the crowd with dark disapproval, “that Gaddis should fail to keep his appointment to meet us here.”
“No it ain’t odd,” contradicted the big chap. “He knowed better than to be here. You made some sort of arrangement with him to play a game of baseball in this town, didn’t ye?”
“Yes.”
“Well, fergit it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Fergit it. You’ll be wastin’ a whole lot of time if you stop here, an’ you’ll put yourselves to a heap of inconvenience. You won’t play no baseball with Gaddis’ team, so you’d better hop right back onter the train and continue your ride.”
Merry now surveyed the speaker from his head to his feet.
“I happen to have a contract with Mr. Gaddis,” he said. “How is it that you have so much authority? Who are you?”
“I’m Mat Madison, and I happen to know what I’m talkin’ about. Joe Gaddis has changed his mind about playin’ baseball with you. He ain’t goin’ to play baseball no more this season.”
“Did he send you here to tell me this?” demanded Frank, his eyes beginning to gleam with an ominous light.
“No, he didn’t send me; I come myself.”
“Then you haven’t any real authority.”
“Is that so! You bet I have! I’m giving it to you on the level when I say you won’t play no baseball game in Cartersville, and the wisest thing you can do is to step right back onter this train and git out. In short, I’m here to see that you do git back onter the train, and I brought my backers. If you don’t git we’ll have to make ye git.”
By this time Frank’s friends were gathered at his back, ready for anything that might happen. They scented trouble, although they could not understand the cause of it.
“I have no idea of leaving Cartersville until I see Mr. Gaddis,” said Merry, with cool determination. “If he fails to keep his agreement with me, I propose to collect one hundred and fifty dollars forfeit money.”
“Oh, haw! haw! You do, do ye? Well, when you collect a hundred and fifty from Joe Gaddis you’ll be bald-headed. There ain’t no time for foolin’. The train will pull out pretty soon, so you want to hop right back onto it and go along. If you don’t, I’ll make you hop. Git that?”
“If you bother me I’ll feel it my duty to make you regret your action. Get that?”
“Why, you thunderin’ fool, you don’t mean to fight, do ye? I’ll knock the head off your shoulders!”
“I don’t think you will.”
“Then take this!”
As he snarled forth the words, Madison struck viciously at Frank’s face with his right fist.
Merry ducked like a flash, at the same time throwing up his left hand and catching the fellow’s wrist. With this hold, he gave a strong, sharp pull in the same direction that Madison had started, at the same time jerking the fellow’s arm downward. While doing this, Merry stooped and thrust his right arm between the ruffian’s legs, grasping Madison’s right leg back of the knee. In this manner he brought the bruiser across his back and shoulders in such a way that the fellow had no time to recover and was losing his balance when Frank suddenly straightened up with a heaving surge.
To the amazement of Madison’s friends, the fellow was sent flying through the air clear of the platform, striking the ground on his head and shoulders.
Merry calmly turned to look after the baggage, not giving his late assailant as much as a glance after the latter struck the ground.
Madison was somewhat stunned. He sat up, holding his hands to his head and looking bewildered. A number of his friends sprang from the platform and gathered around him.
The young toughs were astounded by the manner in which Merry had met Madison’s assault. If before that they had contemplated an attack on Frank and his party, the sudden disposal of their leader caused them to falter and change their plan.
Hans Dunnerwurst chuckled as he looked after Madison.
“Maype you vill holdt that for a vile,” he observed.
“There is something wrong about this business here in Cartersville, fellows,” said Frank; “but we’ll find out what it is. If Gaddis squeals on his contract with me, I’m going to see if he cannot be compelled to pay the forfeit.”
“That’s business,” nodded Hodge. “I’ll wager he sent these thugs to frighten us away, so he wouldn’t be compelled to pay the money. If we didn’t stop, he could get out of it.”
“Whereupon we’ll linger,” murmured Jack Ready.
“Somebody’s gug-gug-going to fuf-fuf-find out we mean bub-bub-business!” stuttered Gamp.
“I opine one chap has found it out already,” observed Buck Badger dryly.
“It must have been a shock to him,” said Dade Morgan, a gleam of satisfaction in his dark eyes.
“Glad he tackled Frank,” yawned Browning, with a wearied air. “I don’t feel like exerting myself after that infernally uncomfortable car ride.”
“The gentleman experienced a taste of jutsuju—I mean jujutsu,” laughed Harry Rattleton.
“Sorry Merry had to soil his hands on the big loafer,” said Dick Starbright, taking off his hat and tossing back his mane of golden hair.
“It was a clever piece of business,” admitted Jim Stretcher; “but two years ago, at a fair in Tipton, Missouri, I saw a little piece of business that——”
“Don’t tell it—don’t dare to tell it!” exclaimed Badger. “I’m from Kansas, and I’m sick of hearing these powerful extravagant tales about Missouri. If you mention Missouri in my hearing for the next three days you’ll be in danger of sudden destruction. That’s whatever!”
“You’re jealous, and I don’t blame you,” said Jim. “If I lived in Kansas I’d never acknowledge it. It was the last place created, and made out of mighty poor material. Everybody in Kansas worth knowing has moved out.”
“Which is a genuine Irish bull,” said Morgan.
“All aboard,” called the conductor.
A few moments later the train pulled out.
In the meantime, Mat Madison had recovered and regained his feet. The result of his attack on Merriwell had astonished him no less than it did his followers. Even after recovering from the shock he could not understand just what had happened to him, although he realized that, in some manner, he had been sent spinning through the air. It had dazed him. After regaining his feet he asked one of the young toughs what had happened.
“Why,” was the answer, “he just grabbed you and throwed you, that’s all.”
“Oh, he throwed me, did he?” growled Madison, a vicious look on his face. “Well, I ruther think I’ll throw him next time. He’ll git all that’s coming now!”
“That’s right, Mad!” encouraged his followers. “You didn’t hit him because he dodged. Go for him again. Grab him this time before he can grab you.”
“Just watch me,” advised the thug, as he sprang to the platform.
Without warning, Madison came quickly up behind Merry, throwing his arms round Frank, in this manner pinning the arms of the latter to his sides.
“Now I’ve got ye, burn your hide!” snarled the ruffian. “You worked a slick trick on me t’other time, but you can’t do it aga——”
He did not finish; Frank gave him no further time for speech.
Down Merry dropped to one knee, causing the man’s arms to slip up about his neck. Before Madison could get a strangle hold, even as he dropped to his knee, Frank caught the ruffian’s right hand and twisted it outward, bringing the palm upward. With his other hand Frank secured a hold on Madison’s wrist, and then he jerked downward, bending far forward.
Mat Madison’s feet left the ground, his heels flew through the air and he went turning over Merry’s head, landing flat on his back in front of the undisturbed young man.
The town toughs, who had fancied their leader had the stranger foul, were even more astonished than by Madison’s first failure.
Merriwell rose to his feet, stood with his hands on his hips and regarded his fallen assailant with a pitying smile.
Frank’s friends—the most of them—seemed amused over the affair, and either smiled broadly or laughed outright. Hodge and Morgan were the only ones who betrayed no mirth.
“Jee-roo-sa-lum!” cried one of the tough youngsters. “Did you see that, fellers?”
“How did he do it?” gasped another.
“Why, he throws Mad just as e-e-easy!”
“He’s a slippery chap!”
“Slippery! He’s quicker’n lightnin’!”
“Strong as a bull!”
“Full of slick tricks!”
The astonishment of Madison’s friends was somewhat ludicrous. They had expected the bully to handle the clean, quiet young man with perfect ease, especially when he seemed to obtain such a great advantage by seizing Merry from the rear.
Madison’s arm had been given a severe wrench, but the fellow rose quickly, not yet subdued or satisfied.
“I ain’t done with ye,” he snarled; “I ain’t done yet!”
“That’s unfortunate—for you,” declared Frank, wholly undisturbed.
“I’ll kill ye yet!”
“You frighten me.”
But the tone of voice in which Merriwell spoke the words told he was not frightened in the least.
Madison was breathing heavily, his huge breast heaving, as he rose and confronted Frank. With his hands hanging at his sides, the young man who had twice taken a fall out of the bully seemed utterly off his guard and unable to defend himself quickly.
The thug stepped in, suddenly shooting out his left fist toward Merry’s solar plexus, hoping to get in a knockout blow.
Merriwell sidestepped in a manner that caused the bruiser to miss entirely. With his right hand Frank caught the fellow’s left wrist, giving the middle of his arm a sharp rap with the side of his left hand, thus causing it to bend. Instantly twisting the man’s arm outward and bending it backward, Frank placed his left hand against Madison’s elbow and pushed toward the thug’s right side. In the meantime, Merry had placed his right foot squarely behind Madison’s left. Madison found himself utterly unable to resist, and, almost before he realized that he was helpless, he was hurled over backward with great violence.
“Maype dot blatform vill lay sdill on you a vile,” observed Dunnerwurst, as Madison fell with a terrible thud.
“Three times and out,” murmured Jack Ready.
“It ain’t no use!” exclaimed one of Madison’s backers. “Mat can’t do this chap on ther level. He’s up against a better man.”
Madison thought so, too. He was beginning to realize that he had encountered his master, although the thought filled him with rage he could not express. For some time he had been the bully of Cartersville, universally feared by the younger set of hoodlums, and in that period he had not encountered any one who could give him anything like an argument in a fight. He had expected to handle Merriwell with ease, and the ease with which he was defeated made the whole affair seem like an unreal and unpleasant dream. Furthermore, he knew that never after this would he be regarded with the same degree of respect and awe by the young ruffians of the town. Having seen him handled in such a simple manner by a calm, smiling stranger, they would never again look on him as invincible.
The encounter had been witnessed by others besides those immediately interested. Madison was well known and feared in Cartersville, and the loafers about the station, as well as those who had business there, saw him defeated for the first time in his career of terrorism. Although some of them rejoiced over it, yet nearly all were still too much awed by his record to express themselves.
The treatment he had received at the hands of Merriwell had wrenched and bruised the ruffian, whose arms and shoulders felt as if they had been twisted nearly out of their joints. The fellow got up slowly after the third fall.
Some fancied he would attempt to get at Merriwell again, but he had been checked and cowed most effectively. He stood beyond Frank’s reach and glared, his face showing his fury, while his huge hands twitched convulsively.
The language that flowed from the lips of the ruffian was of a character to make any hearer shudder in case he possessed any degree of decency.
“That will do!” interrupted Merry sharply, the pleasant expression leaving his face. “Not another word of it! Close up instantly!”
“What if I don’t?” demanded Madison.
“Then what you have received from me is a mere taste beside what you’ll get,” promised Frank.
Madison turned to his followers.
“What’s the matter with you?” he snarled. “What made you stand round and see him do stunts with me? Why didn’t you light on him, you muckers?”
“We were waiting and pining for them to make some such movement, gentle sir,” observed Jack Ready.
“Yah!” cried Dunnerwurst. “Id vould haf peen very bleasing for us to seen id did.”
“You told us you’d do ther whole thing when we came down to the station, Mad,” reminded one of the gang.
“We was waitin’ for ye to do it,” said another grimly.
“Of vaiting you haf become tiredness,” observed Hans. “You don’d blame me vor dot.”
Madison started to pour forth vile language again, but Merry took a single step in his direction and he stopped, lifting his hands to defend himself.
“I don’t care to touch you again,” said Frank; “but if I hear two more words of that character from your lips I’ll take another fall out of you.”
“You’re mighty brave now!” muttered the tough; “but I ain’t done with ye. No man ever flung Mat Madison round like a bag of rags and didn’t regret it. You’d been better off if you’d took my advice and left on that train. Now you can’t leave before to-morrer, and I’m going to square up with you before you git away.”
“I don’t fancy your threats, any more than your vile language. I’ll take neither from you. We came to this town to play baseball, and we propose to do so—or know the reason why.”
“You won’t play no baseball here, and don’t you think ye will. That’s all settled. There won’t be no more baseball in this town as long as Joe Gaddis tries to run things.”
“What’s the matter with Gaddis?”
“You’ll find out—mebbe. There ain’t no baseball team here now.”
“No ball team?”
“No.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It don’t make no difference whether you believe it or not. You go ahead and investigate. Mebbe you’ll have a good time stopping in Cartersville, but I don’t think it.”
“Oh, they’ll have fun!” sneered one of the crowd.
“Carey Cameron will see about that.”
“Shut up, Bilker!” snapped Madison. “You ain’t to call no names.”
“Who is Carey Cameron?” asked Merry promptly.
But no one would answer the question.
Madison turned away, after giving Merriwell another glaring look of hatred, and the young ruffians flocked after him.
“Well,” said Merry, “that incident is closed for the present. Now we’ll find a hotel and secure accommodations.”
It was not a difficult thing to find a hotel. Inquiry enabled them to reach the Hall House, which was the nearest public house after leaving the station. It was not a particularly inviting house on the outside, being sadly in need of paint. It was a frame building, standing on a corner, and a number of loafers were sitting about in front, smoking, chewing tobacco, and gossiping. They stared curiously at the boys.
Frank led the way into the office.
Two men, one in his shirt sleeves and the other looking like a countryman, were talking politics. They stopped and turned to look the strangers over.
“Where is the proprietor?” inquired Frank, as he stepped briskly up to the desk.
The man in his shirt sleeves drawled:
“What yer want o’ him?”
“We want to put up here.”
“Can’t do it.”
“Can’t?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“I reckon you’re ball players, ain’t ye?”
“Yes, sir.”
“This house don’t accommerdate no ball players.”
“But we are gentlemen, and we——”
“I tell you this house don’t accommerdate no ball players. That ought to be plain ernough for ye. Go on about your business.”
“This is a public house, isn’t it?”
“Ye-ah.”
“Well, I demand to see the proprietor.”
“You’re lookin’ at him. Help yourself.”
“Are you the proprietor?”
“You bet!”
“And you refuse to give us accommodations in your hotel?”
“You bet!”
“All right. Your only reason for doing so is because we are baseball players, is it?”
“I didn’t say so,” answered the man shrewdly.
“But you inferred it.”
“Did I?”
“It sounded that way.”
“Well, there may be a dozen other reasons, young feller. I’ve been in the hotel business ten years, an’ you can’t trap me. We ain’t prepared to accommerdate ye. You didn’t notify us you was comin’, an’ so we made no special preparations. Our help is short, there’s a case of typhus fever in the house, my wife is down with the lumbago, and I’m some broke up myself with the chills. So you see there ain’t no need to discuss the matter further. We can’t take ye in. Good day. The Mansion House is up the street three squares.”
“That inn did not appeal to my ?sthetic sense of refinement, anyhow,” observed Ready, as they filed out onto the street with their hand bags and grips. “It looked somewhat soiled and out of condition. The Mansion House seems far more alluring.”
“I don’t think much of being turned down in that manner,” said Merry. “It is irritating.”
The Mansion House proved to be a brick building near the centre of the business section of the place.
“I’m glad we were turned down back there,” said Morgan. “This looks better to me.”
“Yah, I pelief id does haf a petterment look,” agreed Dunnerwurst. “I think we vill peen accommodationed mit superiority here.”
The office was empty. They waited a few moments and no one appeared. Then Frank found a bell on the desk and rang it. After another period of waiting and a second ringing of the bell, a sleepy-eyed fat boy came in, dragging his feet and looking both tired and disturbed.
“Here, boy!” exclaimed Merry; “what’s the matter with this place? We want to stop here.”
“You’ll ha-ve t-o s-ee Mr. Jones,” declared the boy, drawling forth his words with a great effort.
“Who is Mr. Jones?”
“He’s th-e pro-pri-e-tor.”
“Well, where is he?”
“I do-n’t kno-ow.”
“Stick a pup-pup-pin into him and wa-wa-wake him up, Ready!” cried Joe Gamp.
“Do-n’t yo-ou lar-a-rfe a-ut me-e-e!” said the fat boy, still in that weary drawl. “I do-n’t li-ke to ha-ave a pi-un stu-ck in-to me-e-e.”
Rattleton dropped on a chair and began to laugh.
“He cakes the take—no, takes the cake!” cried Harry. “He don’t li-i-ike to ha-ave a pi-un stu-ck in-to he-e-e-um. Ha! ha! ha!”
“Do-n’t yo-ou lar-r-rfe a-ut me-e-e!” said the fat boy resentfully.
“This is a fine hotel!” exploded Hodge.
Dunnerwurst waddled over to the fat boy.
“Look ad myseluf,” he commanded. “We vish to pecome the jests uf the house.”
“Guests, Hans,” corrected Frank, laughing.
“Yah, so id vos I said id. Ve vant to pecome der jests uf der house. Der money we vill paid vor dot, und we haf id readiness. Now on yourseluf got a mofement und pring righdt avay quick der brobrietor. Id is our urchent objection to registrate righdt off before soon und to our rooms got assignments. Yah!”
“Why-y do-n’t yo-ou ta-a-alk E-e-eng-lish?” inquired the fat boy.
“Vot?” squawled Hans excitedly. “Vot dit you hear me say? Vy don’t Enklish talk me? Vot dit you caldt id? Dit you pelief I vos Irish talking alretty now? Chust you got a viggle on und pring der chentleman by der name of Chones vot this hodel runs.”
He gave the fat boy a push, and the sleepy-eyed chap disappeared through the door by which he had entered, muttering:
“So-ome fo-o-olks are al-wus in a naw-ful hur-ry.”
Five minutes later an undersized man with a reddish mustache came pudging into the room. He was smoking a huge, black cigar, which he held slanted upward in a comical manner. His hands were in his pockets.
“What do you fellers want?” he asked, in a voice like the yapping of a small dog.
“Are you Mr. Jones?” asked Merry.
“That’s my name,” yapped the little man.
“Well, my name is Frank Merriwell, and these are members of my baseball team. We would like to know your rates.”
“Won’t do ye any good to know.”
“Why not?”
“My house is full, an’ I can’t accommodate ye.”
“Oh, come!” exclaimed Frank; “we’ll pay in advance.”
“That don’t make no difference. Can’t take ye.”
“We’ll put up with accommodations of any sort.”
“Ain’t got any sort for ye. I tell ye the house is full an’ runnin’ over. That settles it.”
“Where can we find accommodations in this town?”
“Can’t say.”
Frank was holding himself well in hand, although burning with indignation.
“We would like to know the meaning of this,” he said. “Do the hotels in this town ever accommodate transient guests?”
“Certain they do.”
“There are only two hotels here.”
“That’s correct.”
“Well, we have applied to both, and neither will take us in. Where are we to go?”
“That ain’t none o’ my business, is it?” yapped the landlord. “If my place is full you can’t force me to take ye in. Git out! I can’t bother with ye.”
Merriwell felt like making trouble, but knew it would do no good and might do a great deal of harm. He longed to talk straight to the insolent little man who snapped like a bad-natured dog; but that, too, he believed would be a mistake, and so he turned to his companions, saying:
“Come on, boys.”
“Wait!” cried Bart Hodge, his dark eyes blazing—“wait until I tell this imitation of a real man a few things!”
Before Bart could express himself, however, Frank had him by the arm.
“Keep still, Hodge,” he commanded, in a low tone of authority. “It will be a mistake. Come away quietly.”
Although he felt like rebelling, Bart submitted in mute protest, giving Jones one contemptuous look, and they all left the Mansion House.
“Vasn’t id a sadness to haf der coldt und empty vorld turned oudt indo us!” sobbed Hans Dunnerwurst, as they paused in front of the hotel.
Jack Ready sang:
I ain’t got no reg’ler place that I can call my home,
I mark each back-yard gate as through this world I roam;
Portland, Maine, is just the same as sunny Tennessee,
And any old place that I hang up my hat is home, sweet home to me.
“Don’d dood id! Don’d dood id!” implored Dunnerwurst. “Id gifes me such a melancholery. I vish I vouldt be more thoughtlesss uf your feelings!”
Browning growled and grumbled.
“I’m mighty tired of this business!” he declared. “We’re having a fine time playing baseball in this town! I’m sick of this baseball business, anyhow. It’s too much trouble. There’s always something doing. I’m going to swear off and never play the game any more.”
Dick Starbright laughed and slapped Bruce on the shoulder.
“You’re a great bluffer, old chap,” he said. “You’ve been swearing off ever since I knew you, but I’ll bet you’ll stick to the game until you weigh three hundred pounds.”
“When I reach the three-hundred-pound mark I’m going to commit suicide.”
“Then you haven’t long to live.”
Frank stepped out and spoke to a man who was passing, inquiring about boarding houses. The man was rather surly, but he told Merry of a house kept by Mrs. Walker, and soon the party was on the way thither.
Mrs. Walker’s house proved to be a long, rambling, frame building, about which hovered an atmosphere of poverty. They were met at the door by a sharp-nosed, belligerent-appearing woman, who placed her hands on her hips and demanded to know who they were and what they wanted.
Removing his hat and bowing low with grace and politeness, Merry explained that they were looking for a place to stop overnight, at least, and he hastened to add that they were willing to pay in advance, emphasizing this statement by producing a roll of bills.
The eyes of the woman glittered as she saw the money.
“Are you baseball players?” she inquired.
Merry confessed that they were, whereupon she shook her head with an air of regret.
“Then I can’t have anything to do with ye,” she declared.
“What difference does that make, if we are quiet and gentlemanly and pay our bills in advance?” inquired Merriwell.
“It makes a heap of difference. I can’t take ye in.”
“I wish you would be kind enough to give a satisfactory reason for refusing us, madam.”
“I ain’t giving any reasons, and I ain’t talking too much. You can’t stop here.”
“Not if we pay double rates for transients and pay in advance, Mrs. Walker?”
“Not if you pay ten times regler rates and pay in advance,” was the grim answer. “I judge that’s plain enough for you.”
“It’s plain enough, but still we cannot understand your reasons. I wish you would——”
“It ain’t any use making further talk. You’ve got my answer, and that settles it.”
Saying which, she retreated into the house and slammed the door in their faces.
“I’m so lonesome, oh, I’m so lonesome!” sang Jack Ready. “Children, we are cast adrift in the cold and cruel world. We are stranded in the wilds of Iowa, far from home and kindred. Permit me to shed a few briny tears.”
“This thing is getting me blazing mad!” grated Bart Hodge. “What do you think about it, Merry?”
“There seems to exist a peculiar prejudice against baseball teams in this town,” said Frank.
“This makes me think of a little experience of mine in Missouri two years ago,” began Stretcher.
But Buck Badger suddenly placed a clenched fist right under Jim’s nose, which caused the boy from Missouri to dodge backward, exclaiming:
“I beg your pardon! I’ll tell you about that some other time.”
“What can we do?” exclaimed Morgan. “We seem to be up against it.”
“Perhaps we can get into a private house somewhere if we pay enough,” suggested Rattleton. “I’m willing to doff the coe—I mean cough the dough.”
“We’ll have to try it,” said Frank.
They did try it, with the result that they were promptly refused at three houses, although Merry resorted to all the diplomacy at his command.
They turned back into the main part of the town.
“What will you do now, Frank?” asked Morgan.
“I’m going to try to get track of Mr. Joseph Gaddis,” answered Merriwell grimly. “When I do——”
The manner in which he paused and failed to complete the sentence was very expressive.
“I don’t blame you!” cried Hodge. “Mr. Gaddis must explain why we have been treated in this outrageous manner. He agreed to meet us at the station and have accommodations for us at the best hotel in town. He has broken his contract, and I’d like to break his face!”
“That wouldn’t help matters much, Bart.”
“But it would relieve my feelings in a wonderful manner.”
“There is something behind this affair that we do not understand,” said Merry. “In order to understand it we’ll have to learn the facts.”
“You’re sure Gaddis was in earnest when he made that contract with you in Omaha?” questioned Rattleton.
“If ever I saw a man who seemed to be in earnest, Mr. Gaddis was such a man. He witnessed our great seventeen-inning game with the Nebraska Indians and lost no time after that in seeking to arrange a game with us to be played here. Stated that his team had beaten the Indians twice out of three times last season, and Green, the manager of the Indians, acknowledged that it was so. The inducements offered were satisfactory. We could reach this town without going out of our way on the trip East, and I finally made a contract with him. Here we are.”
“And where, oh! where is Gaddis?” sighed Ready.
Reaching the main street of the town, they entered a drug store and inquired for Mr. Gaddis. The druggist looked them over in a peculiar manner. He knew Gaddis very well, he said. Gaddis was out of town. Left suddenly that very morning for Des Moines.
At this moment a handsome open carriage, in which sat a woman heavily veiled, drew up before the door. The lady waited until the druggist’s clerk stepped out to see what she wanted. A moment later the clerk re-entered the store and asked if Mr. Merriwell was there.
“That is my name,” said Frank.
“The lady in the carriage wishes to speak to you,” said the clerk.
“What’s this? what’s this?” muttered Jack Ready. “How could she miss me? My ravishing beauty should have appealed to her. I am fast coming to the conclusion that beauty like mine is a decided disadvantage. It awes the fair sex.”
Wondering who the unknown woman could be and what she wanted, Merry left the store.
“Are you Mr. Merriwell?” inquired the woman, as Frank stepped up to the carriage and lifted his hat.
“I am—miss.”
He had quickly decided that she was young, and diplomacy led him in his uncertainty to address her as miss instead of madam.
Her veil was so heavy that it was absolutely baffling, permitting him to obtain no view of her features that would give him a conception of her looks. Her voice was musical and low and filled with strange, sweet sadness.
There was about her an air of mystery that struck Frank at once.
“I believe you are looking for some place to stop while in town?” she observed questioningly.
“That is quite true, and thus far I have looked in vain.”
“It is a shame that a stranger here should be treated thus. The hotels have declined to take you in?”
“Yes, miss; likewise the only boarding house and several private houses where we have made application.”
“If you will depend on me I’ll find accommodations for you and your friends.”
Merry’s surprise increased. His face cleared and he gave her one of those rare, manly smiles that made him so wonderfully attractive.
“You are very kind, but I fear——”
“Do not fear anything. I live here, and this outrage upon strangers has awakened my indignation. If you will enter my carriage and ask your friends to follow us I’ll see that you are taken care of.”
“I hope you will not be putting yourself to any inconvenience in this——”
“Not at all; it gives me pleasure and satisfaction. Do not hesitate. Speak to your friends at once.”
Thus urged, Merry called his followers from the store and made known the offer he had received from the unknown woman. Hodge surveyed her suspiciously and then found an opportunity to whisper in Frank’s ear without being observed:
“Look out for some kind of a trick, Merry.”
“Nonsense!” laughed Frank. “Come on.”
He entered the carriage and took a seat beside the lady, who made room for him. Thus they were driven away along the street, the others following on the sidewalk.
“You appeared just in time to save us, miss,” said Merry. “We were beginning to get desperate.”
She urged him to tell her just what had happened, which he did, passing over the attack upon him by the ruffian Madison.
“It’s all very mysterious to me,” admitted Frank. “I wonder if you can throw any light on the situation.”
“All I know is that there is trouble in town over baseball affairs. During a number of seasons, and up to last season, baseball here was conducted by the cheapest element in the town, and the place acquired a very bad reputation. Outside teams, I have heard, were robbed and mobbed here. It became so bad that no manager who knew the exact condition of affairs would bring his team here. Last season a number of people who enjoy clean baseball resolved to put a stop to the hoodlumism. They secured the ball ground through some stratagem, and the tough characters found themselves out in the cold. A baseball association of respectable people was formed and Mr. Gaddis was chosen manager. The ruffians made him a lot of trouble, but he ran a team through the season. This year he was warned that he would not be permitted to conduct a team here. He paid no attention to the warning, but went ahead and made up his team. Immediately there was trouble, and it became evident that an attempt would be made to drive Gaddis out of baseball. The same ruffianly element that had predominated before his appearance started to make it warm for him. In doing this the whole place has been terrorized into backing up the ruffians. No one seems to dare to do anything different. Another man by the name of——”
She seemed to hesitate over the name, but quickly resumed:
“A man by the name of Cameron has organized a baseball team here. He has announced that he will take possession of the ball ground to-morrow, and that Gaddis will not be permitted to hold it longer. The members of Gaddis’ team have been intimidated and driven out of town, Gaddis himself has been threatened with personal violence. Without doubt, the hotel keepers and people of the place were warned in advance to have nothing to do with any ball team that came here to play with Gaddis’ team. Your team was chosen in particular, as it happened to be the first to arrive here after—after Cameron came out boldly and announced his intention. That is about all there is to it. At least, it is all I know about it.”
“Well,” cried Merry, in surprise, “it certainly is astonishing that a whole town can be intimidated in such a manner by a set of ruffians. Is there no law here?”
“If so, there is little danger that it will be enforced against the scoundrel Cameron!” she exclaimed, with surprising bitterness, all the music and sweetness gone from her voice. “He is a wretch who finds methods of evading the law, even when he commits the most heinous crimes! But vengeance will fall on him in the end! He cannot always escape!”
The depth of feeling betrayed by the mysterious woman told Frank that she was the implacable enemy of Cameron and that she had reasons for hating the man most intensely.
As they were passing the Mansion House two men came out and paused on the steps.
One of them was the bruiser, Mat Madison.
The other was a slender, red-lipped, dark man of thirty-five or more, dressed stylishly and smoking a cigarette.
“There is Carey Cameron!” hissed the veiled woman.
For all of her evident hatred of Cameron, the mysterious woman made no outward demonstration that could lead either of the men on the steps of the hotel to suppose she had as much as noticed them. If her face expressed the passion of hatred that was betokened by her voice, the veil effectually concealed the fact, and apparently she sat looking straight ahead without even turning her eyes in the direction of the hotel.
The two men who had chanced to come out upon the steps at that moment quickly discovered Merriwell in the carriage and saw the others of Frank’s team following on the sidewalk.
“What in blazes does that mean, Madison?” exclaimed Cameron.
“You know as well as I do, boss,” answered the bruiser.
“Who is that chap in the carriage with the woman?”
“That’s the feller I was just telling you about—the one who downed me at the station.”
“Frank Merriwell himself, eh?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Well, I swear he doesn’t look very much like a fighter. You should handle a smooth-faced chap like that with ease. I’m disgusted with you. Where is he going with that woman?”
“I judge she’s taking him to her house, and it looks like the rest of the bunch is bound for the same place. They couldn’t git no accommodations at hotels or other places, so she’s goin’ to take them in.”
Carey Cameron flung aside his cigarette.
“Hasn’t she been warned?” he asked.
“No, for nobody reckoned she would be taking strangers in, as she’s been so haughty and high-headed since comin’ here that she’s scarce spoke to anybody, and she don’t have any dealings with the people in the town.”
Instantly Cameron descended the steps and hastened to the street, where he planted himself in front of the horse, commanding the driver to stop.
“Madam,” he said, “it’s likely you don’t understand what you are doing. I am led to suppose that you contemplate taking your companion and his crowd into your house and giving them shelter. If such is the case you had better change your mind instantly, or you will find yourself in serious trouble.”
The woman did not answer, but, rising slightly from her seat, she hissed at the driver:
“Whip up! Drive over that man!”
The driver’s whip was in his hand, but he hesitated about obeying the order. Turning his head, he answered, in a low tone:
“I dare not, Miss Blake. He——”
Instantly she sprang erect, snatched the whip and, reaching over the driver’s seat, hit the horse such a cut that the fiery animal instantly leaped forward.
By an agile spring, Cameron succeeded in escaping, although he barely avoided the wheels of the carriage. His hand went to his hip as he glared after the woman, but he did not draw a weapon.
Frank’s friends had seen this, but were not given time to come up and take any part in the affair. Hodge was inclined to pitch into Cameron, but the others advised against it, and all hurried along after the carriage.
There was a glare of fury in the eyes of Carey Cameron as he stood in the street looking after the mysterious woman who had dared defy him.
Madison hurried up.
“Why didn’t you stop her, boss?” he asked.
Cameron turned on him, blazing with wrath.
“You idiot, didn’t you see what she did? She tried to run over me!”
“I should say she did, boss.”
“Confound her! I’ll make her regret it! She doesn’t know me! She doesn’t know my influence in this town. I’ll drive her out of Cartersville!”
“Are you goin’ to let her take Merriwell’s crowd in?”
“I could stop it, but what’s the good? We’ve done enough, I fancy. Gaddis is out of baseball, and the fine crowd that was backing him have taken to cover. I don’t believe they’ll dare butt against us after this. I wanted to show them just what we could do when we wished, and I believe they understand. Half our new players are here now, and the rest will arrive in the morning. The new Cartersville baseball team will take the field the following day. Old Martin, who owns the field, is so well cowed that he has told me to go ahead and use it, although Gaddis holds a receipt for the season’s rent, which he has paid. I have no particular quarrel with the Merriwell crowd.”
“Well, I have!” snarled Madison; “and I’m going to get a crack at Merriwell before they pull out of Cartersville!”
“Go ahead,” nodded Cameron, as he took a gold cigarette case, decorated with diamonds, from his pocket, and selected a fresh cigarette. “You have my permission; but, according to your own story you’ll have to catch him off his guard and lay him out stiff before he has a chance to recover.”
“Leave it to me!” growled the bruiser.