Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Support; Or, A Triple Play - Burt L. Standish - Страница 8

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Dick Merriwell did arrive in Omaha the following morning, and he brought Old Joe Crowfoot with him. The old redskin was looking thin and weak, and the expression of his wrinkled face was as inscrutable as ever.

“How!” he exclaimed, holding out his hand to Merriwell, as Frank met them at the station.

“How are you, Crowfoot?” exclaimed Merry.

“Heap better,” was the answer.

“That is good. Has the wound healed?”

“Some.”

“Are you strong?”

“Not yet; get so heap soon.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you. I took pains to have everything done for your comfort and to aid in bringing you round as soon as possible.”

“Heap much good!” said the old fellow. “Joe him not forget.”

“Joe will never forget,” assured Dick. “He has told me so many times. He thought at first you were the one who shot him, but now he knows better. We have talked it all over while he has been getting stronger, and he has decided that it is best for me to go with you and do just what you say.”

“Heap so,” nodded Old Joe. “Injun Heart your brother, Steady Hand. You take him now and make him your way. Old Joe him done all he can.”

“And Dick owes you much for what you have done. But where are you going, Joe?”

“Back to mountains—Joe go by himself.”

“That’s it!” cried Dick. “He won’t promise to stay with me.”

Frank placed a hand on the arm of the old Indian.

“Crowfoot,” he said earnestly, “I wish you to stay with Dick. I will take you along, and it shall cost you nothing.”

“White man’s way not Injun’s way.”

“That is true, but you may do as you please.”

“No good.”

“Why not? I will let no one bother you. I give you my word, and my word is good. Isn’t it?”

“Crowfoot him believe Steady Hand.”

“That is all I want. You are old, Joe, and I will see that you are cared for. I feel it a duty. You shall have such clothes as you need, a shelter, and plenty of tobacco.”

“Much good!”

“And you shall see Dick every day. You may be able to teach him many things more. It is your duty to him. You are to see that I do not spoil him by making him too much like a white man. I am his brother, but you shall be his father. Will you do it?”

Old Joe hesitated, looked Frank keenly in the face, as if seeking to ascertain his sincerity, then said:

“Joe him do it!”

“Then that is settled!” exclaimed Frank, in satisfaction.

“When Joe he want to go him go.”

“You shall go whenever you like.”

Dick was delighted by this arrangement.

“Thank you, Frank!” he exclaimed. “Thank you! thank you! Now, if I could only have Felicia——”

“Perhaps you may.”

Dick’s eyes sparkled.

“How can that be possible?” he asked. “She is far away.”

“But her father must understand that the time has come when she should attend school somewhere. Her mother is dead, and can teach her no longer. Mr. Delores may instruct her in Spanish, but she should have a different tutor. I hope to induce her father to bring her East and put her into school.”

“Ugh!” grunted Crowfoot. “Him no do it. Him have heap many enemy. Him stay where him be.”

“We shall see,” said Merry. “I am glad you are here, Dick, for we have missed you on the nine.”

“Missed me?” said the boy, his eyes dancing. “Why, you do not really need me on the nine. You simply played me in order that I might get experience and practise.”

“Who told you so?”

“I don’t know. Anyhow, I thought so.”

“Well, we have played a game without you and lost it. The Stars, of this city, trimmed us yesterday.”

“Oh!” cried Dick, in amazement. “How could they do it?”

“They did it very handsomely.”

“I don’t believe it was square! I don’t believe they could beat you!”

“They did, Dick.”

“And you pitched?”

“With that.”

Frank held up his wrist, about which there was a bandage.

“If you had been here, Dick,” he said, “they could not have won the game.”

This was praise, indeed, and the heart of the boy glowed. It was fine to know that Frank had so much confidence in him.

“I am here now,” he said.

“And we play them again to-morrow.”

“Good! good! We’ll win! You really want me to play, Frank?”

“I want you to play, and I want Old Joe on the bench. The combination will give us good luck.”

“Old Joe him go to see Dick play. Him great little boy at um baseball.”

“Then it is all up with the Omaha Stars,” laughed Frank. “We’ll beat them for sure.”

There was a burst of coarse, sarcastic laughter near at hand, and Frank turned quickly, to see Hazen and Derring there. He looked at the men intently, and they returned his stare in a most insolent manner.

“What do you think of that, Hazen?” laughed Jim Derring. “Merriwell thinks he’ll be able to win the game just because he has that kid to put on the team.”

“I think Merriwell is an idiot,” rumbled Hazen.

A flash of fire came into Dick Merriwell’s dark eyes, and he sprang toward the men.

“Who are you?” he cried. “What do you know about baseball?”

“I knew all about the game before you was born, kid,” said the treacherous umpire.

“Well, you don’t know enough to be a gentleman!” flashed Dick, in his fearless manner.

“What’s that? Why, you little runt, I’ll shake you outer them clothes!”

“Try it! I don’t know who you are, but——”

“Don’t talk to him, Dick,” said Frank, stepping up. “He is nobody but a common rascal who tried to sell the game to this other man yesterday. He was umpiring, and his dirty work made the crowd so angry that it came near mobbing him.”

“It was your dirty kicking that gave the crowd the impression that I was roasting,” snarled Derring. “The Stars will bury you to-morrow. You’ll not get a score.”

“Not a score,” growled Hazen.

“I’ll bet a thousand dollars we beat the Stars!” cried Dick, boylike.

“I’ll take the bet!” came from Hazen. “Put up your money.”

“If I had it, I’d put it up. Frank, let me have the money—do! You may take it out of my share if I lose. But I can’t lose! Won’t you let me have the money?”

Merry shook his head.

“I do not believe in betting, Dick,” he said. “It is gambling, and gambling has ruined many good men.”

Hazen and Derring laughed scornfully.

“You’re a squealer, Merriwell!” declared the stout sporting man. “That’s what’s the matter with you! You lack nerve!”

“That’s not true!” flung back Dick. “Anybody knows better than that!”

“It is true. If he had the least nerve, he would back you up. I took your bet.”

“Knowing you were talking to a mere boy who had no right to make such a bet. It is like you. Anybody else would not have taken him in earnest.”

“Squealer!” sneered Derring.

“Let me have the money, Frank—please!” entreated Dick.

A sudden resolve seized on Merry.

“I’ll let you have it on one condition,” he said.

“Name it.”

“You are not to take the winning yourself, but are to donate it to some charitable institution in this city.”

To this Dick immediately agreed, and then Frank said:

“Mr. Hazen, my brother will meet you an hour from now in the office of the hotel where we are stopping, and we’ll place the money in the hands of the proprietor.”

“If you fail to show up,” said Hazen, “I’ll get up on the bleachers to-morrow and tell everybody how you squealed.”

“Don’t worry; we’ll not fail to show up.”

Then Merry led the way to the place where a cab was waiting. The ex-Yale man, the boy, and the old Indian entered the cab and were driven away.