Читать книгу Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Arizona; or, Clearing a Rival's Record - Burt L. Standish - Страница 4

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The stage that carried passengers and luggage between the two towns of Ophir and Gold Hill was a mountain wagon with a canopy top. This wagon, minus the horses and driver, was at a rest in the trail.

A woman, dressed in black and with a gray shawl over her shoulders, was sitting on the seat immediately behind the one reserved for the driver. Back of her, in the rear of the wagon box, was a shabby little hide-covered trunk.

This woman, apparently, was the only passenger. The two lads stared in the woman’s direction and continued to wonder regarding what had happened to the stage.

“Some accident, sure,” said Shoup. “The driver must have taken the team and gone after help.”

“I reckon that’s the how of it,” returned Lenning.

“Now,” his companion went on, “if we had money, Len, we could ride in that rig as far as Ophir; and then, if we had some more money, we could hire horses in Ophir and get to the gulch in that way.”

“If we had money,” came grimly from Lenning, “we wouldn’t go to the gulch at all.”

“Wouldn’t we?” queried Shoup. “You say we’re going there to make a ‘touch,’ and won’t admit that your wish to play even with Merriwell has anything to do with it. But I know making a raise is only about half of our work at the gulch.”

“Well, let it go at that,” said the other, with a shade of annoyance. “No use standing here chinning when we ought to be moving on.”

They started forward again. As they drew nearer the stage they soon discovered what had happened.

One of the rear wheels was broken beyond repair. The wheel had struck a bowlder and had been dished. Rim and tire were lying on the ground, covered with half the spokes. The rest of the spokes were sticking in the hub.

The woman on the front seat watched the lads as they approached. They could see that she was little and old and wore spectacles. A lock of snow-white hair dropped below the brim of a hat, which was evidently homemade. Her dress was clearly her best black alpaca, and had probably been her best for many years. The old face slowly lighted up as the young men drew near.

Both boys lifted their hats when they had come close. “You’ve had an accident, ma’am?” asked Lenning.

“Well, goodness me, I should say so!” was the answer. “I’ve been sitting here for an hour, seems like, while the driver’s gone with the horses to get a new wheel, or something else to patch up the wagon, so we can get on to Ophir. Do you boys live hereabouts?”

“Gold Hill,” said Lenning briefly.

“It’s been pretty lonesome, sitting here all alone, and I don’t feel real spry, either. You see, I haven’t been long out of a hospital, and this is quite a trip for a woman, old as I am. But I like this country—always did. I’ll feel a heap better, I know, after I’ve been here a spell. Going far?”

“Ophir.”

“Dear me! Why don’t you ride when the weather’s so warm? I’ve come from up North,” she continued, without waiting for a reply, “and it’s real brisk November weather, up there. Here in southern Arizona, though, winter isn’t winter at all, is it? Years ago, when I lived in these parts, I’ve seen the thermometer at eighty, in the shade, on Christmas day. That wasn’t much like Christmas. Terrible dusty, don’t you think?”

She had an old-fashioned hand reticule on her lap, and just here she opened it to take out a handkerchief. As she drew out the little square of linen, a roll of bills, with a yellowback on the outside, came with it. She grabbed the money before it could fall, and pushed it back where it belonged. Then she dabbed at her face with the handkerchief.

Shoup drew a quick breath as he caught sight of the money. There was an evil, greedy gleam in his eyes as they continued to fix themselves on the hand reticule.

Lenning’s eyes also filled with longing at sight of the roll of bills. He compressed his lips tightly, however, and turned his head away.

“Sorry we can’t stay with you, ma’am,” said he, “and keep you company until the driver gets back, but we’re in a hurry. Good-by. Come on, Billy.”

Shoup smiled at the old lady and again lifted his hat as he followed Lenning along the trail. The old lady shook out her handkerchief at them and called a good-by in a thin, high voice.

“Confound the luck!” grumbled Lenning, after a bend in the trail had hidden the stage from sight, “I’m tired enough to drop. If we could only make a raise this side of the gulch, we could get to where we’re going a heap easier than hoofing it.”

“You’re right, we could!” agreed Shoup. “You’d go on to the camp in the gulch, would you,” he added mockingly, “if we had money?”

“Yes, I would,” was the almost savage response. “You’re fishing around to find out what I’m really up to, and now you’re getting it flat; I want to even up with Frank Merriwell. He’s raised Cain with me, and you know it. What business has he got, sticking his nose into my affairs? He’s due to get what a buttinsky ought to get—and I’m the one that is going to hand it to him. Watch my smoke!”

“Hooray!” chuckled Shoup softly.

“You can help, if you want to,” went on Lenning, fairly ablaze with his fancied wrongs now that Shoup had nagged him into starting on them, “but, by thunder, you’ve got to keep your head clear and not make a monkey out of yourself—or me.”

“I don’t think I’ll do that, Jode,” purred Shoup; “I guess you’ll be tickled to death to have some one helping you before you’re done with Merriwell. He’s a good way from being an easy proposition. Do you think you can bank on your friends in the gulch?”

“Why should they turn against me?”

“Pretty nearly all your friends have given you the cold shoulder, I notice, since your uncle pulled the pin on you.”

“I can’t believe that all of them will kick me when I’m down,” said Lenning gloomily. “I’ve done a heap for that Gold Hill crowd. I used to have plenty of money, and whenever they wanted any all they had to do was to ask me for it. A whole lot of them owe me what they’ve borrowed, too. It’s only right they should pay that back, anyhow.”

“My experience is,” said Shoup, “that a fellow will always have plenty of friends when he’s got the spondulix and can pass it out freely; but when the mazuma gives out, and the barrel can’t be tapped any more, then he can’t find a friend with a microscope.”

“Friends like that are no friends at all.”

“They’re all like that.”

“Merriwell’s friends are not, and I don’t see why I can’t have a few friends just as loyal as his.”

“Well, Len,” grinned Shoup, “you’re not Merriwell.”

“I’m as good as he is!” flared Lenning.

“Not at some things.”

“I didn’t have a dad who was the world’s champion all-round athlete, and that’s one place where he gets the best of me. It’s Merriwell’s father’s reputation that makes young Merriwell what he is. Take that from him and there’s nothing left.”

“Easy, easy! You’re shy a few chips, Jode. Young Merriwell stands on his own feet, and the biggest handicap he has is the way people expect big things of him because his father did big things. Although I hate Merriwell as much as you do, yet I’ve got a whole lot of respect for him. Now——”

Shoup came to a halt, one hand on the outside of his breast pocket. A blank look crossed his pallid face.

“What’s the matter?” asked Lenning, halting.

“My dope case is gone!” was the answer. “I must have dropped it along the trail somewhere.”

“Let it go, Billy! Now’s as good a time as ever to cut away from the dope. Buck up and use your will power. Try and be a——”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” cut in the other angrily. “I’d die if I had to get along without that. Will you go back with me and help me find it?”

“I will—nit. I’m pretty nearly fagged. If you’re bound to have that stuff, go back and hunt it up yourself. I’ll wait for you here.”

A look as of satisfaction crossed Shoup’s face.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” he said, and turned back and was soon out of sight behind the chaparral.

Moodily Jode Lenning found a place where he could be fairly comfortable, and sat down. Every muscle in his body was aching. A few weeks before he would not have minded a jaunt like the one he and Shoup was taking, but now it told on him fearfully.

He knew the reason. His wits were keen enough to assure him that reckless living for only a few days had sapped the strength and endurance which he had been garnering for months.

He had been foolish, worse than foolish. But that couldn’t be helped, and there was no use crying over spilt milk.

The one object he had in life, just then, was squaring accounts with Frank Merriwell. Merriwell was always in the pink of condition—he made it a point to keep himself so.

“I’m all shot to pieces,” growled Lenning, “and I’ve got to go up against this paragon who never side-steps his training and settle a big score with him. Will he be too much for me? He will, sure, unless I can get at him in some underhand way. That’s the idea!” he finished.

Then, for an hour, he tried to think of some “underhand way” in which he could make young Merriwell feel the full force of his vengeance. Lenning was unscrupulous, to a certain extent, and his association with Shoup was well calculated to make him more so; nevertheless, Lenning had some shreds of character and self-respect left, although they formed a very imperfect foundation on which to build for better things.

While Lenning was still busy with his thoughts, Billy Shoup came briskly back along the trail. Lenning started up as he drew close, and stared at the triumphant look on his waxlike face.

“I reckon you found what you were looking for,” said he.

“You can bet a blue stack I did,” was the answer. “It wasn’t the dope case, either, Len.”

“Not that?” queried the startled Len. “What was it, then?”

Shoup proudly drew from his pocket something which he held toward Lenning in the palm of his hand. It was a roll of bills with a “yellowback” on the outside.

“Made a raise,” he chuckled. “Transferred this from the old lady’s hand bag to my pocket. Ain’t I the cute boy, all right?”