"Where's my husband?" she demanded. "Don't speak! Don't say a word! I want to know where my husband is!"

"Well, how kin I tell you if I don't speak?" snarled the deacon. "I dunno where he is, anyhow! Go 'way and lemme alone! This hot weather is giving me an awful headache."

"Oh, you've got a headache, have ye? Well, that's retribution, Mr. Hewett. You ought to have a headache. You've led my husband astray. He's a temperance man."

"Me lead him astray!" groaned Hewett. "Why, 'twas him and Eben that coaxed me over to Applesnack's store."

"Now don't you tell me that, you sinful old hypocrite! Eli never touches hard cider unless somebody induces him to do so. And I know Eben don't drink it on account of the effect on his rheumatiz."

"That's right, mother!" piped a weak, small voice from beneath the crib, as Eli poked his head out. "The deacon is all to blame!"

"Oh, there you be!" she snapped, as she pounced on him and pulled him forth. "Now you git up here and march home!"

Having pulled him to his feet, she took a firm grip on his ear and led him from the stall and out of the stable.



CHAPTER XXIII.

IN THE NOOK.

That afternoon was to be long remembered by all the visitors at Merry Home. It passed pleasantly in spite of the fact that Hans insisted on "rending a selection" on the flute and seemed rather disappointed and downcast when they begged him not to play any more.

"Der musig haf no heart for you," he complained. "Maype you vould like a popular song to sing to me. I vill gif you 'Efrybody Vorks Poor Vather.' Yes? No?"

"Don't yez do it, Hans," entreated Barney. "We have suffered enough already."

"Und id vos such a peautiful song!" moaned Dunnerwurst. "I understandt der author uf dot song got only fife hundret dollars for writin' id."

"Waal," drawled Gallup, "maybe it was his first offense. Did he pay the fine?"

"Fife hundret dollars vos a small amoundt," said Hans. "Still I vould like to add it py my 'lefen dollars and seventeen cents vot I haf my pocket in."

"How much would that make in all?" questioned Gallup. "You always was a rippin' good mathematicker, Hans, though seems to me you did git a little balled up in substraction. If you've gut eleven dollars and sixteen cents in your pocket, and I should take five dollars away from you, whaot would be the result?"

"You vould be carried avay an ambulance in," said the Dutchman promptly.

Carker had bestowed a great deal of attention on Juanita. Although she pretended not to notice this, Mrs. Morton was waiting her opportunity, and it came when Greg strolled away alone beneath the trees. In a few moments she made an excuse and followed him. Finding him seated on a rustic bench in a little nook, she uttered an exclamation of pretended surprise over discovering him there.

"Why, Greg," she fluttered, "are you here?"

He rose at once.

"Yes, I'm here," he answered. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Morton, if I alarmed you. I'll not bother you if you wish to sit here."

"Oh, you foolish boy!" she laughed, placing her hands on his breast and pushing him back on the seat. "Sit down. Isn't this a delightful place! We're all alone here by ourselves, and nobody can see or hear us."

She placed herself at his side.

"It might be somewhat embarrassing for you if any one should discover us here," said Greg.

"Embarrassing for me? What a foolish idea! You always were a foolish fellow, Greg Carker."

"You've told me so before."

"And told you the truth."

"I presume you still think so. You thought me foolish because of my socialistic beliefs. You used to make sport of me. I haven't forgotten that."

"The trouble with you, Greg, is that you take things too seriously. You never can see a joke. If any one plays a joke on you, you're offended, and you try to get even. You've been getting even with me to-day."

"In what manner?"

"By the way you made eyes at that insipid creature, Juanita."

"I wouldn't call her insipid if I were in your place," he remonstrated. "It doesn't seem nice of you, Madge—I mean Mrs. Morton."

"Oh, call me Madge. There is no reason why you should be so extremely formal. I knew you before I met George Morton."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"I thought I knew you," he retorted, "but I discovered I was mistaken."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it is true."

"I don't believe you ever cared for me, Greg."

"And I know you never really cared for me. If you had, you'd not have cast me over as you did for Morton."

"But I couldn't do anything with you, Gregory. You persisted in throwing your life away."

"In what manner?"

"In becoming a socialist. In lecturing on socialism in defiance of your father's wishes and my entreaties. Your father threatened to cut you off without a dollar."

"I believe he's made a will in which I am given the liberal sum of one dollar," said Carker. "So you see he has not quite cut me off without a dollar. The money made all the difference with you, Madge. Morton was wealthy. I had nothing in the world, and no particular prospects. You married Morton."

"Well, a girl has to look out for herself in these days."

"But you pretended that you loved me."

"I did," she declared earnestly. "I loved you then, Greg, and I've loved you ever since."

Again he shrugged his shoulders, and a low laugh came from his lips.

"You don't believe me!" she exclaimed. "If you only knew how much it hurt me to see you smiling into the eyes of that Spanish girl! Oh, I longed to choke her!"

"How do you think I felt when you dropped me and became George Morton's wife?"

"I'd never done that had you been sensible. Had you promised your father that you'd give up socialism, I'd have clung to you through everything, Gregory. You know socialism is so ridiculous! And socialists are the skuff and rabble of humanity. All the cranks and crackbrains are socialists."

"Every great thinker since the world began has been called a crank. I admit that there are many undesirable persons allied with the socialists, but because of that the great principles of the party cannot be condemned. The theory of socialism is founded on the rock of justice and——"

"Oh, I've heard all that before, Gregory. Don't talk it any more. How can you blame me if I did not wish to marry a penniless man absolutely without prospects?"

"I don't blame you," he said. "At the same time, Madge, I hate to think that you married George Morton simply for his money. I hate to think you deceived him in such a manner."

"Oh, George was a good fellow, and money is an absolute necessity, Gregory. Had I possessed a fortune, it would have been different. The mere fact that your father had cut you off would have made no difference to me then. It makes no difference to me now."

"But it's too late now, Madge."

"Oh, no, it isn't too late."

He drew back from her, and the look she saw in his eyes brought a sudden flush to her cheeks.

"You think me bold. You think me forward," she hastily said. "Long ago you made me confess that I loved you. Do you think I forgot you? Oh, no; there's been never a day since we parted that I've not longed to see you again."

In spite of her hand on his arm, he rose to his feet.

"This won't do, Madge," he said calmly. "You're a married woman. What if your husband should hear you speaking such words to me?"

She was on her feet also.

"My husband—why, Gregory,—don't you know—haven't you heard? I have no husband!"

"You—have—no—husband?"

"No. I'm a widow. I've just come out of mourning. George has been dead more than a year."

Carker seemed turned to stone. She was standing squarely in front of him, and she placed both her hands on his arms, looking up into his eyes.

"I supposed you knew," she murmured. "He left me in comfortable circumstances, and there is now no reason why I should worry about the future. If your father is unrelenting, it can make but little difference to us. Even though we may not agree about socialism, I'll let you have your way. Everything has come out right at last, Greg. Isn't it splendid!"

Before he realized her intention, one of her arms slipped round his neck.

At that moment Juanita Garcia passed the entrance to that little nook and saw them. She did not pause, but, pale-faced and wide-eyed, hurried silently on.



CHAPTER XXIV.

ON THE CLIFF.

During the remainder of the day Juanita avoided Greg Carker.

Evening came. Within the house the boys were singing the old college songs to the accompaniment of a piano as Juanita stole away alone and listened a long time from a corner of the veranda. Tears dimmed her eyes, and she whispered soft words to herself.

"I know I'm a veree fooleesh girl," she said. "I cannot help eet. Eet ees not to be that he should care for me."

Her heart throbbed with bitter disappointment. She left the house behind and wandered away through the dusky June night. Crossing the road and the fields, she came at last to Ripple Lake, on the edge of which she lingered while the moon crept up in the east.

"I ought to return," she murmured. "If they mees me, they will become alarmed. But I cannot go back there yet—I cannot go back!"

Her restless spirit led her round the shore of the lake until she finally found herself on a bluff that rose from the water's edge. The moon was now behind her back. At the brink of the bluff she peered over into the shadow below.

A footstep startled her.

With a smothered cry, she turned and found herself face to face with—Jose Murillo.

"It is you, Juanita!" he exclaimed, in Spanish. "All day I have waited and watched for the opportunity to speak with you!"

"Senyor Murillo, why did you come here? You promised——"

"What is a man's promise to a gringo!" he retorted. "Did you think they could frighten Jose away from you? No, no, Juanita!"

"But I do not want to see you."

"You're a foolish girl. Why are you so determined against me? Your father gave me his promise——"

"It will do you no good to speak of that, senyor. I tell you now for the last time that I do not care for you—I never can. If you are a gentleman, you will bother me no more. I'm going back now."

He placed himself before her.

"Not yet!" he exclaimed.

"You cannot stop me, senyor!"

"Oh, yes, I can, senyorita. Don't fancy I've followed you all the way from Mexico to be baffled so easily. The Murillos are determined men. I have resolved that you shall be mine!"

"Never!"

"That word is easy to speak. What have I done that you should despise me?"

"You say the Murillos are determined men. They are, likewise, bloody men. I know not why my father favored you. I do know that my mother feared all Murillos, even as I fear you."

"It is good for a woman to have a husband whom she fears and respects."

"In this case fear and respect do not go together, senyor. I have no respect for you."

"Then I will teach you respect when you are mine."

"That opportunity will never be given you. Look, senyor, we stand at the edge of this cliff. The water is very close at hand. I wish you to understand me. Rather than become your wife, I'd leap into that water. I cannot swim."

"Leap!" he exclaimed. "I will leap after you, and I cannot swim!"

"Are you mad?"

"It is madness perhaps, senyorita, but it is the madness of love. You must understand me now. You must understand how useless it is to fly from me. Once I thought you cared for another man. Once I was jealous of Emmanuel Escalvo. He never knew how close he walked with death. When I learned you did not care for him I put away my knife. There can be no others—unless you have met him within a few hours. I am satisfied that there is no other."

With sudden indiscretion and defiance, she exclaimed:

"You're wrong, Senyor Murillo! There is another!"

He uttered a sudden curse.

"Who is the man? Tell me his name, and he shall have what Emmanuel Escalvo escaped!"

She was frightened by her folly.

"Who is the man?" he snarled, suddenly seizing her. "Speak quick—speak at once!"

"You hurt me, senyor!" she panted, striving to break from his grasp. "Let me go!"

"I will not! I have you now, and I'll keep you! I'll never let you go!"

"I beg your pardon," said a quiet voice, "but I think you're mistaken."

Jose Murillo found himself sprawling on the ground. He looked up, and in the moonlight he saw Gregory Carker offering Juanita support.

"Oh, why deed you come?" panted the girl. "Now he weel know! He weel keel you!"

Snarling like an angry dog, Murillo leaped to his feet. The moonlight shimmered on a blade he had whipped from his bosom.

"This ees the man!" he panted triumphantly, as he sprang at Greg.

Carker flung up his arm, and Murillo's knife slashed his sleeve from shoulder to elbow.

In a twinkling Greg had closed with the Mexican, grasping the man's wrist and holding him in an effort to keep him from using the knife.

Juanita sought to interfere, but the cool, determined young American warned her back.

"Leave this man to me," he said.

"He has the knife!"

"But I don't think he'll use it," said Carker, as he backheeled Murillo.

In a moment they were down, twisting and squirming and writhing on the ground.

With her hands clasped, and her lips parted, Juanita looked on, standing ready to do her best should she see Murillo free his knife hand.

Carker had once been an athlete. He was not now in the best condition, but, nevertheless, he was stronger than his foe, and he finally pinned Murillo to the ground.

"Drop that knife!" commanded Greg, seeking to force the weapon from the Mexican's fingers.

In this attempt he had almost succeeded, when of a sudden Murillo squirmed away, rolled over and over and scrambled up.

Carker rose on the brink of the cliff and again faced the man. Murillo came at him with a leap, making a savage slash with the knife. Carker dodged just in time and thrust out his foot. Over that outthrust foot the Mexican tripped. Straight forward he plunged, with a cry and a splash, into the water below.

"Perhaps a cold bath will do him good," observed Carker, breathing a trifle heavily.

Juanita seemed ready to faint.

"Oh, senyor, you are the brave man!" she breathed. "Oh, my heart eet beat so for you! I have such a terrible fear that he would keel you!"

Carker felt a strange thrill that ran over him from head to feet.

"Would you have cared so much?" he asked hoarsely.

"Eet would have keeled me, too, senyor!" she answered. "The lake—I should have leaped into eet! Like Murillo, I cannot swim."

"Like Murillo, eh?" exclaimed Greg. "Then the fellow can't swim? Well, I think it's up to me to pull him out."

He stripped off his coat, ran some distance away to a point where he could descend to the water's edge and made his way along the foot of the little bluff. Peering into the shadows, he called in vain to the Mexican.

Out beyond the point where the cliff shadow lay on the water there were tiny shimmering waves, but in that shadow he could see nothing.

"I'm afraid this is rather a serious matter for Jose Murillo," he muttered. "Had I realized the scoundrel couldn't swim, I'd followed him into the lake and pulled him out. I take it he's gone."

Juanita called to him from above:

"Can't you see him, Senyor Carkaire?"

"Don't be alarmed, Juanita," he answered. "I'm coming back there. I'll be with you in a moment."

He took one last look in search of the Mexican.

"I had to defend myself," he thought. "I'm sorry I was concerned in it, but I think Jose Murillo will trouble Juanita no more."

She was waiting in a trembling anxiety as he reappeared. He picked up his coat and put it on.

"Deed you find heem?"

"Not a trace," answered Carker. "He must have sunk like a stone. It's an unfortunate affair, Juanita, but you have no further cause to fear that man. Come, little girl, I'll take you back to the house. Give me your arm."

Timidly she clung to his arm, and they turned their steps toward Merry Home.

"Do you believe in fate?" asked Carker.

"Si, senyor. Eet was fate that I should meet Senyor Murillo as I deed."

"And it was fate that led me here. I have been seeking an opportunity to speak with you all the afternoon. You would not give me a chance. Every time I approached you ran away from me. Why did you do so, Juanita?"

"Why deed you weesh to speak with me?"

"I had something I wished to say. Juanita, I can't seem to find the words. I presume I'm rather excited. That's natural under the circumstances. It was something about you that bewitched me. It must have been your eyes."

"Oo, what ees eet you say, senyor? You theenk I do not know sometheeng. On the train you tell of the girl who would not marree you—the girl who marree the other man. You meet her in the car with Senyora Badgaire. I know! I know! She ees the one! You luf her!"

"I may as well make a clean breast of it," said Carker. "I thought I did once. She gave me the shake, Juanita. It's all over now."

"How can you say that? You theenk me a foolish girl to believe you? Wait and I weel tell you what I see. This afternoon you meet her in the little retreat of the shrubbery. I deed not know you were there. I walk out alone. I pass the place. I see you with her."

"That was unfortunate—for me. I presume it looked like an appointment. It was an accident, Juanita. It's all over between Mrs. Morton and Gregory Carker."

But the girl remembered how she had seen them standing there looking into each other's eyes, while the woman's arm was on Carker's shoulder.

"Wait, senyor!" she panted. "Many time I have been told all the Americans are deceivers. I know what I see with my eyes. Juanita ees no longer a child."

"Oh, won't you listen? Won't you take my word?"

"I weel not leesten now," she declared. "Some time when you prove to me that you no longer care for her, maybe I weel leesten. I must have the proof, senyor."

"I'll prove it somehow!" vowed Carker.



CHAPTER XXV.

A STARTLING DISCOVERY.

Having escorted Juanita back to the house, Carker called Frank aside and told him what had happened at the lake.

"I'm afraid I'm responsible for a dead Mexican," said Carker. "I think Murillo was drowned."

"It's unfortunate that you are concerned in it," said Frank; "but Murillo will be no great loss to the world. Nevertheless we'll do our duty and report the affair to the authorities without delay."

Making an excuse to the rest of the party, Frank and Greg walked into the village, found Bill Hunker, the constable, and told him precisely what had taken place.

"The Mexican pulled a knife on ye, did he, young feller? Well, consarn them Mexicans! I've allus heerd they was dangerous critters. 'Cordin' to your story, you wan't none to blame in this affair. So the dod-rabbited critter kinder went in swimmin' arter that, did he? Think he's drowned, do ye? Um-her! I don't s'pose it'll do no good for us to go fishin' for him to-night. I'll git some fellers and drag for him in the mornin'. Don't s'pose you want him to soak there in your lake, Mr. Merriwell, and spile the water. We'll dig him out and bury him in the pauper's lot, if nobody don't claim his carkiss. I judge there'll be a settin' of the coroner's jury on the case, but I kinder guess you needn't worry, young man. A Mexican that tackles a woman gits what he desarves if he's drownded same as this one. Don't you worry. Don't you fret. I s'pose this'll make plenty of talk for the boys at Applesnack's to-night. I was over there a while ago and hung around a-listenin' to Cy Tellmore yarnin' it until he made me sick and I had to git out. I swan that man can lie more inside of five minutes than any human critter that ever breathed."

Frank smiled.

"Cyrus has a vivid imagination," he observed.

"'Magination? 'magination?" squawked Hunker. "Mebbe that's what you call it, but I'd give it a stronger name than that. When I tell him about this affair I bet a squash he'll have some kind of a story 'bout drowndin' seventeen Mexicans all in a bunch. Say, have any of your folks down that way seen anything of Eli Given this arternoon?"

"Why," answered Frank, "we saw Mr. Given, Mr. Small, and Deacon Hewett shortly after midday."

"Er-haw! haw! haw!" laughed Hunker. "I reckon the whole town seen 'em, too. Say, they hit up Applesnack's cider barrel, and the stuff fixed 'em—it suttinly fixed 'em. They were corned for keeps. Went through town a-hoorayin' and a-whoopin' for you and for all your friends. Said they was goin' down to show their good feelin's toward ye. Applesnack and a few of the boys tried to keep 'em away, but 'twan't no use. Ten minutes arter they went down the road Mis's Given come lookin' for Eli, and some one told her where he'd gone. She hit the trail, and next we saw she was marchin' him back through town, with Uncle Eb and the deacon peggin' along behind, lookin' as meek and meechin' as wet cats.

"I dunno what happened arter Mis's Given gut Eli home, but he broke out ag'in and took to the woods or somewheres, and she ain't been able to find him. She was so all-fired mad that she come to me and wanted him 'rested. I had hard work to persuade her not to have him jugged. 'Course if it had been some feller who was inclined to git on a tear and raise thunder, I'd 'a' jest gone out and muckled onto him and shoved him into the lockup. But I did kinder hate to lock Eli up.

"I went over to Uncle Eb's lookin' for him, and there was Eben out in the woodshed a-snoozin' on a hoss blanket. Took me 'bout fifteen minutes to wake him up. He didn't know nuthin' 'bout Eli, so I went over to Deacon Hewett's. Er-haw! haw! haw! The deacon's wife had him on the lounge a-bathin' his head with cold water and a-holdin' smellin' salts to his nose. She said he'd been took sick sudden and was havin' a crackin' headache. She was in for callin' the doctor, but the deacon he wouldn't have it. He jest laid on the lounge and groaned and kept sayin' he was a poor sinful worm of the earth.

"When I left Mis's Hewett she follered me outside, pulled me by the sleeve and kinder looked shamed and downcast and asked me did I believe the deacon had been drinkin'. She said he told her he jest took a little medicine when the headache fust struck him. I didn't give him away. I looked s'prised and shook my head and told her he wasn't a drinkin' man, so 'course there wan't no question on that p'int. But we're kinder worried 'bout Eli. If he don't turn up before long, we're goin' to send out searchers for him."

"You needn't bother to do that, Bill," said a mild, mournful voice, as a dusky figure came round the corner of the house. "I'm all right. I'm purty well straightened out now, and I guess I'll go back home and kinder quiet mother's narves. You see she was rather excited and disturbed over the affair, and she wouldn't let me rest arter I gut to the house, so I sneaked off into Silus Cobb's barn, crawled into the haymow and slept a while. It was dark when I woke up, and I didn't know jest where I was. 'Twixt you and me, I'm going to tell Rufe Applesnack what I think of him. That cider was the most violent stuff I ever put down my woozle. It had an awful kick. I s'pose me and Eben and Elnathan are disgraced in Bloomfield for the rest of our lives. I don't think I'll show my head outside of the house for a month."

Frank slapped the downcast old man on the shoulder and tried to brace him up, but Given was so depressed that he refused to cheer up in the slightest.

"Think you can find your way home, Eli?" asked Hunker.

"Well, I'm over seven and I'm sober now," was the answer. "Don't you fret 'bout me. I'll git home, all right."

Bright and early the following morning Hunker and several villagers appeared at Merry Home and asked leave to use Frank's boats in the search for the body of the Mexican.

After breakfast Merriwell and a number of his friends went over to the lake and found the searchers at work.

Hunker reported that they had discovered no trace of the missing man. Carker, Hodge, and Merriwell launched a boat from the boathouse and joined in the work.

"It was on this cliff here that we had the encounter," explained Greg, as they rowed back and forth beneath the bluff. "The man's body should be here somewhere. There seems to be no particular current at this spot to carry it away. I think we'll find Jose Murillo within thirty yards of this locality."

There was a harsh, unpleasant laugh, and a voice cried:

"Senyor Carkaire ees right. Jose Murillo ees witheen thirtee yards of heem thees minute."

Looking up in astonishment, the trio in the boat beheld the Mexican standing on the brink of the cliff. His clothes were somewhat wrinkled and soiled, seeming to need cleansing and pressing. But the man was there in the flesh, grinning at them in a malicious, triumphant manner.

Greg Carker smothered an exclamation of amazement.

"Evidently you were mistaken in thinking the man drowned," said Frank quietly. "We've had all this trouble for nothing."

"Oh, eet ees not so easee to keel Jose Murillo!" sneered the rascal. "Where he fall in the lake the water ees not so deep. He stand up, with hees head out. He walk to the shore. He see Carkaire look for heem, and he keep steel. Now he look for Carkaire. Better have a care, gringo, for Jose Murillo weel find the time to strike you yet! Adios! He weel see you lataire!"

The man turned and hurried away.



CHAPTER XXVI.

A LIVELY GAME.

When the Farnham Hall baseball team came out for practice that afternoon they found another team on the field. This team was dressed in blue suits, and on the breast of each shirt was a large white letter M.

Frank Merriwell had found these old suits stored away and brought them forth. At sight of them his friends were seized with the old-time enthusiasm for the great American game, and it did not take them long to get into the suits and onto the field.

"What's this?" cried Dale Sparkfair, as he surveyed Merry's team. "We seem to have intruders here. We'll have to put them off the field, boys. We'll have to do them up."

Hans Dunnerwurst paused, with his hands on his hips, and stared at Dale. Half a dozen persons shouted at the Dutchman, but he failed to heed their warning, and a ball thrown at him struck him on the head, bounding off.

"Hey!" squawked Hans. "Who threw me at dot brick? Vos dot der vay you vill dood us upness? Py Chiminy! You fellers vant to vade right in und let it try you. I pelief ve can play paseball all aroundt yoursellufs. You vos challenched to meet us a game into. Yah! Vill you exception dot challench?"

"Where's the interpreter?" asked Spark.

"Der vot?"

"The interpreter."

"Vot you vant py him?"

"You need some one to interpret your conversation, my Irish friend."

"Irish? Irish?" yelled Hans, in exasperation. "Don'd you callt mineselluf Irish! Parney Mulloy vos der only Irishman der party into, und he vos der greenest pogtrotter dot efer come der Emerald Isle oudt uf."

"G'wan, yer Dutch chaze!" said Barney. "Go talk to yersilf. Nobody understands yez at all, at all."

"If you're looking for practice, Dale," said Frank, "perhaps we can accommodate you. We feel like playing a little baseball ourselves."

"Yah!" put in Hans, who declined to be repressed. "Ve pelief der game uf paseball can play us some. Der practice vos oudt uf us a whole lot, but all der same ve vill dood our pest to dood you up. Between der acts I vill gif you a melodious selection der flute on. Der flute brought me vid it to der paseball groundt."

"Av you attimpt to toot thot flute, Oi'll hit ye wid a bat!" growled Mulloy.

"Oh, you vos chealous—you vos chealous pecause der flute coot not play you!" sneered Dunnerwurst. "As Spokeshire observations, 'Show me der man who haf not music into his soul alretty, und I vill show you a son uf a gun dot vos fit for blotting assinations, general defiltry und all padness.' Dot vos you, Parney Mulloy."

The idea of playing a practice game with Merry's team delighted the Farnham Hall lads, and arrangements were quickly made.

"I presume you'll give us a show, Mr. Merriwell," said Sparkfair. "Are you going to pitch?"

"I don't think I'll start the game," said Merry.

"I vill pitch mineselluf," announced Hans. "I vos der createst paseball pitcher dot efer seen you."

Sparkfair flipped a coin, and the choice of innings fell to Merry.

"We'll take the field," said Frank. "Go behind the bat, Hodge. Dunnerwurst will pitch. You'll play your old position at first, Browning. Diamond will cover second, and we'll have Mulloy on third. I'll play short."

"The middle lawn for me," announced Ephraim Gallup.

"That's all right," nodded Frank. "Badger will take left field and Carson right field."

When the players had taken these positions Dunnerwurst held up his hand and asked permission to pitch a few over the plate.

"Chust gif me the privilege of letting my arm limber me up, vill you?"

"Go ahead," laughed Sparkfair.

Hodge adjusted the body protector and pulled on the big catching mitt.

"Keep open your eye for der curf uf der ball," warned Hans. "Uf I use too much speed for you, chust let me tell you so."

He presented a comical spectacle as he flourished, his arm with a windmill motion and delivered the ball to Bart. It was high and wide, but Hodge cuffed it down.

"Ho! ho!" shouted the Dutchman. "Did dot rise see you? Vosn't it a peauty, Part?"

"That was a great rise!" said Hodge. "Better try a drop next time. Get 'em lower."

On receiving the ball Hans made another flourishing motion, shut his eyes, and threw the sphere with great force straight at the ground in front of him.

"Mine cootness!" he gasped. "I vill haf to look oudt for dot drop. It vos a corker."

"Better start off with a straight ball," advised Hodge. "Give these youngsters a show. They can't hit your curves, Hans."

"I pelief me," nodded Dunnerwurst soberly. "Your advice vill took me."

A few moments later he announced that he was ready, and Bob Bubbs stepped out as the first batter.

Hans hit Bob with the first ball pitched, and Kilgore, who was umpiring, sent Towser to first.

"Vy did you not dotge?" demanded Dunnerwurst, in exasperation. "Any vun vould pelief der ball did not see you coming. Vos you plind your eyesight in?"

"Oh, I knew I couldn't hit," chuckled Bubbs, "so I got hit. That's part of the game."

"Veil, mebbe dot vos so, but you don'd pelief it. Der next man vill haf something different to did."

Netterby was the next man.

After pitching a ball behind Net's back and another one over his head, Hans managed to get one across the pan.

Net hit it and drove it out of the diamond, although Mulloy made a desperate effort to reach it.

"Vat vos you goot for, you Irish pogtrotter?" demanded Hans. "Vy did dot ball not stop you?"

"G'wan! g'wan!" retorted Barney. "It was a clane hit, Dutchy."

"You dood not pelief it. I vill haf to struck efry patter oudt. Der vos no udder vay when a pitcher gets dot kind of rotten suppordt."

Hiram Bemis stood forth to the plate and waited until Dunnerwurst had pitched four balls.

The bases were filled, and Hans began to growl at Kilgore.

"Vere did der umpiring efer learn you?" he demanded.

"Gol ding it!" shouted Ephraim Gallup from the field. "Yeou didn't git one of them balls within four feet of the pan! Yeou can't pitch! Yeou never could! Better let me go in and show 'em haow to pitch."

"Go avay pack and sit down," advised Hans derisively. "You vould dood a lot uf goot uf you vould pitch, vouldn't you!"

"If I couldn't do better than yeou're doing naow, I'd never play another game of baseball!" retorted Gallup.

"He's envious," said Sparkfair. "Don't listen to him. I know you'll strike me out. You can't help it."

The first ball pitched to Spark happened to be just where he wanted it. He met it squarely and drove it Over Carson's head in right field.

It was a clean three-bagger, and three runs came in.

"Well, I think that will about do for you, Hans," said Frank. "Come in here, Gallup, if you want to show what you can do."

Ephraim promptly accepted the invitation and came galloping in from the field.

"You vill be a peach!" sneered Hans, as he passed Gallup. "I vos ashamed for you alretty soon."

"I can't do any worse than you done if I tried a month!" retorted Ephraim.

After warming up a bit, Gallup pitched to Hollis.

Fred dropped a Texas Leaguer over the infield, and Sparkfair scored.

Dunnerwurst whooped derisively.

Then came young Joe Crowfoot, who also connected with the ball, lacing it out cleanly for two bases.

Hollis scored from first.

"They seem to be hitting you, Ephraim," observed Frank.

"Jest wait a minute," observed Gallup. "I ain't settled down yet."

Jack Lander wearily dragged his feet out to the plate, stood there with his eyes shut and permitted Kilgore to call two strikes on him.

"I've gut him," thought Ephraim. "He's in a trance."

Gallup attempted to put another one straight over, but to his consternation Lander woke up, hit the ball a crack and drove it skimming along the ground out of the diamond.

"You vos a dandy—you vas a dandy!" squawked Dunnerwurst.

Perspiration started out on Ephraim's face, and he looked decidedly annoyed. His annoyance reached a climax when Brooks landed on the ball for two bases, scoring Crowfoot and Lander.

"I guess that's enough for me, Frank," said Ephraim, as he walked out of the box. "I kinder judge you'll have to go in yourself. Them fellers has made seven runs, and there ain't a tarnal man out."

"Yes, it's about time for you to go in, Merry," nodded Hodge.

Frank thought so himself.

Gallup retired to his regular position in center field. Dunnerwurst took right field, and Carson came in to play short.

Merry entered the box. And Thad Barking astonished every one by lacing out a clean single.

Following this Bob Bubbs put up a foul, which was captured by Hodge. Brooks was caught off his base, and the agony ended when Netterby struck out.

Merriwell's team came to bat, facing the handicap of seven runs.



CHAPTER XXVII.

MURILLO'S FAREWELL.

In the meantime at least twenty boys from the academy had gathered to watch the game.

Gregory Carker appeared, escorting Inza, Elsie, Winnie Badger, Teresa Gallup, Mrs. Morton, and Juanita Garcia.

"Now we've got to play real baseball, fellows," laughed Frank, as Carker escorted the ladies into the stand, where they took the most convenient seats. "The girls will be ashamed of us if we continue this monkeying. Start it up, Hodge. You're the first batter."

Bart Hodge stepped out, picked out one of Sparkfair's curves and smashed a hot grounder at Bubbs, who gathered the ball up cleanly and whipped it across to Brooks.

"Out at first!" announced Kilgore.

"Oh, Bart! Bart!" cried Elsie laughingly. "Can't you do better than that?"

He shook his head as he walked back to the bench.

"Your turn next, Mulloy," said Frank.

Sparkfair seemed to be in good trim, for he whipped over a couple of benders which fooled Barney, who missed them both.

"Vait till der pat gets holdt uf me," muttered Dunnerwurst. "Der ball nefer coot hit dot Irishman."

Barney struck out.

"Don'd some more fun make uf me," advised Hans.

There was a hush as Frank Merriwell picked up a bat and stepped into the box.

"Now something vill see you," observed Dunnerwurst, in a low tone. "Der ball vill hit him a mile."

Sparkfair did his best to deceive Merry, but finally put one over, and Frank drove it far into the field.

Hiram Bemis covered ground rapidly as he raced for the ball, but no one fancied he could catch it. Making a final desperate spurt, Hi leaped into the air and pulled the globule down.

It was the third out, and Merry's team had not scored.

"I'm sorry for you, Mr. Merriwell," laughed Sparkfair, "but we can't afford to let you have this game now. It would be simply awful after getting seven runs in the first inning."

"The game is young," reminded Frank.

Having escorted the ladies to seats, Gregory Carker deliberately placed himself at the side of Juanita Garcia.

"Oh, Greg," called Madge Morton, "come here. I have something to show you."

"Excuse me just now," he answered, "I'll come directly. The senyorita is telling me something."

Then he whispered to Juanita:

"Tell me something quick."

"Why do you not go, senyor?" she asked.

"I prefer to remain here."

"But you weel have to go."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, I'll have to be polite, but I shall return."

"She weel not let you."

At this moment Mrs. Morton rose and changed her seat, placing herself at Carker's side as she laughingly observed:

"Don't let me interrupt you. When the senyorita has finished I will take a little of your time—just a little."

Juanita flashed her a look.

"I am sure Senyor Carkaire weel geeve you the time now," she said. "Eet ees not important what I have to say."

Madge had a delicate gold chain about her neck, and to the end of this chain was attached a small locket. This locket she now displayed, asking Carker if he remembered it.

"I think I do," he answered.

"I should think you would!" she laughed. "You gave it to me. Don't you think it a pretty little locket, senyorita?"

"Veree," answered Juanita.

"Yes," said Madge, with a sigh, "Gregory gave me this little trinket. He gave me something else. Let's see if I can open it."

She succeeded in opening the locket, and again held it up before Carker.

"See," she went on, "it's your picture, Greg—your picture and mine. I've worn this locket every day since you gave it to me."

"Oo!" murmured Juanita, with just the least touch of malice. "Deed you show eet to your husband, senyora?"

Mrs. Morton shrugged her shoulders and lowered the corners of her mouth.

"He saw it," she replied. "We had more than one little disagreement over it. He threatened to take it away from me."

Carker was decidedly uncomfortable. Glancing toward Juanita, he observed that her cheeks were flushed and she seemed decidedly disturbed.

"It was rather a piece of folly on my part," he said. "You know a man gets foolish at times, Mrs. Morton."

"Oh, Mrs. Morton!" exclaimed Madge. "How formal you are, Gregory! You were not nearly so formal yesterday. You were not nearly so formal when I met you alone."

Her eyes were on Juanita as she uttered these words. She saw the girl bite her lip.

"Eet ees a veree strange game thees baseball," said Juanita, turning to Teresa. "Do you understand eet?"

"Never mind her," said Madge Morton, pulling at Carker's sleeve. "Why do you pay her so much attention?"

"Do you wish to know?" he asked, in a low tone. "Then I'll tell you. I'm in love with her."

The woman looked at him with incredulous eyes, then threw back her head and laughed.

"More of your folly, Greg," she said. "You always were a silly chap. In love with that girl? Don't be foolish, my boy. She's nothing but a kid."

"I don't like that word kid."

"Oh, I suppose you think it very unladylike to use such slang. Children like this girl are amusing, but only unsophisticated boys and doddering old men fall in love with them. You're neither, Greg Carker."

"No, I'm neither. I'm old enough to know my own mind."

"I don't think you do. You're bewitched by her eyes and her way of talking. Her dialect sounds rather cute to you. Don't be foolish, Greg."

"Mrs. Morton, I tried to make you understand yesterday. There was a time when I believed I cared a great deal for you. That's all over now. You chose your own course, and you have no one save yourself to blame because there is now in my heart not the least spark of anything like love for you."

"You may think there's no spark, but I believe the embers are still smoldering and I propose to fan them into a flame."

"Evidently you don't understand men, Mrs. Morton. I don't think a woman ever yet caught a man by telling him what she proposed to do. It's a man's nature to pursue. He loves the chase. Let's watch this baseball game."

With the greatest difficulty, she repressed her annoyance and anger.

The game was progressing, and with Frank Merriwell in the box it became decidedly interesting. The second inning passed with neither side securing a score.

At the opening of the third inning Jose Murillo appeared on the field, attired in a fresh suit and looking cool and dapper. He carried a light cane and wore a straw hat. Glancing around, he discovered the ladies in the stand, lifted his hat, made a graceful bow, and showed his teeth in a smile.

To the astonishment of every one, the Mexican entered the stand and approached the party. Juanita Garcia was agitated and frightened. Seizing Carker's arm, she whispered:

"Don't let heem come near me!"

"I'll look out for him," promised Greg.

Murillo bowed low before them.

"I beg pardon for thees eentrusion," he murmured. "Eet happens that I know Senyora Gallup and Senyorita Garcia. I am a man of impulse. I do manee theengs I afterward regret. I presume Senyorita Garcia has been annoyed by me, and now I weesh to ask her pardon. I have taken the time to considaire. I have thought eet all ovaire. Eet ees no use. When a girl een thees country decides that she weel not have anytheeng whatevaire to do with a man, he may as well gif eet up. Eet ees my decision to geeve eet up. I am going back to Mexico. I shall leave to-morrow. I have come to bid Senyorita Garcia adios."

"I don't beleef heem! I don't beleef heem!" whispered Juanita, cowering close to Carker's side. "He ees lying!"

"I think you have decided wisely, Murillo," said Greg. "If I were in your place, I'd git. In fact, unless you do git, I've decided to swear out a warrant for your arrest. I've decided to make complaint against you for attacking me with a deadly weapon."

Jose made a gentle gesture with his hand.

"Some day in the future perhaps we weel settell that, Senyor Carkaire," he said. "Save yourself the trouble to swear out the warrant. I shall go."

With another sweeping bow, he turned and left the stand.

"Oh, I don't like this game at all!" exclaimed Mrs. Morton. "I never did like baseball. I think I'll go to the house."

She likewise left the stand.



CHAPTER XXVIII.

A COMPACT.

Madge Morton overtook Jose Murillo.

"A word with you," she said. "We are far enough from the field so that we'll not be seen if we step aside beneath the trees."

"Eet ees a pleasure," he bowed, although his face wore a puzzled expression.

Beneath the trees the woman turned and faced him squarely.

"There's a girl back yonder that you're smashed on," she said.

He shook his head.

"What ees eet to be smashed?"

"Oh, I mean you're struck on her—you're in love with her. It's that little soft-spoken, black-eyed chit."

"You mean Senyorita Garcia?"

"Yes, that's the girl. You've followed her here all the way from Mexico."

"Eet ees right. I have follaired her."

"Now what do you propose to do? Are you going to quit? Are you going to throw up your hand? Are you going to lay down?"

Again he shook his head.

"Eet ees not plain to me what you mean, senyorita."

"I'm married—at least, I have been. Call me senyora, if you don't choose to call me Mrs. Morton. Are you going to give that girl up? Are you going to let her baffle you? You're a man of determination. I understand you had trouble with Gregory Carker last night."

"Si, si, senyora. Eet ees lucky for heem I deed not reach heem with my knife. I weel reach heem yet!"

She clutched his arm.

"No," she cried, "you must not! I love him! I'm going to marry him!"

"Ees eet true?" gasped Murillo, in surprise. "I thought he was——"

"Oh, he has a silly notion that he cares for your black-eyed Juanita. He's mistaken, that's all. Keep her away from him a week, and he'll forget her. Give me a week, and I'll win him back again. Instead of trying to harm him, why don't you carry off the girl?"

"How can eet be done?"

"She's afraid of you. If you can get her away from here, I think she will cow down and do anything you say. I don't believe she has real courage. I'll help you."

"How?"

"Let me think. You must take her away to-night. Bring a carriage. Stop near Merry Home, but far enough away not to be discovered. Come to the house at an hour past midnight. You know the back way? If you don't, you can find it. I'll be waiting for you. I'll let you in, and I'll help you take that girl out of the house."

He looked at her with an expression of mingled doubt and admiration.

"You are a woman," he said. "How you dare to do such a theeng?"

"Dare?" she hoarsely cried. "I dare anything in a case like this!"

"But how can we take her out? She raise the disturbance."

"Oh, no, she won't. I know her room. She sleeps alone. A little chloroform will quiet her. Leave the matter to me. Will you come? Do you dare? If you haven't the courage to play this game, say so."

"I haf the courage!" cried Murillo suddenly. "I weel be there! Eef eet ees a trap, look out for me! I am not the man who forgets!"

"Save your breath," said the woman. "Don't bother to threaten me. I'll see you again to-night."

Then she turned and walked back to the athletic field, rejoined the party in the grand stand, announced that she had changed her mind about watching the game, chatted, laughed, and appeared wholly care-free and at ease.

Not until the fifth inning could Merriwell's team score against the Farnham Hall lads. It was mainly Sparkfair's wonderful pitching that kept Frank and his friends from circling the bases. Dale had splendid speed, dazzling shoots, and masterly control. In the fifth the Merries tried the bunting game and filled the bases, with only one out. Badger then came up and smashed out a fine two-bagger, driving in three runs.

Sparkfair then struck out Carson and Dunnerwurst. Although the head of Frank's batting order came up in the sixth and Hodge reached third, no scores were secured. In the seventh Gallup crossed the pan with a run.

Neither side could secure a tally in the eighth, and the ninth inning opened with Merriwell's team three runs behind the youngsters.

"Oh, we've got you!" laughed Sparkfair. "We haven't been able to make a run since the first inning, but those seven scores were enough."

"Yah," said Dunnerwurst "Dot Ephraim Gallup he didid der pizness. Der game threw him avay."

"Gol dinged if yeou've gut anything to say!" rasped the Vermonter. "Yeou started all the trouble."

"Uf Frankie had let der pitcher's plate stay py me a vhile longer, it vould haf peen different. Der ball was chust gittin' control uf me ven he tookt me oudt."

Farnham Hall did not score in the first half of the ninth.

Diamond was the first batter up for the Merries, and he laced out a clean single.

"That's the stuff!" cried Frank. "Only three scores! We'll get 'em right here!"

Browning lifted a fly to left field, and Bemis scooped it. Diamond reached second. Gallup dropped a Texas Leaguer over the infield, and Buck Badger walked out With a bat on his shoulder.

"It peen up to you, Padger!" cried Dunnerwurst. "See vot you coot dood py der ball."

At this juncture Sparkfair issued his first pass, and Badger walked, filling the bases. Berlin Carson tried to drive in some runs, but popped up an infield fly and was out. Then Hans Dunnerwurst started forth.

"Oh, crackey!" groaned Ephraim Gallup. "It's all over naow!"

"Yah, it vos all ofer," nodded Hans. "A home run vill knock me. Der game vos seddled."

It is probable that almost every one expected to see Hans strike out. After making two strikes, the Dutchman secured a clean single, on which Diamond and Gallup scored.

"Dot vos a mishdake," declared the Dutchman. "Der ball meant to strike me twice as far as dot."

There was great anxiety on both sides as Bart Hodge walked out.

"You can dood it, Hotch!" shouted Hans.

Bart smashed the second ball pitched him, driving it out on a line. Little Bob Bubbs thrust out his left mitt, and the ball spanked into it. It stuck there.

The game was over, and Sparkfair's team had defeated the Merries by a single run.



CHAPTER XXIX.

THE PROOF.

Gregory Carker never knew exactly why he rose in the night and stole out of his room with catlike steps. He had a vague idea that he would move silently in order not to disturb or awaken any one sleeping in the house.

Near the head of the stairs he paused and backed into a shadowy corner.

Two persons came up the stairs. One of them bore a candle which flickered and flared, the fitful light showing her features plainly.

It was Madge Morton. She was deathly pale, and the hand that held the candle shook like that of a person with the palsy. Behind her was a man. As she reached the head of the flight she paused, turned to this man, and whispered:

"Follow me closely. The girl's room is two doors to the left."

Carker saw the man's face, and he recognized Jose Murillo.

Forth from his nook leaped Greg, seizing Murillo as the Mexican placed his foot on the last stair. Mrs. Morton gave a gasping cry of dismay, dropped the candle, and fled. The candle did not go out. Although it fell on its side, it continued to burn fitfully.

At the head of those stairs a sharp, savage struggle took place. The Mexican uttered a smothered oath and sought to produce his knife.

"Thees time I fix you, Carkaire!" he panted.

The dim light of the candle gleamed on the blade. Greg Carker tore himself free and struck a swinging blow which landed on Murillo's jaw. The Mexican crashed to the foot of the stairs, where he lay groaning while the aroused household flocked to the spot.

"What is it, Carker? What the dickens is the matter?" demanded Frank, as he seized Greg's shoulder.

Carker had picked up the candle and was holding it in his hand.

"I think we'll find a man at the foot of these stairs," he said, his voice not quite steady in spite of his effort to command himself.

They did find a man down there. Jose Murillo had struck on his own knife and was seriously wounded. Doctor Schnitzle was promptly brought over from Farnham Hall, but after taking a look at Murillo's wound, he turned and whispered to Frank:

"Maype he vill last vun halluf hour, but it iss not to be expectioned. It vos der end uf him."

The doctor was right. To the end Murillo protected his accomplice, claiming he had broken into the house by himself, with the intention of carrying Juanita off.

And Gregory Carker said nothing.

The following day, however, Carker found an opportunity to speak privately, as he supposed, with Mrs. Morton. He followed her from the house and stopped her at a point where there was little likelihood that they would be seen.

"You'll take the next train out of Bloomfield," he said. "I thought you might have good sense enough to take the first one, but you don't seem inclined to go without being invited."

"Oh, Greg——"

He put up his hand.

"Stop where you are," he said. "Not a word from you. You let that sneak into the house last night. You're responsible for the whole miserable tragedy."

"But you will not expose me—you will not tell them?"

"No, I'll say nothing about it—in case you take the next train."

"You despise me! I see it in your face!"

"You're right, I do. I despise you most thoroughly, and I pray it may never be my misfortune to see your face again."

"Oh, that girl—that wretched black-eyed——"

"And you may stop there," interrupted Carker. "You refer to Juanita. I'm going to marry her."

"I suppose you are. I'd like to strangle her!"

"You'll not be given an opportunity. I'm going to ask Mr. Merriwell to have a rig hitched up right away. It will take you to the station. Make any excuses you choose or no excuses whatever—but you're going. Better hurry back to the house now and pack up. Go on!"

She saw words were useless, and, therefore, she turned and hurried away toward the house.

Carker stood there, his right elbow in his left palm, his chin resting on his hand. He heard no sound and was unaware of any one's presence until a hand touched his arm.

With a start, he found himself face to face with Juanita. There was a strange rapturous light in the girl's eyes.

"I asked for the proof," she whispered. "You gif eet to me when you deed not know I was there behind the shrubberee. I hear you tell her she must go. I hear you tell her that you—that you—that you——"

"That I'm going to marry you," said Carker, taking both her hands in his. "I mean it, Juanita. I've decided on my course in the future. If I'll quit lecturing on socialism and suppress my thoughts and theories in that line, Carker, senior, will give me a lift in the world. He'll change his will if he becomes satisfied that I've reformed. I'm a socialist, Juanita, and I shall always remain a socialist. But, perhaps, I've been a little too rabid—perhaps I've been a little too rank. Socialism is all right, but home is a great deal better. I'm going to have a home of my own, and I'm going to have you for the chief director of that home. I think I'll be satisfied to settle down with you there to anchor me. I'm going to kiss you now, Juanita."

"Oh, Gregoree——" she murmured.

His lips smothered the remainder of the protest.



CHAPTER XXX.

THE EDUCATED HORSE.

Honk! honk! honk!

Frank glanced over his shoulder.

"Automobile coming, Bart," he said. "She's raising a cloud of dust. Better give her plenty of room."

Frank and Bart were out for a morning horseback ride through the country. After a dash of an hour or more, they had turned back and were now in sight of Farnham Hall and Merry Home.

Bart's mount began to dance and lunge.

"Whoa, Pansy—whoa, lady," he said soothingly. "She doesn't fancy buzz wagons a great deal, Merry."

"She never did," replied Frank, "but she'll get used to them. They're growing thicker every day. I've ordered one myself."

"Honk! honk! honk!" sounded the automobile horn close behind them.

With a purring of the valves, a soft panting from the exhaust, and a whir of wheels, a huge red machine flew past them in a cloud of dust.

"Forty miles an hour," said Hodge, blinking his eyes and turning his cap brim down to the cloud of dust. "That's some speed for these roads, Merry."

"And I'll guarantee they'll go through town like that," returned Frank. "Whew! Some of these machines ought to have a sprinkler attachment."

"They're stopping," said Bart. "By George! they're turning into your place. Did you know any one in the car?"

"Got only a glimpse of them, and they seemed to be strangers to me."

"That's a flyer they have. What make is it, do you know?"

"It's a French machine, I believe. It looks to me like a Mercedes."

"Are you going to have an imported machine, Frank?"

"Oh, no. I'm satisfied with the best American makes. A good American machine is better adapted for our roads than any of the crack foreigners."

"How do you make that out?"

"It's simple enough. In France they have grand roads everywhere. Their machines are made for such roads, and on such roads they can fairly fly. In this country we have a few fairly good roads, but the majority of our highways are wretchedly bad. The American makers have built machines adapted for such roads, and on these roads our better-made motor cars are superior to anything we can bring across the water."

"But I understand that most of the American machines are fakes. I've been told they are far from perfect."

Frank laughed.

"The perfect automobile has not been made, and I doubt if it ever will be," he answered. "The honest American manufacturers who know their business are making honest machines. It's true that there are a host of fakers in the business. It's true that nearly seventy-five per cent of the machines turned out at the present time are built for the sole purpose of making money for the manufacturers. The American public has not yet been educated to the point of discerning between the fake and the honest article. Nevertheless they're learning mighty fast, and within a very few years the fakers are bound to reach the end of their ropes and go to the wall. Unless they change their methods, five years from now one-third of the concerns now doing business will no longer be in the field. Ten years from now a half of the present manufacturers will be out of it."

"That sounds a little pessimistical for you."

"Oh, no, Bart; it's optimistical. I'm confident that the sharks and sharpers will fail and the honest concerns will endure and prosper. The automobile has come to stay. There is no question about that. The majority of the present-day buyers are going to be defrauded, and many of them will become disgusted. In purchasing a machine I've not relied on my own judgment, but I've sought the advice of friends who were competent to advise. I hope and I believe that I've got my money's worth. Here we are, and there are the gentlemen of the red bubble talking with some of the fellows."

The machine stood on the driveway in front of the house, with the chauffeur still in his seat. Two of the four men had stepped out of the car and were talking with Buck Badger, Ephraim Gallup, and Barney Mulloy. Mrs. Merriwell was with a group of her friends on the veranda.

Badger waved his hand as Frank and Bart turned in at the wide gate.

"Here are some gents what are looking for you, Merry," called the Kansan.

Frank clattered up and drew rein, but Bart's horse was frightened and shied at the machine. Hodge gave the little mare a touch of the spur and reined her toward the automobile. After a time he succeeded in bringing her close to it and guiding her round it, although she snorted and fretted and betrayed great alarm and excitement.

"You countrymen will have to kill off a few of your skittish horses," observed a stout, sandy-mustached man, one of the two who had left the car. "If you don't, they're liable to kill you."

"I don't think there's any great danger of that as long as a man knows how to handle them properly," said Frank, as he patted the neck of his own horse. "Dick was afraid of automobiles, but I've succeeded in eliminating that fear, and you can see how he behaves now."

"You never can be sure what a horse will do," returned the stout man. "There never was one yet that had an ounce of brains. They're all fools."

"Do you think so?" smiled Merriwell. "Of course you have a right to your opinion, but I don't believe many people will agree with you. I've seen horses which were more intelligent than many men."

"Bah! bah!" retorted the stranger. "They can't reason. They can't think. All they know is enough to eat and work. The best horse in the country is none too good to pull a plow."

A queer twinkle flashed in Frank's eyes.

"Perhaps I can convince you of your mistake, sir," he said. "I don't happen to know your name, but——"

"My name is Basil Bearover. This young man here"—with a jerk of his thumb toward Badger—"informs me that you are Frank Merriwell."

"Yes, I'm Frank Merriwell, Mr. Bearover. We were speaking of horses. Now I'll admit that Pansy yonder hasn't been properly educated. In time I hope to improve her greatly. In time I hope to teach her to perform a few simple mathematical problems, although I doubt if she'll ever be able to talk."

"Huh?" blurted Bearover. "Mathematical fudge! Able to talk? What sort of rot are you trying to give me, young man?"

"Have you never seen a horse that could add, subtract, multiply, and divide?" asked Merry, with pretended surprise.

"No, sir, I never have, nor has any one else."

"Wait a moment before you make such a confident statement. Now this horse of mine can do all those little things and still other things a great deal more surprising. I'll prove the truth of my statement to you. Hey, Dick—Dick, my boy, give me your attention. Now, sir, I wish you to do a little sum for me. Are you ready? Are you listening? Are you attentive?"

The horse nodded its head as if in answer to these questions.

"Very good, Dick," said Frank. "I'll give you a small sum in addition. How many are two and two?"

The horse lifted its forward right foot and struck the ground four times.

"That's right, Dick—that's right," laughed Merry, patting the creature's neck. "Now we'll take a little example in subtraction. If we subtract five from ten, how many have we left?"

The horse struck the ground five times with its foot.

"That's right again, Dick. Let's see what you can do in multiplication. Three times two make how many?"

Six times the horse struck the ground.

"You're right up to the mark this morning, Dick," said the animal's master. "We'll finish up with a little subtraction. If we take seven from fourteen, how many will be left?"

Seven times Dick pawed the ground.

"There you are, Mr. Bearover," nodded Merriwell. "Are you satisfied that even horses have brains?"

"I'm satisfied that you've trained that critter to do a few tricks," was the answer. "You must think I'm purty dull witted. Why, you begun with an example that made the horse paw the ground four times. Your next question required five strokes of the critter's foot. Then came six, and you followed it up with seven. Come, come, Mr. Merriwell, you're not dealing with chumps. I've seen horses that could do them little things, but it's no sign of brains. You're on the critter's back. By training it, you could git it so it would paw the ground every time you pressed your knee against its shoulder. Git off the horse and stand away; then let's see what it will do. Then let's see you make it do sums in addition, subtraction, and so forth."

"Very well," said Merry, as he dismounted, dropping the bridle rein on Dick's neck. "We'll see what he'll do in that manner."

He stroked the horse's muzzle, and the animal placed its head on his shoulder.

"Dick," said Frank, "this doubting Thomas thinks it's all trickery. He can't believe that you're a finished mathematician. We must convince him, Dick. Now be careful and give your answers correctly. Stand where you are, sir."

Frank retreated fully ten feet. With his hands on his hips and a smile on his face, he said:

"We'll take a simpler sum in addition, Dick. You understand this is addition, old boy. Two and one make how many?"

The horse lifted his foot and struck the ground three times.

"Let me give him a question," grinned Bearover. "Let's see if he'll answer me."

"Oh, very well," said Frank. "Dick, do you see this gentleman here? Take a look at him. He's going to give you a problem, and you must answer it. I trust he'll make it a simple one. You haven't been brushing up in mathematics lately, and a difficult problem might bother you a little. Will you kindly make it a simple question, Mr. Bearover?"

"Oh, yes; oh, yes," chuckled the stout man, "I'll make it simple enough. Let's see if your wonderful horse can tell us how many ten and five added together be."

The horse stood quite still for a moment and did not lift its foot. Instead of that, the creature seemed to be eying Basil Bearover with a look of disdain. Finally a most astounding thing happened, for Dick's lip curled back, exposing his teeth, and from his mouth there seemed to issue these words:

"Any blamed fool would know that ten and five make fifteen!"



CHAPTER XXXI.

A CHALLENGE.

Basil Bearover's usually florid face turned pale, and the man actually staggered.

The horse tossed its head, wrinkled its upper lip, and seemed to grin.

"That gave the big bear a jolt," he apparently observed.

Bearover's companion was a husky-looking young Irishman, and he now seemed on the point of taking flight. He was even paler than Bearover, and his teeth actually chattered together.

"Holy saints!" he gasped. "The divvil is in the beast! It spakes."

"Don't get excited," smiled Merry. "I told you Dick was an educated horse. I think I've proved my statement. Now, Dick, my boy, you'll follow Bart and Pansy round to the stable and permit Toots to look after you. I'll see you at the usual hour this afternoon and give you your lessons in algebra and Latin. Be a good boy, Dick. Trot along. Ta! ta!"

"Ta! ta!" answered the horse, as it turned away. "Look out for the big bear. He thinks he's a sharper, but he's only a common lobster."

With a whisk of his tail and a flirt of his heels, Dick followed Pansy and disappeared round the corner toward the stable.

Basil Bearover pulled himself together and took a deep breath.

"Say," he huskily remarked, "have you a little something bracing round this place? I'd like a small nip of whisky after that."

"I'm sorry," answered Frank, "but I don't keep it in the house. I haven't a drop of liquor of any kind round the place."

"Be Heaven!" exclaimed the Irishman. "I nade a drink meself."

Bearover placed a hand on his companion's shoulder.

"Tell me, McCann," he said, "did you hear that horse speak? I must have dreamed it. I must be getting in a bad way."

"It was no dream, Mr. Bearover," was the answer. "I heard it meself. The baste talked as plain as any man could spake."

"Jerusalem!" exploded the stout stranger, as if struck by an idea. "That animal ought to make a fortune for its owner. What'll you take for that horse, Mr. Merriwell?"

"You can't buy him, sir," was the quiet answer. "Do you think I'd be heartless enough to sell Dick after spending all this time in educating him and getting him trained to such a high point of perfection? Why, it would break the poor creature's heart."

"I'll give you a thousand dollars for him," offered the man, thrusting a hand into his breast pocket and producing a pocketbook.

"Put up your money," said Frank. "I tell you that you can't buy him. Why, if I should sell that horse to you, just as likely as not he'd be so disgusted and angry that he'd never speak again. You know it's no small matter for a horse to talk. It isn't natural for them. It could only be produced by a mighty effort, and the most natural thing in the world would be for the creature to relapse into dumbness if transferred to another owner."

Bearover looked disappointed as he slipped the pocketbook back into its resting place. Glancing around, he observed that the young man near at hand and the young ladies on the veranda were all smiling and laughing as if highly amused. Their suppressed merriment gave him a resentful feeling, and suddenly his face flushed, while an expression of anger came into his small eyes.

"You're purty smart, young man—purty smart," he said. "You think you fooled me, don't ye? Well, you didn't. I happen to know how you done the trick. You're a ventriloquist. The horse didn't talk. I was jest testing you to see if you would try to soak me by selling the critter to me."

Bearover fibbed, for, although he had finally hit upon the truth, it was an afterthought conjured up by the laughter of the spectators.

"Do yer mean to say the horse didn't spake?" demanded the Irishman. "I heard it meself—I tell ye I heard it meself!"

"That's all right, McCann!" rasped the big man. "Perhaps you've never seen a good ventriloquist do a turn, but I have. That horse can't talk any more than a cow or a dog or any other dumb creature can."

"Vale," observed Hans Dunnerwurst, who stood Bear, with his hands thrust deep into his trousers pocket, "it took it a long time to found you oudt. Dot hoss peen a good 'rithmeticker uf he coot talk or not. Yah!"

"You've had your fun with me, Mr. Merriwell," said Bearover, ignoring the Dutchman; "but I hope to have a little sport with you later. I've driven over from Wellsburg this morning for the express purpose of seeing you."

"What can I do for you, sir?" asked Merry.

"I understand you have a baseball team here."

"Do you mean my Farnham Hall team?"

"I don't know what you call it."

"Well, I have a ball team made up of youngsters. They are able to put up quite a game."

"What sort of youngsters?"

"Boys—my pupils at the Hall."

"But I ain't referring to that kind of a team. I mean your regular team—I mean the one you play on."

"Oh, that's different."

"You've got such a team here, ain't ye?"

"As you see, a lot of my friends are visiting here just now. I can't say that we have a regular organized team."

"They told us in Wellsburg you had, and that's why I took the trouble to come here. I'm manager of the Rovers, the strongest independent team of this country. We're making a tour by automobile and playing the best teams we can get up against. I have a big seven-seated car at Wellsburg, and that machine, together with this one, carries my men from place to place. We made arrangements to play Wellsburg to-day and to-morrow. We were to have a guarantee of three hundred dollars and sixty per cent. of the gate receipts. When we gut into Wellsburg last night we found that the team had disbanded and the manager skipped out. That leaves us without a game to-day and to-morrow. We're looking for a game. This is Mike McCann, captain of my team."

The young Irishman nodded and touched his cap brim.

"Go on," invited Merriwell.

"I've always had a desire to meet you," continued Bearover. "You have a big reputation as a baseball man. I'd like to play you in Wellsburg for a purse."

"Evidently you're out for the dust," said Frank.

"It takes money to run a team."

"Your team is composed of professionals, isn't it?"

"They're all salaried players."

"Just a bit out of our class. We're straight amateurs."

Besides the chauffeur, a rather sad-faced, somber-looking man was sitting in the car. This man now arose with a languid air and stepped out.

"I told you how it would be, Bearover," he said, with a slight drawl. "Merriwell has made his reputation by defeating second-class amateur teams. I didn't think he'd have the sand to play a nine like the Rovers."

"Who is this gentleman?" asked Frank.

"This is Casper Silence, the backer of the Rovers," explained Bearover. "Mr. Silence, Mr. Merriwell."

"How do," nodded Silence, as he adjusted his nose glasses and surveyed Frank from head to foot. "I presume the report that you're a back number may have some truth in it. A great many pitchers use themselves up in their prime. You look all right, but I take it your arm is gone."

"Well, now," retorted Frank, "you place me in a rather embarrassing position, Mr. Silence. I don't feel like cracking up myself, you know."

"Waugh!" snorted Buck Badger, unable to keep still longer. "I certain opine you're still in the ring, Merry. I judge it wouldn't take you long to show this gent that you're no back number."

"You're a prosperous young man," said Silence, still addressing Frank. "Such being the case, if you have a team here, why not play us in Wellsburg for a small purse? If you're the wizard we've heard you are, you can make a little money while you're having the enjoyment of a game. A purse of five hundred dollars would be all right. It would suit us. We'll play you to-morrow. What do you say?"

"I say no, sir," answered Frank. "If we were to play you for such a purse, we would immediately become professionals, like yourselves. We have no desire to be classed as professionals, and therefore I decline your proposition."

"Just as I thought," nodded Silence. "I've seen amateurs before who took refuge behind such an excuse. Well, if you'll not play us for a purse, will you play us with the agreement that the winning team takes the entire gate proceeds?"

"Not in Wellsburg."

"Eh? Why not in Wellsburg?"

"Because I have a better baseball ground yonder within sight of this house. Because at the present time I have a house party here, and we're not looking for baseball games. If your team of Rovers will come here and meet us on my field, we'll give you a game to-morrow, I think. What do you say, boys?"

"You pet my life ve vill!" shouted Dunnerwurst.

"By gum, that'll suit me!" came from Gallup.

"I'm with you, Merry!" said Carson.

"You know you can depend on me!" rumbled Browning.

"Begorra, it will suit me clane down to the ground!" came from Mulloy.

"Waugh!" exploded Badger. "You can bank on the whole bunch of us, Frank. That's whatever!"

"But what inducement have we to come here?" demanded Bearover. "This is a little dried-up country town, and we couldn't turn out a hundred and fifty people to see that game. We've gut to make expenses somehow."

"If you decide to play us here, and the weather's favorable, I'll guarantee a thousand paid spectators. It's a safe guarantee, and in all probability there'll be two or three thousand persons here. I'll have the game announced by the Wellsburg Herald. I'll see that it is advertised in the neighboring towns. We do not depend on Bloomfield alone for our spectators. They come in from all the surrounding towns. We'll play with the understanding that the winning team takes the entire gate receipts. If we win, we'll donate the money to some charitable purpose. If you win, you may do whatever you please with it."

"Will you make a written guarantee that there'll be at least a thousand paid admissions?" asked Bearover.

"With the weather favorable," assented Frank.

The manager of the Rovers turned to Silence.

"What do you say, Casper?" he asked. "We haven't any game for to-morrow, and we can't arrange one unless we accept this man's terms."

Silence shrugged his shoulders, lighted a cigarette, and stepped back into the car.

"Go ahead, Bearover," he drawled. "Make any arrangements you please."

"All right, Merriwell," said the manager, "we'll play you. Draw up that agreement in regard to the gate receipts, and we'll sign it."



CHAPTER XXXII.

A HARD PROPOSITION.

Directly after lunch Frank had Toots harness a span of fast steppers, attach them to the double-seated surrey and bring the team round to the front door.

Merriwell, Mulloy, and Gallup sprang into the surrey, waving adieus to the jolly party that had gathered on the veranda to see them off.

"Which way, Marsa Frank?" asked Toots, as they reached the gate.

"To Wellsburg," answered Merriwell, "and get us there in a hurry. Show us what these ponies can do over twenty miles of good country road."

"Yes, sah," grinned the colored man, "Ah'll let de hosses out a notch or two, sah, jes' as soon as we git frough de village."

It was a beautiful drive to Wellsburg over an unusually level and well-made strip of road. The distance was covered in good time, and the team finally stopped in front of the Wellsburg Bank.

"Take the team round to the Franklin Square Hotel, Toots," directed Merry. "See that the horses are properly cared for. We'll drive back in time for dinner."

Mulloy and Gallup followed Frank into the bank. Merry called for the cashier. When the gentleman appeared and greeted him cordially, Frank said:

"Mr. Casin, I wish to introduce two of my friends, Mr. Barney Mulloy and Mr. Ephraim Gallup."

"Glad to know you, gentlemen," bowed the cashier, as he shook hands with both.

"These young men wish to become depositors in your bank," explained Merriwell. "They both have an account with the Phoenix National Bank, but it is their intention to close out that account and transfer the money to this bank."

"We'll be very pleased to have Mr. Mulloy and Mr. Gallup as depositors," bowed the cashier.

"They will each give you a check on the Phoenix Bank," said Frank. "I'll indorse those checks, if that will make it satisfactory to you, sir."

"Wholly satisfactory, Mr. Merriwell," asserted Casin.

Mulloy and Gallup produced check books and proceeded to draw checks at a standing desk used for that purpose by depositors. These checks were made payable to the Wellsburg First National Bank, and Merriwell indorsed both of them. Casin himself received the checks, and Frank observed a slight expression of surprise on his face as he noted the sums for which they were drawn.

"Ten thousand dollars each," he said. "Is that right?"

"Yes, sor," answered Barney, "thot's right, sor. It's within two hundrid av all Oi have in the Phoenix Bank. Oi'll use up the remainin' two hundrid av Oi see fit by drawin' on it, but for the prisint Oi think Oi'll let it remain there as a nist egg. Oi've noticed nist eggs are moighty foine things to hav', av ye kept thim warm. They sometoimes hatch out all roight, all roight."

No one had noticed the quiet entrance of a man, who stood unobtrusively near, listening to the talk. With a yawn, this man now advanced, saying:

"I beg your pardon, gentlemen. I presume it's very rude, but I need some change right away in order to pay a sum to a man who wishes to catch a train. I've been unable to get this hundred-dollar bill changed. Would you mind if the cashier stopped long enough to change it for me?"

The speaker was Casper Silence, backer of the Rovers baseball team.

"Niver a bit do we moind," answered Barney. "It's all roight, sor; go ahead."

"Yes, go ahead," nodded Gallup. "We've gut loads of time."

Silence pushed the hundred-dollar bill through to the cashier, who glanced at it critically, asked what sort of change he desired and then gave, at his request, five tens and ten fives.

"I'm very much obliged, gentlemen—very much obliged," said Silence, bowing to Mulloy and Gallup. "I hope I haven't interfered with you, Mr. Merriwell."

"Not in the least," answered Frank.

"Do you think we'll have good weather for the game to-morrow?"

"The indications are that the weather will be all right."

"And are you still confident that we will be able to bring out a thousand people or more?"

"Quite confident," laughed Frank. "One of my errands in Wellsburg is to get a notice of the game into a newspaper here. I thought of looking Mr. Bearover up for the purpose of obtaining some facts concerning the Rovers, which might interest the newspaper readers."

"I can give you any information you desire," said Silence. "In fact, I have it here on this printed slip. Here's a whole history of the team and the players who make up the team. You'll see we've lost no games this season. If you'll read this slip through, you'll learn beyond question that our players form the most remarkable independent baseball organization ever assembled in this country."

While talking he had produced a leather pocketbook, from which he took a printed slip at least six inches long. This he handed to Frank.

As Silence opened the pocketbook both Mulloy and Gallup observed that it was well stuffed with bank notes, and the one on top proved to be another hundred-dollar bill.

"I don't wish to take up your time, Mr. Merriwell," said Silence, in his languid, drawling manner, "but I'll just run over the players so that you'll understand who they are and get an idea of the records they have made. You met Mike McCann, our shortstop. He's from Charleston, of the South Atlantic League, and he knows the game from A to Z. Toby Mertez, our right fielder, is a New England Leaguer, having played on the Nashua, N. H., team last year. Jack Grifford, our center fielder, is from Youngstown, the champions of the Ohio-Pennsylvania League. Hoke Holmes comes from Birmingham, in the Southern League. 'Peep' O'Day is the old National Leaguer, who was supposed to be down and out, but he astonished every one by his work with Jersey City, in the Eastern League, last year. He's our third baseman. Bill Clover, who covers the second sack, comes from Portland, of the Pacific Coast League. Sim Roach, who gambols in our left garden, is from Los Angeles, of the same league. 'Bang' Bancroft was the second catcher of the champion Pueblo team, in the Western League. Bancroft obtained the nickname of Bang through his slugging year before last. It's possible you've never heard of 'Mitt' Bender, our crack pitcher. He's been playing independent baseball, but the Boston Americans were hot after him this year. I had to open up handsomely in order to hold him. Our second pitcher is Mike Davis, who's had much more experience than Bender, but who can't pitch more than one game a week and do his best. When we go up against a light team we use Toby Mertez in the box and save both Bender and Davis. Now I think you understand the sort of team we have."

"Well," said Frank, "unless your men are has-beens they ought to make a hot combination."

"We haven't a has-been in the bunch," asserted Silence quietly. "I think you'll find the combination hot enough to suit you, Mr. Merriwell. I understand you've never been batted hard. I understand that no team has ever obtained more than eight or ten hits off you in a game. We have an aggregation of hitters, and the chances are you'll get a proper good drubbing to-morrow."

"You alarm me," said Frank. "Like any other pitcher, I have been bumped in my time."

"In that case the experience may not seem so unpleasant to-morrow," drawled Silence. "Fifteen or twenty hits are nothing for the Rovers. We've averaged ten hits through the whole season."

"Oi'll bet a hundrid dollars ye don't git tin hits to-morrow!" exploded Mulloy, unable to keep silent longer.

"I'll have to take that bet," said the backer of the Rovers.

"Oh, no," interposed Frank; "I object. I don't think there'll be any betting as far as my players are concerned. Keep your money in your pocket, Mulloy."

Silence smothered a slight yawn behind his hand.

"I'm sorry you're so frightened, Merriwell," he said. "I'm sorry you haven't any more nerve. That hundred dollars would help me along in defraying expenses."

"Waal, gol derned if he don't figure it aout that he'd have the hundred cinched if he made the bet!" spluttered Gallup.

"I should consider it as good as mine the moment the money was posted," nodded Silence. "As long as we can't make a little wager, I'll move along and pay off the gentleman who is waiting for me. See you to-morrow. Good day."

He bowed himself out and leisurely walked away.

"Dod rap him!" snapped Gallup. "I'd like to take some of the conceit aout of him! We've gut to beat them Rovers to-morrer, Merry! If we don't, I'll be the sorest feller you can find in seventeen States and seven Territories!"

"I don't know where you'd discover so many Territories," laughed Frank. "We'll do our best to beat them, boys; but we're not in good practice, you know."

"Begorra, we've been practicin' ivery day for a week!" came from Mulloy.

"That sort of practice isn't like regular games," reminded Merry. "We need to play a few games in order to get into first-class form."

The cashier now passed out a little bank book to each of the depositors, and followed it up with check books for their use.

"Well, gentlemen," he said, "I hope this is the beginning of a long and pleasant acquaintance between us. Mr. Merriwell is one of our most valued depositors. He's doing a great work for the little town of Bloomfield. We regret very much he's not a citizen of Wellsburg. Bloomfield should be proud of him. I know it is proud of him. Wellsburg is proud of him, too. The whole county—the whole State is proud of him."

"By gum! I kinder think yeou've narrered it daown too narrer, Mr. Carson," said Ephraim. "I kinder guess the whole blamed country is proud of him."

"I stand corrected," laughed the cashier. "I realize his fame extends much farther than the borders of our State. Yes, I believe you're right, Mr. Gallup—I believe the whole country is proud of Mr. Merriwell as a representative young man of to-day."

After leaving the bank Frank said:

"I have some business of my own to look after now, and I need a witness. One of you might come along with me."

They both volunteered, but he explained that both were not needed, although they might come if they chose. Mulloy insisted on accompanying him.

"Waal, then, by hemlock," said Gallup, "I'll kinder ramble raound over taown and see the sights. Arter being buried daown in Mexico for the biggest part of a year, it seems all-fired good to git where there's people movin', street cars runnin', and plenty doin'. Where'll I meet yeou, boys?"

"Meet us at the Franklin Square Hotel at four o'clock," answered Merry. "We'll be ready to start within ten minutes after four."

Not more than five or ten minutes after parting from Frank and Barney, Gallup came face to face with a man who stepped squarely in front of him and held out a pudgy hand.

"How do you do," said this man. "I'm glad to see you, young fellow. Saw you drive through with Merriwell. Did he bring that wonderful educated horse with him?"

It was Basil Bearover, the manager of the Rovers.



CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER.

Gallup grinned.

"That was a hoss on yeou, wasn't it, mister?" he said.

"Would have been if I'd bought the beast," confessed Bearover, with seeming good nature. "Your Mr. Merriwell must be a very clever chap."

"I guess he's all right, by gum!" nodded Ephraim. "They don't git ahead of him much."

"He's been very successful, hasn't he?"

"You bet."

"Too much success is liable to swell the head of so young a man. It does him good to be taken down a notch now and then."

"I ain't never seen nobody that could take him daown."

"Well, we'll have to let him down a little to-morrow."

"Don't yeou believe it. Yeou fellers are caountin' on carryin' off that game, ain't ye? Waal, by jing! ye'll have to go some if ye do."

"Our boys can go some. In order to give you a show, I think we'll put in our second pitcher against you."

"Yeou take my advice and put in the best pitcher yeou've gut. He won't be none too good."

"You have a lot of confidence in your team."

"I've gut confidence in Frank Merriwell. I know what he can do on the slab, and, with Bart Hodge behind the bat, he'll show yeou some twists and shoots that'll make ye blink."

Bearover laughed gurglingly, his fat sides shaking.

"Why," he said, "they tell me in this town that Merriwell has some kind of a curve which twists like a snake. They say it curves in and out. Whoever heard such rot!"

"Didn't yeou ever hear before this abaout Frank Merriwell's double shoot?"

"Ho! ho! ho!" laughed Bearover. "Double shoot? Ho! ho! ho! Is that what he calls it? Come, now, young man, don't try any more talking-horse tricks. There isn't no such thing as a double shoot. The spit ball is the nastiest thing to hit that ever was invented. It's the only new thing except Mathewson's 'fade-away.' I don't take any stock in the stories about Mathewson's fade-away. According to the yarns told, he has something that might be called a double shoot or a double curve, but I notice the batters are hitting him this year the same as usual. I think we'll make Mr. Merriwell very weary with his double shoot to-morrow afternoon."

"You kin think as much as yeou like. There ain't nothing to prevent yeou from thinking. We've heard all abaout your players. Happened to meet old Stillness a while ago at the bank.

"Old Stillness?"

"Yep. Ain't that his name? Stillness, Stillness—I mean Silence. He's sort of a betting gentleman, ain't he?"

"Oh, he's always looking for good things. He's ready to risk his money backing his team."

"He come mighty near losing a hundred to-day."

"How was that?"

Gallup explained.

"Then Frank Merriwell doesn't countenance betting?" questioned Bearover.

"He's plumb sot agin' it," answered Ephraim. "He don't believe in any sort of gambling."

"But evidently some of his friends are inclined to take a chance."

"Oh, yeou git some of the fellers stirred up, and they kinder fergit Frank's prejudice. Rub 'em agin' the fur, and they'll chuck up their last dollar."

"That's good sporting blood," nodded Bearover. "I don't suppose you ever bet?"

"Oh, I don't go raound lookin' for bets. I 'low it ain't jest good sense for anybody to resk money on onsartinties. Speckerlation and gamblin' has ruined lots of folks."

"But a little wager on a baseball game, or any game of chance or skill, adds spice to it," suggested the manager of the Rovers. "It makes it all the more interesting."

"There's interest enough in any good clean baseball game without betting," declared Ephraim. "I suppose your team is made up of clean players? They play the game on its merits, don't they?"

"Oh, yes," nodded the manager, "they play the game on its merits. At the same time they're good scrapping players, and they're out for every point that belongs to them. That's the only way to win. None of the boys like to be robbed."

"Waal, they ain't to blame for that."

Bearover produced a cigar case.

"Have a smoke," he invited.

"Don't keer if I do, thank you," said Ephraim, as he accepted a cigar.

"You're a pleasant sort of chap," said the manager of the Rovers, as he bit off the end of a cigar and slipped the case back into his pocket. "Wait a minute, I have a match. Here you are." He held the light for Gallup.

"Purty good weed that," observed Ephraim, as he puffed at it. "'Spect that ain't no five-center. Must be ten straight or three for a quarter, anyhow."

"These are Silence's special cigars. He buys them by the box. They cost him twenty dollars a hundred."

"Whew!" breathed Gallup, taking the cigar out of his mouth and looking at it admiringly. "That's twenty cents apiece. I've paid that price out West now and then, but I never heard of any one paying it in this part of the country, where cigars ought to be reasonable. Guess this is just abaout as good a piece of tobacker as I ever stuck in my face."

"I'm glad you appreciate it. We're pretty near the hotel. Let's drop in and have a drink."

"Much obleeged," said Ephraim, "but I don't drink. That's one of the bad habits I ain't never picked up."

"Well, you can come along and take something cooling. It's pretty hot to-day. There'll be some of the boys in the billiard room at Priley's. You can meet them and look them over. If you don't care to drink, that's your business, and I'll guarantee you won't be urged."

"Waal, that's pretty decent of you, Mr. Bearover," said Ephraim, permitting the stout man to take his arm and lead him away.

In a few minutes they arrived at Priley's Hotel, known in Wellsburg to be the "hang out" of the sporting class.

"We're stopping here," explained the baseball manager. "The Franklin Square is said to be the best place in town, but it's a little too stiff for the boys. They can enjoy themselves here without feeling it necessary to put on style in the dining room. You know some of the fellows are inclined to eat with their knives. Such manners might shock the aristocratic patrons of the Franklin Square."

In the billiard room they found a number of young men playing pool or looking on. Several of these proved to be members of the Rovers baseball nine, and Bearover introduced them to Gallup.

The bar opened off the billiard room, and Ephraim was finally led to it, but he persisted in his resolution to drink nothing intoxicating. A seltzer lemonade satisfied him, while his companion took whisky.

When they returned to the billiard room they found Casper Silence there. The backer of the Rovers was telling, with a great deal of disdain, how he had nearly induced Barney Mulloy to make a wager, but had been baffled by Merriwell's interference.

"I've heard a great deal about the nerve of this youngster Merriwell," said Silence, "but it's my notion he's got a yellow streak in him. His courage is mythical."

Instantly Gallup bridled.

"Yeou ain't gut no right to say that, mister!" he cried hotly. "Yeou don't know what yeou're talking abaout! I've had dealings with all sorts of human critters in my career. I've handled niggers, dagos, Scandinavians, Turks, Chinamen, Swedes, French-Canadians, and Heaven-knows-what. I've seen Western bad men and gun fighters galore. I happen to know that Frank Merriwell has gut more nerve than any hundred men I've ever run acrost, if they was all rolled into one. There ain't no squealer abaout him, you bet. He didn't bet, and he didn't 'low Barney Mulloy to bet because it is ag'inst his principles. It wasn't because he was afraid Barney would lose that hundred."

Silence smiled wisely.

"I wouldn't be impolite enough to contradict you, my friend," he said. "At the same time, you must permit me to have my own opinion of the matter. It strikes me that Mulloy was mighty willing to hide behind the fine principles of Mr. Merriwell. He was a little hot when he so rashly proposed to bet, and he gladly took water as soon as Merriwell spoke up. It saved him a hundred. We're going to trounce your team to-morrow in handsome style. We won't leave you in shape to do any boasting for some time to come."

"Yeou git aout!" shouted Gallup. "You couldn't beat us in a year with Frank Merriwell in the box. You ain't built right!"

At this the ball players present joined Silence in a burst of laughter.

"We'll rub it into ye, Mr. Gallup," said Mike McCann. "We'll wipe up the earth with ye."

"I'd like to find some one who had nerve enough to make a little bet on your team," said Silence. "Of course I don't expect any of you fellows will dare risk a dollar."

"Dad rap ye!" snapped Gallup. "I'll make a bet! Yeou needn't go tell Frank nuthin' abaout it, but I'll bet yeou something. I'll bet anything yeou want to bet, and I don't keer a hang haow much it is! Yeou jest name the amount, and I'll kivver it!"