Battling the Clouds Part 15

"I think that was what they told me," said Bill. "No, of course Frank has nothing to do with that, and I know Lee is perfectly innocent of it too. I just about go crazy when I think about it."

"It is terrible," said Ernest, deeply troubled.

For a long while they sat talking things over, but were finally interrupted by the entrance of Frank, who came bursting noisily into the room, throwing his cap across the bed and tearing off his coat.

"Taps going to sound!" he said.

"I don't have to go to bed until I want to," said Ernest. "Will it disturb you boys if I stay awhile?"

"Don't mind me!" said Frank. He took off his stock, and sat down on his bed with his back to them.

"I never did show you the pictures of my folks, did I?" asked Bill of Ernest. He went over to the lockers.

"Darn these lockers," he laughed. "They are exactly alike. I never know which is mine."

"Yours is next the window," said Frank, "and mine is always locked."

"They are both locked now, as it happens," said Bill. He went over to the dresser and picked up a key. "That doesn't look like mine," he said, squinting at it.

"Mine is in my pocket," said Frank.

Bill took the key and opened the locker. He tipped up a corner of the tray and felt under it, drawing out a square photograph case.

"Our folks fitted us out just alike as to kit bags and toilet sets and photograph cases," said Bill, coming over toward the light with the case. It slipped out of his hand as he spoke and he made a grab for it, catching it by one corner. A photograph and a long envelope fluttered to the floor.

"This isn't--" said Bill, then stopped and glanced at Frank who was lying on his back on the bed with both legs in the air, unfastening his puttees. With trembling fingers Bill seized the paper and scanned it. He took one look at its contents and for a moment stood as though turned to stone.

He pa.s.sed a shaking hand across his forehead, then in a terrible voice he cried:

"Anderson, you--you--you thief, I've got you! Oh, you dog, I've got you!"

He choked and took a step toward Frank who had bounded to his feet.

"Stop!" cried Ernest. "Stop, Bill! What does this mean?"

"The envelope!" cried Bill, violently striking the paper in his hand.

"The envelope! And the money! The money Lee is going to prison for!"

"No such thing!" cried Frank, finding his tongue. "That money is mine!"

"Here is the paymaster's endors.e.m.e.nt on the envelope," cried Bill furiously. "You stole it--stole it and somehow put the blame on Lee. And then you took his present!"

He struck away Ernest's restraining hand.

"Give me that money!" cried Frank. "I found that envelope; that's all there is to that! The money is _mine_. Give it to me!"

"Yours?" said Bill. "Well, you won't get it!" and he thrust the long envelope full of bills into Ernest's grasp.

With a muttered word, Frank made a leap for it and Bill met him half way. Bill parried the blow that Frank launched as he realized that the money was out of his grasp, and in another instant they were fighting silently and desperately. Both were furiously angry, but Frank was desperate. Ruin stared him in the face. He was too stunned to realize that the game was up, his hand played out, and he fought with a primitive impulse to down the person who had trapped him.

That Bill had changed the trunks around when the storm was raging and that the keys were identically alike never occurred to either of them.

Bill's mind was a blank save for the one overwhelming thought that he had found the envelope that would free Lee.

Frank's mind was chaos. A wild and whirling fury at Bill, at himself for carelessly keeping the money in the envelope although its hiding place back of the photograph seemed absolutely safe, at fate for playing him such a trick, the thought of exposure--everything was mixed into a poisonous potion which filled his brain and of which his soul drank. He leaped upon Bill and tried to throttle him. He fought with the strength of ten. Somehow both boys seemed to feel the need for silence. Except for the quick intake of their labored breathing, there was no sound save the scuffle of Bill's shoes and the impact of their blows.

When Frank clinched and tried to gouge, Bill in self-defence dropped his sparring and resorted to the Indian tricks taught him by Lee. He took joy in the thought that the person who had taught him such clever modes of self-defence was now to be benefitted by them.

Frank went down like a rock, and Bill, still holding him helpless, said panting, "Will you give up?"

CHAPTER XII

"Let me up!" cried Frank, the veins standing out on his purple forehead as he struggled vainly under Bill's grasp. "You Injun fighter you, give me a white man's chance and I'll fight you square!"

"I don't intend to fight you at all," said Bill. "I don't fight with fellows like you. And I don't intend to let you beat me up. If you promise to sit there in that chair and make a clean breast of it, I will let you up."

"There is nothing to tell," said Frank. "Lee must have put that money and that envelope in my trunk. I don't see what you are going to do about it."

"Thank goodness there was a witness of the way you acted when I found it!" exclaimed Bill. He stood up, and Frank scrambled to his feet. He watched Bill furtively until he glanced aside, then he made a mad lunge toward him. Bill was too quick for him and once more Frank, sobbing with rage, went crashing to the floor.

As Bill stood over him, he glanced at Ernest, who had been an interested observer.

"What are we going to do with him?" he asked.

"This," said Ernest. He pulled a quant.i.ty of very strong waxed cord from his pocket. It was some he sometimes had need of in fixing his plane.

With a quick twist he had a loop around Frank's ankles, and then, dragging the resisting boy to his feet, he jammed him down on a chair and proceeded to fasten him neatly to it.

"Now," he said, "what next?"

"Next is to save Lee from Leavenworth," said Bill. "Mother says he will kill himself if ever he gets there. He can't stand the disgrace. If you will stick around and watch this fellow, I will go down and see about sending the telegram."

"You had better stay here, and I will go," offered Ernest. "It is too late for you undercla.s.s fellows to be out in the corridor, and I can go down and rush the message. I have a pull with the telephone boy. Write your message."

"Don't do it; you will ruin me!" cried Frank.

Bill stared. "Ruin you; ruin you? What do you mean?"

"Why, you know what this will mean to me if it gets back on the Post.

What's Lee, anyhow? Just a half-breed private! Let him take his medicine!"

Bill paled and Ernest made an involuntary motion as though he was going to strike the coward down. Bill controlled himself with an effort.

"He is worth more--his little _finger_ is worth more than your whole body. He is the finest chap I know. And the next time you call him half-breed I will lick you. He is justly proud of the American Indian blood in him. Oh, you aren't worth talking to!"

He scribbled something on a pad and gave it to Ernest, who disappeared with it. Instead of returning in a few minutes, it was almost an hour before he stuck his head in the door and beckoned Bill into the corridor.