Frank Merriwell's Chums Part 8

"I see; but first we must run him out of ready cash."

"Of course. By the time he has lost all his money, he will be eager to play to win it back. We must lend him money, and take his IOU's."

"We'll do it!" Gage jumped up, struck Snell a blow on the back, and then grasped his hand, giving it a shake.

"We'll do it!" he repeated. "Merriwell's goose is beautifully cooked!"

Snell smiled in his crafty way.

"I am glad you take to the scheme, for with your aid, there ought not to be any trouble in carrying it out."

"Oh, we'll work it! But how did you find out so much about Merriwell?

That's what sticks me. He has been sort of a mystery here, as none of the fellows knew exactly where he came from, or anything about his folks."

"Oh, I took a fancy to get posted concerning him. At first I didn't see how I was going to do so. That was during camp, and Hans Dunnerwust tented with him then. I cultivated the thick-headed Dutchman, and succeeded in getting into his good graces. So I often visited Hans in the tent when Merriwell and Mulloy, that Irish clown, who thinks Merriwell the finest fellow in the world, were away. I kept my eyes open, and one day I spotted a letter to Merriwell. I swiped it instanter, and it helped me out, for it was from his uncle."

"You're an artist in your line, Wat!" exclaimed Leslie, approvingly.

"That letter didn't give me all the information I desired," continued Snell, "but I found I had a friend living in a town adjoining the one Merriwell hails from, so I wrote and asked him to find out a few things for me. He rode over on his wheel, and found out what I have told you."

"Why, you are a regular detective, old man!"

"Merriwell's mother," continued Wat, "has been dead several years. No one seems to know much about his father, except that he was nearly always away from home, and he died suddenly in California a little more than a year ago. I haven't been able to find out that he left any property, so Merriwell is dependent on the generosity of a rather crabbed and crusty old uncle, whose head is filled with freaks and fancies. He seems to be just the kind of a man who would be easily turned against a nephew who had, as he would consider it, gone astray."

"That settles Merriwell! If we cannot get the old uncle down on him, we are pretty poor schemers."

They looked at each other and smiled again. A precious pair of youthful plotters they were!

"We must be slick about this business," warned Snell. "We mustn't let anybody but ourselves get the least wind of it."

"Certainly not."

"And we must do our prettiest to pull the wool over Merriwell's eyes, for you know he is rather discerning in some things, and he may be inclined to be wary. We must seem to think he is the finest fellow in the world."

"That will be pretty hard," said Leslie, with a wry face, "but I have been doing something in that line of late, and I will keep it up. That business doesn't come so easy for me as it does for you."

"You can do it, if you try. And I shall depend on you to skin him with the papers."

"That won't be hard, if he plays square."

"I don't think there is any doubt about that. He is one of the kind of fellows who doesn't know enough to play any other way."

"Then Frank Merriwell's name is mud--with a capital M."

CHAPTER VII.

SPREADING THE SNARE.

The plot was laid, the snare was set, but the game seemed wary. For some time Frank Merriwell remained away from those midnight gatherings in the room of the student who had committed suicide.

"Hang the luck!" exclaimed Gage. "Is he going to keep away right along?"

"He must not be allowed to do so," said Leslie. "He must be shamed into coming."

"That may not be easy."

"It should not be difficult with a fellow like Merriwell. He must give me a chance to get even."

"Hodge doesn't try to get Merriwell out again."

"No. He says he will not influence him to attend the gatherings."

"What's the matter with Hodge?"

"I don't know. He is ready enough to come himself."

It was true that Bart had positively refused to use his influence to induce Merriwell to attend again one of the secret parties. He had been greatly moved by Frank's revelation, and he had resolved not to lead Frank into the path that was so fascinating and so dangerous for him. He did not know that the evil was already done--the fever was burning in Merriwell's veins.

Frank had been waiting an opportunity to speak with Snell in private, and it came one day when he met the fellow on the grounds outside the academy.

"h.e.l.lo, Snell," he saluted. "I have been looking for you."

"And I have been looking for you," said Wat, meaningly. "Why haven't you ever come round since that night? Aren't you going to give a fellow a show to get square?"

"I am not going to play cards any more!"

"What?" cried Wat, in apparent astonishment. "That beats anything I ever heard! You have beaten me out of a good roll, and now----"

"I have been looking for you that I might return every cent you lost that night, so you cannot consider me mean if I do not give you a chance to get even over the table. If you will tell me just how much you dropped, I'll make it good now."

An eager look came to Wat's face, but it quickly vanished, for he realized that he would defeat himself if he accepted the money.

"What do you take me for!" he cried, with apparent indignation. "I am not that kind of a fellow!"

"You need never fear that I will say anything about it, for I pledge you my word of honor to say nothing. All I want is to make sure you do not feel that I have any money that belongs to you."

"I don't care whether you say anything about it or not, Merriwell.

That does not keep me from accepting the money. I tell you I am not that kind of a fellow. You won it, and you will keep it, unless you have nerve enough to give me an opportunity to win it back."

This did not suit Frank at all, for the money had lain like a load on his conscience. He had sworn not to gamble again, and he had broken his oath. But, what was worse, so long as he kept that money, he felt that he really ought to give Snell a chance to get square. There seemed but one way to get out of playing again, and that was to make Snell take back the money.

But it was useless for him to urge Wat; not a dollar would the fellow accept.

"You can't give me back anything," declared Snell. "You won that money by having the most nerve--at that time. But you can't repeat the trick, old man," he added, jovially. "Come around to-night, and see if you can."