Frank Merriwell's Races Part 7

"But you want to remember you are going up against a bad man in Frank Merriwell," warned Sport. "I do not care to be forced out of Yale."

"Of course not," said Hartwick and Harlow.

"You fellows have not so much to look out for. You can do things that would be beyond me."

"We made a bluff at doing something to-day," growled Hartwick. "We were out for a drive, and we came upon Merriwell. He was on his new horse, and we tried to run him down, but he got out of the way."

"I don't know but it is a good thing he did," confessed Harlow. "If we had struck him there'd been a general smashup. I was driving, and we were making the old nag hit a hot pace. We came near going bottom up as it was."

"You must have been badly rattled," exclaimed Harris.

"Oh, I don't know," laughed Hartwick, harshly. "We've been up against it for the past three days. Eh, Harlow?"

"That's what," nodded the card sharp. "Hartwick is a hard man to follow.

He can kill more stuff than anybody I ever saw."

"Well," said Harris, "I have asked Ditson to come in here this evening.

I took a chance on it, for I thought we could get rid of him easily enough if we didn't want him. He is liable to be along at any moment."

Harlow looked at a handsome watch.

"A quarter to ten," he said. "He ought to be around soon if he is coming at all."

"He will be. Where'd you get that ticker, old man?"

"Oh, I took it off a sucker in a game. I'll have to soak it if I don't strike some sort of graft pretty soon. I'm getting down to hard pan."

"I suppose you are all right, Hartwick?" questioned Harris. "You can call on your old man and make him give up any time."

"Well, I guess not! I haven't been able to get a dollar out of the old duffer since I left college. He is icy toward me, and he says I can go it for myself and be hanged."

"That's pleasant! What have you been doing to gather in the coin?"

"Why, confound it! haven't I formed a partnership with Harlow! I don't know anything about card tricks, but he works all of that, and I win the money. He gives me the hands to do it on, you see. If there is suspicion aroused, the poor suckers take to watching me, and they are unable to catch me at anything crooked. Our only trouble is to find the right sort of fruit for plucking. We generally pretend we are strangers to each other. Sometimes we have a little disagreement over the table, just to fool the fools all the more."

"That's first-rate," laughed Harris. "I wish the gang here was not onto Harlow. I could get you some ripe plums."

"And that's what made me so sore on Merriwell," growled Harlow. "But for that fellow we'd be right in it now. Oh, I want to soak him some way, and soak him hard!"

"And we'll find a way to soak him, too!" growled Hartwick. "Let's have another round, fellows."

He pushed a b.u.t.ton and a waiter appeared. Drinks were ordered. When they were brought, Ditson came in with the waiter.

"h.e.l.lo, Roll!" called Harris. "Glad you came along. Mr. Ditson, Mr.

Harlow. I think you have met the other gentleman."

Ditson started and turned pale when he saw Hartwick, who was glowering at him.

"Oh, yes! Mr. Ditson has met me!" said Evan, significantly. "We do not need an introduction!"

Ditson seemed on the point of getting out in a hurry, but Harris arose and took him by the arm.

"It's all right," he a.s.sured. "Sit down, Roll."

"What sort of a game is this?" hesitatingly asked Ditson, keeping his eyes on Hartwick. "Have you fellows got me in here to do me up?"

"Nothing of the sort."

"Not but I'd like to do you, and do you good," confessed Hartwick, "but Harris won't have it."

"No," said Sport; "I hold that we are all united by our hatred for a common foe, and we cannot afford to be anything but friends."

"All the same, it was a dirty deal you gave me, Ditson," growled Evan, who seemed to be longing to pick a row with the newcomer.

"You forced me into it," declared Ditson, weakly.

"Forced you?"

"Yes."

"How was that?"

"You know well enough. You set on me like a mad tiger, and I'll bet you would have choked me to death in your room if you hadn't been seized with one of your attacks of heart trouble. I was afraid of you, and I had to do something to protect myself."

"So you blew the whole thing to Merriwell! That was a brave trick. But I understand Merriwell has turned you down in great shape since that."

"Well, he hasn't used me right," admitted Ditson. "Sometimes I think I'd like to kick the wind out of him, but I know I can't do it."

"You may have the chance to take the wind out of him," said Harris. "Sit down, old man, and we will talk matters over. What are you drinking?"

"Bring me a sherry flip, waiter," ordered Ditson, seeing the waiter had paused outside.

Then he sat down in a chair offered him, saying:

"If there's any sure way of doing Merriwell up, I'm in for it; but I give it to you straight that I am sick of trying to do him and having him come out on top. It's got to be a sure thing this time, or I don't touch it."

Beyond a thin part.i.tion in a room next to the one occupied by the four plotters sat a man who had a cut and bruised face and a pair of swollen black eyes.

This man had been drinking heavily. A bottle of whiskey and a gla.s.s sat on the little table before him. He was alone in the room.

He had seemed to suddenly lose all interest in the whiskey, and he was leaning against the board part.i.tion with his ear close to a crack, intently listening to the talk of the four lads in the next room.

The man had heard Frank Merriwell's name spoken, and that was the first thing to attract his attention to what the occupants of the next room were saying.

"That's the fellow!" muttered the man, hoa.r.s.ely. "He's the one what gave me these beautiful peepers and pretty mug! I'll give him something worse than this before long."

Then he decided to listen.

"Wonder if them chaps is his friends? I'll jest see what they're sayin'