LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

"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 button and a waiter appeared. Drinks were ordered. When they were brought, Ditson came in with the waiter.

      "Hello, 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 assured. "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 partition 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 glass 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 partition 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, hoarsely. "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' about him."

      It was not long before the man was able to hear enough to satisfy him that the lads in the next room were anything but friends of Frank Merriwell, and he listened with fresh eagerness.

      He heard Ditson come in with the waiter, and caught much of the conversation that followed. Then Ditson sat down, and the plotters lowered their voices.

      "That settles it!" exclaimed the man. "I'm goin' right in there and see if they don't want to take me inter the gang. Them college ducks will be jest the fellers to help me in gettin' back at Frank Merriwell."

      He got up, left the little room, and went around to the door of the other room. Without stopping to knock, he opened the door and walked in.

      "H'waryer," he saluted, as the four lads stared at him in amazement. "My name's Mike Hogan, and I want ter join in with ther push."

      "Get out of here, you bum!" cried Hartwick, fiercely. "You are intruding on a private party."

      "Hold hard, young feller!" returned the fellow who had given his name as Mike Hogan. "Don't call me a bum! I'm onto your curves, and there ain't no reason why you and me shouldn't be friends."

      "Friends!" exclaimed Hartwick—"friends! Well, I prefer to choose my friends."

      "And you didn't make much of a success when you chose a young gent here what is named Ditson. Keep yer seat!"

      "Press the button, Harlow, and we'll have this fellow thrown out!" came savagely from Hartwick's lips.

      "Wait a minute before you press the button," urged Mike Hogan. "Do you see this face?"

      "Yes."

      "It's a peach, now, ain't it?"

      "You can consider yourself lucky if it isn't worse than that when you get out of here, my man."

      "Don't 'my man' me, young feller! I don't like it! Do yer know who give me this face and these two beautiful eyes?"

      "No, and we——"

      "Well, I'll tell yer who it was. It was a feller what goes by the name of Frank Merriwell."

      "Well, he did a first-class job," commented Harris. "That really looks like some of Merriwell's work."

      "He done it," nodded Mike. "Nacherlly I ain't got no love to speak of for him. Well, I was in the room next to this just now, and as I was leanin' against the partition I happened to overhear what you chaps was sayin' in here. From what I heard, I judged you didn't love this Merriwell none to brag about, and I says to myself, 'Mike, if you want to get even, them is the boys to hitch fast to.' Then I got right up and came in here without bein' invited. I hope you'll excuse me, gents, but I couldn't help it under the circumstances. I had a sort of feller-feelin' for you chaps, and I thought mebbe we might arrange some sort of a deal together that would do this Merriwell, and do him for keeps. I'm not a chap with much education, but I'll bet anything I can hate just as hard as you fellers, and if there's anybody I hate on the earth, it's Frank Merriwell.

      "There, now, gents, you have heard what I have ter say, and I hope you'll tumble ter ther fact that I am on the level. This is no case of stringing. I want ter pay back that feller for these two black eyes and this mug. Mebbe you can help me to do it, and I can help you to square yerselves with him at the same time. If that is right, why shouldn't we kinder go into partnerships for a short period? I put the question to yer, and you can do as ye please."

      The quartet at the table looked at one another inquiringly and doubtingly. They seemed to hesitate.

      "If this man tells the truth, and I should judge that he does, he may be of service to us and we to him," said Sport Harris.

      "That's right," nodded Harlow. "If Merriwell gave him that mug and those beautiful eyes, I don't wonder that he wants to get square."

      Hartwick was silent. He was looking Mike Hogan over, and he was thinking:

      "Is it possible I have fallen to the point where I have to take such a fellow as a comrade? No! It will not be as a comrade. We can use him as a tool, perhaps, and that is what we will do, if we use him at all."

      "Sit down," invited Hartwick, suddenly rising and offering Mike his chair. "I'll get another. I want to hear just how you came by those eyes."

Скачать книгу