CHAPTER XIX--A CRY IN THE NIGHT
The resignation of Chester Arlington from the athletic committee createdno end of astonishment. He was overwhelmed with questions, but verylittle could be learned from him, as he refused to answer.
"I made up my mind to do it," he said, "and I did it, that's all. I'mnot going to talk about it, so don't worry me."
It must be confessed that this action on his part lost him manysupporters. The plebes were indignant, as they lost a representative onthe committee, George Hardy, a first class man, being chosen to fill thevacancy.
Perhaps Mark Crauthers was the most disgusted fellow in Fardale. Hesought Arlington and expressed himself in a flow of violent language,without giving Chester an opportunity to say a word. When he paused,Arlington sneeringly asked:
"Are you through?"
"Well, I haven't said half I could!" snarled Crauthers, showing his darkteeth. "Why, we had things right in our own hands! With you on thatcommittee, the Black Wolves could have run things as they chose. Youlost the greatest opportunity you ever had to hurt Merriwell--thegreatest you will ever have."
"Perhaps I'm tired of this foolishness," said Chester.
"What foolishness?"
"Trying to injure Merriwell."
"What?" gasped Crauthers. "You? Why, he has insulted you in a dozenways, and you are the last man to----"
"Oh, I've forced it on him, and you know that Merriwell is not such abad fellow after all."
Crauthers seemed to be choking.
"Well," he growled, "I'm blowed if I didn't think all along that therewas something of the squealer about you! You blowed too much about yourfather being the great D. Roscoe Arlington, and----"
"That will do for you!" said Chester, with a pleasant smile. "It is justabout the limit."
"The limit! Why, you haven't backbone enough to----"
"If you think so," said Arlington, "just walk down behind the cedarswith me."
"What would you do?"
"I'll agree to give you a handsome thrashing."
"You can't do it! Why, I can wallop any squealer that ever----"
"You're a big stiff!" declared Chester. "You do not dare walk downbehind the cedars."
Immediately Crauthers started for the cedars, a little grove that stoodwithin sight of the academy. Behind this grove, hidden from view of anyone in or about the academy, many a fight had taken place. It was afavorite place for cadets to settle their differences when they had nottime to get farther away.
"Come on--if you dare!" growled Crauthers.
"I'll be right along," promised Chester.
Five minutes later the two, who had seemed on friendly terms up to thatday, met behind the cedars. Chester pulled off his coat and placed it onthe ground, dropping his cap upon it. Then he sailed into Crauthers.
Three or four cadets had discovered that something was going to happenbehind the cedars, and they were on hand to witness the encounter.
Arlington had taken boxing-lessons, and he was really skilful. True, hehad found his skill outmatched by that of Dick Merriwell in a personalencounter, but now it did not take him long to demonstrate that he wasCrauthers' superior, and in less than ten minutes he had the fellowwhipped to a finish.
"If any of your friends make the kind of talk you did to me," hepolitely said, "I'll cheerfully apply the same treatment."
Crauthers, with his face bruised and one eye rapidly closing, made noreply, but he ground his dark teeth in impotent rage.
Arlington, however, had demonstrated that he would fight, and from thattime there was little outspoken criticism of his change in bearingtoward Dick Merriwell.
Brad Buckhart was heartily disgusted when he heard of the new positionArlington had taken.
"Wouldn't that freeze your feet!" he exclaimed, as he finished tellingDick about it. "He'll be trying to get chummy with you next. He will, Iknow!"
Dick smiled a bit, but said nothing.
"Say, pard," came anxiously from the Texan, "I hope you won't let thatonery coyote come crawling round you any whatever. Not even for hissister's sake. She's all right, but you can't trust Chet Arlington."
"Don't worry," was all Dick said.
That afternoon Arlington was on hand to watch the practise of thefootball-team.
Unhampered by the orders of the committee, Dick had full charge of themen on the field, and he put them through their paces in a way thatdemonstrated what he could do with them if given full sway. The boysseemed to show up unusually well and take hold of the work with newinterest.
Whenever a play was carried out with unusual adroitness Chester noddedand smiled.
"Great!" he said. "The team is in the finest possible shape, andMerriwell must be given credit for it all. I have doubted his ability inthe past, but I acknowledge my mistake."
"He makes me sick!" muttered Fred Stark, walking away.
Stark found Mark Crauthers talking to Sam Hogan over near the grandstand. Crauthers had been doctoring his eye, but he looked as if he hadbeen "up against the real thing."
"Look here," said Fred, as he joined the others, "there's Arlington overyonder clapping and cheering for Merriwell. I wanted to hit him,but----"
"That's it!" exclaimed Crauthers. "I know just how you felt. I did hithim! And he hit me! I hadn't an idea a fellow who had been whipped byMerriwell could fight the way he can."
"He's a thorough cad!" declared Stark. "I see through his little game.He's beaten by Merriwell, and he has given up. Now he hopes to get on byturning round and howling for that fellow--hopes to get taken intoMerriwell's set, perhaps."
Hogan glanced round. Seeing there was no one near enough to hear whatthey were saying, he spoke in a low tone:
"The Wolves are broken up. He's never been any use. We three are theonly ones left."
"And we may as well quit," said Crauthers regretfully. "If he gets inwith Merriwell, he'll give the whole thing away."
"One last meeting," urged Stark.
"When?"
"To-night."
They looked at one another, nodded, and Hogan said:
"I'll be on hand. The Den, I suppose?"
"Yes. It's not likely we'll ever meet there again after to-night. Itwouldn't be safe. If Arlington blowed on us----"
"But it will take him some time to get in with Merriwell. Dick Merriwellis not going to take up with that fellow at once. Arlington will have toget right down and crawl before Merriwell forgives him."
"I'm not so sure," said Stark. "There is a reason why Merriwell may beglad to take up with Arlington."
"You mean----"
"Arlington's sister, of course. She's smashed on Merriwell, and he issome smitten on her. That will make all the difference in the world.I'll not be surprised to see Merriwell and Arlington chummy within aweek or so."
"It's disgusting!" growled Crauthers. "Do you know, I have heard thatthese Merriwells always turn their enemies into friends."
"I know one who will never become a friend to Dick Merriwell," declaredStark.
Hogan said nothing, but down in his heart there was a guilty feeling,for in the past Dick Merriwell had befriended him, and he had oncethought that never again could he lift a hand against Dick.
But Hogan was a coarse fellow, and he had found it impossible to get inwith Dick's friends. Dick treated him well enough, but Dick's friendswould have none of him. This had turned Hogan's wavering soul tobitterness again.
These fellows were satisfied that it was only a matter of time whenMerriwell and Arlington would become firm friends. That was because theyhad not sounded the depths of Arlington's nature, had not realized thathis hatred was of the sort that nearly always lived while life lasted.
Arlington had taken a fresh hand and was playing his cards in a new way.And he had resolved not to trust his most intimate friend. He, also, hadlearned that Dick Merriwell had a most wonderful faculty of turningenemies into friends without at all seeming to wish such a thing.
"The fellows here who pretend to be his e
nemies to-day may be fawningaround him to-morrow," Arlington had decided. "I must be careful andtrust no one. I will fool them all."
Be careful, Chester! There is such a thing as over-playing a part. Youmay fool many of them, but you will have to be very clever if you foolDick Merriwell. You will find that those dark eyes of his have a way ofreading secrets, of seeming to look straight through you, of piercingthe dark corners of your heart and discovering your motives.
That night three dark figures stole away from the academy and made for acertain strip of woods in the heart of which lay a jungle of fallentrees that had been swept down by a tornado. Other trees had sprung up,bushes were thick, wild vines overran the mass in summer, fallenbranches were strewn about; and still through this jungle a path hadbeen made. It led to a secret retreat, where the Black Wolves had metmany times to smoke and play cards and concoct plots. They knew the waywell, and they followed it through the semi-darkness, for the moon wasveiled by clouds.
At one place they were compelled to walk the trunk of a tree that hadfallen against another tree. At an angle they walked upward along thatoften-trod tree trunk, coming to another fallen tree, lodged like thefirst against the one that remained standing. Down the second tree theymade their way. Thus they passed over a thicket through which no pathhad been made, coming beyond it to what seemed almost like a tunnel,where the darkness was most intense. Creeping through this tunnel, theyarrived in the Den, which had been formed originally by a number oftrees that fell together, or were twisted together at their tops by thehurricane, in the form of an Indian wigwam. Inside, at the bottom thebranches had been cleared away, boughs were spread on the ground, and inthe center was a stone fireplace, about which the Wolves could sit incouncil.
Dry wood had been gathered and piled at hand, and some of this they soonarranged on the stones. Dry leaves served in the place of shavings. Theywere sheltered from the keen night air, but a fire would feel gratefulenough, and one hastened to strike a match with numb fingers.
The leaves flamed up brightly, the wood caught fire with a pleasantcrackling sound, and smoke began to roll upward. Then, of a sudden, oneof the trio uttered a gasping exclamation of astonishment and startledterror, grasping the arm of another, and pointing toward one side of theDen. There, bolt upright and silent, sat a human figure, seeming toglare at them with glassy eyes.
So still was that figure that Crauthers, who had seen it first, thoughtit lifeless. It seemed like a person who had sought shelter there andhad died, sitting straight up, with eyes wide open and staring. Was it atramp?
No. As the fire rose still brighter they recognized the unbidden one. Itwas Miguel Bunol.
"The Spaniard!" exclaimed Stark.
"Spying on us!" burst from the lips of Crauthers, as he saw Bunol's eyesmove and realized the fellow was very much alive.
"Sure as fate!" agreed Hogan. "He is Arlington's right-hand man, and hemust be here as a spy."
Bunol laughed softly, coldly.
"Don't be fool all of you!" he said. "Bunol not a spy. Not much at all!"
"Confound you!" growled Crauthers, who seemed ready to leap on theSpanish lad. "What are you doing here, anyhow?"
"I belong to Wolves. I have right to be here."
"You were not invited. You were not told we meant to meet here.Then----"
"Bunol is no fool. He find out some things you do not tell him. But whyyou do not tell him? He is a Wolf, and he have right to know."
"Oh, go to Arlington, your master!" exclaimed Fred Stark.
"Chester Arlington no master of Miguel Bunol!" returned the youngSpaniard, with heat. "Some time he find Bunol be his master. You wait,you see."
The young rascals looked at one another in doubt. Up to this time Bunolhad seemed Arlington's devoted servant, and it did not seem possible hehad turned against Chester so soon and so unexpectedly.
"Trick!" muttered Hogan suspiciously.
Stark thought so, too. He believed Arlington had somehow learned theywere to meet there, and had sent Bunol to act as a spy and to learn whathappened.
"Better soak him!" said Crauthers, who longed to get revenge on Chesterin some manner, and thought it would be partial revenge to give histrusted servant a good thumping.
Bunol had not stirred. He was watching them closely with his keen eyes,and his equally keen ears missed not a word they spoke. He understood,too.
"Don't be fools!" he said, in the same soft voice. "You will not find itsafe to soak Miguel Bunol."
"He carries a knife," said Stark.
Bunol's lips curled in a bitter smile. They did not know what had becomeof his knife. Dick Merriwell had it, but some day he would get it back.
"Look here, you!" he said, "Let me tell you! I have done with ChesterArlington as friend. You think a long time he is my master. Bah! All thetime I am his master! All the time he pay my way here at school. I makehim give to me the money. How I do it? No matter. I have way. Now hehave spend so much he get in bad hole. He try to throw me over. Ha! Isay no. He think he is my master, and he say I have to go. He give meone hundred dollars to get me to go. I laugh at him. I say one thousand.He cannot give that. I know he cannot give it. I stay. But I know hemean to get done with me soon as he can. I have done many thing for him,and it make me sore. Ha! See? No longer am I his friend. I make him giveme money, but no longer will I do anything for him. I like to see himget it some in the neck. Ha!"
Again the boys looked at each other, this time wondering if Bunol spokethe truth.
"What kind of a game is this?" muttered Stark.
But Bunol protested that it was no game at all, and he swore by allthings good and bad that he spoke the truth. He began to convince them.He showed his feeling of hatred for Chester Arlington was intense aswell as unreasoning. He seemed to feel that, after providing him withmoney so long, after accepting him as a companion, after introducing himas belonging to a noble family, that Chester had no right to cast himoff and refuse to maintain him longer. He seemed to feel that Chesterwas doing him a great injury, and he was burning with a desire forrevenge.
Crauthers, Hogan, and Stark put their heads together and whispered.
"What do you think?" asked Hogan.
"Fellow's on the level," said Stark.
"Believe that's right," agreed Crauthers.
"Shall we trust him?"
"He may come handy."
"Just the one to get at Arlington."
"He may betray us," suggested Hogan.
"Put him to the test," recommended Stark.
"How?" questioned Crauthers.
"Require him to make some move against Arlington."
"Good idea!"
"First-class!"
"Let him make good by attacking Arlington," grinned Hogan.
"Will he do it?" whispered Stark.
"Try him! try him!" sibilated Crauthers.
Crauthers was eager for the test. He told himself it would be greatsatisfaction to bring about a clash between Chester and Bunol. It wouldgive him the keenest satisfaction to watch Bunol knock Chester out. Butcould Bunol do it? Surely not unless he attacked Arlington unawares andwithout warning.
The Spaniard, however, was just the one to make such an attack. It waslike him to spring on the back of an unsuspecting enemy.
"How much do you hate Chet Arlington?" asked Stark, as he turned toBunol, who was now coolly smoking a cigarette.
"How much? You wait, you see."
"But you must prove that you hate him. We can't trust you unless youconvince us. You have been his friend. How can we be sure you are not sostill?"
"How you want me to prove it?"
"You must jump him!" palpitated Crauthers. "You must give him a goodthumping."
"When?"
"First chance you get."
"All right," said Bunol. "I do that. I show you. Then you know I hatehim same as I hate Deek Merriwell."
Crauthers was filled with the greatest satisfaction. Was it possibleBunol would keep his word? Then it would be fine to turn
the fellowagainst Chet Arlington. One thing that had brought Mark Crauthers to theDen that evening was a desire to induce the others to stand with him ina plan to humiliate and punish Arlington. And now they had stumbled on away of accomplishing that purpose without taking the work in their ownhands.
So Bunol was again admitted to the circle, and they sat about the fire,warming their fingers and smoking. The blaze flared fitfully, lightingtheir faces and filling the interior of the Den with a pleasant glow.
Like brigands were they there in that snug retreat of the tangled woods.The wind did not reach them, for the thicket broke it. At times it roseand roared above their heads. The trees creaked at intervals, but in allthat strip of woods no living creature save themselves seemed present.
Winter was at hand. The breath of King Cold was sweeping across theworld. Yet they were warm and comfortable in their sheltered retreat.With blankets and a fire they could have passed the night there in anagreeable manner.
"I'm getting sick of school," said Crauthers, tenderly caressing hisswollen eye. "I'd like to get away. I'd like to go West, or somewhere,and live in the woods, and just hunt and fish and do as I pleased.Wouldn't it be great, fellows?"
"It might be all right for a while," said Stark; "but you'd get sick ofit pretty soon."
Crauthers shook his head.
"Don't you think it!" he exclaimed. "I used to think I'd go to sea, orrun away and become a cowboy; but, of course, I've gotten over that, forI've found out going to sea isn't such fun, and the cowboy business isgetting played out. All the same, a fellow could be a nomad and justhunt and fish and----"
"And tramp!" laughed Stark. "No, thank you! I have no desire to lead thelife of a hobo."
"Oh, I don't mean to be a common hobo. I read the other day that thereare lots of people in the country yet who make a good living by hunting.I'd like that. I like to hunt. I enjoy shooting squirrels and birds andthings, and I know it would be great sport killing big game. I'd enjoyperforating a grizzly bear and then cutting its throat with myhunting-knife."
"Oh, that would be fine!" came sarcastically from Stark. "But it wouldnot be such sport if you happened to wound the bear and he got you in acorner. I believe grizzlies are somewhat dangerous under suchcircumstances."
"Oh, I wouldn't mind the danger!" asserted Crauthers. "That would bepart of the sport. I'm not afraid----"
Then he stopped short, for through the woods rang a long-drawn, lonelycry, like that of some prowling animal. Crauthers turned pale and showedsymptoms of agitation.
"What was that?" he whispered.
The others were startled.
"Sounded like the cry of a wolf or a wildcat," muttered Hogan.
The wind rose, rushed through the tree tops and died away. As they satthere listening, the doleful cry was repeated, and this time it soundedmuch nearer than before. The thing was approaching!
Dick Merriwell's Trap; Or, The Chap Who Bungled Page 19