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Frank Merriwell's Chums, a novel by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 6. The Plot |
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_ CHAPTER VI. THE PLOT Wat Snell and Leslie Gage were roommates, and they certainly made a delectable pair. Gage was naturally the leader, being the worse of the two. He was a daring and reckless sort of fellow--one who would not stop at anything, and who would have recourse to almost any measure to gain his ends. This revengeful fellow had never forgiven Merriwell for what he considered a great injury. Gage had been the pitcher on the regular ball team, but, by superior skill, Merriwell had supplanted him. That was enough to produce in Gage's heart a feeling of undying hatred for the successful plebe. It made no difference that Frank had, in all probability, saved him from death after he had twice attempted to kill Merriwell. Gage had been shrewd enough to see that he must dissemble if he would remain in the academy, and so he pretended to be repentant and to think Frank one of the finest fellows in the world, while his hatred and longing for "revenge" still lay hidden, black and hideous, in a secret corner of his heart. Snell was quite a different sort of bad boy. He regarded Gage as his superior, and he was ready to do almost anything for the fellow, but he could not imitate Leslie's daring, and he kept his own vileness so much concealed that many square, honest lads believed he was a really good fellow. Bart Hodge had begun to think Snell was a sneak and bad, but he had no proof of it, and so he kept still. Wat was in anything but a pleasant mood the day after the game of cards. He flung things round the room in a way that caused Gage to regard him with wonder, as it was so much unlike the usual quiet, crafty roommate he knew. "What's the matter with you, Wat?" he asked, in surprise. "You must be ill. Go directly and place those things where they belong, for we never know when one of those blooming inspectors will pop in. I am room orderly this week, and am going to have things kept straight, for I can't afford to take any more demerit. My record is bad enough as it stands." So, with a little grumbling, Wat went about and restored to order the things he had disarranged, but he could not help thinking how often, when he was room orderly, he had been obliged to follow Gage about, and gather up things he had displaced. "What's the matter?" repeated Leslie, who suspected the truth. "You don't seem to feel well, old boy." "Oh, it's nothing," replied Wat. "I was thinking of last night." "And raising all this row because you happened to drop a dollar. Why, that's the run of the cards." "Oh, it wasn't what I lost that made me mad." "Then what was it?" "Why, I was thinking that that fellow Merriwell won." "And I presume you were thinking how he won the last pot, eh?" "Yes"--sullenly. "You don't love Merriwell a great deal?" "I should say not! I despise the fellow!" "And you'd like to get square?" "Wouldn't I!" "I suppose you mean to do so?" "If I ever get the chance--yes." "I fancy you are aware that I am not dead stuck on Merriwell myself?" "Yes, I know." "I have an old score to settle with him, and I will settle it some way. I failed in one or two attempts to do him up, for----" "You were altogether too bold, partner mine; and it's a wonder you were not expelled from the academy. You would have been if Merriwell had blowed on you." "That's right, and he would have done so if he had known what was good for him. He is soft!" "In some things he may be soft, but you must acknowledge he is hard enough in others. He has a way of coming on top in almost everything." Gage could not deny this, and it made him angry to think of it. "You are right," he said, fiercely. "I suppose I was foolish to fight him in the way I did. That big bully Bascomb got a hold on me, and he has been blackmailing me ever since. Hang that fellow! I'll choke the wind out of him yet!" A crafty look came to Snell's face, and he said: "There are ways to down a fellow without showing your hand." "I suppose so; but it usually takes too long to suit me. I like to jump on an enemy at once, and do him up." "Well, I hope you are satisfied that Merriwell is the kind of a fellow who will not be jumped on that way?" "It seems so." "Then it is possible you are ready to try some other method?" Their eyes met, and Wat grinned significantly. "How do you mean?" asked Leslie, eagerly. "You have some kind of a scheme?" "That fellow won some money off me, and I refused to take it back. He must show up again, and give me a chance to square the score. He is bound in honor not to refuse to do so." "That's right," nodded Gage. "Well, you are rather handy with the cards, and I reckon you will not find it hard to fleece him." "Oh, I can beat him out of his money, but that is poor satisfaction when you want to disgrace a fellow and drive him out of the school." "We'll find a way for that, if we can get him to following the game." "I don't know as I see how." "His parents are dead." "Well?" "He is supported by a rich uncle, who sent him here to this school." "What of that?" "His uncle gives him a regular allowance. If Merriwell exceeds that allowance, there will be inquiries as to what he has done with his money." "I begin to see." "This uncle is a stern, crusty old fellow, and he would be furious if he should accidentally find out that his nephew is gambling. The chances are about ten to one that he would take him out of Fardale and turn him adrift to hustle for himself." Gage's eyes began to glitter, and the smile about his mouth was most unpleasant to see. "Snell," he said, "you have a head on your shoulders! You are a dandy schemer! But how will this uncle find out that Merriwell has been gambling?" "There are several ways for him to find it out. If we can get hold of a few of Merriwell's IOU's, they might be sent to the uncle for collection." "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." _ |
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