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Frank Merriwell's Son; or, A Chip Off the Old Block, a fiction by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 36. A Friend Worth Having |
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_ CHAPTER XXXVI. A FRIEND WORTH HAVING They arrived at Merry Home in time to wash up and sit down to dinner with the rest of Frank's jolly house party. "It peen some red-hot paseball practice we put into us this afternoon, Frankie," said Dunnerwurst. "Py Chorge! Der game vill play us to-morrow on." "We'll have to play the game to win, boys," said Merry. "This Rover baseball team is no ordinary wandering aggregation. It's composed of professionals with records." He then told them about the players who made up the Rovers. There were many exclamations of surprise, for these men were known by reputation to nearly all of Frank's friends. "Waugh!" cried Badger. "It's a whole lot plain We're going to have a hot rustle to-morrow. I'm seething to get into that game. That's whatever!" "It'll seem like old times," rumbled Browning. "I hope you're not worried about the game, Frank?" questioned Diamond. "We've been practicing team work for a week, and we ought to do a good turn at it." "Oh, I'm not worrying," smiled Merry. "We can't win every game we play. There's something in being good losers." Hodge frowned. "Never heard you talk like that before, Frank," he said. "Seems to me you think we're going to lose." "Dot game vill nefer lose us der vorld in!" cried Dunnerwurst. "How coot it dood it? Vill der ball not pitch you to-morrow, Frankie? Vid you der box in, der game vos as good as skinched. Yah!" Ephraim Gallup had little to say, and his appetite seemed unusually poor. Teresa noticed this, and she began to worry about it. "You must be seek, Ephraim," she whispered. "You do not eat enough to keep the bird alive." "I'm allus that way jest before a baseball game," he declared. "Don't yeou mind it, Teresa. Don't yeou pay no 'tention to me. I'm all right." After dinner, however, she drew him aside and persisted in questioning him. "There ees sometheeng on your mind," she said. "You cannot fool your Teresa." "Oh, fudge!" exclaimed Gallup. "There ain't nuthin' on my mind. I ain't gut mind enough for that. I'm too big a dratted fool, Teresa." "I nevaire hear you talk that way before. Ees eet the babee? That must be the trouble, Ephraim--you worree about the babee." "Thutteration! I don't believe I've thought of the baby in twenty-four hours." "Oo, how could you be so cruel not to theenk of the babee?" murmured his wife. "I theenk of eet efry hour. I hope you are not going to be seek, Ephraim." "Bless ye, Teresa, I couldn't get sick if I wanted to. Jest yeou let me alone, and I'll be all right. Guess I've gut a case of fan-tods." "What ees them fan-tods? Ees eet the same as the malaria I hear you say they have sometimes een the United States?" "Nope. The fan-tods are something like the blues. A feller gits them when he realizes he's one of the biggest chumps walkin' raound on two laigs." She could get nothing more out of him, and finally she sought her friend, Juanita Garcia, to whom she confided her fears that Ephraim was on the verge of a sick spell. Gallup wandered off by himself and strolled around the grounds, with his head down and his hands in his pockets, occasionally muttering and growling in a disgusted manner. Barney Mulloy found an opportunity to follow Ephraim. "Come on, Eph," he said, slipping an arm through Gallup's, "let's you and Oi go for a warruk. You nade it, my bhoy--you nade it." "If yeou'll jest take me daown to the lake and kick me in, I'll be much obleeged to ye, Barney," said the Vermonter. "It's moighty bad you're faling, Oi dunno?" "By gum! I oughter feel bad. Yeou heard Frank talking about jest sech gol-dinged chumps as I be. He made me so tarnal disgusted with myself that I wanted to find a hole and crawl into it. The trouble was that I didn't know where I could find a hole small enough." "It's a livel head Frankie has, Ephie." "You bet your boots!" "Whin he got through talkin' Oi was ashamed to think Oi'd ever even contimplated makin' a bet." "And I was the blamed idiot that done the betting, Barney! I thought I was kinder showin' my nerve. Naow I know I didn't show much of anything but foolishness. Barney, I'm married. I've got one of the finest little women that ever stood in shoe leather. And the kid--by gum! the kid's a ripper! Together me and yeou have made a pretty good thing in that railroad business. I was brung up on a farm in Vermont. It was called a pretty good farm, too. My old man was reckoned well off in that community, but his whole farm wasn't wuth more'n half what I've made in the last year. It took him years of hard diggin' and scratchin' to git that place and clear it of debt. Daown in them parts a man that's wuth ten thousand dollars is reckoned slappin' rich. They make every cent caount there, Barney. If them folks want anything that costs a dime and they kin git along any way without it, they git along without it and save the dime. That's what they call New England thrift. My dad had to scratch gravel pretty hard to send me to school. I helped aout some myself, but I'd never gut my schoolin' if he hadn't pinched and saved for me. Naow here I be, wuth more money in my own right than he's ever been able to scratch together in his life, and I'm jest darned fool enough to resk that money on a game of baseball. I kinder cal'late we're goin' to win that game, but it's jest as Frank says--we may lose it. If we do, where'll I be?" "Howld on, Ephie--howld on!" exclaimed the young Irishman. "Tell me something, my bhoy." "What is it?" "How much did yez bet on thot game?" "If I tell ye, I want yer to promise never to say nuthin' abaout it to Frank. If I win that bet, I'm goin' to give every cent of my winnings to some charitable institution. I mean it, by ginger! If I win that bet, yeou'll never ketch me in a scrape like this ag'in if I live to be four thousand years old." "Thot's a good resolution to make, Ephie. Ye know you can trust me. Oi'll say nivver a worrud about it to Frankie. How much did yer bet?" "Ten thousand dollars." Mulloy came near falling in his tracks. He caught Gallup by the arm and held on to support himself. "Tin thousand?" he gasped. "Tin thousand dollars? Ye don't mane it!" "That's jest what I bet. Dad bim me for a fool!" "Howly saints! It's crazy ye were, Ephie!" "Call me anything yeou want to." Barney was completely overcome. He realized that Gallup had spoken the truth, and now he understood why his old comrade had appeared so worried and broken up. "Oi don't blame yez for wearing a face a yarrud long, Ephie," he said. "Tell me how it happened, me bhoy." Gallup related the particulars. As he told how Silence had sneered and mocked, the young Irishman began to grow warm. "It's roight Frankie is about betting," said Mulloy; "but divvil a bit different could Oi have done mesilf, Ephraim. It's wake and feeble crathers we are. Gallup, me bhoy, Oi'm your side parthner. We're going to do our bist to win thot game to-morrow. But if we lose, so help me, Oi'll nivver spake to yez again unless we take half the money Oi have in the Wellsburg Bank! Oi'll divvy with ye to me last cint. Now do brace up, Ephraim. It's not broke ye'll be. Ye'll have plenty av time to think what a thunderin' fool ye've made av yersilf. But let's not cry over it now." "I couldn't take half of your money, Barney. That wouldn't be right. No, sir, I'll never do that." Gallup clenched his fist and pushed it up under Ephraim's nose. "Ye'll take it or Oi'll knock the stuffin' out av yez!" he said. "Ye'll take it or ye'll have a doctor to bind up yer wounds. Thot's sittled. Come, now, let's go back to the house and make belave we're happy. To-morrow we'll play baseball loike the divvil himsilf!" _ |
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