Kitabı oku: «Bert Wilson on the Gridiron», sayfa 9

CHAPTER XII
The Coach Robbery

ONE morning Bert received a letter that caused him to emit a wild whoop of joy, and then set off post haste to find Tom and Dick. He discovered them at last on the campus, kicking a ball around, and rushed toward them waving the open letter over his head.

"Say, fellows," he shouted when he got within speaking distance of them, "whom do you suppose this letter is from? Bet you a million you can't guess right in three guesses."

"From the way you seem to feel about it," grinned Dick, "it must contain money from home. I don't know what else could make you feel as happy as you appear to be."

"No, it isn't money," replied Bert, "but it's something better."

"Come off," chaffed Tom, "there 'ain't no such thing.' But tell us what it is and get it out of your system."

"It's a letter from Mr. Melton," explained Bert, "saying he's on his way East, and is going to visit us here. What do you know about that, eh?"

"Great!" exclaimed Dick and Tom in chorus, and Dick asked, "When does he say he'll get here?"

"Monday or Tuesday of next week," replied Bert, consulting the letter. "Either Monday afternoon or Tuesday morning. He's going to stop at the 'Royal,' and wants us to be on hand to meet him. He says in all probability he'll arrive on the 7:45 Monday evening. And just make out we won't be on hand to give him a rousing welcome, what?"

"I rather guess we will," said Tom, "and then some. I move that we hire a brass band and do the thing up right."

"That's a good idea all right," laughed Bert, "but I rather think Mr. Melton would prefer to dispense with the brass band. But we'll manage to make him know he's welcome, I have no doubt of that."

"I'd deserve to be hung, drawn, and quartered if I didn't," said Dick with feeling. "He was certainly a friend in need if there ever was one."

Dick alluded to a never-to-be-forgotten time when Mr. Melton had, at the risk of his own life, rendered timely aid to Bert and Tom in rescuing Dick from a band of Mexican outlaws. The three comrades were not ones to forget such a service, and from that time on Mr. Melton had always occupied a warm place in their regard. In addition to his personal bravery he was genial and good natured, with a heart as big as himself. He had taken part in many enterprises, but was now a prosperous rancher in the Northwest, calling many a fertile acre his own.

He had traveled extensively and knew much of the world. His stock of experiences and anecdote seemed inexhaustible, and he was never at a loss for some tale of adventure when called upon to tell one. His bluff, hearty manner gained him friends wherever he went, and it was with feelings of the keenest anticipation that the three comrades looked forward to his coming. It was only Wednesday when Bert received the letter announcing his coming, so they had several days of inevitable waiting.

However, "all things come to him who waits," and the day to which the boys looked forward with so much anticipation was no exception to the rule. They were at the station long before the train was due, and it seemed hours to them before they heard its whistle in the distance.

"The chances are though," said Tom pessimistically, "that something has happened to delay him and he won't be on this train at all, but on the one that comes in to-morrow morning."

"That's the way it usually works out," agreed Bert with a grin, "but somehow I have a hunch that Mr. Melton is going to be on this train. He said in the letter you know, that in all probability he would be on the earlier train."

"Yes, I know," said Tom, "and I only hope that my fears are groundless. But we won't have to wait long now to find out at any rate."

He had hardly ceased speaking when the train puffed into the station. They scanned the long line of cars carefully, and it was Dick who first discerned the burly form descending the narrow steps of one of the rear Pullmans.

"There he is, fellows," he shouted and made a dash in the direction of the approaching figure, followed closely by Bert and Tom. Mr. Melton saw them coming and stretched out his hand. "Well, well!" he exclaimed, after shaking hands all around. "I'm certainly glad to see you once more, my boys. You don't look as though the grind of college work has interfered much with your health," with a twinkle in his eyes.

"No," laughed Bert, "we're not actually wasting away under the strain. But as far as that goes," he continued, "you look pretty fit yourself."

"Yes, and I feel it, too," replied Mr. Melton. "I'm not quite as spry as I used to be, but I never felt better in my life. There's nothing like an open air life to keep a man young."

While this talk was going on, the little party was making its way toward the hotel at which Mr. Melton had said he was going to put up, and were not long in reaching it.

"Well, boys," said Mr. Melton as they ascended the handsome flight of steps leading up to the entrance, "I don't suppose you've had supper yet, have you? If not I want you all to keep me company. It's on me, and the best in the house is none too good for us."

"Well," replied Bert, "speaking for myself, nothing would give me greater pleasure. But we're all three slaves of the training table, you know, so I'm afraid you'll have to excuse us this time."

"That's right!" exclaimed Mr. Melton in a disappointed tone, "for the moment I had forgotten all about that. But duty is duty, and far be it from me to put temptation in your path."

"What I think we had better do," said Bert, "is to see you safely installed here, and then hustle back to college and eat. Then we can come back here and spend the evening with you."

"I guess that will be the best plan," agreed Mr. Melton, "but you must promise me to get back soon."

Of course they all promised, and after leaving their friend to the tender mercies of the hotel clerk, hastened back to their Alma Mater.

They were just in time for dinner, but in their excitement and hurry to get back to the hotel ate less than usual. In reply to Reddy's query as to "what was up," they told him of Mr. Melton's arrival. Reddy had heard of the Mexican adventure and spoke accordingly. "He must be a good man to know," he opined, "and I'd like to meet him. Go ahead an' make your call now, but don't get back late. I guess, from what I hear of this Melton that he'll see that you leave in time anyway."

"No, he's not the kind to persuade people to forget their obligations," said Dick. "In fact, he's just the opposite. But of course our own well-known principles would make it impossible for us to be late," with a grin.

"Yes, I know all about that sort of stuff," said Reddy. "See if for once you can live up to your own 'rep.'"

"All you got to do is keep your eyes peeled, and you'll see us piking in here right on the dot," laughed Tom. "Come on, fellows. The sooner we get started the sooner we'll get back."

"Right you are," agreed Bert, and the three comrades swung into a brisk stride. A twenty-minute walk brought them to the "Royal," and they were immediately ushered up to Mr. Melton's room. In answer to their knock a hearty voice bade them "come in," and as they opened the door Mr. Melton met them with outstretched hand.

"Come in and make yourselves at home," he said genially. "If you want anything and don't see it, ask for it."

"You seem to be pretty well fixed with about everything that anybody could want, now," commented Bert, glancing about the luxuriously appointed room. "This place certainly looks as though it had had some thought and money expended on it."

"Yes," admitted the Westerner, "it reminds me of the so-called 'hotels' we used to have out West in the early days – it's so different. The height of luxury there was in having a room all to yourself. As a rule you had to bunk in with at least two or three others. O yes, this is quite an improvement on one of those old shacks. I remember one of the pioneer towns where there was a fierce rivalry between the proprietors of the only two hotels in town. They were each trying to get the better of the other by adding some improvement, real or fancied. First the owner of the 'Palace' had his shack painted a vivid white and green. Then the owner of the 'Lone Star' hostelry, not to be outdone, had his place painted also, and had a couple of extra windows cut in the wall. So it went, and if they had kept it up long enough, probably in the end people stopping at one of the places would have been fairly comfortable. But before matters reached that unbelievable pitch, O'Day, owner of the 'Palace,' was killed in a shooting fracas. The man who plugged him claimed he was playing 'crooked' poker, and I think that in all probability he was. If he wasn't, it was about the only time in his life that he ever played straight."

"What happened to the man who did the shooting?" asked Bert.

"Well, O'Day wasn't what you'd call a very popular character," replied Mr. Melton, "and nobody felt very much cut up over his sudden exit from this vale of tears. They got up an impromptu jury, but the twelve 'good men and true' failed to find the defendant guilty."

"But how did they get around it?" asked Tom. "There was no doubt about who did the killing, was there?"

"Not the least in the world," replied Mr. Melton with a laugh; "but as I say, popular sentiment was with the man who did the shooting, so the jury turned in a verdict that ran something in this fashion, if I remember rightly: 'We find that the deceased met death while inadvisably attempting to stop a revolver bullet in motion' or words to that effect. I thought at the time it was a masterpiece of legal fiction."

"I should say it was," commented Dick. "The quibbles and technicalities that make our laws a good deal of a joke to-day have nothing much on that."

"That's a fact," agreed Mr. Melton; "some of the results of our modern 'justice,' so called, are certainly laughable. It's all very well to give a man every chance and the benefit of every doubt, but when a conviction is set aside because the court clerk was an hour behind time getting to court on the day of the trial, it begins to look as though things were being carried too far. Mere technicalities and lawyers' quibbles should not have the weight with judges that for some reason they seem to possess."

"I've no doubt," remarked Bert, "that some of the rough and ready courts such as you were just telling us about meted out a pretty fair brand of justice at that."

"Yes, they did," replied Mr. Melton. "They got right down to the core of the argument, and cut out all confusing side issues. If, for instance, three witnesses all swore they saw a man steal a horse, and yet were unable to agree on the exact time of the stealing, the chances were ten to one that the horse thief would be strung up without further loss of time. And there was no appeal from the findings of a frontier jury."

"It must have been an exciting life, that of the old frontier days," commented Bert. "I guess nobody had to complain much of the monotony of it."

"Not so you could notice," replied Mr. Melton with a smile, "but there wasn't half as much shooting going on all the time as you might believe from reading the current stories in the magazines dealing with the 'wild and woolly West.' Most everybody carried a gun, of course, but they weren't used so very often. Every man knew that his neighbor was probably an expert in the use of his 'shooting irons,' too, so there wasn't much percentage in starting an argument. Most of the scraps that did occur would never have been started, if it hadn't been for the influence of 'red-eye,' as the boys used to call the vile brands of whiskey served out in the frontier saloons. That whiskey bit like vitriol, and a few glasses of it were enough to make any man take to the war path."

"I suppose you carried a gun in those days, too, didn't you, Mr. Melton?" questioned Dick.

"Yes, I carried a pair of Colt's .45s with me for years," replied the Westerner, with a reminiscent look in his eyes. "Why, a couple of guns were as much a part of a man's dress in those days as a pair of shoes. Every one carried them as a matter of course."

"Did you ever have to use them?" asked Bert.

"Only once," replied Mr. Melton. "I never went looking for trouble, and it has been my experience, when you don't look for trouble, trouble seldom looks for you. But the one time I did have use for my arsenal made up for lost time."

"Tell us about it, please," chorused the boys, and Mr. Melton smiled at their eagerness as he lit another perfecto.

"Well," he began, "it was back in the old days before the time of the railroads, when stage coaches were the only carriers known. I was traveling to Fort Worth on business, and was finding the journey anything but a pleasant one. The coach was old and rickety, and the way it lurched and rolled reminded me of a small boat in a rough sea. It was a terrifically hot day, too, and the stinging alkali dust got down your throat and in your eyes until life seemed an unbearable burden. We had traveled steadily all the morning, and along toward afternoon most of the passengers began to feel pretty sleepy, and dozed off. I was among the number. Suddenly I was awakened by a shout of 'hands up!' and found myself looking full into the muzzle of a blue barreled Colt, held in the hand of a masked man.

"There was nothing for it but to obey, seeing he had the drop on us, so up went our hands over our heads. There were six other passengers in the coach, but if we had been sixteen we would have been no better off.

"As we gazed in a sort of fascination at the ugly-looking revolver, another masked man entered the coach and commenced systematically to relieve the passengers of their valuables. I happened to be nearest the front of the coach, and so did not receive the benefit of his attentions at first. He had almost reached me when there was a commotion outside, and he straightened up to listen, all his senses on the alert.

"He was between me and the door in which his companion was standing. For the moment the man in the door could not get at me except through his comrade, and I resolved to grasp the opportunity. In a flash I had reached down into the breast of my coat and grasped the butt of my revolver. Before the desperado in front of me could get his gun in action, I had fired. At the first shot he dropped to the ground and, as he fell, a bullet from the man in the doorway took my hat off. I pulled the trigger as fast as my fingers could work, and he did the same. I have only a confused recollection of smoke, flashes of flame, shouts and a dull shock in my left arm. In what must have been but a few seconds it was all over. With my own gun empty, I waited to see what would happen. I knew that if by that time I hadn't killed the bandit, he had me at his mercy. And even with him disposed of, I fully expected to be plugged by the man outside who was holding the driver under guard.

"But he must have had a streak of yellow in him, for when he failed to see either of his comrades come out of the coach he concluded that they were either dead or prisoners, and made off as fast as his pony could carry him. By that time we passengers had rushed out of the coach, and some of us began firing at the fugitive. But a revolver is not very accurate over two or three hundred feet, and I doubt if the desperado was even grazed. I was unable to shoot for, as I had realized by this time, my left arm was broken just above the elbow, and I was unable to load my gun.

"Well, finding that we could not hope to harm the fugitive, we returned to the coach. An examination of the two hold-ups showed that one, the man I had shot first, was dead. The other, who had guarded the door, was badly wounded and unconscious. One of the passengers had been bored through the shoulder by a stray bullet, but was not hurt seriously.

"The driver bound up my arm after a fashion, and whipped up his horses. It was after dark before we reached Fort Worth though, and by that time my arm was giving me a foretaste of what Hades must be. But there was a good doctor in the town, fortunately for me, and he fixed the arm up in fine fashion. And, believe me, I felt lucky to get off as easy as that."

"I should think you would," said Bert admiringly. "It must have taken nerve to pull a gun under those conditions."

"Well," replied Mr. Melton, "it was all on account of a watch I carried at that time. It was one I had had for years, and thought a lot of. The idea of losing that watch just made me desperate. I think if it hadn't been for that I would never have taken the chance."

"And what happened to the man you wounded?" asked Dick.

"He gradually recovered," replied Mr. Melton. "The boys were going to hang him when he got well enough, but one night he broke jail and got away. They made up a posse and chased him through three counties, but never caught him. I imagine, though, that his liking for hold-ups suffered a severe check."

"Very likely," agreed Bert, "but I'm glad you saved the watch, anyway."

"So am I," said Mr. Melton with a smile. "Here it is now, if you'd care to see it."

He passed a handsome gold timepiece over to the boys, who admired it greatly. Then the talk turned to other subjects, and before they realized it, it was time for them to go.

Before leaving, however, they made Mr. Melton promise to visit the college the following afternoon. This he readily did, and the boys took their departure after saying a hearty good night to their Western friend.

CHAPTER XIII
An Unexpected Meeting

TRUE to his promise, Mr. Melton made his appearance at the south end of the campus a little after three o'clock of the following day. The three friends were there to meet him, and they exchanged hearty greetings.

"There's so much we want to show you that we hardly know where to begin," said Bert. "What shall we show him first, fellows?"

"Let's start with the library," suggested Dick, "that's one of the handsomest buildings. When he sees all the books he'll get the idea that we're very literary, and first impressions are lasting, you know."

"I'm afraid it wouldn't do any good," said Bert. "He'd just be getting that impression, and then Tom would pull some of his low comedy stuff and queer the whole thing. We can never palm ourselves off as highbrows while he's around."

"Just because you're unable to appreciate the little gems of wit I offer you from time to time, you have to go and run them down," protested Tom. "It isn't my fault that you haven't sense enough to laugh at them. It's your misfortune, that's all."

"Well, I'll do my best to bear up under the deprivation," laughed Bert. "But here we are, Mr. Melton. What do you think of the outside?"

While he and Tom had been exchanging thrusts the little group had been strolling toward the library building, and by this time had reached the broad flight of steps that led up to it. There they halted while Mr. Melton examined the front of the building.

"It is very handsome," he commented; "if its interior answers to its outer appearance it must be a beautiful place."

"I think you'll find that it does," said Bert; "but the best way to tell is to go inside."

Accordingly, they ascended the stone steps and, entering the massive doors, found themselves in a lofty hall, from which branched the various reading rooms. Everything was in perfect harmony and taste, and Mr. Melton was outspoken in his expressions of admiration.

Leaving the library, the boys showed their friend all the college buildings – the recitation hall, the dormitories, the chapel and the gymnasium. Mr. Melton seemed attracted most of all by the latter, and examined the different athletic apparatus with the greatest interest.

"You certainly have everything that modern science can furnish," commented Mr. Melton enthusiastically. He lingered long by the swimming tank, in which a number of athletic young fellows were disporting themselves.

"How would you like to visit the engine room?" asked Dick. "To my mind that's the most interesting place in the college."

"I'd like it first rate," said Mr. Melton; "anything in the way of machinery can always be sure of getting a respectful hearing from me."

The three friends accordingly guided him down into the engine and boiler rooms, sacred ground to which few visitors ever penetrated. Here was machinery of the latest and most up-to-date patterns, and Mr. Melton listened attentively while the boys explained to him the uses of the various mechanisms. They were familiar with everything in the place, and their listener knew enough about machinery to readily understand everything that they told him. They spent over an hour altogether in the engine room, and when at last they emerged into the upper regions again Mr. Melton drew a long breath.

"It's certainly a wonderful place," he said with enthusiasm; "and I envy you boys the chance you have of getting an education in a such a college. It's a privilege that you'll probably appreciate ten years from now even more than you do at the present time."

"Possibly," said Bert with a note of doubt in his voice. "But I don't think we'll ever take any more pride in the old college than we do right now."

"Nope, can't be done," said Tom flippantly; "any place that can give Bert three such meals a day as he gets at the training table is sure to make a hit with him."

"I'll make a hit with a brick if you make any more comments of that kind," threatened Bert; "and what's more, you'll be it."

"I call you to witness, Mr. Melton," said Tom, turning to that gentleman, who by now was laughing heartily, "this low person has threatened to land me with a brick if I make any further criticism of his bad habits. Now, what I want to know is, is this, or is it not, a land of free speech? Is a freeborn American citizen to be threatened and bullied by a – " but here his protest ended in a muffled roar, as Dick and Bert pounced on him and wrapped their coats tightly about his head.

"It's the only way to make him quit," apologized Bert to Mr. Melton. Then, addressing the muffled Tom, "Will you promise to be good if we let you out?"

The only answer was a series of wild plungings, that ended by landing the three in a tangled heap on the grass. At last Tom managed to get his head free, and struggled to his feet.

His laughing comrades also scrambled to theirs, and they stood facing each other.

"Well," said Tom, smoothing down his rumpled mop of hair, "you knew you were tackling something, anyway."

"It was quite exciting," laughed Mr. Melton. "If you boys play football in the same fashion you employed then, I don't see how your opponents ever have a chance."

"They don't when they have me to deal with," said Tom unblushingly; "it's only when the rival teams come up against Dick or Bert that they have an easy time of it."

Bert and Dick passed this remark over with the silent contempt they felt it warranted, and asked Mr. Melton what he would like to do next.

"Anything you suggest will suit me," replied that individual. "I place myself entirely in the hands of my friends."

"Well, then," suggested Dick, "why not go over and watch the boys practising football? There's always a few kicking the ball around, even when there's no regular practice on the programme, and sometimes they play sides. It won't hurt to go over and see what's doing, anyway."

As Mr. Melton expressed himself as agreeable to this plan, they strolled over toward the campus, and were soon standing on the sidelines watching the practice. There was a goodly number out, and the air resounded with the smack of leather against leather as the pigskin was sent soaring high into the air, to be caught expertly as it descended swiftly toward the earth. A few of the regulars were out, and it was easy even for a stranger to distinguish them by the deftness and quick sureness of their actions. The others sometimes missed hard catches, but these veterans, with clocklike precision, were always in position to make the most difficult catches without even the appearance of effort.

"Looks easy, doesn't it?" said Bert to Mr. Melton.

"Well, I wouldn't say that exactly," said Mr. Melton, "but I've no doubt it looks a good deal easier than it really is. I have had enough experience of life to realize that nothing is as easy as it looks. Many people never realize that though, and the result is they never try hard enough, or at least, when they do realize it, find it too late to do anything."

They watched the practice a short time longer, and then as the afternoon was getting well along, Mr. Melton looked at his watch and said he would have to get back to his hotel. They were just turning away when they came face to face with Hendricks, who was hurrying toward the scene of activities. He and Mr. Melton had hardly glanced at each other when they each gave a shout and rushed forward with outstretched hands.

"'Bull,' you old reprobate, is it really you!" exclaimed Mr. Melton, pumping the coach's hand up and down like a pumphandle.

"It certainly is, old timer," replied Hendricks, "and you sure are a welcome sight to me. But how in the name of all that's good did you happen to get here?"

"I came as a guest of our young friends here," replied Mr. Melton; "they mentioned your name, but I didn't think that it might be you. It's some years now since we were together last."

While all this had been going on, the three boys had looked on wonderingly, but it did not take long to explain matters. It seemed that Hendricks and Mr. Melton had once been members of a hunting party, and had scoured the Rockies together in search of game. They had formed a friendship then that had never grown cold. Through the years that had elapsed since their last meeting it had lain dormant, but now, at sight of each other, blazed up again brightly.

After a little further talk, Mr. Melton insisted that the coach and the three boys come to his hotel for dinner and spend the evening there. "You can tell me what to order now," he said, cutting short Hendrick's objections, which, to tell the truth, were not very strong. "I'll order exactly what you say, and it will be just the same as though you were eating dinner at the training table. That's satisfactory, isn't it?"

"Why, I suppose it will have to be," laughed the coach; "if you'll follow out that programme I'll consent. But you can bet your boots I wouldn't do it for everybody."

"All right then that's settled," said Mr. Melton; "so make out your menu, and I'll hustle back to my hotel and make arrangements."

Hendricks fished out an old envelope and jotted down a list of edibles, starting with "beefsteak." This he gave to Mr. Melton, and then they shook hands and after saying good-by to the boys, Mr. Melton hurried away in the direction of his hotel.

Not long afterward the three comrades, accompanied by the coach, set out for the same destination. When they arrived they were greeted by a cordial welcome, and shortly afterwards dinner was served.

It consisted of nothing but the plainest and most nourishing foods, and Hendricks expressed himself as feeling perfectly satisfied. After the meal they repaired to Mr. Melton's rooms, and for a couple of hours the two old friends swapped yarns, while Tom and Bert and Dick listened with the greatest interest. They told tales of adventure by field and forest, and the time passed like magic. But "Bull" Hendricks was not to be beguiled into forgetting the time, and shortly after ten o'clock he glanced at his watch and rose.

"Time to be going, boys," he announced crisply. "I'm sure it would be a pleasure to stay all night, but rules are rules, you know."

"Well, I'd like to have you stay," said Mr. Melton, "but far be it from me to try to urge you against your judgment. I hope, though, that there won't be as much time between our next meeting as there was between the last, old fellow."

"So do I," responded Hendricks heartily as they shook hands, "but so long till then, anyway."

"Good-by," said Mr. Melton, and then shook hands with the boys. "I'm afraid I won't see you fellows again this trip, although I'm going to make a desperate effort to stay East until the big game comes off," he said. "I've got to get a very early train for New York to-morrow, so I guess we'd better say good-by now until the next time."

The boys shook hands with him warmly, and then started downstairs. Mr. Melton followed them to the door, and the last thing they saw as they looked back was his sturdy bulk outlined in the square of light formed by the open doorway.