CHAPTER x.x.xII.

DITSON IS TRAPPED.

"It don't make a dit of bifference, Frank!" spluttered Harry Rattleton.

"I don't care if you have got his card! That thug lied like blazes!

Putnam may be selfish--he may have other faults, but he never hired anybody to break your arm."

"I cannot think he would do such a thing myself," said Frank; "but this Plug Kirby, as he is called, seemed honest and in earnest. He stands ready to identify the fellow at any time."

"Then why not settle it by bringing him before Putnam this very afternoon? That's the way to mix the fatter--I mean fix the matter."

"It is a good idea, Harry, and we will have to carry it out. I'll need your a.s.sistance."

"You shall have it, old man."

So Frank and Harry arranged to bring Putnam and his accuser together that afternoon, it being the day after the a.s.sault on Merriwell. Frank was to look out for Kirby while Harry brought Putnam along to the saloon over which Buster Kelley had rooms.

Frank and Kirby were there in advance, and they sat down in a corner, where they were not likely to be observed by anybody who entered.

Kirby's face was cut and scarred where he had felt Frank's hard fists, and the tough looked on the cool lad with genuine respect and admiration.

"I wants yer ter understan' dat I'd never gone inter dat game if I hadn't been hard up an' in a bad way," he said, trying to apologize for himself. "T'ings have been runnin' agin' me, an' I've been on de rocks fer a long time, an' I didn't know how I was ter make a haul any easier dan by breakin' a kid's arm. It warn't no killin' matter nohow, an' so I took der job. I never s'pected I was ter run up agin' anyt'ing like wot you are. If I had, why, wild hosses wouldn't get me ter tried it."

"My enemy knew enough not to meet me himself."

"Dat's right, an' now I want ter git square wid him fer steerin' me up agin' anyt'ing of der sort. Wot yer goin' ter do wid him--break his neck?"

"I have not decided what I shall do, but I shall not lay a hand on him."

"Yer won't?"

"No."

"Well, I would if I was in your place. I'd t'ump der everlastin'

stuffin' outer der bloke--dat's wot!"

"If it is the man whose name is on the card that was given you I shall be sorry for him, for I have always believed him to be a white man."

"An' yer'll be sorry?"

"I will."

"Well, ye're der funniest cove wot I ever saw. Arter ye hed knocked der wind outer me, ye stayed eround ter see dat I wasn't hurt too bad, w'en anybody else would 'a' kicked me inter der gutter an' left me. An' now youse say dat you'll be sorry fer der feller wot hired me ter do yer!

I'd like ter know jes' how ye're put up."

"I can't help being sorry to know that a fellow I have considered white and a friend is crooked and an enemy, if it is to prove that way."

"Say, young feller, I likes you, durn me ef I don't! If you ever has anyt'ing ye wants done, jes' come ter me, an' I'll do it if I kin, an' I won't charge yer nottin'."

"Thank you," smiled Frank; "but I do not fancy I shall have anything in your line. While we are talking, though, let me give you some advice.

Turn over a new leaf and try to be on the level. You will find it the best policy in the long run."

"I t'ink ye're right, an' I'm goin' ter try ter do it. I allus did hate ter work, but if I kin git any kind of a job I'm goin' ter try it once more. I don't know w'y it is, but jes' bein' wid youse makes me want ter do der square t'ing."

Frank might well have felt pleased that he exercised such an influence over a man like Plug Kirby.

The door opened and Rattleton came into the saloon, followed by Old Put and Dismal Jones.

"Come on, Kirby," said Frank, quietly. "Here is the man we are waiting for."

Putnam had halted near the bar, a puzzled look on his face, and Frank heard him say to Harry:

"What in the world did you drag me in here for, old man? You know I am not drinking anything now, and--"

"As I told you," interrupted Harry, grimly, "I brought you in to see a man. Here he is."

Frank and the rough had come up behind Putnam, who now turned, and, with still greater astonishment, cried:

"What--Merriwell? What in the world are you doing in this place?"

"Permit me to introduce you to Mr. Plug Kirby--Mr. Burnham Putnam. Have you ever met the man before."

Old Put drew back, staring at the ruffian in astonishment.

"What in blazes is this?" he gasped. "Is it a joke?"

"No joke," returned Frank, sternly. "It is a matter of business. Mr.

Kirby, have you ever met Mr. Putnam before?"

"Naw!" cried the man. "Dis ain't der cove wot come ter me ter do der job. Dis is anodder feller."

"You are sure?" demanded Frank, with an expression of positive relief.

"His name was on the card you gave me."

"I don't care if it was, dis ain't der feller wot give der card ter me, not by a great big lot."

"Well, I am glad of that!" cried Frank, and he grasped Putnam's hand.

"It is a great relief."

"Didn't I tell you!" almost shouted Harry.

"Well, now, I want to know what all this is about," said Old Put, who was greatly puzzled. "I am all at sea."

Without hesitation Frank explained how a person had hired Plug Kirby to break his arm and what the result had been; how the person who made the bargain had given a card on which Putnam's name was engraved. Frank took the card from his pocket and Putnam said it was one of his regular visiting cards.

"Some fellow has been working on my name in order to hide his own ident.i.ty!" cried Put, who was greatly angered. "Oh, I'd like to get hold of the skunk!"

At this moment the door which led to the back room opened, and Roland Ditson, who had again visited Buster Kelley, came into the saloon. He started back when he saw the little group of students, but Plug Kirby saw his face and hoa.r.s.ely exclaimed: