Mr. Bradlaugh nodded to the boys, and gave Merry a suggestive wink. That wink said, as plain as words, that Merriwell had better chip in with his word for Lenning while the colonel was feeling in such an amiable mood.
“I don’t want to butt in here, colonel,” said Frank, “but Clancy and I didn’t come to see your match with Mr. Bradlaugh, but to have a bit of a talk with you.”
A look of surprise crossed the colonel’s face, and then his brows lowered with just a shade of suspicion. He tucked his driver under his arm, gave a regretful look at the waiting ball, and then pushed his hands resignedly into his trousers pockets.
“Go ahead, Merriwell,” said he. “I wouldn’t allow many young fellows to stand between me and the ball I’m going to put over that bunker, I can tell you. I realize, though, that I’m vastly indebted to you in a good many ways. What’s on your mind?”
“There’s just one thing, colonel,” returned Merriwell earnestly, “which I’d like to see accomplished before Clancy, Ballard, and I pull up stakes and quit southern Arizona.”
“Only one thing, eh?” said the colonel, with a faint smile. “Well, what is it?”
Frank was brought right up to the critical point, first crack out of the box. He had steeled himself for the ordeal, however, and answered calmly:
“It’s about Jode Lenning, colonel. I’d—I’d like to see you take down the bars a little, and be friends with him.”
The faint smile had passed from Hawtrey’s face. The brows lowered again.
“Be friends with that young ne’er-do-well?” he observed. “That’s the thing you’d like to see accomplished before you leave Arizona?”