“Lenning is trying to do right,” Mr. Bradlaugh persisted. “He’s as steady as a clock, out at the mine.”
“Glad to hear it. You can’t depend on him, though, Bradlaugh. He’s liable to go wrong again at any time. Lenning’s my nephew, and I hate to say it, but there’s nothing to be gained by shying at the truth.”
Colonel Hawtrey, as though he considered these words final, put himself in position and let drive at the ball. The white sphere went arching magnificently across the bunker.
“Beautiful!” murmured Mr. Bradlaugh. “You’re in great form to-day, Hawtrey.”
The colonel laughed good-humoredly. Turning, he slapped Merriwell affectionately on the shoulder.
“Don’t fret about Lenning,” said he, “for you’ll find that——”
The colonel was interrupted by a man on a horse, who galloped up and came to a quick stop at that moment. It was Burke, the superintendent at the mine.
“Hello, Burke!” exclaimed Bradlaugh, who was just getting ready to make his drive. “What’s on your mind this beautiful morning?”
“We’ve got to have a new night watchman at the cyanide plant,” Burke answered.
Everybody’s attention was captured on the instant.