“Same here,” spoke up Clancy. “It was a lucky thing for Blunt that, when he was a homeless kid, a woman like Mrs. Boorland took him in and made a home for him.”
“And Blunt, ever since Mr. Boorland died,” said Merry, “has been paying back the debt. While Mrs. Boorland was in the hospital, he sent about all his wages to her, and even sold his favorite riding horse to me so he could send more when he found his wages weren’t enough. Well, I don’t blame him at all. I’d do the same for an old lady like that.”
A few moments later Blunt came back to the veranda. There was an angry frown on his face as he dropped into a chair near Merriwell.
“What’s biting you, Barzy?” Frank inquired.
“A whole lot, pard,” Blunt answered. “I’ve danced the medicine and am going on the warpath. Do you know a fellow with a white face, washed-out eyes, and tow hair?”
“Well, slightly,” Merriwell answered, with a grim smile. “He was brought on from some place unknown by Jode Lenning to coach the Gold Hill football squad. But he and Jode have both got their walking papers, and where they are now is more than I know.”
“They were in the cañon this afternoon,” scowled Blunt. “Mrs. Boorland saw them there. They were on foot and walking this way, but they stopped to talk for a spell. After they left and went down the cañon, this white-faced skunk came back. He talked some more, and when he went away for good, Mrs. Boorland found that two hundred in bills was missing from her hand bag.”
“Great Scott!” muttered Clancy. “Billy Shoup is up to his old tricks.”
“He must have had his nerve with him to steal from an old woman!” exclaimed Ballard contemptuously.
“I’ll bet a row of ’dobies that Lenning was in on the deal as much as Shoup,” said Blunt darkly, “only he was too much of a coward to pull off the robbery. I’m going on the warpath and get that money back—and with interest. You hear me!”