They were inside the tent where the three visitors were to have their sleeping quarters. Merry, Clancy, and Ballard had flung themselves down on a pile of blankets. Bleeker had started to leave, but the conversation of Frank and his chums filled him with sudden interest, and he turned back.
“What are you chinning about?” he asked. “If Blunt had a gun, it isn’t the first time he has gone ‘heeled,’ by a long chalk. A cowboy, as a rule, knows how to shoot. I’ve heard that Blunt is particularly good on the trigger. What are you stewing about, Chip?”
“First,” said Merriwell, “I wish you’d tell me what excuse Lenning and Shoup gave for coming here—that is, if they gave any.”
“Lenning was after money.”
“Money? How did he expect to get money here?”
“Why, he claimed that some of the fellows in camp owed him money they had borrowed. I reckon he was right about it, but none of us brought any coin to speak of out here. So those who owed Lenning couldn’t pay him back if they wanted to. You know what a hold Lenning had on Colonel Hawtrey before the colonel cast him adrift. Lenning was always well supplied with funds. He was generally a tightwad, too, but he’d loosen up now and then, just to get some of the boys in debt to him, so he could boss them around. It must seem kind of queer to Lenning to be ‘strapped’ and have to go around collecting on the I O Us.”
“Queer, he was so hard pressed,” mused Frank, “when, if our suspicions are correct, he and Shoup should have been flush.”
“What are your suspicions?”
Frank told about Mrs. Boorland’s loss on the trail from Gold Hill, and how Barzy Blunt had “gone on the warpath” to recover the money. Bleeker gave a long whistle.
“Blunt is sure a crazy cowboy when he gets his mad up,” said he, “but he’s not so crazy as to use a gun on anybody. He might make a grand-stand play with it, but that’s as far as he’d go. He’s right, I think. Shoup took the bank roll, and Lenning must have known about it. Jode Lenning is going to the dogs as fast as he can.”