Jode Lenning and his half brother, Ellis Darrel, had lived with their uncle, Colonel Hawtrey, in Gold Hill. Lenning had gone wrong, but he had managed cleverly to pull the wool over his uncle’s eyes for a year or more. Merriwell had befriended Darrel, and, in so doing, had earned the enmity of Lenning. The latter had done a number of treacherous things—ugly, underhand deeds, some of which had only failed of accomplishing desperate ends by a narrow margin—and when the colonel finally had his eyes opened to the truth, he cast the scheming, unscrupulous nephew adrift.
Was Lenning trying honestly to turn over a new leaf? This was the question Merriwell was turning over in his mind. If he was, then he deserved and ought to have Merriwell’s help.
Nevertheless, Merriwell could not forget the past. Lenning had been sly, and treacherous, and cowardly. His whole nature could not be changed in twenty-four hours, and to be responsible for his honesty at the mine would perhaps prove dangerous business.
The only square thing Merriwell had ever known Lenning to do was in taking that stolen money of Mrs. Boorland’s from Shoup and returning it to Barzy Blunt. If the principle of right and justice had swerved Lenning, then certainly he was trying to put himself on a proper footing and deserved encouragement.
While Frank was considering the question that had been so suddenly put up to him, Blunt, Clancy, and Ballard came into the tent to dress and make ready for dinner. They were curious to learn what errand had brought Brad to the gulch; and Frank, after a little reflection, told them.
“Crawling side winders!” muttered Blunt, his face flushed with indignation and anger. “That juniper’s the limit! Think of him calling on Chip for help when it hasn’t been a day since he tried to smash Chip and Clancy with that bowlder! How’s that for nerve, pards?”
“Nerve is his long suit,” grunted Ballard. “Now that he’s out with Shoup, he’s trying to curry favor with Chip.”
“And of course Chip will give him the cold shoulder,” put in Clancy, with an air of conviction. “He’d be foolish to tangle up with Lenning in any way.”
“Suppose Lenning is trying to square away and do the right thing?” queried Merriwell.
“That’s a bluff,” asserted Blunt. “Lenning is more kinds of a crook than I know how to tell about. It’s a cinch he wants to get in at the mine so he can pull off some scheme or other that he’s been hatching. He’s a master hand at schemes.”