“Blunt!” gasped Lenning, wild fear surging in the word.
He was right. One of the riders was Barzy Blunt, and the others were Clancy and Ballard. Blunt was leading Merry’s horse, Borak.
CHAPTER XVII.
A CRY IN THE NIGHT.
Clancy, Ballard, and Blunt, on their way to town from the gulch, came charging toward Merriwell and Lenning at full gallop. They drew to a quick halt, very much surprised at sight of Merry and his old enemy. Nor were the newcomers pleasantly surprised, as they were quick to make manifest.
“Chip, or I’m an Indian!” exclaimed Ballard.
“And I’m another Indian,” snorted Blunt, “if he isn’t chin-chinning with one of the fellows who stole Mrs. Boorland’s money!”
Clancy had nothing to say, but he looked his violent disapproval of his chum’s actions.
“If that’s the way you fellows feel,” said Frank, temper flashing in his eyes, “you can leave my horse here and ride on.”
That Lenning was in deadly fear of Blunt was plainly to be seen. The cowboy had taken the trail of Lenning and Shoup, immediately after Mrs. Boorland had been robbed, and for a time he had crowded the pair pretty hard. Lenning, evidently, was still in doubt as to the cowboy’s intentions toward him. His haggard face went white as chalk, and he crouched shivering away at the trailside.