“It’s on my mind a whole lot, pard,” continued Darrel, gritting his teeth to keep back a groan. “I hate to be treated like a yellow dog by Uncle Alvah. If I had really forged the check, then I’m getting no more than what’s coming to me; but I didn’t—I’d take my oath I didn’t.”
“What’s that old saw about, ‘Truth, crushed to earth, will rise again’? Just keep your shirt on, and wait. In the end, everything will come out O. K. Chip’s on the trail, and you can bet a pinch of snuff against a bone collar button that he’ll run it out. Take matters easy, Darrel, and wait for Merriwell to play his hand.”
“I can’t leave it all to him,” fretted Darrel.
“You’ve got to leave it to somebody until you can get up and around, haven’t you? A few days, or weeks, won’t make any difference. That forgery business has been hanging fire for more than a year, and I guess there isn’t any great rush about clearing it up right now.”
Darrel squirmed impatiently as he lay in the bed.
“It was different,” said he, “when I was drifting around in other parts of the West. Then I was among strangers, and nobody knew anything about me. Now that I’m back on this range, I can’t meet a soul but knows I’m the nephew that disgraced the colonel’s family, and I’m looked on with contempt. Even Dolliver acts as though he thought I was a criminal.”
“Gammon! Say, Darrel, your imagination is working overtime. Dolliver’s manner is all that can be desired. I haven’t seen a thing in his actions to suggest that he looks on you as a jailbird.”
“I can see it, Pink, even if you can’t,” insisted Darrel. “Things have got to be different, and they’ve got to change mighty soon.”
“Leave it to Merry. He, and all the rest of us, believe in you, and are working for you. Something will turn up, take it from me, and there’s no earthly use in your worrying yourself blue in the face because it doesn’t turn up right away.”
“The colonel thinks a heap of Jode,” murmured Darrel.