“I can’t figure it that way, or——”
Merriwell bit his words short. Ballard was just hurrying up over the edge of the mesa and laying a course in his direction. Merry’s first thought was that something had happened to Darrel, and he hastened to get close to Ballard.
“Game begun?” panted Ballard.
“Begun, and half over,” was the reply. “We’re only to play two quarters, and there’s a fifteen-minute interval between them. What’s the matter, Pink? Why are you here? Darrel all right?”
“Darrel’s getting along in good shape,” Ballard answered, “but there’s something up that ought to be attended to.”
“What?”
“It seems there’s a division of sentiment in the Gold Hill camp regarding Darrel. A few of the Gold Hill fellows think Darrel isn’t getting a fair shake. Lenning found it out, and made them stay behind when he and the rest came to Tinaja Wells for this game. He’d had a quarrel with Bleeker, I don’t know what about, and the two have hardly spoken since last night. Hotchkiss, one of Darrel’s Gold Hill friends, came to Dolliver’s a while ago and said Bleeker had given Parkman a letter to be delivered to Lenning, and that the letter contains evidence that will clear Darrel of that forgery charge.”
Merriwell jumped. Bradlaugh, too, was wildly excited.
“Jupiter!” muttered Brad, “I reckon we’re getting this down pretty fine.”
“How do you know the letter contains evidence of that sort?” asked Merriwell.