“I’ve got to go back,” returned Ballard, “and you fellows might as well go with me.”
Without delay, they started to get their horses ready. Half an hour later they were speeding along the narrow cañon trail in single file, Merriwell hardly knowing whether he ought to feel elated or depressed over his exploit on the football field.
The high ideas of honor, inculcated by his father, would not have pardoned his afternoon’s work unless it set right the great wrong that had been done Ellis Darrel. Merriwell felt that, in his eagerness to help his new chum, he might have committed a deed which he would later regret. He had acted on the impulse of the moment, and with implicit faith in what Ballard had repeated as coming from Hotchkiss.
A fine point of ethics was involved, and Merriwell believed that no eyes save Darrel’s should read the note unless it was really found to have an important bearing on Darrel’s affairs.
[CHAPTER XXIV.]
CONCERNING THE EVIDENCE.
When the four lads reached Dolliver’s, they found Darrel anxiously awaiting news from Tinaja Wells.
“Did you get that letter, pards?” were his first words, as the four from the camp trooped into the house.
“Yes,” said Frank. “Parkman had delivered the letter to Lenning, and Lenning was in a temper when he read it. He seemed on the point of tearing the note in pieces, then changed his mind and pushed it into the front of his jacket. Brad saw him.”
“How did you get it from Lenning?”