With a roar of anger Clancy attempted to use his fists on Lenning, but Merriwell put out a restraining arm and pushed him back. Frank’s temper had had time to cool a little.
“Stow it, Clan!” said he. “We don’t want to make this matter any worse than it is, you know.”
“Hang it, Chip,” Clancy protested, “you’re not going to let this crazy chump try to blow us up and then get off without a pounding, are you?”
“He’ll get all that’s coming to him before long, and without any help from us. We’ve made a mess of the work that brought us to Camp Hawtrey, and it’s just as well not to complicate matters any more than they are.”
Frank turned from his chum and gave his full attention to Lenning.
“You’re a good deal of a puzzle to me, Lenning,” said he. “I don’t believe I ever saw a fellow who was just like you. The reckless way you have of robbing your uncle and then throwing the responsibility on some one else, cutting a rope, and dropping your half brother over a cliff, and lighting dynamite cartridges and throwing them around, is going to get you into a peck of trouble. I’ve got a hunch that you’re crazy. If that’s really the case, then you ought to be in a padded cell, for it’s a cinch it’s not safe to leave you at large. Now——”
Lenning had risen hastily to his feet. Something Merriwell had said had caused his face to go white.
“Look here,” he broke in, “I reckon you found something I lost on the mesa, over at your camp, during the football game our crowd had with yours. It was a note in which Bleeker, there, put down a lie for the purpose of getting me into trouble. You can’t make any capital out of what Bleeker says.”
Bleeker, red with anger, tried to get close to Lenning, but Hotchkiss held him back.
“What I wrote in that note,” cried Bleeker, “was the truth.”