“Lenning’s the stumblingblock. Why not abduct him, lock him up in some quiet place about a thousand miles from Nowhere, and leave him there until the rest of the Gold Hill fellows come to their senses? Take it from me, Chip, that’s the only way we can work through the trick.”
“Quit your joshing, Clan,” growled Merry. “This is serious business.”
“You might just as well lie down on the whole affair so long as Jode Lenning is at large. You know that as well as I do. Whenever he cracks his little whip, everybody in the other camp has to jump—or get out. Bleeker is one of the best players on the Gold Hill eleven, and yet you see what happened to him. He and Hotchkiss have the courage to call their souls their own, and Camp Hawtrey isn’t big enough for them and Lenning.”
“It’s a tough nut to crack,” muttered Merriwell, frowning. “We’re supposed to be fostering a spirit of friendly rivalry with Gold Hill, and here we’ve broken with them entirely. There’ll be music, before long, and of a kind I won’t like to hear. What do you suppose your father will say, Hannibal?”
“Pop’s the clear quill, Chip,” Brad answered. “Half a dozen words of explanation from you will be enough. If he finds fault with you about anything, it will be because you didn’t give Lenning the worst licking he ever had in his life.”
“That may be,” went on Frank, “but it doesn’t better the athletic situation any. I don’t suppose I was—er—very diplomatic. Maybe Clan and I could have saved the coyote dog without harrowing Jode all up, as we did. I didn’t stop to consider that part of it when we interfered with Jode’s amusement.”
“What’s done is done,” said Ballard, “and there’s no use sobbing about it. I guess, after all, Chip, your best move is to give the colonel the facts.”
“Wow!” gulped Clancy. “The fur will begin to fly as soon as Chip tries that. But it’s a cinch that there’s nothing else to be done.”
“If you lay it down to the colonel, Chip,” put in Brad, “don’t hem, and haw, and side-step. Give Jode the limit. Tell Hawtrey everything he ought to know about that rough-neck nephew of his. Throw in all the trimmings.”
“Chip can do it, with ground to spare,” grinned Ballard, “if he once makes up his mind.”