“Yes, and with ground to spare.”
The colonel came closer and stood over Darrel.
“Do you want to shake hands with me?” he asked.
The boy flushed. “I want to,” he answered, “but I’m not going to until—until I can read my title clear. You know what I mean, colonel.”
“I think so,” was Hawtrey’s answer, and it was not difficult for Frank to see that the stern old man was pleased.
“I’d like to ask one thing of you, sir,” Darrel went on.
“What is that?”
“Why, that you’ll take Merriwell’s word as to what happened near Camp Hawtrey yesterday afternoon. If you knew him as well as I do, colonel, you wouldn’t hesitate a minute.”
“I don’t think,” answered the colonel dryly, “that I shall hesitate quite so much as I did yesterday afternoon. I’ll come over to Tinaja Wells this evening, Merriwell,” he finished, turning to Frank, “and then I will have something to add to our interesting conference of this afternoon. Good-by, Darrel! Good-by, my lads.”
The colonel turned and limped off up the gulch in the direction of Camp Hawtrey. He was hardly out of sight before Merriwell stooped down and caught Darrel by the hand.