While Clancy grabbed Ballard and hustled away with him, Merriwell jumped in between Brad and Lenning.
“Cut it out, Brad!” said he sharply, giving the fiery youngster a push backward. “All you fellows,” he added, to the Ophir crowd, “are carrying too much sail. Double reef your tempers and we’ll weather this squall without much trouble.” He whirled on Lenning. “I’m Merriwell,” said he. “I believe I heard you asking for me as I came up.”
“That’s what you heard,” was the answer. “I’m Jode Lenning, and Colonel Hawtrey, of Gold Hill, is my uncle. The colonel——”
“What has this to do with Colonel Hawtrey?” interrupted Merry.
Remembering what Darrel had just been telling him, Frank was taking Lenning’s measure with a good deal of interest. His comparison of the two half brothers gave Darrel no end the best of it.
“My uncle,” drawled Lenning, running his eyes over Merry in an impudent up-and-down stare, “has a lot to do with our athletic club but he’s not mixed up in this camping expedition. He has been out of town for a week, but I expect him back to-day, and——”
“Let us hope that he gets back safely,” said Merry, with just a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “Are you intending to camp here, Lenning?”
“Not intending only, but we’re going to.”
“Allow me to suggest that we have already occupied the flat, and that I don’t think the grove is big enough for an outfit of Gold Hillers and Ophirites. You ought to know that as well as I do. Move on and find some other place.”
“You’ve got a rind!” grunted Lenning. “We’re out here for fun and work, and we need the mesa for an athletic field. I’ve leased the ground, and I want you fellows to pack up and clear out at once.”