“It’s a pretty big proposition, Bleek,” said Merriwell disappointedly. “This confounded Shoup is so mysterious that we haven’t the first thing in the way of a clew. Perhaps the whole affair could be got out of Lenning?”
“You don’t know Lenning! He’s a fox.”
Merriwell leaned over the fence and looked up at the moon and stars, riding in all the calm serenity of an Arizona night. Bleeker had offered him something to work on in helping Darrel, but it was something which broke in his hands like a rope of sand. Where was Billy Shoup? A year had passed since his mysterious visit to Gold Hill, and a great many things may happen in a year to a fellow of Shoup’s probable stamp. Was the fellow still alive? If so, would he be East or West? He had a wide country for his roaming, and hunting for a needle in a haystack was easy work compared with the task of locating him. If found, would it be possible to make him talk? Hardly. If he admitted forging the check himself, he merely cleared his own path to the penitentiary. If he confessed that Lenning had furnished the check, then it was a matter of his unsupported word against that of the favorite nephew. There was no doubt as to which of the pair the colonel would believe.
“I’ve put it up to you, Merriwell,” said Bleeker, at last, “and now I reckon I’ll point for Gold Hill. I have a horse, out in the brush, and the animal is probably getting tired waiting for me.”
“You’ve shed a little light, Bleeker,” said Frank, dropping his troubled eyes from the sky and resting them on the face of the lad from Gold Hill, “but I’ll be darned if I know what I can do. Isn’t there any way we can pick up a clew as to the whereabouts of Shoup?”
“Not that I know of. Lenning could probably give a clew, but he wouldn’t. He knows what it would mean to him.”
“Any objection to my repeating what you have said to Darrel? He’ll be in Ophir some time during the week—Dolliver’s ranch can’t hold him very long.”
“He knows most of what I’ve told you,” answered Bleeker, “but you can tell him as much as you please. If I hear of anything that will help, I’ll get the information to you, somehow. I’ve a hunch that Darrel’s going to come out of this all right. But I reckon you don’t believe in hunches, eh? Well, anyhow, I’ve done what I could. So long, Merriwell, and good luck.”
The Gold Hill lad who had tried to be “white” shook Merry’s hand and moved swiftly and noiselessly off into the gloom. Merry stood and watched him until he had disappeared, then slowly and carefully made his way back into the hotel.
“I’d give a hundred dollars,” he said to himself, “if I knew where to find this mysterious Billy Shoup.”