“Is he in Ophir?”
“Dolliver tells me that he went to Gold Hill Thursday morning.”
“Jove! I haven’t seen him in Gold Hill, and I haven’t heard of his being there. You are sure Dolliver——”
“Darrel won’t go looking for you, colonel,” said Frank, with a touch of pride, “until he’s able to give you his hand. I believe he went to the Hill to try and clear up that forgery matter.”
“Ah!” There was a certain grimness in the colonel’s voice which did not escape Frank. “I don’t believe he can do that, Merriwell. He hadn’t ought to be roaming around, anyhow, until that broken arm of his is entirely well. He’ll be at Ophir for the game?”
“He said he would, at the time we broke camp and pulled out for home.”
The colonel got up and stepped closer to Frank. His voice sank low and throbbed with feeling as he laid a hand on Frank’s shoulder and went on:
“If you see him, Merriwell, tell him not to draw any wrong conclusions from the way I am conducting myself. Tell him that, when he knows all, he will see that I am acting for the best interests of all concerned. You’ll do that?”
“Certainly.”
“I’ve been an old fool in a good many ways, and when an old fool sees the light he ought to be wise in getting to the bottom of things and in passing justice around. I’m trying to show a little wisdom, Merriwell. Until you know all, you can at least give me credit for that.”