“Take charge of him, Hawkins,” he went on. “Take him to the Ophir House, and stay with him until I come. He knows all about that forgery business, and can clear Ellis Darrel. He’ll do it, too, or he’ll be put in jail for stealing that money from me.”
“I’ll hang onto him,” said Hawkins, “don’t fret about that. Come on, Guffey—or Shoup—whichever it is.”
Guffey walked meekly away with the deputy sheriff, trailing little streams of water behind him as he went. Frank hastened back to the football field, arriving just as Brad made the only touchdown of the game, and in the last five minutes of play.
Bedlam was let loose. All the Ophir partisans rushed into the field, caught their winning team up on their shoulders, and raced the entire eleven around the cinder track. Never before had Ophir experienced a day like that.
There were many shouts for Merriwell, but Merry was in the clubhouse. Hawtrey had caught him by the arm and hustled him to a place where they could have a few words in private.
Very briefly Frank told the colonel what had transpired in the vicinity of the irrigation ditch. The colonel’s face brightened wonderfully.
“I could have sworn it!” he exclaimed delightedly. “We’ll pick up Ellis and Jode and get to the hotel as soon as we can. I’m going to settle this affair now, once and for all. Wait here, Merriwell, till I find the others; then we’ll see how quick we can get to town.”
[CHAPTER XLVIII.]
ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.
It was half an hour before the colonel had rounded up the party he wished to take into Ophir with him, and during that time Frank was being congratulated warmly in the clubhouse on the success of the Ophir team. Mr. Bradlaugh, staid old gentleman that he was, fairly took the lad in his arms and gave him a hug.