“Thank you, sir,” said Lenning gratefully.
Why was Lenning so anxious to have his uncle defer action against Darrel? Had the packet, wrapped in his handkerchief and stowed in the breast pocket of his Norfolk jacket, anything to do with his wish to delay proceedings? In view of what happened later, this seemed like the logical explanation.
[CHAPTER VIII.]
A JOKE—WITH RESULTS.
Hawkins, the deputy sheriff, had not much to say to Merriwell during their walk from the mesa back to the camp. Hawkins was an admirer, and in many ways had shown himself a true friend, of Frank’s; and, out of the kindness of his heart and, without divulging any secrets, he strove to warn him against Darrel.
“They’re talkin’ a heap, down in the camp,” said Hawkins, “of what a big hit this Darrel person has made with you. Don’t cotton to him too strong, Merriwell. He isn’t wuth it.”
“What do you mean?” Frank demanded.
“Between ourselves—the thing not to go any further, you understand—this Darrel’s nothin’ more than a plain thief.”
“You’re mistaken, Hawkins,” said Frank, with spirit. “I can’t believe it.”
“Well, son, you’ll have the proof before you’re many hours older.”