“If you mean to defend him,” frowned Hawtrey, “you will have your trouble for your pains. He has no defense!”
“Will you let me try and see if I cannot make one, and one that will command your attention and best judgment?”
“Sufferin’ centipedes, Merriwell!” broke in Hawkins. “I never reckoned you’d be tryin’ to save the scalp of a plain, out-and-out thief!”
The white ran into Darrel’s face and his hands clenched. Merry laid a soothing hand on his arm.
“This isn’t a time for any snap judgments, Hawkins,” said Frank. “First,” and he turned to the Gold Hillers, “I want to ask if this boy from Nowhere has proved that he is Ellis Darrel, of Gold Hill?”
“Yes!” came a chorus of responses.
Merry partly turned to face Lenning. The latter, a sneering smile on his dark face, was standing at a little distance, keenly alive to everything that was said and done.
“How about you, Lenning?” queried Frank.
“He’s my half brother, all right,” was the answer. “I reckon there’s not a shadow of doubt about that.”
“You agree, too, colonel?”