Without delaying further, the boys started on their return to camp. In spite of Merriwell’s reassuring words, however, the troubled look did not leave Darrel’s face.
[CHAPTER XV.]
TRUE SPORTSMANSHIP.
When Merriwell and his friends reached the flat they found Colonel Hawtrey sitting on a bench under a cottonwood. His horse, with reins hanging from the bit rings, stood a little way off. It was evident that the colonel intended making his visit brief.
As the boys approached, the colonel arose from the bench. His eyes met Darrel’s for a moment, and then swerved abruptly to Merriwell.
“I’d like a few words with you, Merriwell,” said he.
“Can’t you stay with us for a while, colonel?” Merry inquired. “We’d be delighted to have you take supper and——”
“I thank you for the invitation,” he broke in, “but I must be back in Gold Hill to-night. I came the cañon trail purposely to speak with you.”
The others withdrew, Darrel with a lingering look of apprehension at Merriwell.
“Sit down here,” invited the colonel, resuming his place on the bench. “You don’t smoke, of course,” he went on, taking a cigar from his pocket when he and Frank were seated, “for, if you did, you wouldn’t be following the footsteps of your father before you.” He scratched a match thoughtfully and applied it to the tip of the cigar. “‘Chip,’ they call you, eh?” he proceeded presently, with the hint of a smile under his gray mustache. “I suppose that means that you’re a ‘chip of the old block’?”