There was sadness in the colonel’s voice as he spoke, but sternness and determination were there, as well. Frank’s heart grew heavy as he watched the colonel pull the reins over the head of his horse and swing up into the saddle.
“Good-by, Merriwell,” he called, waving his hat as he rode off the flat and headed northward along the cañon trail.
“Lenning has the old boy right under his thumb,” Merriwell muttered, as he turned away.
Ballard, Clancy, and Darrel had disappeared. Merry asked Fritz about them, and was told that Ballard and Clancy had gone down the cañon to see if they couldn’t get up to the shelf and recover the football; but where Darrel was, Fritz did not know.
“He’s probably with Ballard and Clancy,” said Frank. “Keep away from Silva, Fritz, if you don’t want to get fined!”
“Dot greaser feller,” answered Fritz scornfully, “ain’d vort’ fife cents, say nodding aboudt fife tollar. You bed my life I leaf him alone.”
Frank, hastily leaving the camp, made his way down the cañon to do what he could to help recover the lost football.
[CHAPTER XVI.]
A TERRIBLE MISHAP.
Merriwell found Ballard and Clancy surveying the cliff from a spot almost under the shelf where the football had lodged. That they were extremely dubious about recovering it from below was evident from their actions.