Billy sighed again, and glanced heavily at the river.
“This here Colonel Carson,” he broke out, “suddenly produced a mortgage on the house and orchard for two thousand dollars. That was just before vacation, when mother wrote for me to come home.”
“But you knew that he had the mortgage?” queried Chip, frowning.
“We thought dad had paid it. You see, dad—well, dad was kind of careless about money. Just the same, we knew he had paid that mortgage. Mother could find no receipt, however, and Carson vowed that it had never been paid.”
“Somebody ought to teach him something,” said Merry warmly. “Hadn’t you any proof whatever?”
“Not a scratch, Chip. We couldn’t find a single thing. Mother pleaded with him, and he agreed to give us a little time in which to pay it—over again. It hit us pretty hard, you see. We knew that dad had paid it, but that villain Carson only wants to get hold of the place.”
“Looks as though the scoundrel had you,” said Merriwell thoughtfully. “Can you pay it, Billy?”
“Maybe. Mother has that thousand insurance money, and—well, to tell the truth, I’ve arranged to get a job as clerk in the Carsonville general store. If we can hold the colonel off a while, I guess we can fix it.”
“Pretty hard lines, just the same,” commented Merry. “So that’s why you wrote that you wouldn’t be back to Fardale, eh?”
“Yes,” said Billy Mac miserably. “It’s all off, Chip. And now, after what’s happened this morning—well, you can guess that Carson won’t have much mercy.”