“No, I guess not,” spoke up Billy. “I don’t think that even Colonel Carson would try that game, Chip. He made quite a bit of bad feeling among the young fellows here, just the same.”
“Time we were gettin’ dressed,” observed Chub uneasily. “I hate to go, but those orders have to be in before noon.”
The three took a last plunge into the cool water, had a quick rub down, and dressed. Then Chub and Billy Mac departed to take a short cut back to town along the river banks, while Merry returned to the house in order to write a letter to his father. On the way, however, he reconsidered.
“I think I’ll let it wait till to-night,” he reflected. “I’ll have a talk with Mrs. McQuade first, if I can work it, and see how the idea strikes her.”
As he passed the corner of the orchard, and came to the garden patch that stretched below the house, he paused suddenly. A sound of vehement talking drifted down to him, and he recognized the deep voice, with a thrill of alarm.
The next moment he made out a horse and buggy standing in front of the house, in the drive. An exclamation of dismay burst from him, for he recognized it at once as the same which he had encountered at the horseshoe bend that morning.
“It isn’t possible!” he murmured. “Colonel Carson wouldn’t try such a trick!”
He approached the house, and, as he did so, his alarm increased. There was no doubt that the autocrat of Carsonville was present, and that he was extremely angry. As Merriwell sprang to the wide veranda, he clearly heard the vibrant tones.
“Yes, that graceless son of yours publicly assaulted my boy in the streets, not half an hour ago, Mrs. McQuade. It’s the last straw, I tell you! First he tries to frighten my horse, then he assaults my son. If it hadn’t been for the spectators, he might have killed the poor fellow. Now, you’ve either got to pay that mortgage or move out.”
Merry chuckled at this version of the incident. Then his face became serious.