CHAPTER XXXI.
WHAT DITSON WANTED.
On the following day the great topic of conversation for the class of'Umpty-eight was the recent ball game. Wherever the freshmen gatheredthey discussed the game and the work of Gordon and Merriwell.
Gordon was a free-and-easy sort of fellow, and he had his friends andadmirers, some of whom were set in their belief that he was far superiorto Merriwell as a pitcher.
Roland Ditson attempted to argue on two or three occasions in favor ofGordon, but nobody paid attention to what he said, for it was known thathe had tried by every possible means to injure Merriwell and had beenexposed in a contemptible piece of treachery, so that no one cared to beknown as his friend and associate.
Whenever Ditson would approach a group of lads and try to get in a fewwords he would be listened to in stony silence for some moments, andthen the entire crowd would turn and walk away, without replying to hisremarks or speaking to him at all.
This would have driven a fellow less sensitive than Ditson to abandonall hope of going through Yale. Of course it cut Ditson, but he wouldgrind his teeth and mutter:
"Merriwell is to blame for it all, curse him! I won't let him triumph!The time will come when I'll get square with him! I'll have to stay herein order to get square, and stay here I will, no matter how I amtreated."
Since his duplicity had been made known and his classmates had turnedagainst him Ditson had taken to grinding in a fierce manner, and as aresult he had made good progress in his studies. He was determined tostand ahead of Merriwell in that line, at least, and it really seemedthat he might succeed, unless Frank gave more time to his studies andless to athletics.
This was not easy for a fellow in Merriwell's position and with hisardent love for all sorts of manly sports to do. He gave all the time hecould to studies without becoming a greasy grind, but that was not asmuch as he would have liked.
To Ditson's disappointment and chagrin Merriwell seemed quite unawarethat his enemy stood ahead of him in his classes. Frank seemed to havequite forgotten that such a person as Roll Ditson existed.
Ditson was an outcast. The fellow with whom he had roomed had left himshortly after his treachery was made public, and he was forced to roomalone, as he could get no one to come in with him.
Roll did not mind this so much, however. He pretended that he was farmore exclusive than the average freshman, and he tried to imitate theways of the juniors and seniors, some of whom had swell apartments.
Ditson's parents were wealthy, and they furnished him with plenty ofloose change, so that he could cut quite a dash. He had fancied that hismoney would buy plenty of friends for him. At first, before his realcharacter was known, he had picked up quite a following, but he posed asa superior, which made him disliked by the very ones who helped himspend his money.
He had hoped to be a leader at Yale, but, to his dismay, he found thathe did not cut much of a figure after all, and Frank Merriwell, a fellowwho never drank or smoked, was far more popular. Then it was that Ditsonconceived a plot to bring Merriwell into ridicule and at the same timeto get in with the enemies of the freshmen--the sophomores--himself.
At last he had learned that at Yale a man is not judged so much by themoney he spends and the wealth of his parents as by his own manlyqualities.
But Ditson was a sneak by nature, and he could not get over it. If hestarted out to accomplish anything in a square way, he was likely tofancy that it could be done with less trouble in a crooked manner, andhis natural instinct would switch him off from the course he should havefollowed.
He was not at all fond of Walter Gordon, but he liked him better than hedid Merriwell, and it was gall and wormwood for him when he heard howMerriwell had replaced Gordon in the box at Cambridge and had pitched amarvelous game for three innings.
"Oh, it's just that fellow's luck!" Roll muttered to himself. "He seemsto be lucky in everything he does. The next thing I'll hear is that heis going to pitch on the 'Varsity team."
He little thought that this was true, but it proved to be. That very dayhe heard some sophomores talking on the campus, and he lingered nearenough to catch their words.
"Is it actually true, Parker, that Pierson has publicly stated thatMerriwell is fast enough for the Varsity nine?" asked Tad Horner.
"That's what it is," nodded Puss Parker, "and I don't know but Piersonis right. I am inclined to think so."
"Rot!" exclaimed Evan Hartwick, sharply. "I don't take stock in anythingof the sort. Merriwell may make a pitcher some day, but he is raw. Why,he would get his eye batted out if he were to go up against Harvard onthe regular team."
"Oh, I don't know about that," said Andy Emery. "He is pretty smoothpeople. Is there anybody knows Pierson made such an observationconcerning him?"
"Yes, there is," answered Parker.
"Who knows it?"
"I do."
"Did you hear him?"
"I did."
"That settles it."
"Yes, that settles it!" grated Roland Ditson as he walked away. "Parkerdidn't lie, and Pierson has intimated that Merriwell may be given atrial on the Varsity nine. If he is given a trial it will be his luck tosucceed. He must not be given a trial. How can that be prevented?"
Then Ditson set himself to devise some scheme to prevent Frank fromobtaining a trial on the regular nine. It was not an easy thing to thinkof a plan that would not involve himself in some way, and he felt thatit must never be known that he had anything to do with such a plot.
That night Ditson might have been seen entering a certain saloon in NewHaven, calling one of the barkeepers aside, and holding a briefwhispered conversation with him.
"Is Professor Kelley in?" asked Roll.
"He is, sir," replied the barkeeper. "Do you wish to see him?"
"Well--ahem!--yes, if he is alone."
"I think he is alone. I do not think any of his pupils are with him atpresent, sir."
"Will you be kind enough to see?" asked Ditson. "This is a personalmatter--something I want kept quiet."
The barkeeper disappeared into a back room, was gone a few minutes, andthen returned and said:
"The professor is quite alone. Will you go up, sir?"
"Y-e-s," said Roll, glancing around, and then motioning for thebarkeeper to lead the way.
He was taken into a back room and shown a flight of stairs.
"Knock at the door at the head of the flight," instructed the barkeeper,and after giving the man some money Ditson went up the stairs.
"Come in!" called a harsh voice when he knocked at the door.
Ditson found Kelley sitting with his feet on a table, while he smoked astrong-smelling cigar. There were illustrated sporting papers on thetable, crumpled and ragged.
"Well, young feller, watcher want?" demanded the man, withont removinghis feet from the table or his hat from his head.
Ditson closed the door. He was very pale and somewhat agitated.
"Are we all alone?" he asked, choking a bit over the question.
"Dat's wot we are," nodded the professor.
"Is it a sure thing that our conversation cannot be overheard?"
"Dead sure."
Ditson hesitated. He seemed to find it difficult to express himself justas he desired.
"Speak right out, chummy," said Kelley in a manner intended to bereassuring. "I rudder t'inks yer wants ter lick some cove, an' yer'vecome ter me ter put yer in shape ter do der job. Well, you bet yer doughI'm der man ter do dat. How many lessons will yer have?"
"It is not that at all," declared Roll.
"Not dat?" cried Kelley in surprise. "Den wot do youse want?"
"Well, you see, it is like this--er, like this," faltered Roland."I--I've got an enemy."
"Well, ain't dat wot I said?"
"But I don't want to fight him."
"Oh, I sees! Yer wants some odder chap ter do de trick?"
"Yes, that is it. But I want them to more than lick him."
"More dan lick him? W'y, yer
don't want him killed, does yer?"
"No," answered Ditson, hoarsely; "but I want his right arm broken."
"Hey?"
Down came Buster Kelley's feet from the table, upon which his knucklesfell, and then he arose from the chair, standing in a crouchingposition, with his hands resting on the table, across which he glared atRoland Ditson.
"Hey?" he squawked. "Just say dat ag'in, cully."
Roll was startled, and looked as if he longed to take to his heels andget away as quickly as possible; but he did not run, and he forcedhimself to say:
"This is a case of business, professor. I will pay liberally to have thejob done as I want it."
"An' youse wants a bloke's arm bruck?"
"Yes."
"Well, dis is a quare deal! If yer wanted his head bruck it wouldn'ts'prise me; but ter want his arm bruck--jee!"
"I don't care if he gets a rap on the head at the same time, but I don'twant him killed. I want his right arm broken, and that is the job I amready to pay for."
Kelley straightened up somewhat, placed one hand on his hip, while theother rested on the table, crossed his legs, and regarded Ditsonsteadily with a stare that made Roll very nervous.
"I might 'a' knowed yer didn't want ter fight him yerself," theprofessor finally said, and Ditson did not fail to detect the contemptin his face and voice.
"No, I do not," declared Ditson, an angry flush coming to his face. "Heis a scrapper, and I do not think I am his match in a brutal fight."
"Brutal is good! An' yer wants his arm bruck? Don't propose to give himno show at all, eh?"
"I don't care a continental what is done so long as he is fixed as Iask."
"I s'pose ye're one of them stujent fellers?"
"Yes, I am a student."
"An' t'other feller is a stujent?"
"Yes."
"Dem fellers is easy."
"Then you will do the job for me, will you?"
"Naw!" snorted Kelley. "Not on yer nacheral! Wot d'yer take me fer? Idon't do notting of dat kind. I've got a repertation to sustain, I has."
Ditson looked disappointed.
"I am willing to pay well to have the job done," he sad.
"Well, yer can find somebody ter do it fer yer."
"But I don't know where to find anybody, professor."
Kelley sat down, relighted his cigar, restored his feet to the table,picked up a paper, seemed about to resume reading, and then observed:
"Dis is no infermation bureau, but I s'pose I might put yer onter a covedat'd do der trick fer yer if yuse come down heavy wid der stuff."
"If you will I shall be ever so much obliged."
"Much erbliged don't but no whiskey. Money talks, me boy."
Ditson reached into his pocket and produced some money.
"I will give you five dollars to tell me of a man who will do the jobfor me," he said, pulling a five-dollar bill from the roll.
"Make it ten an' I goes yer," said Kelley, promptly.
"Done. Here is your money."
Ditson handed it over.
"I'd oughter made it twenty," grumbled the pugilist. "Dis business isouter my line entirely, an' I don't want ter be mixed up in it atall--see? I has a repertation ter sustain, an' it wouldn't do fer nobodyter know I ever hed anyt'ing ter do wid such a job as dis."
"There is no danger that anybody will ever know it," declared Ditson,impatiently. "I will not say anything about it."
"Well, yer wants ter see dat yer don't. If yer do, I'll hunt yer upmeself, an' I won't do a t'ing ter youse--not a t'ing!"
"Save your threats and come to business. I am impatient to get away, asI do not care to be seen here by anybody who may drop in."
"Don't care ter be seen here! I like dat--nit! Better men dan youse hasbeen here, an' don't yer fergit dat!"
"Oh, I don't care who has been here! You have the money. Now tell mewhere I can find the man I want."
"D'yer know Plug Kirby?"
"No."
"Well, he is der feller yer wants."
"Where can I find him?"
"I'll give yer his address."
Kelley took a stub of a pencil out of his vest pocket and wrote withgreat labor on the margin of one of the papers. This writing he tore offand handed to Ditson. Then, without another word, he once more restoredhis feet to the top of the table and resumed reading as if there was noone in the room.
Ditson went out without a word. When he was gone Kelley looked over thetop of the paper toward the door and growled:
"Dat feller's no good! If he'd wanted ter fit der odder feller hisselfI'd tole him how ter bruck der odder chap's wrist, but he ain't got dersand ter fight a baby. He makes me sad! I'd like ter t'ump him a soakeron de jaw meself."
That evening Frank went out to call on some friends. He was returning tohis rooms between ten and eleven, when, as he came to a dark corner, aman suddenly stepped out and said:
"Give us a light, young feller."
"I have none," said Frank, attempting to pass.
"Den give us a match," demanded the man, blocking the road.
"As I do not smoke I never carry matches."
"Well, den, I s'pose I'll have ter go wit'out er light, but--you'll takedat!"
Like a flash the man struck straight and hard at the youth's face. Itwas a wicked blow, delivered with marvelous swiftness, and must haveknocked Frank down if it had landed.
But Merriwell had suspected all along that it was not a light the manwas after, and he had been on the watch for just such a move as wasmade. For all of the man's swiftness Frank dodged, and the blow passedover his shoulder.
When Frank ducked he also struck out with his left, which he planted inthe pit of the assailant's stomach.
It was a heavy blow, and for a moment it rounded the man up. Before theruffian could recover he received a thump under the ear that made himsee stars and sent him sprawling.
But the man had a hard head, and he hastily got upon his feet, utteringfierce words. He expected to see the youth in full flight, and wasastonished to perceive that Frank had not taken to his heels.
With a snarl of fury the wretch rushed at Merriwell.
Frank dodged again and came up under the man's arm, giving him anotherheavy blow. Then the man turned, and they sparred for a moment.
"Durned if youse ain't der liveliest kid I ever seen!" muttered theastonished ruffian. "Youse kin fight!"
"Well, I can fight enough to take care of myself," returned the lad,with something like a laugh.
Smack! smack! smash! Three blows in rapid succession caused the ruffianto reel and gasp. Then for a few moments the fight was savage and swift.
It did not last long. The ruffian had been drinking, and Frank soon hadthe best of it. He ended the encounter by striking the man a regularknockout blow, and the fellow went down in a heap.
When the ruffian recovered he was astonished to find Frank had notdeparted, but was bending over him.
"How do you feel?" the boy calmly inquired.
"Say, I'm all broke up!" was the feeble reply. "Are youse der fellerwot done me?"
"I presume I am."
"Well, wot yer waitin' fer?"
"To see how badly you are hurt. Your head struck the stones withfrightful force when you fell."
"Did it? Well, it feels dat way! Here's a lump as big as yer fist. Butwot d'youse care?"
"I didn't know but your skull was fractured."
"Wot difference did dat make?"
"I didn't want you to remain here and suffer with a broken head."
"Didn't, eh? An' I tried ter do ye up widout givin' yer any warnin'! Disis der quarest deal I ever struck! I was tryin' ter knock yer stiff an'den break year arm."
"Break my arm?"
"Dat's wot I was here fer."
Frank was interested.
"Then you were here on purpose to meet me?"
"Sure, Mike."
"But why were you going to break my arm?"
"'Cause dat's wot I was paid fer, me bo
y."
Frank caught hold of the ruffian, who had arisen to a sitting postureand was holding onto his head.
"Paid for?" cried the boy, excitedly. "Do you mean to tell me that youwere paid to waylay me and break my arm?"
"I didn't mean ter tell yer anyt'ing, but a feller wot kin fight likeyou kin an' den stay ter see if a chap wot tried ter do him washurt--dat kind of a feller oughter be told."
"Then tell me--tell me all about it," urged Merriwell.
"Dere ain't much ter tell. Some sneak wanted yer arm broke, an' he cameter me ter do der job. He paid me twenty ter lay fer youse an' fix yer.I was hard up an' I took der job, dough I didn't like it much. Den heput me onter yer, an' I follored yer ter der house where youse went disevenin'. I watched till yer comes out, and den I skips roun' ter headyer off yere. I heads yer an' asks fer a light. Youse knows der restbetter dan wot I does."
"Well, this is decidedly interesting! So I have an enemy who wants myarm broken?"
"Yes, yer right arm."
"That would fix me so I'd never pitch any more."
"Dat's wot's likely, if ye're a pitcher."
"Would you know the person who hired you if you were to see him again?"
"Sure."
"Did he give you his name?"
"Dat's wot he did."
"Ha! That's what I want! See here! Tell me his name, or by the gods ofwar I will see that you are arrested and shoved for this night's work!"
"An' you will let me off if I tells?"
"Yes."
"Swear it."
"I swear it!"
"You won't make a complaint agin' me?"
"I will not."
"Well, den, yere's his card wot he give me.'"
The ruffian fumbled in his pocket and took out a card, which he passedto Frank, who eagerly grasped it.
"Here's a match, me boy," said the man. "I had a pocketful w'en I bracedyer for one."
He passed a match to Frank, who hastily struck it on a stone and thenheld it so that he could read the name that was engraved on the card inhis fingers.
A cry of astonishment broke from Merriwell's lips, and both card andmatch fell from his fingers to the ground.
This is the name he had read upon the card:
"Mr. Burnham Putnam."