Frank Merriwell's Races Part 13

CHAPTER VII.

THE PLOT.

If Roland Ditson was the person from whose trousers the piece of cloth had been torn he took good care to destroy what he had retained of the breeches without delay, for they were never again seen in his possession.

The figure on the cloth was not p.r.o.nounced enough to distinguish it in a manner to make it absolute proof that it came from a garment owned by Roland.

Nevertheless Diamond accused Ditson of listening at his door, but Roll vigorously denied that he had done so. Diamond told him he was a natural-born prevaricator, and let it go at that.

But Ditson was watched like a hawk by the boy from Virginia, for Jack felt sure the fellow was up to crookedness.

Frank Merriwell knew that if Ditson had been listening to the conversation that was taking place in that room his enemies must know in what light he regarded Nemo.

This caused Frank to caution both Toots and Grody to redouble their vigilance in watching over and caring for the splendid creature.

"Don' yo' worry about me, Ma.r.s.er Frank," a.s.sured the darky lad. "Dat's de fines' hawse dat dis chile ebber seen, an' I'se gwan ter watch ober heem lek he wus de apple ob mah eye."

"I have decided to enter Nemo in the Mystic Park races at Bethany, Toots," Merriwell declared, "and I think I'll let you ride him, my boy."

Toots showed two rows of gleaming ivories and beamed with the greatest delight.

"If yer done dat, Ma.r.s.er Frank, I'se gwan ter win on dat hawse jes ez sh.o.r.e ez yeh bawn, sar!" he cried. "I'se done rid dat critter enough teh know he's a wondah, sar. Dat hawse is wuf a forchune, sar!"

"If you win, Toots, I may give you a chance to ride him in some races later in the season."

"If I don' win dat race, I done hope I nebber dror annodder bref, sar!"

cried the darky boy, excitedly. "Dat'll show yo' what yo' kin do at de Coney Islan' races. If yo's gwan ter gamble on dat hawse, yo's a dead sho' winnar, sar!"

"I am not much of a gambler, Toots, but I may back Nemo for a little something."

"Yo'll win, Ma.r.s.er Frank. If dis darky ebber knowed what he wus talking about yo'll win!"

Frank's enemies seemed remarkably quiet, but something told him that every move he made was watched. This was true, and they soon knew exactly what races he intended to enter Nemo for, and that the darky was going to ride the horse.

One night Harris, Hartwick, Harlow, Ditson and Mike Hogan met in the saloon where they had first formed a combine against Merriwell. They were there by appointment, called together by Hartwick, who seemed to have a.s.sumed the leaders.h.i.+p.

Hartwick was taking no chances on any thin part.i.tions, and so he secured a little back room in the place, where it seemed that nothing could be overheard by any one who might chance to be watching them.

Drinks were ordered, and when they were brought and the waiter had departed Hartwick said:

"Gentlemen, we may as well get down to business at once. I have called you together to make arrangements for striking a blow at our common enemy."

"Well, I think it's erbout time!" growled Mike Hogan. "I've been wantin'

ter do something fer a long while, but you have kept holdin' me back."

"You have been too much on the jump, my friend," said Hartwick, scowling. "If we'd let you gone it alone you'd had Merriwell on his guard, and that would have ruined everything."

"It strikes me that Merriwell is on his guard now," observed Harris. "He acts as if he knew there was something in the wind."

"Well, he doesn't know what."

"I don't know about that, either. He guards that horse as if the animal was worth its weight in dollar bills."

"Which comes entirely from the fact that Hogan here tried to knock the horse out once," declared Harlow.

"I don't know about that, either," said Hartwick. "But I want to say one thing here and now: If there's any one of this party who is playing double and carrying information to Merriwell, he'd better order his own coffin without delay, for he is bound to be found out, and we'll throw him cold in a minute."

He looked at Ditson in a most significant manner as he said this, but Roll showed no signs of guilt.

"Well, what's yer plan of war, boss?" asked Hogan, impatiently.

"Don't get in too much of a hurry," scowled Hartwick.

"We know Merriwell intends to enter Nemo in the Mystic Park races, at Bethany."

"Yes."

"That is the time to get at him."

"How?"

"He has money to burn. Get him to back Nemo for large sums for any of the first three positions. Give him all sorts of odds, if necessary; but get him to chuck up the dough, and then beat him out."

"That's all right," growled Hogan; "but where's the dough comin' from what is shoved up against his good stuff?"

"Let me alone for that," said Hartwick, significantly. "I know a way to get it, and we'll have it. I wish we might get Merriwell to stake his entire fortune on that horse. We'd end his career at Yale."

Harris laughed.

"I'd like to know how you are going to get so much money, Hart?" he cried. "Why, I had to lend you twenty as capital the last game of poker you entered."

"Don't let anything worry you if you don't know all about it, Sport,"

advised Hartwick. "You've got your twenty back, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, you can't kick."

"All right; but I'm afraid your scheme won't work out very well."

"It will, just as hard, if we can depend on Mike here to make sure Merriwell's horse does not win."

"Watcher want me ter do?" asked Mike.