Frank Merriwell's Son Part 23

"Mebbe the best doctor," grinned Gallup, "would be a girl he'd fall in love with and who'd fall in love with him. I guess she could cure him.

If he happened to run across the right one and she axed him to give up his career and stop rampin' round over the country, I'll bet a good big punkin he'd cave in right on the spot."

"You're wrong," denied Carker. "No matter how much I cared for a girl, I could not give up my career. There was one once who asked me to give it up. She married another man."

He smiled as he made the confession, but in his eyes there was a look which told of the great sacrifice he had made.

"Mebbe you think you're doing a great work for humanity," observed Ephraim; "but, by ginger! I kinder think that Frank Merriwell is doing a greater work."

"What is he doing?"

"Haven't you heard 'bout it?"

"No. I haven't heard from Merriwell in the last year or more. The last I knew of him he was acc.u.mulating a fortune in mining. Like other men in these degenerate times, he had turned his great abilities to the mercenary task of ama.s.sing wealth. I was sorry when I heard this, for I had expected other things of him."

"Sorry, was ye?" snapped Ephraim.

"Sorry and disappointed," said Greg, shaking his head.

"Waal, now, you want to come right along with us to Bloomfield. We'll show you what Frank Merriwell's doing with that money he's acc.u.mulated.

Ain't you ever heard 'bout his School of Athletic Development?"

"No."

"Waal, I guess that'll interest ye some, by jinks!"

"Tell me about it."

As clearly as he could, Ephraim explained the plan of Merry's new school. Carker listened with a show of interest until the Vermonter had finished.

"Well, I'm glad he's doing some good," said Greg. "Still, this is of minor importance compared with the great work in which I'm engaged."

"You go to gra.s.s!" almost snarled Ephraim. "Great fiddlesticks! Why, Frank is making real men of growing boys. He's making good, strong, healthy men that kin go out and successfully fight their way through life."

"Life should not be a battle," a.s.serted the socialist. "Every man's hand should be outstretched to help a needy fellow man. This old-fas.h.i.+oned theory that human life is bound to be a battle is all wrong. We are one great body of brothers, bound together by a universal tie."

"Choke off roight where ye are," commanded Barney. "Oi'm yer fri'nd, Greg Carker, but Oi'll hit ye av ye sling any of that socialist talk at us! Ye've r'iled me now. Oi must have a shmoke to soothe me narves."

"Me, too," grinned Ephraim, as they both rose. "You'll 'scuse us for a little while, won't ye, girls? We'll jest step into the smokin'

compartment."

"You may have the excuse if you weel leave Senor Carkaire to entertain us," murmured Juanita.

"I'll remain here," nodded Greg. "I don't smoke."

"Gol ding him!" growled Ephraim, as he followed Barney into the smoking compartment. "He's a bigger crank than ever! He's gittin' wuss and wuss!"

"What he nades is a girrul to marry him and straighten him out,"

declared the Irish youth.

Five minutes after the departure of Eph and Barney a slender, black-eyed man, with a small dark mustache, came sauntering through the car. As he reached the spot where Carker was talking to Teresa and Juanita he stopped short, uttered an exclamation of satisfaction, and lifted his hat, bowing with a triumphant smile.

"Ah, Senorita Garcia," he jubilantly said, "you take the flight from me, but I have found you."

"Jose Murillo!" exclaimed Juanita. And there was dismay and fear in her voice.

CHAPTER XX.

OLD FRIENDS EN ROUTE.

"_Si, senorita_," laughed the stranger, "Jose Murillo."

"Where deed you come from?"

"The train on wheech I travel from the West eet join this train back at the junction."

Teresa's eyes were flas.h.i.+ng. She rose and confronted the young Mexican.

"Senor Murillo," she said, in Spanish, "you have annoyed Juanita enough.

You have no right to follow her. You have threatened her. You have frightened her. If you are the gentleman you profess to be, you will leave her alone."

He showed his white teeth in a smile.

"I am a man with a purpose," he retorted, in the same language. "I love Senorita Garcia! Her father promised that she should be my wife!"

"Her father is dead," said Teresa, "and that promise no longer binds her. In Mexico you sought to force her into a marriage. We are not in Mexico now. We are in the United States. It's different here. My husband is close at hand. If you do not leave us, I'll call him. He will protect us from you."

"Pardon, senorita," said Carker, also speaking in Spanish. "Permit me to offer my protection. I will see that this man gives neither you nor Senorita Garcia further annoyance."

He rose and placed himself squarely before Murillo.

The Mexican glared fiercely at Greg.

"Gringo dog!" he sneered. "Who are you that offers your protection to these ladies?"

"I am their friend, senor, and the friend of Mrs. Gallup's husband.

It'll be a good thing for you if you move along and move at once."

Murillo laughed.

"You miserable gringo!" he exclaimed. "Do you think you can frighten me?

Do you think you can drive me away with words? I have followed that girl a very long distance. She belongs to me by the promise of her father.

She cannot run away from me! I will have her!"

"Look here, Senor Murillo," retorted Greg quietly, "if you don't move along, I'll throw you out of that window!"