Frank Merriwell's Son Part 25

In his breezy, commanding way he gathered them all up and led them into the next car, which had been attached to the train at the junction recently left.

Mrs. Badger--the Winnie Lee of the old days at Yale--was dozing in her chair when Buck came down upon her and awoke her by grasping her shoulder and giving her a shake.

"Waugh!" cried he. "Part the curtains of your peepers, Winnie, and observe this bunch of Injuns."

Mrs. Badger's companion was a slender young woman in a brown traveling suit. She was rather pretty in a supercilious way, but she showed questionable taste in a display of jewels while traveling.

"Oh, Buck, how you startled me, you great bear!" exclaimed Winnie. "What is it? Who is it?"

"Take a survey," directed the Kansan, with a sweep of his hand. "Here is our friend Gallup from Vermont, and that Frenchman, Mulloy, who was born somewhere in the north of Ireland."

"Oh, Ephraim Gallup! Oh, Barney Mulloy!" cried Winnie, in delight, as she sprang to her feet and grasped the hand of each.

"And you don't want to overlook Professor Gregory Carker, whose earthquake predictions must have been unheeded by the people of Frisco.

Here he is, Winnie."

"Greg Carker!" burst from Winnie, as she shook hands with the young socialist. "Why, Greg, you're as handsome as a poet! You remind me of pictures of Lord Byron."

"Begobs, Ephie," whispered Mulloy, "we'll have to hold him and cut his hair! It's his hair that the ladies are shtuck on. No mon who predicts earthquakes has a roight to wear such ravis.h.i.+ng hair."

At the mention of Carker's name Winnie Badger's companion had started and was now sitting bolt upright, staring at Greg and smiling.

Ephraim proudly introduced his wife and Juanita to Winnie.

While this was taking place Carker observed Winnie's friend. In a moment his face turned paler than usual, his eyelids started wide apart, and he lifted one hand with a movement of surprise and consternation. She looked straight into his eyes and continued to smile.

The others noted this. There was a hush, and all eyes were turned on the two.

Finally Carker's lips parted.

"Madge!" he breathed. And then after a moment, during which his bosom heaved, he repeated: "Madge!"

"Why, how do you do, Greg!" she laughed, extending her hand. "This is perfectly delightful! This is a most unexpected pleasure! I never dreamed of seeing you, Greg!"

"Why, this is queer!" exclaimed Winnie Lee. "So you know my friend, Mrs.

Morton, do you, Gregory?"

"I know her," came huskily, from Carker's lips. "I know her very well."

"Oh, yes," gushed the young woman, "we are old friends--dear old friends."

Juanita had fallen back behind the others. Her hands quivered a bit, and her white teeth were sunk into her lower lip. In a whisper she breathed to herself:

"This is the woman!"

CHAPTER XXI.

AT MERRY HOME.

On arriving in Bloomfield, they found Frank Merriwell at the station with carriages to accommodate them all.

Imagine their feelings as they once more greeted their old comrade and leader. Even Buck Badger, the big breezy man of command, seemed to take a second place in the presence of Frank.

Many of the Bloomfield citizens had somehow learned that several of Merry's friends were coming on that train, and, as a result, there was a gathering at the station. The curious ones stared at Merriwell's old flock, and it was generally remarked that these friends of Frank were "all right."

Eli Given, Uncle Ed Small, and Deacon Elnathan Hewett were there in a triangular group, and they nodded and chuckled and shook hands with each other as Frank shook hands with the members of his old flock.

"Purty 'tarnal good-looking people, Eben," said Eli. "Look at that big feller with the wide hat that has the leather band round it. There's a real man for ye."

"Yep," nodded Eben, leaning on his crooked cane and looking the party over. "He's a man, the hull of him, but even at that I don't cal'late he quite comes up to our Frank. What do you think, deacon?"

"Boys," said Elnathan, "I ain't never yit seen the man that comes up to our Frank. All Bloomfield is proud of him to the bustin' point, and they ought to be."

"By jinks!" grinned Eli; "that tall feller jest introduced one of the dark-eyed gals as his wife. Wus.h.!.+ but she's a beaut! He's homelier than a barn door with the paint washed off, but she's a peach. Wonder how he ever ketched her."

"She's Spanish, or French, or something ferrun," a.s.serted Uncle Eb. "I heerd her say something in some outlandish language to that other dark-eyed gal."

"Speakin' 'bout good-lookers," put in the deacon, "what's the matter with the one the big feller pushed for'ard as his wife? I don't guess Frank needed no introducin' to them, for it seems to me that he's met 'em both before."

"But, my jinks," gasped Eben, "look at the sparklers in the ears of that one in brown! S'pose them is real dimints? If they me, I bet they cost much as twenty-five dollars apiece!"

"Twenty-five?" said the deacon, with an intonation of contempt. "You ain't no judge of dimints, Eben! I bet they cost thirty!"

"Most of them seem to know Frank's n.i.g.g.e.r, Toots," said Eli. "Look at him show them ivories and nod and bow. By jinks! he'll snap his head off if he keeps that up. See that mouth of his'n stretch! The corners are going to pa.s.s each other at the back of his neck in a minute. If he keeps on, he'll lose the whole top of his head. It'll jest naturally crack right off."

"Well, well, boys, this makes me feel mighty good, myself," said the deacon. "Never used to be no sech things as this going on here in our town. I tell you if I wasn't a temperance man, I feel so good I'd jest go down to Applesnack's store and open up two or three bottles of ginger ale."

"A little hard cider for me," laughed Uncle Eb. "Rufus has it in his storeroom. I know where we kin git at the keg, boys, and I think we better celebrate ourselves."

"That's a good idee, Eben," said Eli. "We'll all go over to the grocery and wash the dust out of our throats with Applesnack's cider."

"Now, boys," protested the deacon, "I don't think I'd better go. If it should come out, people would talk. I think I'll keep away."

"No, ye don't! No, ye don't!" declared Given, as he grasped one of the deacon's arms. "Git hold of his other wing, Eben. We'll lead him up to the keg and pour it into him, if we have to. There won't n.o.body see us, deacon. We'll be in the back room, and we'll have Rufus shet the door. I guess you kin trust us, can't ye? I guess you ain't afraid we'll go round tellin' folks 'bout it, are ye? You know we're your friends, don't ye?"

"Course I know it," retorted the deacon. "But it's some agin' my principles, boys. It ain't jest right."

"Oh, fudge!" laughed Uncle Eb. "On a grand occasion like this you'd better set them air principles aside a little while. Frank is gittin'

them into the carriages now. We'll see them off, and then we'll stroll over to Applesnack's and have jest one little taste of that cider."

"Let's start a cheer for Frank Merriwell and his friends as they go,"

suggested the deacon.

The others caught at this eagerly, and, as a result, when the carriages started away from the station, the villagers on the platform, led by the three "old boys," gave an irregular but hearty cheer for Frank Merriwell and his friends. Frank turned a laughing face toward them and waved his hand.