BURT L. STANDISH Ultimate Collection: 24 Action Thrillers in One Volume (Illustrated). Burt L. Standish

      CHAPTER IV.

       BIRDS OF A FEATHER.

       Table of Contents

      In a little back room of a saloon three young men were sitting. They were talking earnestly, for all that two of the three showed they had taken altogether too much liquor to be entirely sober.

      "We're glad to see you, Sport," one of the drinkers declared.

      "Well, I am glad to see you, Harlow, old man, and you, too, Hartwick, although we were never friendly before you left Yale so suddenly."

      "That was my fault," admitted Hartwick, huskily. "I didn't know enough to pick out the right sort of pals. I trusted too much to Ditson. He's no good!"

      "Now there is where you make a mistake," asserted Sport Harris, quickly. "I know Ditson has no nerve, but he hates the same fellow we hate, and he is good to do the dirty work. We can make use of him, Hartwick."

      "I don't know anything about him," confessed Harlow.

      "No, he hasn't the nerve to play poker, and so you did not get acquainted with him when you were here."

      "I don't know that he hates Merriwell so much," growled Hartwick. "You remember that Ditson blowed everything to Merriwell, and that is why I was forced to skip. Oh, I'd like the satisfaction of punching the face off the dirty little traitor!"

      "But what caused Ditson to blow? He says you misused him."

      "I choked the cad a little, that is all."

      "But there was something back of that," declared Harris. "What led you to choke him?"

      "Oh, we had a little trouble. He was trying to squeeze me too hard, and I wouldn't stand for it."

      "Trying to squeeze you?"

      "Yes."

      "How?"

      "Well, I don't mind telling you. You know I tried to mark Merriwell for life by punching my foil through the mask that protected his face while we were engaged in a fencing bout. I had prepared my foil for that in advance by fixing the button so I could remove it, and by sharpening the point of the foil. I wanted to spoil the fellow's pretty face!"

      The most malignant hatred was expressed in Hartwick's words and manner. He went on:

      "I tried the trick, but did not succeed. Ditson carried off the foil, and kept it. He would not give it up, although he promised to a hundred times. He used it to aid in blackmailing me. When he asked me for money, I did not feel like refusing him, for he could throw me down hard by turning the foil over to Merriwell. But he carried the thing too far.

      "One night when I was in a bad mood he tried to squeeze more money out of me. He had been living in luxury for some time, while I was broke almost continually. I kicked and refused to give up. Then he had the insolence to threaten me with exposure. I lost my head and choked him. Directly after that he turned like a viper and blowed everything to Merriwell. That was my downfall. I had to skip. Is there any reason why I should not hate the sneak?"

      "No, I do not wonder that you are sore on him; but he did not make anything out of the trick."

      "Didn't make anything! Why, he forced me out of college!"

      "That was not the main thing he was looking for."

      "Then what was?"

      "He hoped to get in with Merriwell, and he fancied Merriwell would think him a fine fellow for blowing."

      "Well?"

      "Well, he made a mistake in Frank Merriwell, for Merriwell despised him all the more, although he did nothing to injure Ditson. He does not recognize Ditson at all, and now Ditson is more eager than before to do Merriwell an injury."

      "All the same, Ditson can't be trusted."

      "Not unless he is so deep in the game that it means ruin for him to blow. Then he is caught. As I said in the first place, he is a good man to do the dirty work that we do not want to touch."

      "I think Harris is right," nodded Harlow, "and you may get a chance to even up with Ditson by throwing him down when we have fixed Merriwell nicely."

      "But you want to remember you are going up against a bad man in Frank Merriwell," warned Sport. "I do not care to be forced out of Yale."

      "Of course not," said Hartwick and Harlow.

      "You fellows have not so much to look out for. You can do things that would be beyond me."

      "We made a bluff at doing something to-day," growled Hartwick. "We were out for a drive, and we came upon Merriwell. He was on his new horse, and we tried to run him down, but he got out of the way."

      "I don't know but it is a good thing he did," confessed Harlow. "If we had struck him there'd been a general smashup. I was driving, and we were making the old nag hit a hot pace. We came near going bottom up as it was."

      "You must have been badly rattled," exclaimed Harris.

      "Oh, I don't know," laughed Hartwick, harshly. "We've been up against it for the past three days. Eh, Harlow?"

      "That's what," nodded the card sharp. "Hartwick is a hard man to follow. He can kill more stuff than anybody I ever saw."

      "Well," said Harris, "I have asked Ditson to come in here this evening. I took a chance on it, for I thought we could get rid of him easily enough if we didn't want him. He is liable to be along at any moment."

      Harlow looked at a handsome watch.

      "A quarter to ten," he said. "He ought to be around soon if he is coming at all."

      "He will be. Where'd you get that ticker, old man?"

      "Oh, I took it off a sucker in a game. I'll have to soak it if I don't strike some sort of graft pretty soon. I'm getting down to hard pan."

      "I suppose you are all right, Hartwick?" questioned Harris. "You can call on your old man and make him give up any time."

      "Well, I guess not! I haven't been able to get a dollar out of the old duffer since I left college. He is icy toward me, and he says I can go it for myself and be hanged."

      "That's pleasant! What have you been doing to gather in the coin?"

      "Why, confound it! haven't I formed a partnership with Harlow! I don't know anything about card tricks, but he works all of that, and I win the money. He gives me the hands to do it on, you see. If there is suspicion aroused, the poor suckers take to watching me, and they are unable to catch me at anything crooked. Our only trouble is to find the right sort of fruit for plucking. We generally pretend we are strangers to each other. Sometimes we have a little disagreement over the table, just to fool the fools all the more."

      "That's first-rate," laughed Harris. "I wish the gang here was not onto Harlow. I could get you some ripe plums."

      "And that's what made me so sore on Merriwell," growled