CHAPTER XXV.

“STOP THIEF!”

Of course, there was not enough paper left to completely cover all the boards, but Frank was determined to hide King’s stuff, so he went to the printing office and secured a supply of white paper. Then he would put up two or three three-sheet posters on a large board, covering everything else with the white paper. In this manner he hid all of King’s advertising on the billboards.

He saw nothing more of Delvin Riddle while he was at work.

Leaving the janitor to finish the last of this work, he took some window posters and started out.

He found King’s stuff in all the best windows, but in many of them got his in beside the other.

The story of his encounter with Riddle had spread through the place, and everybody seemed anxious to know the particulars.

Frank took pains to tell just what kind of a trick Julian King had tried to play on them in that place, and he had a way of telling it so that it made a very good story and gave a favorable impression of the “Empire Theater Comedy Company.” Frank was satisfied that the things which had happened in Salacia would be strictly to the advantage of the show with which he was connected.

He was judicious but not niggardly in giving out passes.

Before night Jesper, the editor of the local paper, hunted him up and asked for particulars concerning his encounter with Riddle. Frank made the account very ludicrous, and Jesper promised to put it in the paper in such a manner that it would make Merriwell appear to advantage.

Then Frank had a hustle to catch a train—and missed it!

This filled him with dismay, for he had spent a day in Salacia when he should have been in Dundee.

He found there were no other trains over that road that would take him to Dundee that night, but there was a train over another road some ten miles away that might be flagged at a little village, and that would carry him to the place he wished to reach.

Immediately Frank made a rush for the nearest livery stable.

“I want to hire a good horse,” he said.

“What for?” asked the hostler, shortly.

“To take me to Kilmerville in time to catch the night train west.”

“Train doesn’t stop there.”

“But it can be flagged, can’t it?”

“Guess so.”

“Then I’ll try to flag it.”

“Don’t believe you can get there in time.”

“Haven’t you got a horse that can take me there? I must get there.”

“Well, I don’t know about letting you have Jack.”

“Which is Jack?”

“Black horse in that stall.”

“He looks all right. Can he get me to Kilmerville in time for me to flag the train?”

“I reckon.”

“Then I want him.”

“Don’t know you.”

“My name is Merriwell. I’m in advance of the ‘Empire Theater Comedy Company.’”

“Oh! Then you’re the fellow that stopped Sam Henson’s horse?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard all about that. You look all right.”

“I hope so.”

“And you pasted up the other show chap?”

“Well, we had a little trouble, and I believe he did get covered with paste.”

“I like your appearance,” said the hostler. “I reckon you’re all right. Where’ll you leave Jack?”

“At the station at Kilmerville.”

“Get somebody to take him to Pete Newell’s stable. I’ll send over for him in the morning.”

“Then I may have him?”

“For five dollars—yes.”

“Here’s your cash.”

Frank had the money out in a moment and into the hand of the hostler.

“Get the saddle on that horse in a hurry!” he exclaimed. “I’ll have to get my satchel from the hotel, but I’ll be back here right away.”

“Horse’ll be ready when you get back.”

Merry made a run for the hotel. Up to his room he dashed, catching up his satchel and securing it over his shoulder by the strap. Down to the office he plunged.

No one there.

He pounded on the desk.

No one appeared.

Down to the cardroom he rushed. Outside the door he stopped suddenly, hearing a voice saying:

“His name is Frank Merriwell. Here’s your warrant, sheriff. Arrest him on sight. I’m sure you’ll find my watch on his person. If not, then he’s got rid of it.”

Delvin Riddle was speaking.

For one moment Frank was aghast, dazed, bewildered.

What did it mean?

Through his brain flashed the explanation.

Riddle, driven desperate by his failure to frighten Frank, furious over the treatment he had received at Merriwell’s hands, had put up a job to detain Merriwell in Salacia. He had sworn out a warrant, charging Frank with stealing his watch, and Merriwell was to be arrested.

“Nice trick!” thought Merry.

He felt like walking into that cardroom and finishing the half-completed job of thrashing the tricky advance man of the “Julian King Stock Company.”

But he knew that would not do, for he would be arrested and detained in Salacia just when it was most important that he should reach Dundee and attend to his business.

He stepped a bit nearer the open door. Inside the room was a mirror, and in that mirror he saw the reflection of two men. One was Riddle, smooth-faced, crafty, malicious; the other was the sheriff, large, rough, booted. The latter was looking at the warrant just given him by Frank’s enemy.

“All right,” he said. “You’d better come along with me and point the fellow out.”

“It’s time to be moving!” thought Merry.

Up the stairs he skipped.

The clerk had just come in, and was at the desk.

“My bill!” said Frank, sharply.

“Your bill?” said the clerk, languidly. “Aren’t you going to stop overnight?”

“No.”

“How’s that?”

“Business. Got to go. My bill, quick! I’m in a hurry!”

The clerk looked at the register and then told him what his bill would be. Frank flung down some money. He heard heavy feet ascending the stairs to the office. He heard voices. Riddle and the sheriff were coming.

“Keep the change,” said Merriwell. “Can’t stop for it.”

He bolted out of the door, leaving the amazed clerk staring after him.

Straight for the livery stable he darted. The hostler was in the wide open door, holding the black horse, ready saddled and bridled.

“Hold on!”

Behind Frank there was a hoarse command. He looked over his shoulder and saw the sheriff and Riddle come rushing out of the hotel.

“Stop!” yelled Riddle. “Stop thief!”

Frank reached the stable door.

“What’s that they’re yelling at you?” asked the hostler, with an air of sudden distrust.

“They’ll tell you when they get here,” half laughed Frank.

“Well, I don’t think I’ll let you have this horse just now. You’ll have to wait a while before you——”

“Can’t stop, sir. I’m in a great hurry.”

“But I won’t——”

“Yes, you will!”

Frank caught him by the collar, at the same time grasping the horse by the bit. With all his strength, the ex-Yale man gave the burly hostler a snap and a fling.

The hostler was literally lifted off his feet and sent spinning through an open door into the little room that served as an office.

The horse reared and snorted. He came down and reared again. When he went into the air Frank went with him, swinging onto his back.

“Stop!”

“Git!”

Out of the stable door shot the black horse, bearing Frank on its back.

“Good-by!” he called. “I’ll see you later, Mr. Riddle!”

“Stop him!” howled Riddle.

The sheriff tried to catch the horse by the bit, missed, grasped at Frank’s leg, touched it—that was all.

Onward shot the horse and rider. Frank turned and waved his hand with a taunting movement.

“Thief! thief!—stop thief!”

“That is a pleasant cry to hear!” commented Merry, grimly. “I’ll remember Mr. Delvin Riddle for this little piece of business.”

He looked back and saw men and boys running after him, shouting for him to stop.

A cloud of dust rose behind the heels of the horse, for it was dry in the streets of the town.

The cries grew fainter and fainter. Frank turned onto another street, and his pursuers were seen no more for a time.