CHAPTER XIX.

BART HODGE MAKES A CONFESSION.

It was Bart Hodge!

How they did shake hands! Strangely enough, neither of them laughed, but there was a look of joy on their faces that told of satisfaction and delight too great for laughter.

"Merriwell, old man," said Hodge, his voice unsteady with emotion, "I can scarcely believe it is true! It seems too good to be true!"

"Hodge!" exclaimed Frank, "there is fate in this. I was speaking of you not more than ten minutes ago."

"Speaking of me?"

"Sure."

"Then you had not forgotten me?"

"Forgotten you?" came reproachfully from Frank--"you should know I am not the kind of fellow to forget my friends."

"That's right," nodded Bart, quickly; "you always did stick to your friends through thick and thin."

"Yes, through thick and thin, old chum."

"But it is most astonishing to see you away out here in this part of the country. Where did you drop from?"

"Oh, we are on a little run across the country," smiled Merry. "We started from New York, and we're bound for San Francisco. Permit me to introduce my friends."

Then he presented the others of the party in turn, and Bart shook hands with them all, expressing his satisfaction at meeting them, but seeming rather reserved and uneasy. Frank observed that Hodge turned his head to glance down the road now and then as if expecting the appearance of some one or something.

"So you're Hart Bodge--I mean Bart Hodge?" said Harry, as he was introduced. "Well, I'm glad to know you. Merry has talked about you ever since I first met him at Yale. He has told everything about you."

"If that is true, I'm afraid you have not formed a very good opinion of me," said Hodge, somewhat gloomily.

"On the contrary, I have formed a very good opinion of you," assured Rattleton.

"Then it can't be Merry has told you everything."

Frank was not a little surprised by Bart's manner, for Hodge had been a fellow who could not easily suppress his self-conceit, and it had always been his desire to impress strangers with the idea that he was something quite out of the ordinary.

A vague feeling that something was wrong with Bart seized upon Merriwell.

"You're not well, old man," he said. "I know it. Don't say you are."

"Never was better in all my life."

"But something is the trouble--I can see that."

"Oh, no!" assured Bart; "you are mistaken, I assure you."

But, for all of these words, Frank was not satisfied, as Bart's manner had plainly betrayed the fact that he was trying to conceal something.

"Which way are you traveling?" Frank asked.

"East."

"Too bad! We are going the other way, and I hoped you'd go along."

"Oh, no! it is impossible," Hodge quickly asserted.

"Business important?"

"Well, it is--er--somewhat so."

"Where are you from last?"

"Oh, I've been traveling--yes, traveling," answered Bart, vaguely.

"Now, look here!" cried Merry, decisively; "you've got to travel with us, old man. I won't take no for an answer, for I believe you can do it. You'll turn about and go to San Francisco with us."

"That's right; come on," cried the others.

Bart shook his head.

"Can't do it--I can't. You don't know--I can't explain--now."

"Do you think this is using me just right?" asked Frank, reproachfully. "You'll find us a jolly crowd, and we'll have dead loads of sport. We've made a quick run across, and we can take our time going back. None of the fellows are obliged to hurry home. Come along with us, Bart, and we'll do you good."

Something like a smile flitted over Hodge's serious face.

"You are the same old Merriwell," he said. "It has done me good to see you a little while, Frank."

"It will do you more good to see me longer, and it'll do me good to have you come with me. Come along."

Bart wavered. It was plain enough that he longed to go, but, for some reason, he hesitated.

Frank passed an arm about Hodge's shoulders, saying, gently but firmly:

"You've got to do it; you can't get out of it, old chum."

A wave of feeling fled across Hodge's face, and there was something like a suspicious quiver of his sensitive chin.

"You do not understand," he slowly murmured. "I'd like to have a talk with you, Frank. I--I might tell you----"

"That's right," said Harry, heartily. "Old friends like you chaps want a chance to talk over old matters and things. Excuse us. We're going to find a chance to stretch our weary limbs on the ground. Browning has an attack of that tired feeling, and he will fall asleep in his tracks if he doesn't recline without delay."

"Huah!" grunted Bruce.

Then the boys withdrew, leaving Hodge and Merriwell together.

Bart seemed embarrassed and uneasy. He glanced at Frank slyly, as if in doubt, which Merry did not fail to note, although pretending not to observe it.

They sat down near the foot of a monster tree, against which they could lean in a comfortable position as they chatted. The great forest of redwood trees was all about them, and a Sabbath peace brooded over the gentle slope of the Sierras.

"Well, Bart," said Frank, insinuatingly, "I trust things are going well with you?"

A sudden change came over Hodge. A fierce look of rage came to his face and his eyes blazed, while his voice was harsh and unpleasant, as he cried:

"Things are not going well with me! Everything has gone wrong! Oh, I've had infernal luck! I know I was born under an unlucky star, and the only time I ever did get along was when you and I were together at Fardale."

"Then stick by me, and change your luck again."

"I'd like to do it, but you are going the wrong way."

"What's the odds? There is no reason why you should not turn back and----"

"There is a reason."

"Of course I do not know about that, but----"

"Listen, Frank; you remember Isa Isban?"

"Yes, and Vida Milburn, Isa's half-sister, with whom you were in love. I distinctly remember that Vida was a beautiful and charming girl."

Hodge's teeth ground together with a nerve-tingling, grating sound, and his face was set as stone, although his eyes still blazed.

"Yes, a beautiful girl--a charming girl!" he admitted, but with sarcasm that could not be mistaken.

"What's the matter? Where is Vida now?"

"I don't know, and I don't care a rap!"

"Oh, say! I think I tumble. It is a case of lovers' quarrel. Now, now, now! Don't be foolish, my boy! It will come out all right. You know true love persistently refuses to run smooth. You'll make it all up in time."

Hodge grinned, but there was nothing of mirth in the expression. It seemed to Frank as if some wild animal had shown its teeth.

"Oh, yes, it will come out all right!" he sneered. "We'll make it all up in time! It's too late, Merriwell."

"You think so, that's all."

"I know so. She's married!"

Frank gasped.

"Married?"

"Yes."

"Married? Why, she is a mere girl! And you--where do you come in?"

"I'm not in it, and I think I'm lucky. That's not worrying me."

"But how--how did it happen? Why did you throw her over? or why did she go back on you?"

"I'm not going to tell the whole story now, Frank; but the fact is that she lacked faith in me. I rather think I'm dead lucky to get out of it, for she was rather weak and fickle. You know her half-sister, Isa Isban, although stunningly handsome, is wild and reckless. She was married to a gambler and maker of crooked money."

"But he is dead--was shot, and Isa disappeared."

"Well, she has reappeared, but I'll tell you about that later. It's Vida I wish to tell you about now. You know Vida's old uncle and aunt never did have a high opinion of me."

"Not till they discovered that you were a brave and honorable fellow. Then they seemed to turn about and think you one of the finest chaps in the world."

"They got over it," Hodge sneered. "They came to think me anything but brave and honorable. They believed me a drunkard, a gambler and a thief!"

Frank was shocked, and he showed it.

"Impossible!" he cried. "How could they think such a thing of you? They had no reason to think so!"

Bart turned crimson till it extended all over his face and neck.

"You don't know, Merry," he muttered, positively showing shame. "I'm not like you--I make a bad break sometimes. It is hard for me to resist temptation, and--well, I was tempted, and I succumbed. That's all."

"Succumbed? What do you mean? I know your heart is right, old fellow, and you did not do anything wrong intentionally."

"Appearances were against me--I confess it. First--well, I was seen drunk. That is, I seemed to be drunk, but I swear to you that I had not taken but one drink, and that was not enough to knock out a ten-year-old boy. It was drugged, Frank--I know it!"

"Drugged? Who did such a villainous trick?"

"My enemy--a young fellow who loved Vida. He has a father who's got the rocks. He's older than I, and I thought him my friend. I met him at her home. His name is Hart Davis."

"The whelp! But did Vida see you?"

"Yes. I had been out with Davis that night. In the morning I was found on the steps of Vida's home, apparently dead drunk."

"How came you there?"

"I didn't know at the time. Since then--well, it is settled in my mind. Davis said I left him to go to the place where I was boarding in Carson City. He said I seemed to be all right when I left him, and so he let me go. He appeared very shocked to think such a misfortune had happened me: but--burn him!--I believe he gave me knock-out drops--I believe he carried me to that house--I believe he left me on the steps, where I was found!"

Frank's eyes were blazing now, and the look on his expressive face told how he felt toward Mr. Hart Davis.

"And did Vida throw you over for that?" he asked, in an indignant manner.

"Not entirely for that. She was very shocked and cold toward me, but when I was arrested----"

"Arrested?" gasped Frank. "Arrested for what?"

"For stealing a watch."