Читать книгу Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Arizona; or, Clearing a Rival's Record онлайн

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“I will—nit. I’m pretty nearly fagged. If you’re bound to have that stuff, go back and hunt it up yourself. I’ll wait for you here.”

A look as of satisfaction crossed Shoup’s face.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” he said, and turned back and was soon out of sight behind the chaparral.

Moodily Jode Lenning found a place where he could be fairly comfortable, and sat down. Every muscle in his body was aching. A few weeks before he would not have minded a jaunt like the one he and Shoup was taking, but now it told on him fearfully.

He knew the reason. His wits were keen enough to assure him that reckless living for only a few days had sapped the strength and endurance which he had been garnering for months.

He had been foolish, worse than foolish. But that couldn’t be helped, and there was no use crying over spilt milk.

The one object he had in life, just then, was squaring accounts with Frank Merriwell. Merriwell was always in the pink of condition—he made it a point to keep himself so.

“I’m all shot to pieces,” growled Lenning, “and I’ve got to go up against this paragon who never side-steps his training and settle a big score with him. Will he be too much for me? He will, sure, unless I can get at him in some underhand way. That’s the idea!” he finished.