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

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Merriwell was getting rather warm on the subject—too warm, he suddenly realized, and put the clamps on himself.

“Of course,” he went on, “I’m mighty lucky in having a father in the champion class. He has been mighty good to me, and his advice has been the biggest kind of a help, but he has only pointed the way, and it was left to me whether I made good or not. It’s the most foolish thing in the world, strikes me, to think a fellow is worthy or worthless simply because his father was one or the other. Now——”

Merriwell paused. The stage from Gold Hill, several hours late, was lumbering up the main street of Ophir. He had been watching it moodily while he talked; and then, abruptly, his moodiness vanished and he jumped to his feet.

“By Jove!” he exclaimed, in pleased surprise. “As sure as shooting, fellows, there’s Barzy Blunt!”

There was no doubt about it. Barzy Blunt, on horseback, was riding along at the side of the stage; and, on a seat of the stage, was a little old lady with spectacles, and a shawl over her shoulders.