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

48 страница из 92

“It looks as though Blunt was barking up the wrong tree,” put in Clancy. “He had a revolver in his belt, under his coat, when he came out of the hotel, and started on the warpath, Chip. Didn’t see that, did you?”

“Is that straight, Clan?” Merry demanded, staring at his chum with grave concern.

“Straight as a die.”

“I didn’t see it,” said Ballard.

“Well, I did. His coat flew back as he climbed into the saddle, and for just a second I saw the gun.”

“Why didn’t you say something about it before?” asked Frank sharply.

“It would only have got you all stirred up, Chip, without doing any good. You ought to know Barzy Blunt by this time, I should think.”

They were inside the tent where the three visitors were to have their sleeping quarters. Merry, Clancy, and Ballard had flung themselves down on a pile of blankets. Bleeker had started to leave, but the conversation of Frank and his chums filled him with sudden interest, and he turned back.

“What are you chinning about?” he asked. “If Blunt had a gun, it isn’t the first time he has gone ‘heeled,’ by a long chalk. A cowboy, as a rule, knows how to shoot. I’ve heard that Blunt is particularly good on the trigger. What are you stewing about, Chip?”