"I don't know, but if there is any money to be had, I am going to get it."

"How are you going to go about it?" asked Bill as he stepped into the Swallow and prepared to start.

"I don't know," answered Frank, still sitting with his chin in his hands. "Beg it, or borrow it, or steal it."

Bill threw in the clutch and the Swallow sped away.

Frank was left to his own bitter thoughts. Money! He had brooded over his lack of it and had remembered Jardin's a.s.surance that to have a good time in school he must have a pocketful of money at all times. Frank had changed his mind about school. He was going for the good time he expected to have. He only wished that he was going with Jardin instead of with Bill Sherman. What Bill had said about sponging had stung him.

Now he knew that he must obtain what he wanted somehow and somewhere.

His mother could not give it to him; his father would not. He had nothing to sell that was of any value. Yes, there was one thing. He could p.a.w.n his watch, that beautiful watch that had been his grandfather's and which he was to use when he was twenty-one. In the meantime it was _his_, left him by his grandfather's will. On the spur of the moment he rose and hurried into the house. Why had he not thought of it before? It was a repeater, that watch, and his grandfather had paid nearly a thousand dollars for it. He would sell it. He hurried into the house and to his mother's room: he knew where she always kept her jewel case hidden. The watch was there and putting it in his pocket, Frank hurried out of the house.

Bill and Lee took it slowly as usual going back to school, stopping to watch the big observation balloon come down to anchor.

"I am sorry about Frank," Bill remarked as they turned and skirted the parade ground in New Post. "I never saw a fellow change so in such a short time. He is brooding all the time and is as grouchy as he can be.

I wish there was something I could do for him."

"Just what I was thinking," said Lee. "Do you suppose his folks would mind if I gave him the money he wants? I am getting an awful wad down there in the bank. I am always in right with my grandfather because I can talk his sign language and because I look more like an Indian than some of the real ones. I would be awfully glad to give him five or six hundred dollars."

"That is perfectly fine of you, Lee, but I know they would not want you to do such a thing, because they would think it was simply wild to have Frank have a large sum. At the school we are going to, there is a rule that the boys are not to have money. There is a small sum deposited with the princ.i.p.al and he gives us what he thinks we ought to have. More for the big fellows and less for the little ones, and none at all if we don't behave."

Lee looked disappointed.

"That's too bad," he said, patting Bill on the shoulder with a rare caress. "I was going to get Major Sherman to let me divvy up with you."

"You are all right, Lee, old man," said Bill, "but honest, I won't need money. What I will want is a letter from you once in awhile. That will be the best thing you can do for me. Gee, I know I am just about going to die with homesickness. Why, I was never away from my mother before in my life! I can tell you, I will never be away from home any more than I can help. Home folks are good enough for me," he laughed.

Lee stuck to the subject. "What if I should _lend_ Frank the money he wants?" he persisted.

"I tell you, old dear, he won't be allowed to have money at all."

"What is to prevent it if they don't know it?" asked Lee.

"Why, _he_ wouldn't want to break the rules," said Bill. "There is no fun in breaking rules. You can get enough fun without that."

"All right," said Lee, "but the Indian part of me is having a bad hunch about Frank. You watch and see. He is going to get into trouble, and I think it will have something to do with this money he wants so much."

"I hate to have you say that," from Bill. "Your hunches come to time pretty sharply; but I will simply keep an eye on him and try to keep him out of trouble. It is lucky we are not going to the same school with Jardin."

"Do you know that you are not?" said Lee with a queer smile.

"Yes, I _do_ know, and for two reasons. We did not know where we were going when he was here and, second place, the school we are going to is not swell enough for Jardin."

"Look for him when you get there," remarked Lee.

"Oh, wow!" cried Bill, sending the Swallow in a long sweep to the back step of the quarters in B2. "If you keep this hunch business up, Lee, you will be getting up as a fortune-teller. We are through with Jardin for a good while, I am thinking."

They were not through with Jardin's influence at least. If it had not been for his tales and suggestions, Frank would not at that moment have been walking the streets of Lawton, his grandfather's splendid watch in his pocket, hunting for a p.a.w.nshop that looked inviting. He came to one with a window filled with diamond rings and watches that were certainly not in the cla.s.s with the timepiece he was carrying. That seemed a good place to go. With so many ordinary watches on hand, they would appreciate as fine a one as he carried.

He looked in the window, then walked boldly in with the air of a person who wishes to buy something. He did it so well that the proprietor came forward with a beaming smile.

The smile faded when Frank laid the watch on the counter and the man pierced him with a keen look. He took the watch and turned it over.

"What is your name?" he asked suddenly.

Frank looked up in surprise.

"I don't see as that has anything to do with it," he replied stiffly.

"It has a good deal to do with it," said the man. "That is not the sort of a watch a boy your age carries. Not on your life it isn't! Now where did you get that watch? Did you steal it? That is the question. Are you selling it for someone else? That's what I want to know. We are licensed dealers here, and we got to be pertected. Come across, young feller, come across! What's your name?"

"Bill Sherman," said Frank, and was sorry as soon as he had said it. But he did not dare retract his words.

"So far, so good!" said the man to whom the name meant nothing. "Now, Bill Sherman, where did you get this watch?"

"It is mine," said Frank, "and I am not selling it; I want to p.a.w.n it."

"If Bill Sherman can afford to own a watch like that, why then should he p.a.w.n it? Looks like he ought to have plenty of money."

"I do mostly," said Frank, red and fidgeting. "But I am short just at present, and that is my own watch that my grandfather willed to me so I thought I would p.a.w.n it for awhile."

"I don't know," said the man. "I got boys of my own. But if I don't take it you will go somewhere else. So what's the difference? What do you expect to get for it?"

"Grandfather paid nearly a thousand dollars for it!" said Frank. "Would you think six hundred dollars about right?"

Then for a moment Frank thought the p.a.w.nshop man was going to have a fit, a fit of large and dreadful proportions, right on the premises. His eyes bulged; he choked and gurgled. It was really awful, and Frank could not help wishing himself home again, watch and all. Even with the coveted sum so close within reach, he was sick of the whole thing.

Presently the p.a.w.nshop man came to himself a little.

He leaned across the counter and said softly, "Would you please say that again?"

"Six hundred dollars," repeated Frank.

"Say," said the man, leaning confidentially toward the boy, "what a joker you are! That's good enough for vaudeville, I'll say! Well, we've laughed enough at that, ain't we? And I feel so funny about it that I will give you a good price for the watch. What do you guess it is?" He leaned closer. "Twenty-five dollars."

"_Twenty-five dollars!_" gasped Frank. "Why, my grandfather paid 'most a thousand dollars for it!"

"Sure, I don't doubt it; and so did George Washington have a watch bigger than this that cost a lot of money but I would not give more than twenty-five dollars for either one of 'em."

"I can't take that," said Frank, looking so shocked and disappointed that the man knew that he would end by accepting.

"Twenty-five is as high as I can go," said the man. "We got to pertect ourselves."

CHAPTER VII