merriwell series stories of frank and dick merriwell your dealer has them! handsome colored covers stories of generous length for three generations, the adventures of the merriwell brothers have proven an inspiration to countless thousands of american boys. frank and dick are lads of high ideals, and the examples they set in dealing with their parents, their friends, and especially their enemies, are sure to make better boys of their readers. these stories teem with fun and adventure in all branches of sports and athletics. they are just what every red-blooded american boy wants to read--they are what he must read to develop into a manly, upright man. _all titles always in print_ 1--frank merriwell's school days by burt l. standish 2--frank merriwell's chums by burt l. standish 3--frank merriwell's foes by burt l. standish 4--frank merriwell's trip west by burt l. standish 5--frank merriwell down south by burt l. standish 6--frank merriwell's bravery by burt l. standish 7--frank merriwell's hunting tour by burt l. standish 8--frank merriwell in europe by burt l. standish 9--frank merriwell at yale by burt l. standish 10--frank merriwell's sports afield by burt l. standish 11--frank merriwell's races by burt l. standish to be published in june, 1921. 12--frank merriwell's party by burt l. standish 13--frank merriwell's bicycle tour by burt l. standish to be published in july, 1921. 14--frank merriwell's courage by burt l. standish 15--frank merriwell's daring by burt l. standish to be published in august, 1921. 16--frank merriwell's alarm by burt l. standish 17--frank merriwell's athletes by burt l. standish 18--frank merriwell's skill by burt l. standish to be published in september, 1921. 19--frank merriwell's champions by burt l. standish 20--frank merriwell's return to yale by burt l. standish to be published in october, 1921. 21--frank merriwell's secret by burt l. standish 22--frank merriwell's danger by burt l. standish to be published in november, 1921. 23--frank merriwell's loyalty by burt l. standish 24--frank merriwell in camp by burt l. standish to be published in december, 1921. 25--frank merriwell's vacation by burt l. standish 26--frank merriwell's cruise by burt l. standish in order that there may be no confusion, we desire to say that the books listed above will be issued, during the respective months, in new york city and vicinity. they may not reach the readers at a distance promptly on account of delays in transportation. mary j. holmes charles garvice may agnes fleming mrs. georgie sheldon four authors enshrined in the heart of every reader of fiction in america. see the list of their works in the new eagle series. frank merriwell's alarm or, doing his best by burt l. standish author of the famous merriwell stories. street & smith corporation publishers 79-89 seventh avenue, new york copyright, 1903 by street & smith frank merriwell's alarm all rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the scandinavian. contents i--adrift in the desert ii--on to the mountains iii--the skeleton iv--"indians!" v--blue wolf tries the bicycle vi--trick riding vii--escape viii--the mystery explained ix--a night adventure x--the story xi--another escape xii--at lake tahoe xiii--a race on the lake xiv--the hermit's power xv--recovery xvi--lost underground xvii--brother and sister xviii--old friends xix--bart hodge makes a confession xx--frank becomes alarmed xxi--arrest and escape xxii--isa isban xxiii--a knock on the door xxiv--the sheriff's shot xxv--escape--conclusion frank merriwell's alarm. chapter i. adrift in the desert. once more the bicycle boys pushed on westward, and it must be said that in spite of all their perils they were in the best of spirits. the beautiful valley in utah was left behind, and some time later found them on the edge of the great american desert. water was not to be had, and they began to suffer greatly from thirst. the thirst at last became so great that nearly all were ready to drop from exhaustion. toots was much affected, and presently he let out a long wail of discouragement. "land of watermillions! mah froat am done parched so i ain't gwan teh be able teh whisper if we don' find some warter po'erful soon, chilluns! nebber struck nuffin' lek dis in all mah bawn days--no, sar!" "you're not the only one," groaned bruce. "what wouldn't i give for one little swallow of water!" "we must strike water soon, or we are done for," put in jack. toots began to sway in his saddle, and frank spurted to his side, grasping him by the arm, as he sharply said: "brace up! you mustn't give out now. the mountains are right ahead, and----" "lawd save us!" hoarsely gasped the darky. "dem dar mount'ns had been jes' as nigh fo' de las' two houah, marser frank. we don' git a bit nearer 'em--no, sar! dem mount'ns am a recepshun an' a delusum. we ain't nebber gwan teh git out ob dis desert--nebber! heah's where we's gwan teh lay ouah bones, marser frank!" "you are to blame for this, merriwell," came reproachfully from diamond. "you were the one to suggest that we should attempt to cross instead of going around to the north, and----" "say, diamond!" cried harry; "riv us a guest--i mean give us a rest! you were as eager as any of us to try to cross the desert, for you thought we'd have it to boast about when we returned to yale." "but we'll never return." "perhaps not; still i don't like to hear you piling all the blame onto merry." "he suggested it." "and you seconded the suggestion. we started out with a supply of water that we thought would last----" "we should have known better!" "perhaps so, but that is the fault of all of us, not any one person. you are getting to be a regular kicker of late." jack shot harry a savage look. "be careful!" he said. "i don't feel like standing too much! i am rather ugly just now." "that's right, and you have been the only one who has shown anything like ugliness at any time during the trip. you seem to want to put the blame of any mistake onto merry, while it is all of us----" "say, drop it!" commanded frank, sharply. "this is no time to quarrel. those mountain are close at hand, i am sure, and a last grim pull will take us to them. we will find water there, for you know we were told about the water holes in the desert range." "those water holes will not be easy to find." "i have full directions for finding them. after we get a square drink, we'll feel better, and there'll be no inclination to quarrel." "oh, water! water!" murmured browning; "how i'd like to let about a quart gurgle down past my adam's apple!" "um, um!" muttered rattleton, lifting one hand to his throat. "why do you suppose a fellow's larynx is called his adam's apple?" "nothing could be more appropriate," declared bruce, soberly, "for when adam ate the apple he got it in the neck." something like a cackling laugh came from harry's parched lips. diamond gave an exclamation of disgust. "this is a nice time to joke!" he grated, fiercely. "the matter with you," said rattleton, "is that you've not got over thinking of lona ayer, whom you were mashed on. you've been grouchy ever since you and merry came back from your wild expedition into the forbidden valley of bethsada. it's too bad, jack----" "shut up, will you! i've heard enough about that!" "drop it, harry," commanded frank, warningly. "you've worn it out. forget it." "great scott!" grunted browning. "i believe my bicycle is heavier than the dealer represented it to be." "think so?" asked rattleton. "sure." "then give it a weigh." browning's wheel gave a sudden wobble that nearly threw him off. "don't!" he gasped. "it's not original. you swiped it from the very same paper that had my adam's apple joke in it." "well, it was simply a case of retaliation." "i'd rather have a case of beer. oh, say!--a case of beer! i wouldn't do a thing to a case of beer--not a thing! oh, just to think of sitting in the old room at traeger's or morey's and drinking all the beer or ale a fellow could pour down his neck! it makes me faint!" "you should not permit yourself to think of such a thing as beer," said frank, jokingly. "you know beer will make you fat." "don't care; i'd drink it if it made me so fat i couldn't walk. i'd train down, you know. dumbbells, punchin' bag, and so forth." "speaking of the punching bag," said frank, "makes me think of a good thing on reggy stevens. you know stevens. he's near-sighted. goes in for athletics, and takes great delight in the fancy manner in which he can hammer the bag. well, he went down into the country to see his cousin last spring. some time during the winter his cousin had found a big hornets' nest in the woods, and had cut it down and taken it home. he hung it up in the garret. first day stevens was there he wandered up into the garret and saw the hornets' nest hanging in the dim light. 'ho!' said reggy. 'didn't know cousin had a punching bag. glad i found it. i'll toy with it a little.' then he threw off his coat and made a rush at that innocent looking ball. with his first blow he drove his fist clean through the nest. 'holy smoke!' gasped reggy; 'what have i struck?' then the hornets came pouring out, for the nest was not a deserted one. they saw reggy--and went him several better. say, fellows, they didn't do a thing to poor reggy! about five hundred made for him, and it seemed to reggy that at least four hundred and ninety-nine of them got him. his howls started shingles off the roof of that old house and knocked several bricks out of the chimney. he fell down the stairs, and went plunging through the house, with a string of hornets trailing after him, like a comet's tail. the hornets did not confine themselves strictly to reggy; some of them sifted off and got in their work on reggy's cousin, aunt, uncle, the kitchen girl, the hired man, and one of them made for the dog. the dog thought that hornet was a fly, and snapped at it. one second later that dog joined in the general riot, and the way he swore and yelled fire in dog language was something frightful to hear. reggy didn't stop till he got outside and plunged his head into the old-fashioned watering trough, where he held it under the surface till he was nearly drowned. the whole family was a sight. and reggy--well, he's had the swelled head ever since." rattleton laughed and bruce managed to smile, while toots gave a cracked "yah, yah!" but diamond failed to show that he appreciated the story in the least. however, it soon became evident that the spirits of the lads had been lightened somewhat, and they pedaled onward straight for the grim mountains which had seemed so near for the last two hours. the sun poured its stifling heat down on the great desert, where nothing save an occasional clump of sage brush could be seen. heat shimmered in the air, and it was not strange that the young cyclists were disheartened and ready to give up in despair. suddenly a cry came from diamond. "look!" he shouted. "look to the south! why haven't we seen it before? we're blind. water, water!" they looked, and, at a distance of less than a mile it seemed they could see a beautiful lake of water, with trees on the distant shore. the reflection of the trees showed in the mirror-like surface of the blue lake. "come on!" hoarsely cried jack, as he turned his wheel southward. "i'll be into that water up to my neck in less than ten minutes!" "stop!" shouted merriwell. jack did not seem to hear. if he heard, he did not heed the command. he was bending far over the handlebars and using all his energy to send his wheel spinning toward the beautiful lake. "i must stop him!" cried frank. "it is a race for life!" frank forgot that a short time before jack diamond had accused him of leading them all to their doom by inducing them to attempt to cross the barren waste--he forgot everything save that his comrade was in danger. no, he did not forget everything. he knew what that race meant. it might exhaust them both and render them unable to ride their wheels over the few remaining miles of barren desert between them and the mountain range. when diamond learned the dreadful, heart-sickening truth about that beautiful lake of water it might rob his heart of courage and hope so that he would drop in despair and give himself up to death in the desert. frank would save him--he must save him! he felt a personal responsibility for the lives of every one of the party, and he had resolved that all should return to new haven in safety. "stop, jack!" he shouted again. but the sight of that beautiful lake had made diamond mad with a longing to plunge into the water, to splash in it, to drink his fill till not another swallow could he force down his throat. madly he sent his wheel flying over the sandy plain, panting, gasping, furious to reach the lake. how beautiful the water looked! how cool and inviting was the shade of the trees on the other shore! oh, he would go around there and rest beneath those trees. frank bent forward over the handlebars, muttering: "ride now as you never rode before!" the wheel seemed to leap away like a thing of life--it flew as if it possessed wings. but frank did not gain as swiftly as he desired, for diamond, also, was using all his energy to send his bicycle along. "faster! faster!" panted frank. faster and faster he flew along. the hot breath of the desert beat on his face as if it came rushing from the mouth of a furnace. it seemed to scorch him. fine particles of sand whipped up and stung his flesh. he heard a strange laugh--a wild laugh. "heaven pity him!" thought frank, knowing that laugh came from jack's lips. "the sight of that ghostly lake has nearly turned his brain with joy. i fear he will go mad, indeed, when he knows the truth." on sped pursued and pursuer, and the latter was still gaining. frank merriwell had engaged in many contests of skill and endurance, but never in one where more was at stake. his success in overtaking his friend meant the saving of a human life--perhaps two lives. now he was gaining swiftly, and something like a prayer of thankfulness came from his lips. once more he cried out to the lad in advance, but it seemed that diamond's ears were dumb, for he made no sound that told he heard. one last spurt--frank felt that it must bring him to diamond's side. he gathered himself, his feet clinging to the flying pedals as if fastened there. a slip, a fall, a miscalculation might mean utter failure, and failure might mean death for diamond. now frank was close behind his friend. he could hear the whirring sound of the spokes of diamond's wheel cutting the air, and he could hear the hoarse, panting breathing of his friend. a steady hand guided merriwell's wheel alongside that of his friend; a steady and a strong hand fell on the shoulder of the lad who had been crazed by the alluring vision of the lake in the desert. "stop, jack!" diamond turned toward his friend a face from which a pair of glaring eyes looked out. his lips curled back from his white teeth, and he snarled: "hands off! don't try to hold me back! can't you see it, you fool! the lake--the lake!" "there is no lake!" "yes, there is! you are blind! see it!" "stop, jack! i tell you there is no lake!" frank tried to check his friend, but diamond made a swinging blow at him, which merriwell managed to stop. "wait--listen a moment!" entreated frank. but the belief that a lake of water lay a short distance away had completely driven anything like reason from diamond's head. "hands off!" he shouted. "if you try to stop me you'll be sorry!" frank saw he must resort to desperate measures. he secured a firm grip on the shoulder of the young virginian, and, a moment later, gave a surge that caused them both to fall from their wheels. over and over they rolled, and then lay in a limp heap on the desert, where the earth was hot and baked and the sun beat down with a fierce parching heat. diamond was the first to stir, and he tried to scramble up, his one thought being to mount his wheel again and ride onward toward the shimmering lure. frank seemed to realize this, for he caught at his friend, grasped him and held him fast. then there was a furious struggle there on the desert, diamond making a mad effort to break away, but being held by frank, who would not let him go. the eyes of both lads glared and their teeth were set. frank tried to force diamond down and hold him, but jack had the strength of an insane person, and, time after time, he flung his would-be benefactor off. the eyes of the young virginian were red and bloodshot, while his lips were cracked and bleeding. his cap was gone, and his straight dark hair fell in a tousled mass over his forehead. occasionally muttered words came from diamond's lips, but the other was silent, seeming to realize that he must conquer the mad fellow by sheer strength alone. so they fought on, their efforts growing weaker and weaker, gasping for breath. seeing that fierce struggle, no one could have imagined they were anything but the most deadly enemies, battling for their very lives. at last, after some minutes, diamond's fictitious strength suddenly gave out, and then frank handled and held him with ease. merriwell pinned jack down and held him there, while both remained motionless, gasping for breath and seeking to recover from their frightful exertions. "you fool!" whispered the virginian, bitterly. "what are you trying to do?" "trying to save your life, but you have given me a merry hustle for it," answered frank. "save my life! bah! why have you stopped me when we were so near the lake." "there is no lake." "are you blind? all of us could see the lake! it is near--very near!" "i tell you, jack, there is no lake." "you lie!" "you have been crazed by what you fancied was water. some time you will ask my pardon for your words." "you will ask my pardon for stopping me in this manner, frank merriwell! you did it because i was the first to discover the lake! you were jealous! you did not wish me to reach it first! i know you! you want to be the leader in everything." "if you were not half crazy now, you would not utter such words, jack." "oh, i know you--i know!" then diamond's tone and manner suddenly changed and he began to beg: "please let me up, merry--please do! oh, merciful heaven! i am perishing for a swallow of water! and it is so near! there is water enough for ten thousand men! and such beautiful trees, where the shadows are so cool--where this accursed sun can't pour down on one's head! please let me up, frank! i'll do anything for you if you'll only let me go to that lake!" "jack, dear old fellow, i am telling you the truth when i say there is no lake. there could be no lake here in this burning desert. it is an impossibility. if there were such a lake, the ones i asked about the water-holes would have told me." "they did not know. i have seen it, and i know it is there." frank allowed his friend to sit up. "look, jack," he said; "where is your lake?" jack looked away to the south, the east, the north, and then toward the west, where lay the mountains. there was no lake in sight. chapter ii. on to the mountains. "where--where has it gone?" slowly and painfully asked diamond. "i am sure i saw it--sure! the lake, the trees, all gone!" "i told you there was no lake." "then--then it must have been a mirage!" "that is exactly what it was." with a deep groan of despair diamond fell back limply on the sand, as if the last bit of strength and hope had gone from him. "this ends it!" he gasped. "what's the use of struggling any more! we may as well give up right here and die!" "not much!" cried merriwell, with attempted cheerfulness. "that is why i ran you down and dragged you from your wheel." "what do you mean?" "i knew the mirage might lure you on and on into the desert, seeming to flee before you, till at last it would vanish in a mocking manner, and you, utterly exhausted and spirit-broken, would lie down and die without another effort." jack was silent a few moments. "and you did all this for me?" he finally asked. "you pursued and pulled me from my wheel to--to save me?" "yes." another brief silence. "frank." "well, jack?" "i was mad." "you looked it." "my thirst--the sight of what i took to be water--the shadows of the trees! ah, yes, i was mad, frank!" "well, it's all over now." "yes, it is all over. the jig's up!" "nonsense! get a brace on, old man. we must get to the mountains. it is our only chance, jack." "the mountains! i shall never reach the mountains, frank. i am done for--played out!" "that's all rot, old fellow! you are no more played out than i am. we are both pretty well used up, but we'll pull through to the mountains and get a drink of water." "you never give up." "well, i try never to give up." "frank, i want you to forgive me for what i said before we saw the mirage. you know i was making a kick." "oh, never mind that! it's all right, jack." "i want you to say you forgive me." "that's dead easy. of course i forgive you. think i'm a stiff to hold a grudge over a little matter like that?" diamond looked his admiration from his bloodshot eyes. "you're all right, merry," he hoarsely declared. "you always were all right. i knew it all along. sometimes i get nasty, for i have a jealous nature, although i try to hold it in check. i never did try to hold myself in check in any way till i knew you and saw how you controlled your tastes and passions. that was a revelation to me, merry. you know i hated you at first, but i came to admire you, despite myself. i have admired you ever since. sometimes the worst side of my nature will crop out, but i always know i am wrong. forgive me for striking you." "there, there, old chap! why are you thinking of such silly things? you are talking as if you had done me a deadly wrong, and this was your last chance to square yourself." "it is my last chance--i am sure of that. i am played out, and i can't drive that wheel farther. it's no use--i throw up the sponge right here." a look of determination came to frank's face. "you shall not do anything of the kind!" he cried. "i won't have it, jack!" diamond did not reply, but lay limp on the ground. frank put a firm hand on his shoulder, saying: "come, jack, make a bluff at it." "no use!" "i tell you it is! come on. we can reach the mountains within an hour." "the mountains!" came huskily from diamond's lips. "god knows if there are any mountains! they, too, may be a mirage!" "no! no!" "think--think how long we have been riding toward them and still they seemed to remain as far away as they were hours ago." "that is one of the peculiar effects of the air out here." "i do not believe any of us will reach the mountains. and if we should, we might not find water. those mountains look baked and barren." "remember, i was told how to find water there." but this did not give the disheartened boy courage. "i know you were told, but the man who told you said that at times that water failed. it's no use, frank, the game is not worth the candle." then it was that merriwell began to grow angry. "i am ashamed of you, diamond!" he harshly cried. "i did think you were built of better stuff! where is your backbone! come, man, you must make another try!" "must?" came rather defiantly from jack. "i'll not be forced to do it!" "yes, you will!" the virginian looked at frank in astonishment. "what do you mean?" he asked. "i mean that you will brace up and attempt to reach the mountains with the rest of us, or i'll give you the blamedest licking you ever had--and there won't be any apologies afterward, either!" that aroused jack somewhat. "you--you wouldn't do that--now?" he faltered. "wouldn't i?" cried frank, seeming to make preparations to carry out his threat. "well, you'll see!" "but--but----" "there are no buts about it! either you get up and make one more struggle, or i'll have the satisfaction of knowing you are not in condition to make a struggle when i leave you. this is business, and it's straight from the shoulder!" diamond remonstrated weakly, but frank seemed in sober earnest. "i believe it would do you good," he declared. "it would beat a little sense into you. it's what you want, anyway." a sense of shame came over jack. "if you've got enough energy to give me a licking, i ought to have enough to make another try for life," he huskily said. "of course you have." "well, i'll do it. it isn't because i fear the licking, for that wouldn't make any difference now, but i can make another try for it, if you can." frank dragged the other boy to his feet, and then picked up their fallen wheels. jack was so weak that he could scarcely stand, seeming to have been quite exhausted by his last furious struggle with the boy who had raced across the desert sands to save his life. twice frank caught him and kept him from falling. "what's the use?" diamond hoarsely whispered. "i tell you i can't keep in the saddle!" "and i tell you that you must! there are the other fellows, coming this way. i will signal them to ride toward the mountains, and we will join them." frank made the signal, and the others understood, for they soon turned toward the mountains again. then merriwell aided jack in mounting and getting started, mounting himself after that, and hurrying after the virginian, whose wheel was making a very crooked track across the sand. when it was necessary frank supported jack with a hand on the arm of the dark-faced lad, speaking encouraging words into his ear, urging him on. and thus they rode toward the barren-looking desert range, where they must find water or death. they came to the mountains at last, when the burning sun was hanging a ball of fire in the western sky. from a distance merriwell had singled out split peak, which had served as his guide. at the foot of split peak were two water-holes, one on the east and one on the south. first frank sought for the eastern water-hole, and he found it. but it was dry! dry, save for the slightest indication of moisture in the sand at the bottom of the hole. "i told you so!" gasped diamond, as he fell to the ground in hopeless exhaustion. "there is no water here." "wait," said frank, hoarsely. "we'll see if we can find some. come, boys; we must scoop out the sand down there in the hole--we must dig for our lives." "by golly!" said toots; "dis nigger's reddy teh dig a well fo'ty foot deep, if he can fine about fo' swallers ob wattah." "a well!" muttered rattleton. "we'll sink a shaft here!" "well, i don't know!" murmured browning. so they went to work, two of them digging at a time, and, with their hands, they scooped out the sand down in the water-hole. as they worked a little dirty water began to trickle into the hole. "yum! yum!" muttered toots, his eyes shining. "nebber saw muddy wattah look so good befo'! i done fink i can drink 'bout a barrel ob dat stuff!" they worked until quite exhausted, and then waited impatiently for the water to run into the hole. it rose with disheartening slowness, but rise it did. when he could do so, frank dipped up some of the water with his drinking cup and gave it to jack first of all. diamond's hands shook so with eagerness that he nearly spilled the water, and he greedily turned it down his parched throat at a gulp. "merciful goodness! how sweet!" he gasped. "more, frank--more!" "wait a bit, my boy. you have had the first drink from this hole. the others must take their turn now. when it comes around to you again, you shall have more." "but there may not be enough to go around!" jack almost snarled. "what good do you think a little like that can do a fellow who is dying of thirst? i must have more--now!" "well, you can't have another drop till the others have taken their turn--not a taste!" when frank spoke like that he meant what he said, and jack knew it. but the little water he had received had maddened diamond almost as much as had the mirage. as frank turned toward the water-hole, jack started to spring upon him, crying: "we'll see!" "hold on!" said browning, as one of his hands went out and grasped diamond. "i wouldn't do that. you are excited. i reckon i'll have to sit on you, while you cool off." then the big fellow took jack down, and actually sat on him, while the virginian raved like a maniac. "poor fellow!" said frank, pityingly. "he has almost lost his reason by what he has passed through." one by one the others received some of the water, and then it came jack's turn once more. by this time he was silent, but there was a sullen light in his eyes. when frank passed him the water in the drinking cup he shook his head, and refused to take it. "no!" he muttered. "i won't have it! drink it all up! you don't care anything about me! let me die!" "well, hang a fool!" snorted browning, in great disgust. "say, jes' yo' pass dat wattah heah, marser frank, an' see if dis coon'll refuse teh let it percolate down his froat!" "yes, give it to toots!" grated diamond. "you think more of him than you do of me, anyway! give it to him!" "don't chool with that fump--i mean don't fool with that chump!" snapped rattleton. "let him have his own way! he's got a bug in his head; that's what ails him." "let him alone, bruce," said frank, quietly. "i want to talk to him." "he struck at you behind your back." "never mind; he won't do so again." "oh, you don't know!" muttered diamond. "yes, i do," declared frank, with confidence. "never mind us, fellows. i want a little quiet talk with jack." they understood him, and the two lads were left alone. chapter iii. the skeleton. frank began talking to diamond in a smooth, pleasant way, appealing to his sense of justice. at first jack turned away, as if he did not care to listen, but he heard every word, and he was affected. "you are not yourself, old fellow," said frank, softly, placing his hand gently on diamond's shoulder. "if you were yourself you would not be like this. it is the burning desert, the blazing sun, the frightful thirst--these have made you unlike yourself. i don't mind anything you have said about me, jack, for i know you are my friend, and you would not think of saying such things under ordinary circumstances. a little while ago, away out on the desert, you told me that much. it was then that reason came back to you for a little while. knowing how you have suffered, i gave you the first drink from this water-hole. the water ran in slowly, and i did not know that there would be enough to go around twice. you were not the only one who had suffered from thirst, but the others made no objection to your having the first drink--they wanted you to have it. but it was necessary that they should have some of the water, so that all of us would be in condition to search for the other water-hole. surely, old fellow, you see the common sense of this. and now, jack, look--the water has cleared, and more is running into the hole. it will quench your thirst, and you will be yourself again. you are my friend, and i am yours. we stand ready to fight for each other at any time. if one of my enemies were to try to get at me behind my back, why, you would----" "strangle the infernal cur!" shouted diamond. "give me that water, frank! you are all right, and i'm all wrong! just let me have a chance to fight for you, and see if i don't fight as long as there is a drop of blood in my body!" merriwell had conquered, but he showed no sign of triumph, although he quietly said: "i knew all the while, dear old fellow; in fact, i believe i know you better than you know yourself." then, when the others came up, ready to jolly diamond about refusing to drink, frank checked them with a gesture. jack felt better when he had taken a second drink of water. as water had risen in the hole, all the boys were able to get another round, and the spirits of all of them were raised. "i believe we have some hard bread and jerked beef, haven't we, merry?" asked browning. "yes." "well, we are all right, then. can't knock us out now. all i need is a good chance to rest." "oh, you need rest!" nodded rattleton. "you always need that. you can take more rest and not complain than any fellow i ever saw." "young man," said bruce, loftily, "it won't work. i refuse to let you get me on a string, so drop it." "you'll be lucky if you get out of this part of the country without getting on a string with the other end hitched to the limb of a tree." "that reminds me," drawled bruce; "at the last town where we stopped i asked a citizen if there were any horse thieves in that locality, and he said there were two of 'em hanging around there the night before." "yes," nodded harry, "that was the place where they said they were going to stop lynching if they had to hang every durned lyncher they could catch." "boys," laughed merriwell, "we are all right. when you chaps get to springing those things i feel there is no further danger. we'll pull out all right." "suttinly, sar," grinned toots. "i's gwan teh bet mah money on dis crowd ebry time, chilluns. we's hot stuff, an' dar ain't nuffin' gwan teh stop us dis side ob san francisco--no, sar!" finally, refreshed and filled with new hope, the boys mounted their wheels and started to seek for the second water-hole. frank led the way, and they turned to the south, riding along the base of some barren cliffs. "are you sure we'll be able to find our way back to the water-hole we have left if we fail to discover the other one?" asked rattleton. "i am taking note of everything, and i do not think there will be any difficulty," answered frank. they had proceeded in this manner for about two miles when they saw before them a place where the barren cliffs opened into a pass that seemed to lead into the mountains. "there is our road!" cried merriwell, cheerfully. "it should lead us straight to the second water-hole." "yah! yah!" laughed toots. "cayarn't fool dat boy, chilluns! he knows his business, yo' bet! won't s'prise me a bit if he teks us stret to a resyvoyer--no, sar!" they made for the pass, and, in a burst of energy, the colored boy spurted to the front, taking the lead. of a sudden, as they approached a point where the bluffs narrowed till they were close together, the negro gave a sudden wild howl of terror, tried to turn his wheel about and went plunging headlong to the ground. "wow!" gasped rattleton. "what's struck him?" "something is the matter with him, sure as fate," said frank. toots was seen to sit up and stare toward the wall of stone, while it was plain that he was shaking as if struck by an attack of ague. then he tried to scramble up, but fell on his knees, with his hands clasped and uplifted in a supplicating attitude, while he wildly cried: "go 'way, dar, good mr. debbil! i ain't done nuffin' teh yo'! please don' touch me! i's nuffin' but a po' good-fo'-nuffin' nigger, an' i ain't wuff bodderin' wif--no, sar! dar am some white boys wif me, an' i guess yo'll lek them a heap sight better. jes' yo' tek one of them, good mr. debbil!" "has he gone daffy, too?" muttered frank, in astonishment. then the boys came whirling up and sprang from their wheels, at which toots made a scramble for frank, caught hold of his knees, and chatteringly cried: "don' yeh let him kerry me off, marser frank! i knows yo' ain't afeared of nuffin', so i wants yeh ter protect po' toots from de debbil wif de fiery eyes!" but frank was so astonished that he scarcely heard a word the colored boy uttered. seated on a block of stone in a niche of the wall was a human skeleton. it was sitting bolt upright and seemed to be staring at the boys with eyes that flashed a hundred shades of light. "poly hoker--no, holy poker!" palpitated harry, leaning hard on his wheel. "what have we struck?" for a time the others were speechless. wonderfully and fantastically was the skeleton decorated. on its head was a rude crown that seemed to be of glittering gold, while gold bracelets adorned its arms. about the fleshless neck was a chain of gold, to which a large locket was attached, and across the ribs was strung a gold watch-chain, while there were other fantastic and costly ornaments dangling over those bones of a human being. the eyes of the skeleton, flashing so many different lights, seemed to be two huge diamonds of enormous value. no wonder the young cyclists stared in astonishment at the marvelously bejeweled skeleton! "well," drawled browning, with his usual nonchalance, "the gentleman seems to have dressed up in his best to receive us. some one must have sent him word we were coming." toots, seeing the others did not seem frightened, had got on his feet and picked up his bicycle. "goodness!" muttered diamond. "if all those decorations are solid gold, there is a small fortune in sight!" "what is the meaning of this, frank?" asked rattleton. "how do you suppose this skeleton happens to be here?" "ask me something easy," said merriwell, shaking his head. "the skeleton must have been decorated in that manner by some living person," asserted rattleton. "but where is that person?" "not here, that is sure." "it may be a warning," said jack, gloomily. "warning, nothing!" exclaimed frank. "it is plain the thing has been left there by some person, and we are the discoverers. it must be that the skeleton is that of some poor devil who perished here for want of water." "and it may be that the one who placed it there perished also," said rattleton. "very likely." "in which case," came eagerly from jack's lips, "all that treasure belongs to us! boys, it is a wonderful stroke of fortune! we have made enough to take the whole of us through yale, and----" "if we ever get back to yale, old fellow! this unfortunate fellow perished here, and our fate may be similar." "boo!" shivered browning. "that's pleasant to think about!" "more than that," frank went on, "the treasure does not belong to us if we can find the real owner or his heirs." the excitement and interest of the boys was great. they were eager to examine the decorations of the mysterious skeleton. "we'll stack our wheels, and then one of us can climb up and make an inspection," said frank. so they proceeded to stack their wheels, toots observing: "yo' can fool wif dat skillerton if yo' wants to, chilluns, but dis nigger's gwan teh keep right away from it. bet fo' dollars it will jest reach out dem arms and grab de firs' one dat gits near it. wo-oh! land ob wartermillions! it meks me have de fevah an' chillins jes' to fink ob it!" "we'll draw lots to see who goes up," said frank, winking at the others. "you will have to go if it falls to you, toots." "oh, mah goodness!" gasped the frightened darky. "i ain't gwan teh draw no lots, marser frank--no, sar! i's got a po'erful bad case ob heart trouble, an' mah doctah hab reckermended dat i don't fool roun' no skillertons. he said it might result distrus if i boddered wif skillertons." "what's that?" cried frank, sternly. "would you drink your share of water when water is so precious and not take even chances with the rest of us in any danger?" "now, marser frank!" cried the darky, appealingly; "don' go fo' to be too hard on a po' nigger! de trubble wif me is dat i'm jes' a nacheral bo'n coward, an' i can't git over hit nohow. dat's what meks mah heart turn flip-flops ebry time dar's any dangar, sar." "but think of the treasure up there that we have found. if it should fall to you to investigate, and you were to bring down that treasure, of course you would receive your share, the same as the rest of us." "lawd bress yeh, honey! i don' want no treasure if i've goter go an' fotch hit down. i'd a heap sight rudder nebber hab no treasure dan git wifin reachin' distance of dat skillerton--yes, sar!" "don't fool with him, merry," said diamond, impatiently. "of course you don't expect to send him up, and you won't think of giving him any part of the treasure." frank flashed a look at the virginian, and saw that jack was in earnest. "you are mistaken, old man," he said. "i do not expect toots to go up there, but, if there is a real treasure and it is divided, you may be sure he will receive his share." "oh, well!" cried jack, somewhat taken aback; "of course i don't care what you do about that, but i thought you were in earnest about what you were saying." "the trouble with you," muttered rattleton, speaking so low that jack could not hear him, "is that you never see through a joke." "come," spoke browning, "if we've got to take chances to see who goes up and makes the examination, come on. i hope to get out of it myself, but if i must, i must." "we need not take chances," said frank, promptly. "i will go." "it will not be difficult, for it is no climb at all," said jack. "two of us can swing ourselves up there in a moment, and i will go with you, merry." then it was that rattleton suddenly gave a great cry of stupefied amazement. "what's the matter?" asked merriwell. "look! look!" gasped harry, pointing toward the niche in the rocks. "the skeleton--it has disappeared!" they looked, and, dumb for the time with amazement and dismay, they saw rattleton spoke the truth. the mysterious skeleton had vanished! chapter iv. "indians!" "gone!" cried jack. "sure!" nodded frank. "lordy massy sakes teh goose-grease!" gasped toots, again shivering with terror. "didn't i done tole yeh, chilluns! if yo' know when yo' am well off, yeh'll git erway from heah jes' as quick as yeh can trabbel! oh, mah goodness!" shaking in every limb, the colored boy tried to get his bicycle out from the others, lost his balance, fell over, and sent the entire stack of wheels crashing to the ground. "well, this seems to be a regular sleight-of-hand performance," coolly commented browning. "now you see it, and now you don't; guess where it's gone. it drives me to a cigarette." but he discovered that his cigarettes were gone, which seemed to concern him far more than the vanishing of the skeleton. he declared he had lost a whole package, and seemed to feel quite as bad about it as if they were solid gold. rattleton was excited. "what sort of pocus-hocus--no, hocus-pocus is this, anyway?" he spluttered. "where's it gone? who wayed the old thing a took. i mean who took the old thing away?" "it couldn't have gone away of its own accord," said frank, "so some one must have removed it." "don' yeh fool yo'se'f dat way, marser frank!" cried toots, sitting up amid the fallen wheels. "dat skillerton am de berry ol' scratch hisse'f! de next thing some ob dis crowd will be disumpearin' dat way. gwan ter git kerried off, chilluns, if yo' don' git out ob dis in a hurry." "oh, shut up!" snapped diamond. "you make me tired with your chatter!" "mistah dimund," said the colored boy, with attempted dignity, "if yo'll let dat debbil kerry yo' off yo'll nebber be missed--no, sar." jack pretended he did not hear those words. "here goes to see what has become of the thing!" cried frank, as he scrambled up to the niche where the skeleton had sat. "i am with you!" cried diamond, as he followed frank closely. reaching the nook in the face of the cliff, they looked about for some sign of the skeleton that had been there a short time before, but not a sign of it could they see. the ghastly thing was gone, and the glittering ornaments had vanished with it. the block of stone on which the object had sat was still there. "well, fat do you whind--i mean what do you find?" cried rattleton, impatiently. "not a thing," was the disgusted reply. "it has gone, sure as fate!" "so have my cigarettes!" groaned browning. "the treasure--is any of that there?" asked harry, eagerly. "not a bit of it." "well, that's what i call an unfair deal," murmured bruce. "it is a blow below the belt. if the old skeleton had desired to go away, none of us would have objected, but it might have left the trimmings with which it was adorned." frank was puzzled, and the more he investigated the greater grew his wonder. he knew they had seen the skeleton, yet it had vanished like fog before a blazing sun. jack shrugged his shoulders and shivered, saying: "there's something uncanny about it, old man. i believe it is a warning." "nonsense!" cried frank. "what sort of a warning?" "a warning of the fate that awaits all of us." "you are not well, jack." "oh, it is not that! first we see a lake of water, and that disappears; then we see this skeleton, and now that has vanished. you must confess that there is something remarkable in it all." "the vanishing of the mirage came about in a natural manner, but----" "but you must confess there was something decidedly unnatural about the vanishing of the skeleton." "it was removed by human hands--i will wager anything on that." "then where is the human being who removed it?" "i don't know." unable to remain below, rattleton came climbing up to the niche. "i've got to satisfy myself," he said, as he felt about with his hands, as if he expected to discover the vanished skeleton in that manner. "i can't see how the blamed old thing could get away!" "well, you can see quite as well as we can," acknowledged frank. "it is gone, and that is all we can tell about it." the boys satisfied themselves that the thing had really disappeared, and they could not begin to solve the mystery. after a time they returned to the ground. "it am de debbil's work!" asserted toots. "don' yeh mek no misteks 'bout dat, chilluns." they held a "council of war," and it was resolved that they should go on through the pass and try to find the second water-hole before darkness fell. already night was close at hand, and they must needs lose no time. "we can come back here in the morning and see if we're able to solve the mystery," said merriwell. "i, for one, do not feel like going away without making another attempt at it." "nor i," nodded rattleton. "it is folly," declared jack, gloomily. "i say we have been warned, and the best thing we can do is get away as soon as possible." "by golly! dat am de firs' sensibul fing i've heard yo' say in fo' days!" cried toots, approvingly. they picked up their wheels, and soon were ready to mount. "here's good-by to the vanishing skeleton for to-night," cried frank. he was answered by a wild peal of mocking laughter that seemed to run along the face of the cliff in a most remarkable manner. "ha! ha! ha!" it sounded, hoarsely, and "ha! ha! ha!" came down from the rocks, like a mystic echo. "o-oh, lordy!" toots made a jump for the saddle of his bicycle, but jumped too far and went clean over the wheel, striking his knee and turning in the air, to fall with a thump on the back of his neck. "mah goodness!" he gurgled, as he lay on the ground, dazed by the shock of the fall. "de ol' debbil done gib meh a boost then fo' suah!" the other lads looked at each other in perplexity. "well, wh-wh-what do you think of that?" stammered rattleton. "he ought to file his voice, whoever he is," coolly observed browning. "it's a little rough along the edges." "it strikes me that somebody is having fun with us," said merriwell, a look of displeasure on his face. "what are you going to do about it?" asked harry. "we don't seem able to do much of anything now. come on." toots scrambled up, and they mounted their wheels. as they started to ride away, a hollow-sounding voice cried: "stop!" "oh, riv us a guest--i mean give us a rest!" flung back rattleton. "stop!" repeated the mysterious voice. "do not try the pass. there is danger beyond. turn back." "i told you it was a warning!" cried jack. "what do you think of it now?" "i think somebody is trying to have a lot of sport with us!" exclaimed frank. "well, what are you going to do?" "not a thing. i don't propose to pay any attention to it, come on, fellows. we must have more water, and there's none too much time to find it before dark." diamond was tempted to declare he would not go any further, but he knew the others would stand by frank, and so he pedaled along. as they drew away from the spot where they had seen the skeleton, they heard the mysterious voice calling to them again, commanding them to stop and turn back. thus it continued till they had ridden on so that it could be heard no longer. despite himself frank had been impressed by what he had seen and heard, and a feeling of awe was on him. ahead the shadows were thick where the dark cliffs seemed to come together, and there was something grim and overpowering about the bare and towering mountains that sullenly frowned down upon the little party. the boys were silent, for they had no words to speak. each was busy with his thoughts, and those thoughts were not of the most pleasant character. a feeling of heart-sickening loneliness settled down upon them and made them long for the homes that were so far away. what satisfaction was there, after all, in this great ride across the continent? they had encountered innumerable perils, and now it seemed that they were overshadowed by the greatest peril of all. how still it was! the mountains seemed like crouching monsters of the great desert, waiting there to spring upon and crush them out of existence. there was something fearsome and frightful in their grim air of waiting. the whirring of the wheels was a warning whisper, or the deadly hiss of a serpent. as they passed between the frowning bluffs, which rose on either hand, the whirring sound seemed to become louder and louder till it was absolutely awesome. frank looked back, and of all the party bruce browning was the only one whose face remained stolid and impassive. it did not seem that he had been affected in the least by what had happened. "he has wonderful nerve!" thought merriwell. diamond's dark face seemed pale, and there was an anxious look on the face of rattleton. toots betrayed his excitement and fear most distinctly. frank feared they would not get through the pass in time to find the second water-hole, and he increased his speed. the ground was favorable for swift riding. at that time merriwell thought it fortunate, but, later, he changed his mind. of a sudden the pass between the bluffs ended, and they shot out into a valley or basin. a cry of astonishment and alarm came from frank's lips, and he used all his energy to check and turn his flying wheel. before them blazed a fire, and around that fire were gathered---"indians!" palpitated harry rattleton. chapter v. blue wolf tries the bicycle. "indians!" echoed jack diamond. "indians?" grunted bruce browning, astonished. "o-oh, lordy!" gasped toots. "dis am whar a nigger boy i know is gwan teh lose his scalp fo' suah!" "turn!" commanded frank--"turn to the left, and we'll make a run to get back through the pass." but they were seen, and the redskins about the fire sprang to their feet with loud whoops. at the first whoop toots gave a howl and threw up both hands. "don' yo' shoot, good mistar injunses!" he shouted. "i's jes' a common brack nigger, an' i ain't no 'count nohow. mah scalp wouldn' be no good teh yo' arter----" then he took a header off his wobbling machine and fell directly before jack, whose bicycle struck his body, and diamond was hurled to the ground. "stop, fellows!" cried merriwell. "we mustn't run away and leave them! come back here!" from his wheel he leaped to the ground in a moment, running to diamond's side. grasping jack by the arm he exclaimed: "up, old fellow--up and onto your wheel! we may be able to get away now! we'll make a bluff for it." but it was useless, for jack was so stunned that he could not get on his feet, though he tried to do so. toots was stretched at full length on the ground, praying and begging the "good injunses" not to bother with his scalp, saying the hair was so crooked that it was "no good nohow." up came the redskins on a run and surrounded the boys, bruce and harry having turned back. browning assumed a defensive attitude, muttering: "well, if we're in for a scrap, i'll try to get a crack at one or two of these homely mugs before i'm polished off." there were seven of the indians, and nearly all of them carried weapons in their hands. although they were not in war paint, they were a decidedly ugly-looking gang, and their savage little eyes denoted anything but friendliness. "ugh!" grunted the tallest indian of the party, an old fellow with a scarred and wrinkled face. "ugh! ugh! ugh!" grunted the others. then they stared at the boys and their bicycles, the latter seeming a great curiosity to them. "well, this is a scrolly old jape--i mean a jolly old scrape!" fluttered rattleton. "we're in for it!" toots looked up, saw the indians, uttered another wild howl, and tried to bury his head in the sand, like an ostrich. frank singled out the tall indian and spoke to him. "how do you do?" he said. "how," returned the indian, with dignity. "unfortunately we did not know you were here, or we should not have called," explained merriwell. the savage nodded; the single black feather in his hair fluttering like a pennant as he did so. "um know," he said. "um see white boy heap much surprised." "jee! he can talk united states!" muttered rattleton. "talk it!" said bruce, in disgust. "he can chew it, that's all." "i trust we have not disturbed you," said frank, calmly; "and we will leave you in your glory as soon as my friend, who fell from his wheel, is able to mount and ride." "no, no!" quickly declared the tall indian; "white boy no go 'way. injun like um heap much." browning lifted his cap and felt for his scalp. "it may be my last opportunity to examine it," he murmured. "but we are in a hurry, and we can't stop with you, however much we may desire to do so," declared frank, glibly. "you see we are on urgent business." "yes, very urgent," agreed rattleton. "smoly hoke--no, holy smoke! don't i wish i were back to new haven, new york, any old place!" "white boys must stop," said the big savage. "black feather say so, that settle um." "i am afraid it does," confessed browning. diamond got upon his feet, assisted by frank. "well," he said, somewhat bitterly, "that is what we have come to by failing to heed the warning we received!" "don't go to croaking!" snapped rattleton. "these indians are peaceable. they are not on the war path." "but they are off the reservation," said frank, in a low tone; "and that is bad. they have us foul, and there is no telling what they may take a notion to do." "it's pretty sure they'll take a notion to do us," sighed harry. the tall indian, who had given his name as black feather, professed great friendliness, and, when the boys told him they had been looking for the water-hole, he said: "um water-hole dare by fire. good water, heap much of it. come, have all water um want." "well, that is an inducement," confessed browning. "we may be able to get a square drink before we are scalped." it was with no small difficulty that toots was forced to get up, and, after he was on his feet, he would look at first one indian and then dodge, and look at another, each time gurgling: "o-oh, lord!" and so, surrounded by the indians, the boys moved over to the fire, which was near the water-hole, as black feather had declared. "well, we'll all drink," said frank, as he produced his pocket cup and proceeded to fill it. "here, fellows, take turns." while they were doing so the indians were examining their bicycles with great curiosity. it was plain the savages had never before seen anything of the kind, and they were filled with astonishment and mystification. they grunted and jabbered, and then one of them decided to get on and try one of the wheels. it happened that this one was the smallest, shortest-legged redskin of the lot, and he selected the machine with the highest frame. "ugh!" he grunted. "white boy ride two-wheel hoss, injun him ride two-wheel hoss heap same. watch blue wolf." "yes," said browning, softly, nudging merriwell in the ribs with his elbow, "watch blue wolf, and you will see him smash my bicycle. i sincerely hope he will break his confounded head at the same time!" "white boy show injun how um git on," ordered blue wolf. "go ahead, bruce," directed frank. "oh, thunder!" groaned the big fellow. "i'm so tired!" but he was forced to show the indians how he mounted the wheel, which he did, being dragged off almost as soon as he got astride the saddle. "ugh!" grunted blue wolf, with great satisfaction. "um heap much easy. watch blue wolf." "yes, watch blue wolf!" repeated browning. "it will be good as a circus! oh, my poor bicycle!" with no small difficulty the little indian steadied the wheel, reaching forward to grasp the handlebars while standing behind it. the first time he lifted his foot to place it on the step he lost his balance and fell over with the machine. the other indians grunted, and blue wolf got up, saying something in his own language that seemed to make the atmosphere warmer than it was before. the bicycle was lifted and held for the little indian to make another trial. he looked as if he longed to kick it into a thousand pieces, but braced up, placed his foot on the step and made a wild leap for the saddle. he missed the saddle, struck astride the frame just back of the handlebars, uttered a wild howl of dismay, and went down in hopeless entanglement with the unfortunate machine. "wow!" howled blue wolf. "oh, my poor bicycle!" groaned browning, once more. the fallen redman kicked the bicycle into the air, but it promptly came down astride his neck and drove his nose into the dirt. "ugh!" grunted the watching indians, solemnly. "whoop!" roared blue wolf, spitting out a mouthful of dirt. then he made another frantic attempt to cast the machine off, but it persisted in sticking to him in a wonderful manner. one of his arms was thrust through the spokes of the forward wheel to the shoulder, and as he tried to yank it out, the rear wheel spun around and one of the pedals gave him a terrific thump on the top of the head. "yah!" snarled the unlucky indian. "two-wheel hoss kick a heap," observed black feather. blue wolf tried to struggle to his feet, but he was so entangled with the bicycle that it seemed to fling him down with astonishing violence. then as the noble red man kicked, and squirmed, and struggled, the bicycle danced and pranced upon his prostrate body like a thing of life. "o-o-oh!" wailed blue wolf, in pain and fear. toots suddenly forgot his fears, and holding onto his side, he doubled up with a wild burst of "coon" laughter. "oh, land ob watermillions!" he shouted. "dat bisuckle am knockin' de stuffin' out ob mistah injun! yah! yah! yah! lordy! lordy! 'scuse meh, but i has ter laff if it costs me all de wool on mah haid!" browning folded his arms, a look of intense satisfaction on his face as he observed: "i have made a discovery that will be worth millions of dollars to the government of the united states. now i know a swift and sure way of settling the indian question. provide every indian in the country with a bicycle, and there will be no indians left in a week or two." "gamlet's host--i mean hamlet's ghost!" chuckled rattleton, holding his hand over his mouth to keep from shrieking with laughter. "i never saw anything like that before!" merriwell sprang forward and assisted blue wolf in untangling himself from the wheel, fearing the bicycle would be utterly ruined. the little indian was badly done up. his face was cut and bleeding in several places, and he was covered with dirt. with some difficulty he got upon his feet, and then he backed away from the bicycle, at which he glared with an expression of great fear on his countenance. "heap bad medicine!" he observed. it seemed that the other indians were really amused, although they remained solemn and impassive. "give me hatchet!" blue wolf suddenly snarled. "heap fix two-wheel hoss!" he would have made a rush for the offending wheel, but frank held up a hand warningly, crying: "beware, blue wolf! it is in truth bad medicine, and it will put a curse upon you if you do it harm. your squaw will die of hunger before another moon, your children shall make food for the coyotes, and your bones shall bleach on the desert! beware!" blue wolf paused, dismay written on his face. he longed to smash the bicycle, but he was convinced that it was really "bad medicine," and he was afraid to injure it. "say, that is great, old man!" enthusiastically whispered rattleton in merriwell's ear. "keep it up." "blue wolf not hurt two-wheel hoss," declared black feather, who seemed to be the chief of the little band. "want to see white boy ride." "do you mean that you want me to ride?" asked frank. "ugh!" "all right," said frank. "i'll show you how it is done." then he motioned for the savages to stand aside. "no try to run 'way," warned black feather. "injun shoot um." "all right, your royal jiblets. if i try to run away you may take a pop at me." chapter vi. trick riding. the indians made room for frank to mount and ride. standing beside the wheel frank sprang into the saddle without using the step, caught the pedals and started. the savages gave utterance to a grunt of wonder and admiration. frank had practiced trick riding, and he now proposed to exhibit his skill, feeling that it might be a good scheme to astonish the savages. he started the bicycle into a circle, round which he rode with the greatest ease, and then of a sudden he passed one leg over the frame, and stood up on one of the pedals, which he kept in motion at the same time. the indians nodded and looked pleased. then frank began to step cross-legged from pedal to pedal, passing his feet over the cross bar of the frame and keeping the wheel in motion all the time. a moment later he whirled about, and with his face toward the rear, continued to pedal the bicycle ahead the same as if he had been seated in the usual manner on the saddle. "heap good!" observed black feather. then, like a cat merriwell wheeled about, lifted his feet over the handlebars to which he clung, slipped down till he hung over the forward wheel, placed his feet on the pedals, and rode in that manner. this made it look as though he were dragging the bicycle along behind him. there was a stir among the indians, and they looked at each other. without stopping the bicycle, frank swung back over the handlebars to the saddle. having reached this position, he stopped suddenly, turning the forward wheel at an angle, sitting there and gracefully balancing on the stationary machine. "heap much good!" declared black feather, growing enthusiastic. "oh, those little things are dead easy," assured frank, with a laugh. "do you really desire to see me do something that is worth doing?" "what more white boy can do?" "several things, but i'll have to make a larger circle." it was growing dark swiftly now, the sun being down and the shadows of the mountains lying dark and gloomy in the valleys. "go 'head," directed black feather. frank started the bicycle in motion, and then, with it going at good speed, he swung down on one side and slowly but neatly crept through the frame, coming up on the other side and regaining the saddle without stopping. "paleface boy great medicine!" said black feather. "ugh!" grunted all the indians but blue wolf. the little savage was looking on in a sullen, wondering way, astonished and angered to think the white boy could do all those things, while he had been unable to mount the two-wheeled horse. "how do you like that, black feather?" asked frank, cheerfully. "much big!" confessed the chief. "do some more." "all right. catch onto this." then away frank sped, lifting the forward wheel from the ground and letting it hang suspended in the air, while he rode along on the rear wheel. "merry is working hard enough," said rattleton. "i never knew he could do so many tricks." "there are lots of things about that fellow that none of us know anything about," asserted browning, who was no less surprised, although he did not show it. "he is a fool to work so hard to please these wretched savages!" muttered diamond. "now, don't you take frank merriwell for a fool in anything!" came swiftly from harry. "i never knew him to make a fool of himself in all my life, and i have seen a good deal of him." "well, why is he cutting up all those monkey tricks? what will it amount to when it is all over?" "wait and see." "the indians will treat us just the same as if he had not done those things." "perhaps so." "of course they will!" "now, black feather, old jiblets," cried frank, in his merriest manner, "i am going to do something else. get onto this." sending the bicycle along at high speed frank lay over the handlebars and swung his feet into the air till he held himself suspended in that manner, head down and feet up. the indians were more pleased and astonished than ever. "oh, it's all in knowing how!" laughed frank, as he gracefully and lightly dropped back to the saddle. again the indians grunted. "now, black feather, old chappie," said frank, "i am going to do the greatest trick of all. i'll have to get a big start and have lots of room. watch me close." away he went, bending over the handlebars and sending the bicycle flying over the ground. he acted as if he intended to make a big circle, but suddenly turned and rode straight toward the pass by which they had entered the basin. before the indians could realize his intention, he was almost out of sight in the darkness of the young night. howls of rage and dismay broke from the redmen. they shouted after the boy, but he kept right on, quickly disappearing from view. "there," sighed browning, with satisfaction, "i told you he was not doing all that work for nothing, fellows." "he's done gone an' lef us!" wailed toots. "that's what he has!" grated diamond--"left us to the mercy of these miserable redskins! that's a fine trick!" "oh, will you ever get over it?" rasped rattleton. "why shouldn't he? he had his chance, and he'd been a fool not to skin out!" "i thought he would stand by us in such a scrape as this." "what you thought doesn't cut any ice. he'll come back." "after we are murdered." rattleton would have said something more, but the indians, who had been holding an excited conversation, suddenly grasped the four remaining lads in a threatening manner. "oh, mah goodness!" palpitated toots. "heah is whar i's gwan teh lose mah wool! it am feelin' po'erful loose already!" browning was on the point of launching out with his heavy fists and making as good battle of it as he could when he heard black feather say: "no hurt white boys. make um keep still, so um not run 'way off like odder white boy. that am all." "i'll take chances on it," muttered bruce, giving up quietly. the four lads were forced to sit on the ground, and some of the savages squatted near. the fire was replenished, and the indians seemed to hold a council. "deciding how they will kill us," said diamond, gloomily. "nothing of the sort," declared rattleton. "see them making motions toward the bicycles. they are talking about the wonderful two-wheeled horses." "gracious!" gasped toots; "dat meks mah hair feel easier!" browning held a hand on his stomach in a pathetic manner. "oh, my!" he murmured. "how vacant and lonely my interior department seems to be! methinks i could dine." "the hard bread and jerked beef," whispered jack. "it is in the carriers attached to the wheels." "yes, and we had better let it remain there." "why?" "these indians look hungry, too." "you think----" "i do. they will take it away from us and eat it if we bring it out. that would leave us in a bad fix." "but they can get it out of the carriers." "they can, but they won't." "why not?" "they are afraid of those bicycles--so afraid that they will not go near them. therefore our hard bread and jerked beef is safe as long as we let it remain where it is." harry agreed with bruce, and they decided not to touch the food in the carriers; but all were thirsty again, and they expressed a desire to have another drink from the water-hole. to this the indians did not object, and they took turns at drinking, although the water did not taste nearly as sweet as it had the first time. having satisfied themselves in this manner they sat down on the ground once more, being compelled to do so by the redskins, who were watching them closely. "they have us in a bad position in case they take a notion to crack us over the head," said harry. "we wouldn't get a show." "mah gracious!" gurgled toots, holding fast to his scalp with both hands. "we's gwan teh git it fo' suah, chilluns! de fus' fing we know we won't no nuffin'!" "we must get out of this somehow," muttered bruce. "that's right," nodded jack. "merriwell has taken care of himself, and left us to take care of ourselves." he spoke in a manner that showed he felt that frank had done them a great wrong. "it's a good thing he got away as he did," asserted harry. "now we know we have a friend who is not a captive like ourselves, and we know he knows the fix we are in. you may be sure he will do what he can for us." "he'll do what he can for himself. how can he do anything for us?" "he'll find a way." "i doubt it." "you have become a great doubter and kicker of late, diamond. it is certain the loss of that mormon girl who married the other fellow has soured you, for you were not this way before. why don't you try to forget her?" "i wish you might forget her! you make me sick talking about her so much! i don't like it at all!" "if you don't like it lump it." jack and harry glared at each other as if they were on the point of coming to blows, and this gave browning an idea. he saw the indians had noticed there was a disagreement between the boys, and he leaned forward, saying in a low tone: "keep at it, fellows--keep at it! i have a scheme. pretend you are fighting, and they will let you get on your feet. when i cry ready we'll all make a jump for our wheels, catch them up, place them in the form of a square, and stand within the square. the redskins are afraid of the wheels--think them 'bad medicine.' they won't dare touch us." browning had made his idea clear with surprising swiftness, and the other boys were astonished, for they had come to believe that the big fellow never had an original idea in his head. both jack and harry were taken by the scheme, and diamond quickly said: "it's a go. keep on with the quarrel, rattleton." harry did so, and in a very few seconds they were at it in a manner that seemed intensely in earnest. their voices rose higher and higher, and they scowled fiercely, flourishing their clinched hands in the air and shaking them under each other's nose. browning got into the game by making a bluff at stopping the quarrel, which seemed to be quite ineffectual. he seemed to try to force himself between them, but rattleton hit him a hard crack on the jaw with his fist, with which he was threatening diamond. "scissors!" gurgled bruce, as he keeled over on his back, holding both hands to his jaw. "what do you take me for--a punching bag?" "you have received what peacemakers usually get," said harry, as he continued to threaten diamond. the indians looked on complacently, their appearance seeming to indicate that they were mildly interested, but did not care a continental if the two white boys hammered each other. jack scrambled to his feet and dared harry to get up. harry declared he would not take a dare, and he got up. then bruce and toots lost no time in doing likewise, and, just when it seemed that the apparently angry lads were going to begin hammering each other browning cried: "ready!" immediately the boys made a leap for the bicycles, caught them up, formed a square with them, and stood behind the machines, like soldiers within a fort. the indians uttered shouts of astonishment, and the four boys found themselves looking into the muzzles of the guns in the hands of the savages. "what white boys mean to do?" harshly demanded black feather. "no can run away." "heap shoot um!" howled blue wolf, who seemed eager to slaughter the captives. "then no can run away." "hold on!" ordered browning, with a calm wave of his hand. "we want to parley." "want to pow-wow?" asked black feather. "that's it." "no pow-wow with white boys. white boys injuns' prisoners. no pow-wow with prisoners." "no!" shouted blue wolf. "shoot um! shoot um!" "land ob massy!" gurgled toots. "dey am gwan teh shoot!" "black feather," said browning, with assumed assurance and dignity, "it will not be a healthy thing for your men to shoot us." "how? how?" "do you see that we are protected by the 'bad medicine' machines? if you were to do us harm now, these machines would utterly destroy you and every one of your party. the moment you fired at us these machines would be like so many demons let loose, and as they are not made of flesh and blood, they could not be harmed. not one of your party could escape them." the light of the fire showed that the indians looked at each other with mingled incredulity and fear. "wow!" muttered rattleton. "is this browning i hear? how did you happen to think of such a bluff?" "have to think in a case like this," returned the big fellow, guardedly. "i think only when it is absolutely necessary. this is one of those occasions." the indians got together and held a consultation. "can't we make a run for it now?" asked diamond, eagerly. "we can," nodded bruce, "but we won't run far. they'd be able to drop us before we could get out of the light of the fire." "what can we do?" "why, we'll have to----" browning was interrupted by a clatter of hoofs, which caused him to turn toward the east. the indians heard the sound, and they turned also. then wild yells of terror rent the air. chapter vii. escape. coming through the darkness at a mad gallop was what seemed to be the gleaming skeleton of a horse. the ribs, the bones of the neck, legs and head, all showed plainly, glowing with a white light. and on the back of the horse, which had sheered to the north and was passing the fire, sat what seemed to be the skeleton of a human being, the bones gleaming the same as those of the horse. it was almost an astonishing and awe-inspiring spectacle, and it frightened the indians greatly. "howugh--owugh--owugh!" wailed black feather, dismally. then the savages dropped on their faces, covering their eyes, so they could not see the skeleton horseman. almost at the same moment as the horseman was passing the spot the ghastly appearing thing seemed to give a sudden swing about and completely disappear. "poly hoker!" gasped rattleton. "it's gone!" "that's right!" palpitated diamond--"vanished in a moment!" "oh, mah soul--mah soul!" wailed toots. "dat sholy am de ol' debbil hisse'f, chilluns! when we see it next it's gwan teh hab one ob us fo sho!" "hark!" commanded browning. the beat of the horse's feet could be distinctly heard, but the creature had turned about and was going back toward the pass through the bluffs. chucker-chucker-chuck! chucker-chucker-chuck! chucker-chucker-chuck! came the ghostly sounds of the galloping horse. "it's turned about!" gasped harry, in astonishment. "it's going!" fluttered jack. "and we'd better be going, too!" put in browning. then with a familiar whirring sound something came flying toward them through the darkness, causing toots to utter a wild shriek of terror. into the light of the camp-fire flashed a boy who was mounted on a bicycle, and they saw it was frank merriwell. "away!" he hissed, as he flew past them. "make straight for the pass by which we entered this pocket. i will join you." then he was gone. browning gave toots a sharp shake, fiercely whispering: "mount your wheel and keep with us if you want to save your scalp! if you don't you will be left behind." then the boys leaped upon their bicycles and were away in a moment, before the prostrate indians had recovered from the shock of terror given them by the appearance of the skeleton horse and rider. for the time bruce browning took the lead, and the others followed him. toots had heeded the big fellow's warning words, and he was not left behind. barely had they passed beyond the range of the firelight and disappeared in the darkness when wild yells of anger came from behind them, and they knew the indians had discovered they were gone. "bend low! bend low!" hissed diamond. "they may take a fancy to shoot after us! stoop, fellows!" stoop they did, bending low over the handlebars of their bicycles. bang! bang! bang! the indians fired several shots, and they heard some of the bullets whistle past, but they were not hit. "well, that's what i call luck!" muttered the young virginian. "what do you call luck?" asked rattleton. "the appearance of that skeleton horse and rider in time to scare the indians and give us a chance to get away." "oh!" said harry, sarcastically, "i didn't know but it was merry's return. i told you he would not desert us." "i wonder how he happened to come back just then?" "he came back because he was watching for an opportunity to help us, and he saw we had a splendid chance to get away while the redskins were scared by the appearance of the horse and rider. you ought to know him well enough to know he is not the fellow to desert his friends in a scrape like this." diamond was silent. "i wonder where frank is?" said browning. "he said he would join us, and he is----" "right here, old man," said a cheerful voice, as a flying bicycle brought merriwell out of the darkness to browning's side. "this way, fellows! we'll hit the pass and get out of here as soon as we can." "lawd bress yeh, marser frank!" cried toots, joyfully. "i didn't know's i'd see yeh no mo', boy!" "i hope you didn't think i had left you for good?" "no, sar!" declared the colored boy. "i done knows yeh better dan dat, sar! i knowed yeh'd come back, but i was afeared yeh'd come back too late, sar. dem injunses was gittin' po'erful anxious fo' dis yar wool ob mine--yes, sar!" "well, i am glad to know you thought i would not desert you. i don't want any of my friends to think i would go back on them in the hour of need." diamond was silent. the pass was found without difficulty, and they went speeding through it. "how did you happen to turn up just then, frank?" asked harry. "i was waiting for a chance to come to you, and i saw the chance when that horse and rider frightened the indians." "the horse and rider--where are they?" asked browning. "gone through the pass ahead of us." "mah gracious!" exclaimed the colored boy. "what if dat ol' debbil teks a noshun teh wait fu' us?" "what sort of ghost business was it, anyway?" questioned rattleton. "it seemed to be a skeleton horse and a skeleton rider, and it disappeared in a twinkling. i will admit this skeleton business is beginning to work on my nerves." "it is rather creepish," laughed frank; "but i do not think it is very dangerous." "all the same, you do not attempt to explain the mystery." "not now." "not now? can you later?" "perhaps so." "it is plain he knows no more about it than the rest of us," said diamond. "as for me, i am getting sick of seeking vanishing lakes and vanishing skeletons. if i get out of this part of the country alive, you'll never catch me here again." "meh, too!" exclaimed toots. "well, i don't know as any of us will care to revisit it," laughed frank. "anyway, we have been very lucky in escaping from those indians. that you can't deny." "you fooled them easily," said rattleton. "yes, and they did not even take a shot at me, which was a surprise. i expected they would pop away a few times." "what are we going to do after we get out on the open desert again?" asked jack. "it seems to me we'll be as bad off as ever." "we'll have to go around the range to the south, or wait for the indians to get away from that water-hole, so we can go through the mountains as we originally intended." "the indians may not go away." "i rather think they have been scared so they'll not hang around there long. i don't fancy they'll be anywhere in the vicinity by morning." "if they are gone----" "we'll be all right, providing we can make our hard bread and dried beef hold out till we can reach one of the small railroad towns." "how far away is the railroad?" "not much over fifty miles." "that is easy!" declared rattleton. "we can make it on a spurt!" as they reached the eastern opening of the pass their attention was attracted by a bright light that seemed to shine out from the very niche where they had found the jewel-decorated skeleton. "what does that mean?" exclaimed jack, in astonishment. "land ob wartermillions!" gasped toots. "it am de debbil's light fo' suah, chilluns! don' yeh go near it!" "by jove!" cried frank. "that is worth investigating! come on, fellows!" he headed straight toward the light, and as they came near the niche they saw the bejeweled skeleton was again seated as they had seen it in the first place, and a bright flood of light was shining upon it from some mysterious place. "it's back!" exclaimed harry, in astonishment. "sure enough!" said frank. "it is on deck again." "i tells yeh to keep away from dat skillerton!" shouted toots. "hit am gwan teh grab yo' this time if yo' gits near hit!" "we'll take chances on that," declared frank. "this time we won't give it time to get away, but we'll go right up and examine it." "that's what we will!" agreed harry. but even as he spoke, the light disappeared, and this made it impossible for them to see anything up there in that dark nook. "ha! ha! ha!" again they heard the mocking laughter, smothered, hollow and ghostly in sound. "somebody is having lots of fun with us," said frank, as he leaped from his wheel. "it may be a good joke, but i fail to see where the 'ha, ha,' comes in." "is the skeleton gone?" "i don't know, but i'll mighty soon find out." without hesitation he swung himself up to the niche in the rocks, and rattleton followed, determined that frank should not go alone into danger. harry afterward confessed that he was shivering all over when he climbed up there in the darkness, but his fear did not keep him from sticking to merry. a cry broke from frank's lips. "what is it?" called browning, from below. "by the eternal skies, it's gone again!" "didn't i tole yeh!" cried toots, from a distance. "come erway from dar, marser frank! if yo' don', yo's gwan teh be grabbed!" "it is gone!" agreed rattleton. "this beats the old nick!" again they heard that mocking laugh, which seemed to come down from some point above their heads. "wooh!" shivered harry. "that sounds pleasant!" "hang it all!" exclaimed frank, in a voice that indicated chagrin. "i don't like to be made fun of this way! if we don't solve this mystery before we go away i shall always regret it." "beware!" it was the same voice that had uttered the warning when they were riding into the pass, and now, in the darkness of night, it sounded even more dismal and uncanny than before. "come out and show yourself," called frank. for some time the boys remained there, but they were forced to abandon the task of solving the mystery that night. frank descended to the ground with no small reluctance, and harry kept close to him. they mounted their wheels and rode away once more, fully expecting to hear the mocking laughter, or the ghostly voice calling after them. in this, however, they were disappointed, as nothing of the kind happened. after they had ridden some distance, frank proposed that they halt for the night. "we are in for an open-air camp to-night," he said. "it is something we did not expect, but it can't be helped, and as the night is not cold i think we can get along all right. we need rest, too." "that's right," agreed bruce. "i feel as if i need about a week of steady resting, but i don't care to take it here." "how about the indians?" asked jack. "we are not very far from them, and they might find us." "i scarcely think there is any danger of that." "why not?" "those redskins were so badly frightened that they'll not go hunting after white boys to-night. it is more likely they will skin out and make for the shoshone reservation, on which they must belong." "but what if they should happen to follow us?" jack persisted. "we must take turns at standing guard to-night, and the guard should be able to give us warning of danger in time for us to mount our wheels and get away." it was plain that diamond was not in favor of stopping there, but he said no more. fortunately the night was warm, so they suffered no discomfort by sleeping thus. no dew fell out there on the desert. it was arranged that diamond should stand guard first, while frank came second, with toots for the last guard toward morning. they ate some of the hard bread and jerked beef and then threw themselves down, with their bicycles near at hand, so they could spring up and mount in a hurry if necessary. browning was the first to stretch himself on the ground, and he was snoring almost immediately. the others soon fell asleep. the rim of a round, red moon was showing away to the eastward when jack awoke frank. "how is it?" merriwell asked. "have you heard or seen anything suspicious?" "not a thing," was the reply. "all is still as death out here--far too still. i don't like it." "well, it is not real jolly," confessed frank, with a light laugh; "but i don't think we need to be worried about visitors; and that is one good thing." jack was fast asleep in a short time. morning came, and toots was the first to awaken. dawn was breaking in the east as he sat up, rubbing his eyes and muttering: "good land! dat am de hardes' spring mattrus dis coon ebber snoozed on--yes, sar! nebber struck nuffin' lek dat befo'." then he looked around in some surprise. "gracious sakes!" he continued. "whar am de hotel? it done moved away in de night an' lef' us." it was some time before he realized that they had not put up at a hotel the night before. "reckum dis is whar we stopped las' night," he finally said. "i 'membah 'bout dat now. we was ter tek turns watchin'. i ain't took no turn at all, an' it's wamnin'. he! he! he! guess de chap dat was ter wake me fell asleep hisself an' clean fergot it. dat meks meh 'bout so much sleep ahaid ob de game." he was feeling good over this when he noticed that three forms were stretched on the ground near at hand, instead of four. "whar am de odder one?" he muttered. "one ob dem boys am gone fo' suah. land ob wartermillions! what do hit mean? dar am dimun, an' dar am rattletum, an' dar am brownin', but whar--whar am marser frank?" in a moment he was filled with alarm, and he lost no time in grasping harry's shoulder and giving it a shake, while he cried: "wek up heah, yo' sleepy haid--wek up, i tells yeh! dar's suffin' wrong heah, ur i's a fool nigger!" "muts the whatter?" mumbled rattleton, sleepily. "can't you let a fellow sleep a minute? it isn't my turn yet." "yoah turn!" shouted toots. "wek up, yo' fool! it's done come mawnin', an' dar's suffin' happened." "eh?" grunted harry, starting up and rubbing his eyes. "why the moon is just rising." "moon!" snorted the colored boy. "dat's de sun comin' up! an' i don't beliebe yo' took yoah turn keepin' watch." browning grunted and rolled over, flinging out one arm and giving toots a crack on the neck that keeled him over on the ground. "landy goodness!" squealed the darky, grasping his neck with both hands. "what yo' tryin' ter do, boy? want ter coon? nebber seen such car'less pusson, sar!" "oh, shut up your racket!" growled the big college lad. "i'm not half rested yet. call me when breakfast is ready." "yo'll done git yeh own breakfas' dis mawnin', sar; but befo' dar's any breakfas' we's gwan ter know what has become of marser frank. he's gone." "gone?" replied bruce, sitting up with remarkable quickness. "gone?" ejaculated harry, popping up as if he were worked by springs. "gone where?" asked diamond, also sitting up and staring around. "dat's jes' what i wants ter know, chilluns," declared toots. "dat boy ain't heah, an' i's po'erful feared de old skillerton debbil has cotched him." "why--why," said jack, "i woke him and he took my place." "but nobody roused me," declared rattleton. "nor me," asserted browning. "git up, chilluns--git up!" squealed toots, excitedly. "we's gotter find dat boy in a hurry! 'spect he's in a berry bad scrape!" chapter viii. the mystery explained. by this time the boys were fully aroused. an investigation showed that merriwell's wheel was gone. "didn't i tole yeh old debbil skillerton would done cotch some ob us!" cried toots, in great distress. "i hardly understand what the skeleton could have wanted with merry's wheel," observed browning. "g'way dar, boy! didn' de skillerton ride a hawse!" "and you think it is an up-to-date skeleton that has decided to ride a bicycle hereafter. in that case, i congratulate mr. skeleton on his good sense." "it must be that frank has gone on a ride without saying anything to us," said jack. "i do not see any other way of explaining it." "but why should he do such a thing?" asked rattleton. "that is where you stick me." browning slowly shook his head. "it is remarkable that he should do such a thing without saying anything to us," declared the big fellow. "and he must have taken that ride in the night," said jack. "while he should have been on guard," added harry. the boys stood looking at each other in sober dismay. "it isn't possible that merry could have gone daffy," muttered rattleton. "he is too well balanced for that." "i don't know," came gloomily from diamond. "this dismal, burning desert is enough to turn the brain of any fellow." "yah!" cried toots. "don' yeh git no noshun dat boy ebber had his brain turned! it am de weak brains dat git turned dat way. his brain was all right, but i jes' know fo' suah dat he hab been cotched." "and i suppose you want to run away as soon as possible before you are 'cotched?'" then the colored boy surprised them all by saying: "no, sar, i don' want teh go 'way till we knows what hab become ob marser frank. dat boy alwus stick by his frien's, an' dis coon am reddy teh stick by him, even if he do git cotched." "good stuff, toots!" cried rattleton, approvingly. "you are all right! if anything has happened to frank we'll know what it is or leave our bones here." the boys were worried. they hurriedly talked over the remarkable disappearance, trying to arrive at an understanding of its meaning. at length it was agreed that frank might have gone back to try to solve the mystery of the skeleton, and then they decided that two of the party should remain where they had made their night bivouac, while the other two proceeded to search for merriwell. diamond insisted on being one of the searchers, and rattleton was determined to be the other, so browning and toots were left behind. the boys mounted their wheels and rode back toward the pass through the bluffs. diamond was downcast again. "everything is going against us," he declared. "there is fate in it. i am afraid we'll not get out of this wretched desert." "oh, you're unwell, that's what's the matter with you!" declared harry, scornfully. "i'll be glad when you are yourself again." "that's all right," muttered diamond. "you are too thoughtless, that's what's the matter with you." they approached the spot where the mysterious skeleton had been seen, and both were watching for the niche in the rocks. suddenly they were startled by hearing a wild cry from far above their heads, and looking upward they saw frank merriwell running along the very brink of the cliff, but limping badly, as if he were lame. but what astonished and startled them the most was to see a strange-looking, bare-headed man, who was in close pursuit of frank. above his head the man wildly flourished a gleaming, long-bladed knife, while he uttered loud cries of rage. "smoly hoke!" cried harry. "will you look at that!" diamond suddenly grew intensely excited. "what can we do?--what can we do?" he exclaimed. "frank is hurt! that creature is running him down! he will murder him!" "if merry had a pistol he would be all right." "but he hasn't! we must do something, harry--we must!" "neither of us has a gun." "no, but----" "we can't get up there." "but we must do something!" "we can't!" jack grew more and more frantic. he leaped from his wheel and seemed to be looking for some place to try to scale the face of the bluff. "oh, if i could get up there!" he groaned. "i'd show frank that i was ready to stand by him! i'd fight that man barehanded!" and rattleton did not doubt it, for he well knew how hot-blooded diamond was, and the young virginian had never failed to fight when the occasion arose. he would not shirk any kind of an encounter. merriwell saw them and shouted something to them, but they could not understand what he said. "turn! turn!" screamed jack. "you must fight that man, or he will stab you in the back! he is going to strike you!" frank seemed to hear and comprehend, for he suddenly wheeled about and made a stand. in a moment the man with the knife had rushed upon him and struck with that gleaming blade. a groan escaped jack's lips as he saw that blow, but it turned to a gasp of relief when frank stopped it by catching the man's wrist. "give it to him! give it to him!" shrieked diamond, dancing around in a wild frenzy of anxiety and fear. then the boys below witnessed a terrific struggle on the heights above them. the man seemed mad with a desire to plunge the knife into frank, and it was plain that merriwell did not wish to harm the unknown, but was trying to disarm him. "what folly! what folly!" panted diamond. "he'll get his hand free and stab merry sure! beat him down, frank--beat him down!" once frank slipped and fell to his knees. a fierce yell of triumph broke from the man, and it seemed that he would succeed in using the knife at last. with a groan of anguish diamond covered his eyes that he might not witness the death of the friend he loved. for jack diamond did love frank merriwell, for all that he had complained against him of late. a cry of relief from rattleton caused jack to look up again, and he saw frank had regained his feet and was continuing the battle. and now the man fought with a fury that was nerve thrilling to witness. his movements were swift and savage, and he tried again and again to draw the knife across frank's throat. jack and harry scarcely breathed until, with a display of strength and skill, frank disarmed his assailant by giving his arm a wrench, causing the knife to fly through the air and fall over the edge of the cliff. down to the ground below rattled the knife, and then diamond said: "now frank will be able to handle the fellow!" but, flinging his arms about the boy, the man made a mad effort to spring over the brink. for some seconds, locked thus in each other's arms, man and boy tottered on the very verge, and then they swayed back. frank broke the hold of the man, striking him a heavy blow a second later. the man reeled and dropped on the edge of the precipice. he scrambled up hastily, but a great slice of rock cleaved off beneath his feet and went plunging downward. then the watching boys saw the unknown tottering on the brink, wildly waving his arms in an endeavor to regain his balance. frank sprang forward to aid him. too late! with a wild scream of despair, the strange man toppled over and whirled downward to his death. frank climbed down. "it's all up with him, poor fellow," said he, as he stood near the body of the unknown man, looking down at the face that was white and calm and peaceful in death. "who is he?" asked harry. "what is he?" asked jack. "i am afraid those questions cannot be answered," confessed frank. "that he was a raving maniac i am sure, and he lived in a remarkable cave close at hand; but who he is or how he came to be there in that cave i do not know." "well, how you came to be up there with him running you down to stick a knife in you is what i want to know," said harry. "that's right," jack nodded. "explain it, old man." then frank told them how, after the moon rose the night before, he had taken his wheel with the intention of riding around the camp, feeling he could keep watch as well that way as any. after the moon was well up, he saw there was no one anywhere about, and a desire to revisit the spot where they had seen the skeleton seized upon him. he rode to the spot, but there was no skeleton in the niche among the rocks. leaving his bicycle, he climbed up there to examine once more, and to his astonishment, found that what seemed to be a solid, immovable stone had turned in some manner, disclosing an opening. then, with reckless curiosity, frank resolved to investigate further, and he descended into the opening, found some stone steps, and was soon in a cavern. the first thing he discovered was the skeleton, still decorated as the boys had seen it in the first place, and he remained there till he found how it could be placed in view on the block of stone and then removed in a twinkling. he also found a lamp with a strong reflector, which had thrown its light on the skeleton from a hole in the rocks. there was another opening near that, where a person in the cave could look out on the desert, and frank knew the ghostly voice they had heard must have come from that place. merriwell continued his investigations, having lighted the lamp, by the light of which he wandered through the cave. suddenly he came face to face with an old man, who seemed surprised, but spoke quietly to him. the old man declared he was "prof. morris fillmore," but did not say what he was professor of, and he volunteered to explain everything to the boy. this he did, telling how he worked the skeleton to frighten away those who might molest him in his solitude, as he wished to be alone. there was another entrance to the cave, and, in a large, airy chamber a horse was kept. the horse was coal black, but on one side of him was drawn the outlines of the skeleton frame of a horse, and the strange old man explained that he had a suit of clothes on one side of which he had traced the skeleton of a human being. this had been done with phosphorus, and it glowed with a white light in the darkness. the old hermit had entered the pocket and ridden near the camp of the indians. when he turned about the skeleton tracings in phosphorus could not be seen, and so the ghostly horse and rider seemed to disappear in a most marvelous manner. frank questioned him concerning the treasure, and the old man seemed to grow excited and suspicious. he said something about the treasure being the property of some one who had fled from the destroying angels of the mormons in the old days, but had perished in the desert. frank was led to believe that the skeleton was that of the original owner of the treasure. but when the boy would have left the cave the stranger told him he could not do so. he informed frank that he could never go out again, and then it was that the boy became sure fillmore was crazy. as the man was armed, frank decided to use strategy. first he sought to lull the man's suspicions, and after being watched closely for hours he found a chance to slip away. almost immediately the man discovered what had happened and pursued. by chance frank fled out through a passage that led upward till the top of the bluff was reached, but he fell and sprained his ankle, so he was unable to get away. the hermit followed, and the mad battle for life took place. "well, this is amazing!" gasped jack. "what are you going to do with that treasure?" "take it to some place for safe deposit and advertise for the legal heirs of prof. millard fillmore." "and if no heirs appear----" "the treasure will belong to us." "hurrah!" chapter ix. a night adventure. frank's plan was carried out. all the treasure was removed from the cavern in which the mysterious old hermit was buried. the hermit's horse was set free, and the boys carried the treasure to ullin, nevada, where it was shipped to carson and deposited in a bank there. "if it is not claimed in a year's time, boys," said frank, "we will go about the work of having it evenly divided among us. in that case we will have made a good thing out of this trip across the continent." nothing more was seen of the indians, and the boys continued on their trip until carson city was reached. one evening frank was strolling along alone when a shrill, piercing cry of pain, ending abruptly, cut the still evening air. "hello!" muttered frank, as he paused to listen. "something is wrong with the person who gave that call." he listened. in a moment the cry was repeated, and this time it ended with a distinct appeal for help. frank was unarmed, but he was aroused by the thought that a fellow being was in distress, and he ran quickly to a dark corner, from beyond which the cry had seemed to come. to the left was a dark and narrow street, which looked rather forbidding and dangerous. "i believe the cry came from this street," said frank, to himself. "if there were a few lights----" "help!" there could be no mistake this time; the cry did come from that street. a short distance away in the darkness a struggle seemed to be going on. frank could hear the sound of blows, hoarse breathing, muttered exclamations and cries of pain. "some fellow is being done up there!" thought the boy from yale. without further hesitation he ran toward the point from which the sounds seemed to come. in a moment frank was close upon two dark forms that were battling fiercely on the ground. he could see them indistinctly in the darkness. "ah-h-h, you little whelp!" snarled a harsh voice "so ye will run away, hey? well, ye'll never run away no more after this!" "oh, please, please don't beat me so!" pleaded a weak voice. "you--you are killing me! oh! oh! oh!" "i'll make ye 'oh, oh, oh!'" grated the other. then the blows fell thick and fast. "here, you miserable brute!" rang out the clear voice of frank. "you ought to be shot!" then he grasped the figure that was uppermost and attempted to drag him off the other. to frank's surprise, although the attack had been sudden, he did not succeed in snatching the assailant from the unfortunate person he was beating. "get out!" roared a bull-like voice. "lemme alone, or i'll cut yer hide open! this is none of your business!" "help, sir--help!" cried the weak voice. "he has beaten me nearly to death! he will kill me!" "ye oughter be killed, ye ungrateful little whelp!" "break away!" commanded frank, as he lifted them both by a wonderful outlay of strength and literally tore them apart. the one who had been assailed could not keep on his feet, but swayed weakly and sank to the ground. with a sound that was like the snarl of a ferocious beast, the other grappled with frank. he was so short that he stood not much higher than frank's waist, but his shoulders were wonderfully broad, and he had arms that were almost long enough to reach the ground when he was on his feet. "great heavens!" thought merriwell. "what is this i have run against? is it a human gorilla?" and then he found that the creature possessed marvelous strength, for frank was literally lifted off his feet and flung prostrate, the other coming down upon him. the fall came about so suddenly that frank was dazed, and his breath was nearly knocked out of his body. for a moment he did nothing, and the creature scrambled up and grasped the fallen lad by the throat with hands that were like iron. "bother with me, will ye!" snarled that beastlike voice. "i'll fix ye so ye won't do it no more!" frank felt that he was in deadly peril, and that caused him to clutch the man's wrists and hold fast. he saw something uplifted, and he knew well enough that the furious creature had drawn a weapon of some sort. "look out!" panted the weak voice from close at hand. "he will kill you! he has a knife!" then, as merriwell used all his strength to hold back that uplifted hand, he began to realize that, athlete though he was, he was no match for the person he had tackled. the strength of those long arms was something wonderful, for little by little the man forced frank's hand back, and his knife approached the boy's breast. merriwell felt that his power of resistance might give out suddenly at any instant, and then the blade would be driven to its hilt. he was desperate and frantic, for there was something awfully horrifying in the steady manner in which that knife was forced nearer and nearer. cold sweat started out all over him, and he panted for breath, while it seemed that his madly leaping heart would burst from his bosom. he could see two glaring eyes that seemed to shine with a baleful light of their own in the darkness. he could see the writhing features of a ghastly face, and he could hear the creature grate his teeth. nearer and nearer came the blade. crying and panting, the one whom frank had attempted to save got upon his feet, swayed a bit, and then steadied himself with a great effort. "you shall not do it--you shall not!" he gasped. then he flung himself on the man, seeking to drag him from the prostrate lad. frank saw that the time had come to make a last effort for the mastery, and so, aided by the other, he succeeded in forcing his opponent back enough so he could squirm out from beneath. in a moment frank gained his feet, and then, as the man with the knife came up, out shot the fist of the young athlete. smack! the blow landed fairly, sounding clear and distinct. over went the dwarf, and the knife flew out of his hands, falling with a clattering ring upon some stones. merriwell knew he must follow up his advantage, but he was barely quick enough, for the fallen ruffian scrambled to his feet with the nimbleness of a cat. but again frank struck the fellow, using all his skill and muscle. he barely escaped being clutched by those long arms, but the dwarf was knocked down once more. the sounds which came from the throat of the man were decidedly unpleasant to hear. they did not seem to be words, but were a succession of snarls. by the time frank had struck the creature again, he did not scramble up so quickly. at that moment, having heard the sounds of the struggle, some person brought a light to the broken window of an old house that stood almost within the limits of the street. that light shone out and fell full on the dwarf man as he was rising to his feet after the third blow. his long arms were extended so that his hands lay on the ground, and he was standing in a crouching position on all fours. his face was pale as marble, and disfigured by a red scar that ran down his left cheek from his temple to the corner of his mouth. his eyes were set near together, and were blazing with ferocity. taken altogether, frank thought that the most horrible face he had ever seen. the light seemed to startle the horrid-appearing creature, and, with a low, grating cry of baffled fury, he turned and ran swiftly away, still in a somewhat crouching position, his hands almost touching the ground, while he made queer leaps and bounds. in a moment the dwarf had disappeared. frank gave a breath of relief. "good riddance!" muttered the lad from yale. then he turned to look for the person he had saved from the dwarf. that person had disappeared. "gone!" exclaimed merriwell, in astonishment and regret. "he must have been frightened away during the last of the struggle. he was weak, and he may not have gone far." frank resolved to search, and immediately set about doing so. he had not proceeded far when he came upon a form stretched motionless on the ground. a hasty examination showed frank it was a boy, who seemed to have fainted. "it is the chap the dwarf was beating!" decided merriwell. he lifted the unconscious boy in his arms, tossing him over one shoulder, and started toward the lighted street. "i must take the poor fellow to the hotel, and then we'll see what can be done for him. he seems to be in a bad way." by the time the lighted street was reached the boy recovered consciousness. he struggled a bit, moaned slightly, and then, in a pathetic, pleading voice, he said: "please don't take me back to bernard belmont, apollo--please don't! i know he will kill me!" "don't be afraid," said frank, gently. "i am not taking you to any one who will harm you." a cry of astonishment broke from the boy. "why," he exclaimed, "you are not apollo!" "no; i am frank merriwell. who is apollo?" "a dwarf--a wretch--the hired tool of bernard belmont! oh, he is a monster, without heart or soul!" "he must be the one with whom i had the lively little set-to." "you--you came to my aid--you saved me from him! how can i thank you! but i thought he would kill you!" "and so he might if you hadn't helped me throw him off. you did it just in time, and i believe you saved my life." "oh, but he had a knife--i could see it! and i knew he would use it. he has such wonderful strength." "he is strong." "strong! i do not see how you held him off! but i could see him forcing the knife nearer and nearer, and i grew frantic, for it seemed that you would be killed before my eyes." "i was rather anxious myself," confessed frank, with something like a laugh. "it was a nasty position." "i don't know how i dared touch him, but i remember that i did. then you flung him off and got up. after that, i remember that you were fighting, and i felt sure you could not conquer him. he would get the best of you in the end, and then he'd finish me. i was scared and tried to run away; but i did not go far before i became sick and weak, and--and i don't remember anything more." "you fainted." "and you whipped apollo?" "not exactly. i knocked him down a few times, but he seemed to spring to his feet almost as soon as he went down. then somebody brought a light to a window and he was scared away." the boy clung to frank. "he did not go far!" he excitedly whispered. "he is not far away! he is liable to spring upon us any time! bernard belmont has sent him for me, and he will not rest till he gets me. oh, i must get away--quick--to my sister! she is near--so near now! but my strength is gone, and--and----" the boy began to cough, and each convulsion shook him from head to feet. there was a hollow, dreadful sound about that cough--a sound that gave frank a chill. "never mind if your strength is gone," said merriwell, encouragingly. "you'll get along all right, for i'll stick by you and see that you do." "you are so kind!" "what's your name?" "george morris." "where do you live--here in carson?" "oh, no, no! i live in ohio." "that is a long distance away." "yes, sir." "how do you happen to be here?" the boy hesitated, seeming in doubt and fear, and then, with what appeared to be a sudden impulse, he said: "i am going to tell you--i am going to tell you everything. put me down here. let's rest. i am tired, and i must be heavy." they sat down on some steps, the boy seeking to keep in the shadow, showing he feared being seen. "it's--it's like this," he began, weakly. "i--i ran away." "oh-ho!" exclaimed frank. the lad quickly, almost fearfully, clutched his arms. "don't think i ran away foolishly!" he exclaimed, coughing again. "i--i came out here to find my sister, who is buried." "then your sister is dead?" "no." "not dead? you said she is buried. how can a person be buried and not be dead?" frank began to think it possible the boy was rather "daffy." "there--there's lots to the story," came painfully from the boy. "i can't tell you all. the letter said she was buried--buried so deep that bernard belmont could never find her. that letter was from uncle carter." "uncle carter?" "my father's brother, carter morris. he lives somewhere in the mountains west of lake tahoe. he has a mine up there, and he is very queer. he thinks everybody wants to steal his mine, and he will let no one know where it is located. they say the ore he has brought here into carson is of marvelous richness. men have tried to follow him, but he has always succeeded in flinging them off the trail. never have they tracked him to his mine." "then he is something of a hermit?" "yes, he is a hermit, and my sister is with him. he wrote that she was buried deep in the earth--that must be in his mine." "how did your sister come to be with him?" "i helped her--i helped her get away!" panted the boy, excitedly. "i knew they meant to kill us both!" "they? who?" "bernard belmont and apollo." "who is bernard belmont?" "my stepfather. he married my mother, after the death of my father. he is a handsome man, but he has a wicked face, and he is a wretch--a wretch!" the boy grew excited suddenly, almost screaming his words, while he struck his clinched hands together feebly. "steady," warned frank. "you must not get so excited." the boy began to cough, holding both hands to his breast. for some minutes he was shaken by that convulsive cough. "come," said frank, "let me get you to the hotel. you must have a doctor. there must be no further delay." "no, stop!" and the boy held to merriwell's arm. "i must tell you now. i seem to feel that my strength is going--going! i must tell you! he--he killed my mother!" "who--bernard belmont?" "yes, yes!" "killed her? you charge him with that?" "i do. he killed her by inches. he tortured her to death by his abusive treatment--he frightened my poor mother to death. and then, when he found everything had been left to us--my sister and myself--then he set about the task of destroying us by inches. it was fixed so that he could get hold of everything with us out of the way, and he----" another fit of coughing came on, and, when it was finished, the boy was too weak to proceed with the story. "you shall have a doctor immediately!" cried frank, as he lifted the lad and again started for the hotel. chapter x. the story. frank succeeded in getting george morris to the hotel, took him to a room, and put him on the bed. "do not leave me!" pleaded the boy. "apollo will come and carry me off if you do. stay here with me!" "i'll stay," assured frank; "but i must find some of my friends and send for a physician. you must have a doctor right away." bruce, diamond and toots had gone out, but he found harry, and told him what was desired. harry started out to search for a doctor, while frank returned to the boy, who was in a state of great agitation when he re-entered the room. "oh, i thought you would never come!" coughed the unfortunate lad. "you were away so long!" he was thin and pale, with deep-sunken eyes, which, however, were strangely bright. he was poorly and scantily dressed, and the hand that lay on his bosom seemed so thin that it was almost transparent. one of his eyes had been struck by the fist of the brutish dwarf, and was turning purple. on one cheek there was a great bruise and a slight cut. frank's heart had gone out in sympathy to this unfortunate lad, and he was filled with rage when he thought how brutally the poor boy had been treated. merriwell sat down on the edge of the bed, and took that thin, white hand. it felt like a little bundle of bones, and was so cold that it gave frank a shudder. "you are very ill," declared the boy from yale. "i believe you have been starved." "that was one way in which he tried to get rid of us," said george. "you are speaking of bernard belmont?" "yes." "he tried to starve you?" "yes, and my sister also. little milly! you should see her! she is such a sweet girl, and she is so good! i don't see how he had the heart to torture her." "this belmont must be a human brute!" cried merriwell, in anger. "he deserves to be broken on the wheel!" "he is a brute!" weakly cried the boy. "he killed my mother--my dear, sweet mother! oh, she was so good, and so beautiful! she loved us so--milly and me! listen, my dear friend," and the the boy drew frank closer. "i--i think he--poisoned her!" these words were whispered in a tone of such horror and grief that the soul of the listening lad was made to quiver like the vibrating strings of a violin when touched by the bow. "you mustn't think about that now," said frank, soothingly. "it will hurt you to think about it." "but i must, for, do you know, dear friend, i feel sure i shall not have long to think of it." "what do you mean?" asked merry, with a chill. "something--something tells me the end is near. apollo, he hurt me--here." the boy pressed one hand to his breast and coughed again. "you are excited--you are frightened," declared frank. "you will be all right in the morning. the doctor will fix you up all right. you shall have the very best food you can eat, and i'll see that you receive the tenderest care." the eyes of the lad on the bed filled with tears and his lips quivered, while he gazed at frank with a look of love. "you are so good!" he said, weakly, but with deep feeling. "why are you so good to me--a stranger?" "because i like you, and you are in trouble." "there are not many like you--not many! i know i can trust you, and i do wish you would do something for me!" "i will. tell me what it is. i promise in advance." "i don't want you to promise till you know what it is, for i have no right to ask so much of you." "very well. tell me." "when i am dead, for i know i shall not last long--will you find my sister and tell her everything? tell her how near i came to reaching her, and let her know that i am gone. she loves me. i am only fifteen, but she is eighteen and very beautiful. she looks like my angel mother. dear little milly! will you do this?" "i will do it, if the occasion arises; but we'll have you all right in a short time, and you will go to her yourself." "if i recover, i shall not be able to go to her." "why not?" "bernard belmont has followed me, and he will drag me back to the old prison--i know it." "he shall not!" exclaimed frank, with determination. "the law is with him," said the boy, weakly. "he has the best of it, for he is my legal guardian." "at that he has no right to abuse you, and he can be deprived of guardianship over you. it shall be done." but no light of hope illumined the face of the unfortunate boy. "it will be no use," george said. "he has starved me and beaten me. he has drenched me with water, and left me where it was icy cold, so that i have been awfully ill. and all the time i had this--this cough." frank leaped to his feet and paced the small room like a caged tiger, his soul wrought to an intense fury at the thought of the treatment the boy had received. he longed for power to punish the monster who had perpetrated such dastardly acts. "your sister," he finally asked--"did this brute treat her thus?" "nearly as bad, but she was older and stronger." "tell me, how did your sister get away from him?" "we planned to run away together, and then i became so ill that i could not. i--i made her leave me. i told her she must find uncle carter--must let him know everything. it was our only hope. he must save us." "but how did she reach your uncle?" "it was this way: we knew where bernard belmont kept some money in a little safe, and i--i knew how to get into that safe. that money belonged to us--it was mother's money. belmont was not worth a dollar when he married my mother. it would not be stealing for us to take it. sometimes he went away and left us to be cared for by apollo, the dwarf. such care! apollo was a monster--a brute! bernard belmont hired him to torture us. this time, when belmont went away, apollo shut us up in a room, leaving some bread and water for us, and we were left there, while he visited the wine cellar and got beastly drunk. he thought we were safe in that room--thought we could not get out. but we had been imprisoned there before, and i had made a key of wire. we got out. we found the dwarf in a drunken sleep, and we tied him. then we went to the safe and opened it. there was but a trifle over fifty dollars in that safe. it was not enough to take us both to nevada--to uncle carter. then i fainted, and i was too ill to try to run away when my sister restored me. she insisted on staying with me, but i commanded her to go. i begged her to go. i told her it was the only way. if she did not go, we were lost, for bernard belmont would discover what we had done, and he would make sure we had no opportunity to repeat the trick. she wanted to stay and care for me. i told her belmont would not dare harm me till he had caught her. it might be some days before he got back. it was possible she could reach uncle carter, and then uncle carter could come east and save me. after a time i convinced her. she took the money, dressed herself for the street, and, after kissing me and weeping over me, left me. i have never seen her since." "but she escaped--she reached your uncle?" "yes." "he made no effort to save you?" "no." "why was that?" "i know nothing, except that he is queer. perhaps he thought i was not worth saving. it was nearly a week before bernard belmont returned. all that time i kept apollo tied fast, and i rejoiced as the days went by. when belmont came there was a terrible outburst. i was beaten nearly to death. he tried to make me tell where my sister had gone, but i would only say, 'find out.' when i had become unconscious and he could not restore me to my senses to question me further, he started to trace mildred. he traced her after a time, but she had reached uncle carter, and she was safe. he wrote a letter to uncle carter, and the reply he received made him furious. it told him that milly was buried so deep that he would never see her again. she was dead to him and to the world. then bernard belmont swore that i would soon be dead in truth. after that--oh, i can't tell it!" frank saw it was exhausting the unfortunate boy, and he quickly said: "do not tell it; you have told enough. but you escaped." "after nearly a year. i escaped without a cent of money, and how i worked my way here i do not know. several times i dodged detectives, whom i knew were in the employ of belmont. i got here at last, but i found bernard belmont and apollo were waiting for me. i tried to escape, but apollo found me, and--you know the rest." chapter xi. another escape. the poor boy relapsed into silence, closing his eyes and breathing with no small difficulty. a great flood of pity welled up in the heart of frank merriwell as he looked at that thin, bruised face, and he felt like becoming the boy's champion and avenger. again frank pressed the thin hand that looked so weak and helpless. he held it in both his own warm, strong hands, and he earnestly said: "my poor fellow! you have been wretchedly treated, and it is certain that bernard belmont shall suffer for what he has done. retribution is something he cannot escape." "oh, i don't know!" weakly whispered george. "i used to think so--i used to think that the wicked people all were punished, but i'm beginning to believe it isn't so." "you must not believe it isn't so," anxiously declared frank. "of course you believe there is an all-wise being who witnesses even the sparrow's fall?" "yes." "then you cannot doubt that such a being will visit just punishment upon the wicked man who has caused you so much suffering and pain. his way is past finding out, but you must trust him." there was something noble and manly on the face of frank merriwell as he spoke those words, and the manner in which he uttered them told that he had the utmost and implicit confidence in the wisdom of the being of whom he spoke. at that moment it scarcely seemed possible that frank was the same merry, laughing, lively lad who was usually so full of fun and pranks. those who fancied they knew him best would have been amazed could they have seen him and heard his words. thus was shown one of the many hidden sides of frank's nature, which was most complex and yet honest and guileless. the boy on the bed opened his eyes and looked at frank in silence, for a long time. finally he said: "i see you really believe what you say, and you have given me new faith. i have suffered so much--so much that i had begun to doubt. it is hard to trust in the goodness of god when it seems that nearly all the wicked ones in the world are the ones who are prosperous. bernard belmont is believed to be an upright and honorable man in the town where he lives, and the people there think he was very kind to the two invalid children left on his hands when his wife died." "some day they will know the truth." "it will be when i am dead!" "nonsense!" "i am sure of it. do you know, dear friend, apollo hurt me so much to-night! it seems that he hurt me somewhere in--here." the boy pressed his hand to his side. "but the doctor is coming, and he will make you well again." "perhaps he can't. i had rather not get well than be turned over to belmont again and left for him to torture." george shuddered at this, and frank ground his teeth softly, as he thought what intense satisfaction it would give him to see the man belmont punished as he deserved. "why doesn't harry come with the doctor?" thought frank, as he got up and impatiently paced the floor. "he has had plenty of time." a few moments later the boy on the bed beckoned with his thin hand. frank hastened to the bedside, anxiously asking: "is there anything i can do?" "yes," whispered george; "sit down and listen." "i wish you would save your strength. you must stop talking." "i must talk, for it is my last chance. i want to tell you again that i know my sister is somewhere in the mountains up around lake tahoe. you have said you would find her. do so; tell her i am gone. she is an heiress, for all the money bernard belmont has will belong to her then. if you could do something to aid her in obtaining her rights. will you try?" "i will try." "oh, you are so good--and you are so brave! how you fought that terrible dwarf! you did not seem afraid of him! it is wonderful! i never saw anybody like you! yes, yes, i am beginning to have faith. how can i help it after this?" he smiled at frank, and there was something so joyous and so pathetic in that smile that merry turned away to hide the tears which welled into his eyes. when frank turned back he was bravely smiling, as he said, in a most encouraging manner: "now you must have faith that you are going to get well. that is what you need. it will be better than medicine and doctors. think--think of meeting your sister again!" "yes, yes!" panted the boy. "dear little milly!" "how happy she will be!" "yes, yes!" "and think of regaining possession of what is rightfully your own--of getting square with bernard belmont." a cloud came to the face of the boy. "of course i want what is mine--i want milly to have her rights," he slowly said; "but--but it is not my place to punish the man who has wronged us." "the law will do that." "god will do that! i believe it once more since talking with you. i trust him fully." there were footsteps outside the door, a gentle tap, and frank admitted harry and a physician. the doctor sat down in a chair by the bed and asked the boy a few questions, while frank and harry anxiously watched and listened. the doctor's face was unreadable. "who is this boy, frank?" whispered harry. "where did you find him?" "wait," said merry. "i will tell you later, but not here." the doctor declared that the unfortunate lad must have some light stimulating food without delay, and he wrote a prescription. "take this to a druggist and have it filled," he said, handing it to harry. harry left the room. the boy lay back on the bed, his eyes closed, breathing softly. the doctor arose and walked to the window, motioning frank to join him. "how is it, doctor?" merriwell anxiously asked, in a whisper. the man shook his head. "i can't tell yet," he confessed; "but i fear he is done for. he has been starved, and his lungs are in a bad way. what he needs most is stimulants and food, but everything must be mild, as his system is in such a weakened condition. as for the injury to his side, of which he complains, of course i cannot tell how severe that may be." frank's heart sank, for the doctor was more discouraging in his manner than in his words. "save him if you can, doctor!" he entreated. "i will. is he a friend or relative of yours?" "he is an utter stranger to me. i never saw him before to-night." the doctor lifted his eyebrows in astonishment. "indeed! then who is to pay the bills for his care and treatment?" "i will," frank promptly answered. "here, take this as a fee in advance." a bill was thrust into the physician's hand. after looking at the bill the doctor assumed a very deferential manner. "he should have a first-class nurse," he declared. "he shall," assured merriwell; "the best one to be obtained in carson." "this is very strange," said the physician. "i can't understand why you should do such a thing for one who is a stranger to you. you must have an object." "i have." "ah! i thought so!" "my object is to see this poor, abused boy live and get his just due. he has been misused, and the man who has misused him should be punished. i hope to live to know that man has been punished as he deserves." "ah!" came from the doctor once more. "then you have a grudge against the man?" "i never saw him in all my life. i never heard of him before this night." the physician was more puzzled than before. "then i must say you are a most remarkable person!" he exclaimed. once more there were steps outside the door--heavy shuffling steps. the boy on the bed heard those steps, and a gasp came from his pale lips, as he turned his head toward the door, his face distorted by fear. "he is coming!" the words came in a hoarse whisper from the injured boy. frank started toward the door and the boy wildly entreated: "stop him--don't let him come in here! hark! there is another step! they are both there! they have come for me--come to drag me back to a living death!" "why, he is raving!" exclaimed the doctor. bang!--open flew the door. without stopping to knock or ask leave to enter, a tall, dark-bearded man stepped into the room. at this man's heels came a crouching figure that seemed half human and half beast. it had a short, thick body and long arms that nearly reached the floor. its face was pale as marble, save for a red scar that ran down the left cheek to the corner of the mouth. the eyes were set near together, and they glistened with a savage, cruel light. frank stepped between the intruders and the bed, but the boy had seen them, and he sat up, uttering a wild scream of fear, then fell back on the pillow. "who are you? and what do you want?" demanded merriwell, boldly confronting the man and the creature at his heels. "never mind who we are; we want that boy, and we will have him!" declared the man. "he can't escape us this time!" frank glanced at the figure on the bed, and then turned back, crying with great impressiveness: "he can and has escaped you, bernard belmont; but he will stand face to face with you at the great bar of justice in the day of judgment!" "what!" hoarsely cried the man, starting back and staring at the ghastly face of the boy on the bed; "he is dead!" chapter xii. at lake tahoe. poised like a sparkling gem in a grand and glorious setting of mountain peaks, lies lake tahoe, the highest body of water on the american continent. the sun was shining from a clear sky when frank merriwell and harry rattleton reached a point where they could look down upon the bosom of the lake, from which the sunlight was reflected as from the surface of a mirror. "there it is, old man!" cried frank, enthusiastically--"the most beautiful lake in all the wide world!" "that is stutting it rather peep--i mean putting it rather steep," said harry, with a remonstrating grin. "but none too steep," asserted frank. "people raved about the beauties of maggiore and como, and thousands of fool americans rush over to the old world and go into raptures over those lakes, but tahoe knocks the eye out of them both." "i think you are stuck on anything american, frank." "i am, and i am proud of it, too. rattleton, we have a right to be proud of our country, and we would be blooming chumps if we weren't. it is the greatest and grandest country the sun ever shone upon, and a fellow fully realizes it after he has been abroad and traveled around over europe, asia and africa. i've been sight-seeing in those lands, my boy, and i know whereof i speak." "you are thoroughly american, anyway, frank." "that's right. i love my native land and its beautiful flag--old glory! i never knew what it was to feel a thrill of joy that was absolutely painful till i saw the stars and stripes in a foreign land. the sight blinded me with tears and made me feel it would be a privilege to lay down my life in defense of that starry banner." "well, you're a queer duck, anyway!" exclaimed harry. "i never saw a chap before who seemed cool as an iceberg outside and had a heart of fire in his bosom." frank laughed. "every man is peculiar in his own way," he said "i never try to be anything different than i am. i am disgusted by affectation." "we have found lake tahoe, but that is not finding the 'buried heiress,' as you call her." "but we will find her." "i scarcely think it will be an easy task." "nor do i think so, but i gave george morris my word, and i am going to keep my promise to him, poor fellow!" "you never seem to consider the possibility of failure, frank." "the ones who consider the possibility of failure are those who fail, old fellow. those who succeed are the ones who never think of failure--who believe they cannot fail. confidence in one's self is an absolute requisite in the battle of life." "there is such a thing as egotism." "yes. that consists in bragging about what you can do. it is most offensive. it is the fellow who does things without boasting who cuts ice in this world. the other fellow often spends his time in telling what he can do, but never does much." "i think you are right; but let's get down nearer the lake. i've heard that the water is marvelously clear." "it is so clear that a small fish may be seen from the surface, though the fish is near the bottom where the lake is the deepest." "then it can't be very deep." "it is, nevertheless. in many places it is thirty or forty feet--even more than that." "then who invented the fish story?" "the fish story is all right," laughed merriwell. "i know." "how do you know?" "i've been here before." "here--at lake tahoe?" "sure." "well, say!" cried rattleton, in astonishment, "i'd like to know where you haven't been!" "oh, there are lots of places where i haven't been, but this is one of the places where i have been. that's all." "what brought you here?" "i came here in pursuit of a young lady in whom a friend of mine, bart hodge, was interested." "i think i have heard you speak of hodge." "yes, he was my chum when i was in fardale military academy. we were enemies at first, and hodge did his best to down me, but we became friendly after that, and hodge turned out to be a very decent fellow." "where is he now?" "give it up. haven't heard from bart in a long time. last i knew he was out here in the west somewhere." the boys had reached tahoe on their wheels, there being a road to the lake. the road was not a very good one for bicycle traveling, but they had ridden a portion of the way. now they had left the road and pushed down to the lake by a winding path, along which they had been forced to carry their wheels at times. they made their way down to the edge of a bluff, from the verge of which they could look over into the water. "say! it is clear!" cried harry. "i told you so," smiled frank. "but--but--why, it almost seems to magnify! i can count the pebbles on the bottom. look at those tiny fishes swimming around there." in truth the water was marvelously clear, and things on the bottom could be seen almost as plainly as if they were not beneath the surface. "why, it don't seem possible that a boat can float on it!" broke from harry. "it is something like floating in the air." "are there boats to be obtained near here?" "there are a number of boats on the lake. there once was a man near here by the name of big gabe who owned a boat." "let's get it, if he is here now. i want to take a sail on this lake. how do we find big gabe?" "i don't know that we'll be able to find him at all. he was a consumptive." "oh, then he may be dead?" "not from consumption. he came here to die, but in less than a year he was stronger and heartier than he had ever before been, and he was so lazy that he didn't care to do anything but lay around and take life easy. he said he was going to stay here till he died, but there seemed little prospect that he'd ever die. he----" at this moment there was a sudden wild snarl behind them, and, before they could turn, each lad received a powerful thrust that sent him whirling from the bluff to fall with a great splash into the water below. both lads had pulled their bicycles over the brink, so the wheels fell with a loud splash into the water which washed against the base of the steep rock. the boys themselves had been sent whirling still farther out, and they sank like stones when they struck the water. but they came up quickly, wondering what had happened. "blate glisters--no, great blisters!" gurgled harry, as he spurted water like a whale. "where are we at?" "christmas!" said frank. "what struck us?" and then, on the top of the bluff, they saw a creature that was dancing and howling with rage and satisfaction. it was apollo, the dwarf. "may i be hanged!" exploded rattleton. "it's that thing!" "it is!" agreed frank; "and i supposed that thing must be hundreds of miles from here." "going east." "of course." "belmont didn't let any grass grow under his feet before he got out." "not much." the creature on the bluff danced and screamed and waved its long arms, while its hideous face was convulsed with expressions of rage. "oh, i'd like to get at him!" grated frank. "thank you, i'd much rather keep away!" exclaimed harry. then the boys started to swim ashore. suddenly the dwarf began throwing stones at them. he picked up huge stones from the ground and sent them whizzing through the air with great force and something like accuracy. "well, this is getting rather hot!" exclaimed frank, as a huge jagged stone shot down past his head and sank in the water. "hot!" gurgled rattleton. "i should say so--some!" "look out!" another huge stone struck between them. "if that had hit either of us, it would have fixed us!" came from frank. "you bet!" "swim, old fellow! we must get away." but as they swam, looking for a place to go ashore, the dwarf followed along the top of the bluff, still pelting them with stones, while he uttered those savage cries. one of the smaller stones struck merry and hurt him not a little. "wait!" he muttered. "i'll get a chance at you yet!" then, regardless of the shower of stones, he started to swim in toward the shore where he saw a place that they could get out of the water. but another stone whizzed down, and there came a broken, strangling cry from harry. "what happened, old fellow?" asked frank, who was now a bit in advance. "did the cur hit you?" no answer. frank looked around, and found harry had disappeared from view. the dwarf on the bluff danced and howled with fierce delight. as quickly as he could, frank turned about, swam back a little and dived. it did not require a great effort to go down, for now his clothes were thoroughly wet, and he sank easily. as soon as he was below the surface, keeping his eyes open, he saw his friend lying on the bottom. the water was so clear that there was not the least difficulty in this. down frank went till he reached harry, whom he grasped. planting his feet on the bottom, he gave a great leap and shot upward. the water was not more than eight feet deep, and he quickly reached the surface, immediately striking for the shore. but his watersoaked garments and harry's weight dragged on him, and it was a desperate battle to keep from going down again. "you must do it, merriwell!" he told himself. "it's your only show! pull him out somehow!" several times his head was forced below the surface and it seemed that the struggle was over; but he would not give up, and he would not let go his hold on harry. "both or none!" he thought. "if i can't get out with him, i'll not get out without him!" the dwarf had disappeared from the bluff, which was a fortunate thing, as he would have been given a fine opportunity to pelt them with rocks as frank slowly and laboriously swam ashore. just then, if merriwell had been struck on the head by a stone, it must have ended the whole affair. "oh, if my clothes were off!" panted frank. "then i could do it. i must do it anyway." he wondered how badly harry was hurt, but it was impossible to tell till the shore was reached. the water did not seem so buoyant as it should, and he almost felt that there was a force dragging him down. purely by his power of determination he succeeded in reaching the rocks and dragging himself out with his burden, when he sank down utterly exhausted. "thank goodness!" he gasped. "i did it!" he had not been there many moments when he heard a cry above, and, looking upward, saw the dwarf had returned to the edge of the bluff. the dwarf seemed astonished when he saw the boys had reached shore, and he sent a stone whistling down at them. frank dodged the missile, and then, with a fresh feeling of strength, hastened up the rocks toward the top of the bluff. apollo saw the boy coming and immediately took to his heels, quickly disappearing from view. finding the dwarf had escaped, frank turned back, lifted harry in his arms, and again mounted the rocks. he reached the top and bore his friend to a place where he could rest on some short grass where he was sheltered from the sunlight. then frank looked for harry's injury. rattleton had been struck on the head by a stone, which had cut a short gash in the scalp, and from this blood was flowing. "it doesn't seem very bad," said frank, as he examined the wound. "i rather think it stunned him, and that is all. he was not under water long enough to drown." frank took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrung it out, intending to bind up harry's head with it. at that moment, happening to glance up, he saw a pale, horrible face peering out from a mass of shrubbery. it was the face of apollo, the dwarf. "that creature still here!" grated merriwell, as he sprang up. "if he isn't driven away, he may find a way to injure us further." then he ran after apollo, who quickly disappeared. frank pursued the dwarf hotly, hearing the little wretch crashing along for some distance, but apollo succeeded in keeping out of sight, and, at last, he could be heard no more. merry was disgusted. he spent some time in searching for apollo, and then returned to the spot where he had left harry. chapter xiii. a race on the lake. to frank's amazement, he found rattleton reclining in a very comfortable position, with the handkerchief bound about his head. "hello, old boy!" merriwell cheerfully called. "i reckon you are all right, for you are able to do up your own wound." "i say, frank," came eagerly but weakly from rattleton, "what has become of her?" "her? whom?" "the fairy, the nymph, the beautiful queen of the woods! she was here a few moments ago--she was with me." "by jove! that crack on the head has knocked him daffy!" thought merriwell. "he's off his trolley sure!" "why don't you answer me?" harry impatiently demanded. "i closed my eyes but a moment, and when i opened them again she was gone." "i hope you are not referring to the dwarf," laughed frank, lightly. "i hope you do not mean him when you talk about a fairy, nymph and beautiful queen of the woods?" "no, no! of course i do not mean that horrible creature! i mean the girl--the girl who was here!" "there has been no girl here." "what? i know there has! i saw her, although it seemed like a dream. i saw her before i could fully open my eyes. she was kneeling here beside me, and she was so beautiful!" "my dear fellow," said merriwell, gently, "that tap on the head has mixed you somewhat--there's no doubt about it." harry made a feeble, impatient gesture. "you think i am off," he said; "but i am not. i tell you i saw a girl--a girl with blue eyes and golden hair. her cheeks were brown as berries, but the tint of health was in them. and her hands were so soft and tender and warm!" frank whistled. "i'm afraid you are hurt worse than i thought," he said, with no small concern. "oh, scrate gott!" spluttered harry. "i am not hurt at all! i tell you i saw her--do you hear?" "yes, i hear." "but you don't believe me, and that is what makes me hot." "keep cool." "how can i? look here, look at my head." "yes, you did a very good job. i was about to do it up when i saw that dwarf again, and i chased him." "i didn't do it up at all." "no?" "not on your retouched negative!" "then who----" "the girl--the girl, i tell you! when i came to my senses, i felt some person at work over me, and through my eyelashes i saw her kneeling here at my side. i tell you, frank, she was a dream--a vision! i thought i was in heaven, and i scarcely dared breathe for fear she would disappear." frank was watching harry closely. "hanged if the fellow doesn't believe it!" muttered merry. rattleton's ears were sharp, and he caught the words. "believe it!" he weakly shouted--"i know it! i not only saw her, but i felt her hands as she gently brushed back my wet hair and tied this bandage in place. look at it, merry, old fellow; i couldn't have put it on like that--you know i couldn't." "well, it would have been quite a trick." "i think she saw us thrown into the water, for she murmured something about it. she must live near here, frank." harry was fluttering with suppressed eagerness. "if you saw such a girl, it is likely that she does." "if i saw such a girl! oh, smoly hoke! will you never be convinced?" "perhaps so," nodded frank, as he examined the ground. "what are you looking for?" "her trail." "if you were an indian, you might find it; but no white man could find it here, as the ground is not favorable." "i think that is right," admitted frank, as he gave over the attempt. "if you saw such a girl, i have a fancy i know who she is." harry started up, shouting: "you do?" "sure." "then you saw her when you visited the lake before?" "no." "how is it that you are sure you know who she is if you never saw her before?" "you are little numb just now, harry, or you would have thought of it yourself. she must be the buried heiress." rattleton caught his breath. "right you are!" he exclaimed. "why, it must be her!" "it strikes me that way," nodded frank. "by jove!" palpitated harry; "she is a peafect perch--i mean a perfect peach! merry, old chap, she takes the bun!" frank laughed. "it's not often you get this way, rattles," he said. "she must have hit you hard." "right where i live, old man. i'd like to win her." "but you must not forget she is an heiress." "oh, come off! that doesn't cut any ice in this case. she was dressed like anything but an heiress, and----" "you know why. she is living like anything except an heiress, and still she is one, just as hard." "and that infernal dwarf is here searching for her!" "sure." "we supposed he had gone east, with bernard belmont." "yes." "instead of that, belmont sent him here to find the girl." "correct me, noble dook." harry started up, in great excitement. "we must defend her, frank--we must protect her from that wretched creature!" he cried. "i am ready." "i see you are," smiled merry. "the thought that she might be in danger has aroused you more than any amount of tonics. we can't protect her unless we can find her." "and you said a short time ago that we would not fail to find her." "we will not, and i hope we may be able to find her in time to be of assistance to her. to begin with, we must get our bicycles out of the lake. it is a fortunate thing they fell in the water." "fortunate?" "yes." "why?" "it is pretty certain the dwarf would have smashed them if they had not." "that's right. i never thought of it. he would have had a fine opportunity. it is fortunate." "we can remove our clothes and hang them in the sunshine to dry while we are getting the wheels." a look of horror came to harry's face. "no, no!" he cried, wildly. "we can't do that!" "why not?" "the girl--she is somewhere near here. what if she should see us? good gracious; it hakes my mart--i mean it makes my heart stand still to think of it!" harry's expression of horror and the way in which he uttered the words caused frank to shout with laughter. "oh, my dear fellow!" he cried; "if you could do that on the stage! it would be great! you'd make a great hit!" for once in his life harry failed to see the humorous side of a thing, and he did not crack a smile. "what's the use to 'ha-ha' that way, merry?" he cried, "you wouldn't want a thing of that kind to happen, and you know it." "of course not, old man, so we'll have to keep on part of our clothing while we are recovering the wheels." they approached the edge of the bluff, and, as they did so, a canoe shot out from the mouth of a small cove nearly half a mile away. there was a single person in the canoe and, immediately on seeing her, harry cried: "there she is--that is the girl!" it was a girl, and she was handling the paddle with the skill of an expert, sending the light craft flying over the bosom of the lake. "we must call to her!" exclaimed harry. "she must stop!" "we can't stop her by shouting to her, rattles," declared frank, quickly. "it would frighten her, that's all." "but--but what can we do?" "unless we can find a boat, absolutely nothing." rattleton was desperate. "it's terrible, frank!" he cried. "we may lose the only chance of finding her! at least, she should be warned!" "look!" directed merriwell, who was watching the girl closely. "she is looking back! see her use the paddle now! she is alarmed! she makes the canoe fly! she makes it spin along at great leaps! surely something has frightened her! what is it?" harry's excitement grew. "it's something, that's sure. she is using all her strength! how beautifully she handles the paddle! see the sunshine strike her hair! it is like gold! and now--look! look!" around a point just beyond the cove came a boat in which two men were seated. both men were paddling, but the boat was heavy, and they were not gaining on the fleeing girl. "great scott!" exclaimed frank. "it is apollo, the dwarf!" "yes; and the other--the other is----" "bernard belmont!" "then he is here--he did not go east at all. that was a blind." "sure enough. they are here to find the girl." "to put her out of the way, perhaps!" "it would be like that man. if he gets hold of her, some terrible accident is likely to happen to mildred morris. but they are not gaining; she is keeping the lead with ease." "yes," nodded frank, satisfaction on his face; "she will not be taken." the boys watched the race with great interest, seeing the girl draw farther and farther from her pursuers, till, at last, they gave over the attempt in disgust, although they still paddled along after her. she headed for a distant shore, and frank and harry did not cease to watch till both boats had disappeared in the shadow of the mountains and timber. "there," said merriwell--"over there somewhere must be the present home of that girl. it is a wild region, for i was there once myself, and i know. we will go there and see what we can find." "but we must recover our wheels first." "that is right; and now we can remove our clothes to do so, without fear of being seen. come on." it was no simple task to get the bicycles out of the lake, but the thought of the girl's possible danger seemed to have restored harry's strength, and, between them, they succeeded, after many efforts, in accomplishing their object. in the meantime their clothes, which had been hung where sun and wind would reach them, had partly dried. "we can't wait for them to get entirely dry," said frank. "we'll put them on just as they are. nobody ever gets cold around lake tahoe at this time of year." harry did not object, but the garments were just wet enough so it was not an easy thing to get into them. this, however, was done, after a severe struggle and a small amount of startling and highly picturesque language from rattleton. "woo!" said harry. "if we had a fine road, we could get on our bikes and send them spinning at such speed that the breeze would soon dry us; but now--how do you propose to get over across this part of the lake, anyhow?" "well," said frank, "you heard me speak of big gabe?" "of course." "his cabin was not far from here." "what of that?" "he owned a sailboat." "wheejiz--no, jeewhiz! that's the stuff! that's what we want!" "i rather thought so. with the aid of a sailboat we can get across the lake easily." "let's look for mr. big gabe without delay." frank took the lead, and they went in search of the big hermit, trundling their wheels or carrying them, as was necessary. the modern bicycle is so light, although it is strong and stanch, that it may be carried almost anywhere, and so the task of taking the wheels along was not as difficult as it might have been. within half an hour they came in sight of big gabe's hut, which lay on the shore of the little cove out of which the girl had sped in the light canoe. "it was from this very spot that i first saw that building," said frank. "i'll never forget it. bart hodge was with me. when we drew nearer, big gabe himself came out and threatened to shoot us, thinking we were trying to steal his boat, or something of that sort." "where is the boat now?" "there it is, down where the tree overhangs the lake. see?" they could see the single mast and stern of the boat. "good luck!" cried rattleton. "with the aid of that, we won't do a thing but make a lively cruise across the lake, for the wind is rising, and we'll have a fair breeze." frank was looking steadily toward the hut, and there was something like a frown on his face, which his companion observed. "what's the matter?" harry asked. "the hut looks deserted. the first time i saw it smoke was coming out of the chimney. now the chimney is giving forth no smoke, and the door stands open. it doesn't look as if any one had been around the place for a year." "that's right," admitted harry, anxiously. "but the boat is there." "it may be in bad condition, else why didn't belmont and the dwarf take it?" "there was no breeze a short time ago, and they could not have sailed it across the lake. besides, they were in pursuit of the girl in the canoe, and they hoped to overtake her with the aid of a boat they could row or paddle." "your reasoning is all right, my boy. we will hope the sailboat is all right, too. come on." chapter xiv. the hermit's power. around the shore of the cove the two boys went toward the hut. as they approached it frank placed his hands to his mouth in the form of a horn, and shouted: "oh, gabe! oh, mr. blake!" his voice came back in a distinct echo from a distant rocky steep, but that was all the answer he received. the rising breeze stirred the open door, seeming to wave it at the boys in derision, but the air of loneliness about the place was oppressive. "there's no one about," said frank. "not a soul," agreed harry. they reached the cabin and looked in. it had not been occupied for two months, at least. "big gabe is dead or gone," said merriwell, with sincere regret. "i hoped to find him here." "well, let's see if his boat is all right," came anxiously from rattleton. "that is what we want to know most." leaving their wheels leaning against a tree, they hastened to the spot where the boat lay moored at a short distance from the shore. "we'll have to swim to get it," said frank. "it is plain that other boat in which we saw belmont and the dwarf was used by gabe to get from the shore to the sailboat." frank stripped off quickly and plunged into the lake, although the water was cold, as he well knew from recent experience. out to the boat he swam, came up by her stern, and got in without difficulty, which was a very neat thing to do, as the average boy would have tried to crawl in over the side, with the probable result of upsetting the boat. "how's she look, merry?" called harry, anxiously. "o. k.," answered frank. "there's some water in her, but it is a small amount, and the sails are well reefed. they may be somewhat rotten, but we'll be careful of them." "how are we to get our wheels on board?" frank stood up and surveyed the bottom, which he could do with ease, because of the unruffled surface of the cove, as the wind did not touch it there. "there's a channel leading up to that large rock," he said. "i'll bring the boat up there." "look out to not get her aground so she can't be brought off," warned harry. "that would be a scrape." "i'll look out." frank did not find it difficult to get up the anchor, and then, with the aid of a long oar, he guided the boat to the rock. in the meantime, harry had hastened to bring the bicycles down to the cove, and they were all ready to be taken on board. this was accomplished, and harry followed them. "now away, away," he cried. "we'll set our course for yonder shore." "of course," punned frank, and rattleton made a grimace. "bad--very bad," he said. "that habit has been the cause of more sudden deaths than anything else of which i know." frank laughed, and they pushed the boat from the great rock. rattleton set about unfurling the sails and getting them ready for hoisting. "are you a sailor, merry?" he asked, as if struck by a new thought. "am i?" cried frank. "ha! ha! also ho! ho! wait a wee, and you shall see what you shall see." "then you have been to sea?" frank gave the other boy a look of reproach. "and you had the nerve to do that after saying what you did about the bad pun i made a short time ago!" he cried. "rattleton, your crust is something awful!" they made preparations for running up the sail, saw that the tiller was all right and the rudder worked properly, and looked after other things. the bicycles were in the way, but that could not be helped. harry aided frank in setting the sail, and, with the aid of the oar, the boat was worked out to a point where they could feel the breeze. "by jove! this is rather jolly," commented rattleton, as they began to make headway. "with a fair wind, we'll run over there in a short time, and then--then if we can find that girl!" "my boy, your face is aglow with rapture at the thought," smiled frank. "you have been hit a genuine heart blow. look out that it doesn't knock you out." away they went, making fair speed, although the boat was decidedly crude and cumbersome. the mountainous region beyond the lake was wild and picturesque, but, fortunately, the boys found a cut that led down to the very shore of the lake. they reached a spot where they could run up close to the shore, which enabled them to take their bicycles off without trouble. the boat was made fast, the sails having been reefed once more, and then the lads deliberately mounted their wheels and attempted to ride into the cut. this was not so difficult as might be thought, for they found what seemed to be an antelope "run" that led from the shore, and they pedaled along that path. "it was somewhere in this region that we found the retreat of the gang of money makers when i was here before," said frank. "what's that? a gang that made money?" "yes." "i suppose they had some kind of an old hut here-abouts in which they did the work?" "they had a cave--a most wonderful cave it was said to be. that cave had never been fully explored, and---by jove!" frank interrupted himself with the exclamation, a strange look having come to his face. "what is it?" asked harry. "i have an idea." "put us on." "that cave, my boy--that cave!" "what about it?" "it is said that carter morris, the queer old miner, lives in some sort of an underground place." "that's right!" cried rattleton, catching frank's meaning, and growing excited. "he has some sort of mysterious mine." "sure, old man!" "and he wrote bernard belmont that mildred morris was buried from the sight of the world." "now, you believe----" "i do--i believe it possible that man may be occupying the very cave once occupied by the counterfeiters." rattleton was following frank along the path, and he nearly ran merriwell down in his excitement. "you know the way to that cave?" he shouted. "you can find it?" "i might be able to do so, although i am not sure of it. i can try. even if we find the cave, we may not find the man and girl there." "it is a chance, anyway. it's the best we can do." after they had proceeded into the mountains some distance, frank began to look for a slope they could scale, so they might get out of the pass. it was finally found, and, with their wheels on their backs, they labored to the top. getting down on the other side was even more difficult, but they succeeded. then frank led harry a wild chase, till rattleton was pretty well played out. his head had ceased to bleed, and he had removed the handkerchief, but he could feel that the blow had taken not a little of the stamina out of him. "how long are you going to keep this up, merry?" he asked. "we must be somewhere near that cave," declared frank. "it is getting toward night. i hoped to be fortunate and find it before dark." "if we don't----" "there's another day coming. we have hard bread and smoked beef in the carriers, and we can find water here. we're not nearly as bad off as we were on the utah desert." "that's right. that was a bad fix, but we pulled out of it all right. if our clothes were somewhat drier i could regard the approach of night with greater complaisance." "our clothes are nearly dry, and they will be much more so in two hours." they continued the restless search, frank seeming utterly tireless. rattleton admired him for his resistless energy and unwavering determination and confidence. fortune must have smiled on them, for, as they were making their way along a narrow cut, they turned a short corner and beheld the dark mouth of a cave just ahead of them. both lads stopped and stood beside their wheels, uttering exclamations of satisfaction. "is that it, frank?" asked harry. "it may be one of the entrances to the old cave of the counterfeiters," answered merry. "that cave has several mouths. this is not the one i saw, but----" "it is a cave, and it may be the one we are searching for. come on!" "what are you going to do?" "go in." "we can't go in without torches." "that's right--dead right! was so excited i didn't think of that. but--hooray!--we have found it!" "don't be so sure yet. we'll go up and look in." they approached the mouth of the cave. suddenly, as they came near, there was a roar from within, and out of the cave rushed a man whose long hair and beard were white, and whose clothes were rude and worn. the boys halted in amazement, staring at this man, who also stopped. frank spoke to harry: "it must be carter morris!" "it is!" cried the old man, whose ears had caught the words. "how do you know me? what right have you to know my name? i am buried--buried from the world!" "crazy as a bedbug!" whispered rattleton. "oh, crazy, am i!" sneered the man, much to harry's astonishment, for it had not seemed possible he could hear that whisper. "that's what they think--the fools!" rattleton clutched frank's wrist. "look," he panted; "she is coming! there she is!" out of the darkness within the mouth of the cave advanced the strange girl they had seen in the canoe. she was hatless, and she looked marvelously pretty with her golden hair hanging about her ears and reaching down upon her shoulders. "well, she is a fairy!" admitted merriwell. "if you win that, you'll be a lucky lad, rattles." "ha! ha! ha!" harshly laughed the man, without a trace of mirth in face or voice. "that is all they think of, the fools! that is what brings them here! they know you are rich, my dear--they know it! and they seek to win you! but you are dead to the world--dead and buried!" "mr. morris," said frank, speaking quietly, "we have a message for the young lady." "bah!" cried the man. "it is from her brother," said frank. "bah!" repeated the hermit. but the girl started forward, crying: "my brother--what do you know of him?" the man put out his hand and held her back. "it is a trick," he declared--"a shallow trick! they think to fool you that way. don't listen to them, child! let me talk to them." then he turned on the boys, his face dark with anger. "go away from here!" he cried. "every moment you remain here your lives are in danger! if you care to live, go away at once!" the girl looked frightened. "we can't go away till we have delivered our message," said frank, calmly, as he started forward. "back!" cried the strange old man, flinging out his hand with a warning gesture. "it means death if you advance another step!" the girl looked more frightened than ever, and the boys halted again. "the old pirate!" whispered harry. "we must save her from him somehow, frank! i know he is detaining her against her will." again that harsh, mirthless laugh. "you know a great deal," sneered the man; "but you do not know enough to go away and save your lives! you do not know my power, but you shall feel it!" the girl cried out and started to lift a hand. then the man stepped to the right and touched the wall of stone. to frank and harry it seemed that the mountains fell on them and beat them down with a great blow that stretched them helpless and senseless on the ground! chapter xv. recovery. with a feeling of numbness and pain in every limb and every part of his body, frank merriwell stirred and tried to sit up. his strength seemed to be gone, and he wondered at his weakness. "what--what does it mean?" he asked himself, puzzled. there was a cloud on his brain, and, for the time, he did not remember what had happened. he realized he was lying on the ground, and he wondered if he had been there long. after a time he turned his head a bit, and close beside him he saw harry rattleton, stretched on his back, his arms outspread, his face ghastly pale. a chill of horror seized upon merriwell's heart. why didn't harry move? why were his eyes closed? why was his face so white? there was something horrible and awe-inspiring about those rigid limbs and that ghastly face. "he is dead!" he succeeded in speaking the words aloud, although his voice was weak and faint. the sound startled him, and, with a mighty effort, he lifted himself to one elbow. "harry!" he panted, thickly--"harry, wake up!" still no stir. "harry, harry, are you asleep?" rattleton remained motionless. holding himself thus, frank watched, but he could not see that the bosom of his friend rose and fell at all--he could not see that harry breathed. surely that pallid face was not the face of a living person! it had the stamp of death upon it! "merciful goodness!" whispered frank, as he dragged himself nearer. "i know--i am sure some frightful thing has happened to us! but i do not seem to remember." he paused and stared about. sunset light was on the snow-capped peaks of the sierras, and away up there they were dazzling to the eye; but there were deep shadows below--black shadows in the heart of frank merriwell. "the mountains!" he faintly murmured--"they are all around us! this is not the desert--no, no! we were not overcome by hunger and thirst. something--something else struck us down!" he lifted one hand to his head, which was so numb and felt so lifeless. what was the trouble? concentrating all his faculties, he forced himself to think. then he seemed to remember. "the girl!" he faintly exclaimed--"we were searching for her! we were trying to find the cave, and--we found it!" he remembered at last. he remembered the appearance of the old man of the white hair and beard; he remembered that the girl had come forth from the mouth of the cave; he remembered the warning of the strange man and the frightful shock that had followed. "jingoes!" he said. "i believe we were struck by lightning! i'm not completely knocked out, but harry seems to be." then he reached rattleton and touched his face, felt for his pulse, sought to discover if his heart beat. close to the breast of his friend frank placed his ear, and what he heard caused him to utter a cry of satisfaction. "not dead!" he exclaimed. "he still lives! there is a chance for him." the thought that harry's life might depend on his efforts aroused him still more. he loosened harry's sweater and the collar about his throat, he chafed his wrists and temples, he fanned him, called to him, sought in many ways to arouse him. at last he saw signs of success. rattleton's breast rose and fell, and he gave a great sigh. "that's right, old man!" cried frank, with satisfaction. "just open your peepers and let us know you are recovering." harry opened his eyes. "where--what--why----" he seemed unable to ask the questions that sought for utterance. "i was thinking the same things a few moments ago," said frank. "we were knocked out in the first round with the old hermit." "hermit--what hermit?" "that's it," nodded merry. "you're as bad off as i was. why, carter morris, the uncle of the girl with the golden hair, who has hit you so hard." a light of understanding came to harry's face, and he revived with wonderful swiftness. "i remember it all now!" he faintly exclaimed. "but i do not know what happened to us. it seemed to me that something struck me." "something did." "what was it?" "i don't know, but something knocked us both out. you remember that the old man warned us not to advance another step--said it would mean instant death if we did." "yes; but i thought the old duffer was bluffing." "so did i. i have since decided that he wasn't." "you think he gave us the knock-out?" "i do." "how could he?" "some way. he has some mysterious power, with the aid of which he guards the mouth of that cave." "and that power must be----" "electricity!" "it's a dead-sure thing!" cried harry. "we were given an electric shock. when the man touched the wall with his hand, he turned on the current." "i believe it." "but how did the shock reach us?" "don't know. i saw no wires." "nor i." "there must have been wires." "i presume so." "well, where are we now?" they looked around, but there was nothing about their surroundings that they remembered having seen before. "we are not in front of the cave," said frank. "no, we are not where we fell, that is sure." "we must have been removed to this spot." "sure." "the bicycles--where are they?" with no small difficulty they got upon their feet, and then they saw their wheels leaning against the face of a black rock near by. at first their legs seemed scarcely able to support their weight, but they grew stronger as the moments passed, and they approached the wheels. then it was they saw something drawn with white chalk on the smooth surface of the black rock. it was the representation of a human hand, with the index finger pointing in a certain direction. beneath the hand were these words: "this way--go!" "it is a warning!" cried frank. "you boot your bets--i mean bet your boots! it tells us to git." "well?" with that word frank turned on harry sharply. "you may go if you want to," said rattleton; "but i never knew you to run away. you are not easily scared." "how about you?" "i am here to find that girl, and i am going to stay till i find her or croak! that's how about me!" "good stuff!" cried merry, approvingly, as he grasped the hand of his comrade. "we'll both stay till we find her." in a short time the boys began to feel like themselves once more. taking their wheels along, they sought for a spring, and were able to find one. there they stopped and made a meal from the hard bread and jerked beef, which was washed down with clear water from the spring. "now i am all right," harry declared. "a feed was what i needed." they discussed matters a few minutes, and then, carefully observing the surroundings, decided to conceal the bicycles in the vicinity of the spring and seek for the mouth of the cave once more. they found a good hiding place for the wheels, and there the machines were stowed away. "we can't be so awfully far from that cave," frank decided. "one man and a girl would not be able to bring us a long distance." but the cave was not easy to find, and the more they searched the more bewildered they became. meanwhile night was coming on swiftly. "hist!" warned harry, suddenly grasping frank's wrist and drawing him down behind some bowlders. "look there!" "what is it?" "moving figures! i saw them distinctly over there." "the man and the girl?" "couldn't tell. there they are again. look!" "i see! it is not the man and the girl. it is two men." "that is right--or, at least, a man and something that resembles a man." "it is bernard belmont and his gorilla man!" "you are right, merry, my boy; and they, too, are searching for the mouth of the cave. it will be a good scheme to watch them." chapter xvi. lost underground. the boys followed belmont and apollo, being aided in doing so without danger of discovery by the gathering darkness; but they knew very well that, in a short time it would become so dark that they might lose track of the two. apollo seemed to be guiding his master to some spot, and they clambered over the rocks with haste that indicated a desire to reach the place without delay. at last the dwarf paused and swept aside some matted vines from the face of what seemed to be a cliff of solid stone. a black opening, large enough to admit a man in a stooping posture, was revealed. apollo urged belmont to follow, and then they disappeared beyond the vines, which fell down and hid the opening again. "it's a cave, merry!" whispered rattleton. "yes," nodded frank; "it may be one of the many entrances to the great cavern of the 'queer' makers. this may lead into the cave occupied by carter morris!" "then let's get in there quick!" exclaimed harry, eagerly. "if we don't, we may lose track of those men." "we must use something like caution, my boy. if we were to rush in after them, it might do us up, for they may be laying for us." so the mouth of the cave was approached with caution. when they had reached it, frank listened. from a distance inside he could hear voices, and, peering through the vines, he caught the glimmer of a light. "come in quickly after me, harry," he directed. "be ready to fight for your life if attacked." rattleton's heart was in his throat, and he felt that they were plunging into unknown and terrible danger, but he said: "go ahead. i am with you to the end." gently and swiftly frank made the opening in the vines larger, and then he quickly stepped through, holding them aside for his friend to follow. the vines fell back into place, and the lad crouched close to the ground. "there," said frank, "see that light? it is not a torch." "no. it seems to be some sort of lamp." "it is a miner's lamp. look--another is being lighted." a match flared up, and its bright glow revealed the pale and terrible face of the gorilla man, who was lighting the lamp. the lamps were arranged to be placed in the hats of those who carried them, and this was what the two men did with them. when everything was arranged to their satisfaction, belmont and the dwarf started onward into the cave. "we'll follow them, harry," said frank. the light from the lamps made it a comparatively easy task for the boys to accomplish their purpose. deeper and deeper into the great cave went the two men. once or twice they stopped and listened. once the boys distinctly heard apollo say: "master, i think i heard a step." "nonsense!" returned the man, sharply. "you heard nothing." "i am sure i heard something," the dwarf insisted. "then it was a rat, or, if there are no rats here, it was a piece of falling stone." "it may have been," acknowledged apollo. onward they went. frank and harry had stopped and were listening. harry's hands grasped merriwell's arm, and he was filled with excitement. he drew a breath of relief when the men moved on. "jy bove--no, by jove!" he gasped. "i thought the trick was up then!" "still!" cautioned frank. "we must not alarm that dwarf too much. he has wonderfully keen ears." the passage, in places, broadened into great chambers, while in other places it narrowed till they were forced to make their way along one at a time. "if we lose sight of those lights we may have some trouble getting out," whispered harry. "that's so," confessed merriwell. "i have seen other passages besides the one taken by them." the thought of being lost underground in that great cave was enough to turn them cold with fear. and then, without the least warning, the lights in advance suddenly vanished. "down!" whispered merriwell. "i believe they have discovered we are after them. close to the ground and listen!" down they crouched, their hearts beating riotously in their bosoms. not a sound seemed to break the deathlike stillness of the cave. "what's happened?" whispered harry. "where have they gone?" "give it up," answered frank. "they have disappeared, but that is as much as i know." "perhaps they are laying for us." but, although they waited a long time, not a sound could they hear save those sounds made by themselves. "i am going ahead," declared merriwell. "we may run into them." "got to chance it, old man. that might be better than to have them run away from us. come on." "i'm with you." keeping close together, they crept forward slowly, not knowing but they might be attacked at any moment. of a sudden, frank gave a gasp and cry. harry tried to grasp his companion, and then he found himself slipping, sliding, falling. down they went, getting hold of each other, but being unable to stop their descent. it was impossible to see anything there in that frightful darkness, and that made their peril seem awful indeed. fortunately their fall was not always direct. there were times when they seemed to be sliding down a steep slope, while dust filled their eyes and mouths, and they were bruised and scratched and robbed of breath. finally, when it had seemed they would never cease falling, they stopped with a great thump and lay panting side by side. "great humping misery!" gasped rattleton, weakly. "are we diving or are we lead--i mean are we living or are we dead?" "we seem to be living," said frank, "but we might be better off if we were dead. i think we are in a bad scrape." "what happened to us, anyway?" "we fell." "or were we pushed?" "there was no pushing about it. we took the tumble ourselves." "you don't suppose the chaps we were following fell down here ahead of us?" "no." "then what could have become of them?" "they must have turned off into a side passage we did not see. that is the only way i can explain it." "well, we may not be able to get out of this." "we'll have to get out." "what if we can't?" "we mustn't think of that." "all right; but i can't help it." they sat up and felt of themselves, finding no bones were broken, although they had been bruised somewhat. harry was about to get on his feet, but frank would not allow that till he had lighted a match, as there was danger of taking another mad tumble. frank always carried matches in a watertight case, and he produced and struck one. by the aid of the tiny blaze they first satisfied themselves that they were not on the brink of another descent, and there was no immediate danger of falling again. then they tried to look around. "murder!" gasped harry. "we are in it--bad!" frank felt that rattleton was right; without doubt they were in a very bad scrape. but it was merry's policy to keep up his courage and put on a front, so he joked and laughed as if it were a matter to be made light of. "i don't know how you do it, old man," said harry, gloomily; "but i can't laugh while we are in this sort of a hole." "we've both been in bad scrapes before. keep a stiff upper lip. we'll pull out all right. first, we must see if we can scale this place where we fell." another match was lighted, and they made an examination. it was not long before they were convinced that it was utterly useless to think of trying to get out that way. "can't be done!" groaned harry. "not that way," admitted frank. "but we'll find a way." "we came here to find the buried heiress, and now we are buried ourselves. that's what i call hard lines." with the aid of their matches, they made their way along slowly, both fearing they might take another fall, and that it might be fatal. "perhaps it would be the best thing that could happen to us," said rattleton, dolefully. "it would be a great deal better than starving down here underground." frank said nothing. he saw their matches were running out, and the thought of being left there in the darkness of that great cavern, with no means of procuring a light of any sort, was overcoming him and making it impossible for him to assume an air of carelessness and merry spirits. finally, when there were but a few matches left, frank said: "we'll have to feel our way along and take chances, harry. i am not going to use up all these matches, for there is no telling how valuable they may be later on." so, clinging to each other, they crept along inch by inch, lost in the stygian darkness of the great cavern of the sierras. chapter xvii. brother and sister. "there's a light ahead, harry!" frank uttered the words in an excited whisper, after they had been groping their way through the darkness of the great cavern for what seemed to be many hours. rattleton was greatly agitated. "it is a light, sure!" he panted. "frank, we're all right at last!" for some time they had heard a strange puffing sound that seemed smothered and far away, like the panting breathing of some subterranean monster. this was accompanied by a singular buzzing roar that sounded very uncanny. "what is it?" asked rattleton, in awe--"what can it be?" "give it up," confessed frank. "let's find out. come on." they moved toward the light, and soon they found themselves looking down into a round chamber of the great cavern from a height of many feet. what they saw filled them with inexpressible astonishment. the place was lighted with electric lamps, and down there in the chamber was a steam engine and a small electric dynamo. the engine was running steadily, and the dynamo hummed with a sound about which there now was nothing uncanny. near the engine, watching it with interest, was the girl of the golden hair. harry clutched frank's arm. "there she is!" he panted. "we have found her at last!" they stood in silence for several moments, watching the girl, who looked very pretty beneath the light of the electric lamps. suddenly a cry came from harry, and he clutched merriwell's arm with quivering fingers, pointing with his other hand. "look! look!" he exclaimed. "the dwarf--there he is!" sure enough, the crouching figure of apollo was seen emerging from the darkness of a black opening and advancing toward the girl with swift, catlike steps. the girl had heard harry's exclamation, and, startled, she looked up toward where the boys were standing. then the dwarf rushed upon her and clutched her with his iron hands. a scream of terror came from the lips of the frightened girl, and rang in weird echoes through the cave. the hand of apollo was pressed over her mouth. but that scream had been heard, and there was an answering shout from not very far away. the girl struggled, but the dwarf dragged her along toward the dark opening. "how can we get down there, frank? we must take a hand! how can we do it? it is too far to jump!" rattleton was frantic. frank was looking for some way of getting down into the chamber. before either of them could discover a means of going to the assistance of the girl, carter morris, the strange old hermit, rushed into the cavern. morris sprang to the aid of the girl, but it seemed bernard belmont had been waiting for such a thing to happen, for he leaped out of the darkness and grappled with the hermit. then a savage battle took place before the eyes of the boys. "furies!" roared the man of the cave, writhing to break the grasp of his assailant. "who are you?" the girl got her mouth free from apollo's hand and screamed: "it is my stepfather--it is bernard belmont!" it seemed that those words filled the hermit with a mad frenzy. he struggled furiously, and belmont was forced to exert all his strength to prevent himself from being overcome, although he was the assailant. "we must go to the rescue, frank--we must!" palpitated rattleton. the boys were determined to find a way of getting down into the round chamber, and frank fancied he saw a manner of descending. it would be necessary to drop at least fifteen feet, but he started to make the attempt and harry followed. the battle between belmont and carter morris continued with great fury, and morris seemed to become perfectly mad with rage when he was unable to overcome his assailant. bit by bit the hermit dragged the man toward the buzzing dynamo, his eyes glowing with an awful purpose. suddenly he tried to hurl belmont upon the dynamo. belmont realized the intention of the man, and a scream of fear escaped him. a moment later both men went down upon the machine! a second they seemed to cling there, and then they were flung off, falling upon the rocky floor of the cavern and lying still, holding fast to each other in death! the girl screamed, and the dwarf seemed overcome with sudden fear. he stared at the contorted face of his dead master, seeming unable to realize what had happened in the twinkling of an eye. down from the heights above dropped two boys. "give it to him, frank!" screamed harry. they rushed at the dwarf, but, for once in his life, at least, apollo was mastered by terror, for, with a shout of dismay, he released the girl and fled, disappearing in a hopping, bounding manner into the darkness. rattleton caught the half-fainting girl in his arms, crying: "hurrah, merry, we have found her, and we've saved her!" but she had fainted. when another morning dawned the two boys and the girl left the great cave and started for carson city. already had mildred explained to them how it happened that the steam engine and the dynamo were found in the cavern. the coiners who had occupied that retreat years before had discovered a valuable vein of ore, and they had devised a scheme of mining with the aid of electricity. the engine was brought there to run the dynamo. as a certain portion of the cave yielded coal in liberal quantities, it was not difficult to find fuel for the engine. carter morris, being somewhat of an electrician, had put the abandoned machinery in running order when he took possession of the cave. it had been his intention to protect himself from intruders by the aid of electric currents, and he had given frank and harry a frightful shock at the mouth of the cavern by means of hidden wires. the electric current had caused his death when he fell upon the dynamo in struggling with bernard belmont. the graves of both men were made in the cave, and little milly shed tears over the body of her mad uncle, who had sought to befriend her by "burying" her. the hidden bicycles were found, and the sailboat was discovered where the boys had left it. after setting sail to cross the lake, frank touched harry's arm and pointed to an object that was floating in the water, at the same time pressing a finger to his lips and shaking his head, with a look toward milly. harry looked and started, for he saw the ghastly, upturned face of apollo, the dwarf, the scar on his cheek having turned a purplish blue. the girl did not see this object, and the boys believed it far better to leave the dwarf than to horrify her by letting her see the body. carson was reached without further adventure, and there a joyous surprise awaited mildred morris. jack diamond met the little party outside the hotel. "where are toots and bruce?" asked frank, in a low voice. "standing guard, as you directed," said jack. "we have taken turns since you went away, and he has not been left alone a moment." "how is he?" "better--much better. the doctor says he thinks he'll come around all right." then frank and harry accompanied milly to a certain room of the hotel. browning and the colored boy were called out of the room, and merriwell said to the girl: "go in, miss morris. there's some one in there who will be glad to see you." he held the door open, and urged her gently into the room. a moment later there was a cry of joy--two cries--a rush. then, peering in at the door for a moment, the delighted lads saw milly spring toward the bed and clasp her living brother in her arms. frank closed the door. immediately toots danced a wild cancan of delight. "golly sakes teh goodness!" he chuckled. "dat gal sho' am a peach. i'd jes' lek teh take dat sick boy's place 'bout five minutes. yah! yah! yah! oh, mommer!" the boy whom mildred had rushed to meet was her brother, george, who was not dead, but had fainted at sight of his cruel stepfather and the dwarf. belmont had thought the boy dead, and had left carson without delay, much to the satisfaction of frank merriwell. and now the doctor who was attending george said the boy had a fair show to recover. "say," observed diamond, suddenly, "the buried heiress is out of sight! i think i will----" "if you try it," spluttered rattleton, menacingly, "i'll hake your bread--i mean i'll break your head! i saw her first, and i have first claim there!" "break away, there, you chumps," laughed frank. "we have business first, you know. we must speed on toward california and bring this wonderful trip of ours to a successful finish. onward is the cry." that afternoon they bade farewell to george and mildred, and rode away, sorry indeed at the parting. chapter xviii. old friends. "we are a set of jolly, jolly lads, as we ride--as we ride away! you bet we're up to date, but are no cads, as we ride--as we ride away! we've crossed the plains and scaled the rockies high, and now hurrah! for 'frisco's town is nigh; we sing as toward that port we swiftly fly, as we ride--as we ride away!" through a california forest of monster trees our five boys were riding, and they sang as they rode, their voices blending beautifully and making the old woods echo with sweet music. to them it seemed that all the perils of the trip were past and san francisco was in view, although in truth, it was more than two hundred miles away by the route they would be compelled to follow. it was a perfect day, with the sun shining from a cloudless sky, as it always seems to shine in california. it was warm, but not too hot for comfort, and the road through the forest was fairly good, winding to the right and then to the left beneath the shadows of the great trees. "if this road wasn't so crooked, we wouldn't have to travel so far," groaned browning, his manner being so dismal that the others broke into a shout of laughter. "you shouldn't kick about this road," smiled frank. "i've seen a road much more crooked than this." "it must have been pretty crooked." "it was so crooked that when you started to ride on it you'd meet yourself coming back." "yow!" whooped rattleton. "that's the worst i ever heard! a man should be put behind bars for perpetrating anything like that." "i don't think i'd like to be put behind bars," confessed merry. "huah!" grunted bruce. "there are others. why, i know fellows who want to be in front of bars all the time." "you mean they drink incessantly?" "no, i mean they drink whiskey." "yah! yah! yah!" shouted toots, his shrill laugh awaking the echoes. "nebber heard mistah brownin' say nuffin' funny as dat befo'! dat teks de cake!" "i wouldn't mind taking a small cake," said the big fellow. "this california air makes me hungry." "land ob wartermillions! yo's alwus hungry, mistah brownin', sar. yo's been eatin' all de way 'crost de country." "that's right," was browning's confession. "and there was one strip of country where they didn't seem to have anything to eat but corn beef and cabbage. i actually ate so much corn beef and cabbage that i was ashamed to look a cow in the face." "well, we'll soon be in san francisco, the greatest city in all this western land," put in frank. "there we can get almost any kind of feed we like. why, i know a restaurant where we'll be able to get 'genuine boston baked beans.'" "you know a place?" questioned diamond. "you know? look here, frank merriwell, what is there you don't know about? have you been everywhere and seen everything?" "not by a long distance, but i have been in san francisco." "well, it seems to me that we never mention a place that you don't know all about. you were perfectly familiar with carson city." "yes, i had been there before, and it is a place i shall not soon forget, for it was there i last saw my old chum of fardale, bart hodge." "you have spoken of him often of late." "yes; i have been thinking of him very much. it is natural, as i am near where i saw him last. dear old fellow! how we fought in the old days when we first met! and, after that, what firm friends we became! hodge had his failings, but he was white at heart. he would lay down his life for a friend. his parents were wealthy, and they had indulged him in everything he desired, till he was completely spoiled and they could do nothing with him. fardale was noted as a place where just such fellows were taken and broken into the traces, and so his father sent him there. hodge didn't do a thing at first--oh, no! not a thing! he raised merry thunder, and he hated me with a virulent hatred. he tried to injure me in every way he could devise, but when i pulled him out of several bad scrapes, incidentally saving his life, he began to see that he was in the wrong. he had a fierce battle to overcome his natural inclination to do dirty things, but overcome it he did, and he became fairly popular in time, although no one knew him and understood him like myself. between us there was a perfect understanding, and i could control him when he would not listen to reason from any other person." "i believe you were stuck on hodge!" said diamond, somewhat piqued. "no more than i am on any of my true friends," answered frank. "it seems you put yourself to lots of trouble with him." "i did; but i fancied there was the making of a fine man in him, and i felt that it was a shame to see a chap go to the dogs. several times he came near being fired from fardale, for they could do nothing with him. if he had been fired, his father would have forced him to hustle for himself. with a boy of hodge's nature that must have meant ruin, as he would have fallen in with fast companions, would have required money, and would have obtained it by some means or other. if his companions had been crooked, hodge, although his nature would have rebelled against anything dishonest, would have become crooked also. he told me that, and he said i was his good angel." "hang it, merry!" spluttered rattleton; "you've been a good angel for lots of us. it seems that every fellow who sticks by you gets on better than he ever did before." "i'm a mascot," laughed frank. "follow me and you'll wear diamonds--or something else." "there's no doubt about it," grunted browning. "we'll be arrested if we don't. can't go naked in this country." "yah!" cried toots. "don' yo' try so hard to say somefin' funny, mistah brownin', fo' dat is where yo' meks a mistook, sar. yo' falls do'n on yo'se'f, an' yo' don' get funny at all." "thanks, my colored counsellor," murmured the big fellow. "you have a shocking habit of giving advice when it isn't asked. i wouldn't do it so much if i were you." "choke off, toots," advised frank. "all right, sar--all right," muttered the colored boy; "but i knows what i knows--yes, sar. it done do some of de crowd good if dey took mah advice, sar." the boys admired the trees and the weather, and they were supremely happy. all were hearty and healthy, with muscles as hard as iron and eyes clear as the eagle's. browning, although still stout and sturdy, had worked himself down to a hard, healthy condition, and was really a stunningly handsome fellow. there was about him a suggestion of great strength, and almost any man might have hesitated about facing him in anger. as merriwell was one who constantly kept himself in perfect condition, it cannot be said that he was looking better than when the party left new york, although he, like the others, was tanned by exposure to all sorts of weather. as the party came around a bend of the road, they saw another young bicyclist, who was standing beside his wheel, somewhat uneasily regarding their approach. "hello!" exclaimed diamond. "here's a fellow traveler." frank took off his cap and waved it about his head, but the stranger did not answer the salute. "some way he doesn't seem at all pleased to see us," said rattleton. "it may be the way with californians," said diamond. "anyhow we'll stop and ask him a few questions," merriwell said. "at least, he can't refuse to answer us, if we are civil." so, as the boys came up, they slackened their speed and prepared to dismount. to their surprise the stranger made preparations to mount, as if he contemplated riding away if they stopped. "he's going to run away," grunted bruce, in disgust. "hold on," urged merriwell, addressing the stranger. "we want to talk with you." then the boys sprang off their wheels. to their surprise, the stranger suddenly held out his hand, almost shouting: "it is frank merriwell, or my eyes can't see straight!" "bart hodge, as i live!" cried frank, grasping the outstretched hand. 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." chapter xx. frank becomes alarmed. "for stealing?" frank's astonishment was so great that he found it difficult to utter the words. "yes," nodded bart, gloomily, "for stealing a watch." "but--but i know you never did such a----the man who would think such a thing ought to be shot!" "the watch was found on my person," said bart, slowly. "found on you, was it? i don't care! i know you didn't steal it. nothing could make me believe that." a gleam of satisfaction seemed to pierce the fierce look on hodge's face, as a shaft of sunshine sometimes pierces a black and sullen cloud. "you are right, merriwell," he said; "i did not steal it. give me your hand. oh, it is good--so good to have some one in the world who has confidence in me! it has seemed of late that everybody was down on me." he grasped frank's hand, and pressed it warmly. "you have been up against hard luck, old friend," came feelingly from frank. "and the girl shook you quite after you were arrested?" "yes." "were you tried?" "yes." "convicted?" "no." "still she threw you over?" "she did." "well, you are dead lucky! such a girl is not worth thinking about! don't let that break you up, hodge." "wait," said bart. "i have not told you all." "go on." "i was arrested in one of the most notorious gambling houses in carson." it was plain that the confession cost hodge much, for his shame was evident, and he hastily added: "give it to me, merriwell! i deserve it! blow me up!" "i shall do nothing of the kind," said frank, slowly, "although i am very sorry to hear what you have told me. were you in that house to play?" "yes." "that is the bad part of it, for you know you can't let gambling alone once you get at it. i had hoped you were free of your old bad habits." "you never hoped so more than i!" cried bart. "but it's no use--i can't reform. davis induced me to go to the gambling house, and then he dropped me like a live coal when i was pinched." "but you said they proved nothing against you." "no, they could not prove anything, for i proved that i bought the watch of a young man who offered it to me at a bargain. that cleared me of that charge." "but vida milburn threw you down just as hard?" "yes." "why?" "don't you see, i was arrested in a gambling house while playing roulette. she had seen me when i appeared to be drunk. that was enough. even though i did not steal, i drank and gambled. her aunt forbade her seeing me. she sent back my presents, and told me we must become as strangers. two months later she married hart davis." frank's hand fell on the shoulder of his old-time friend. "it was hard luck, hodge," he said, in a straightforward manner, "and you were not entirely blameless. at the same time, it is certain that girl did not care for you as she should, and she might have made you miserable if you had won her. the girl who really loves a fellow will believe in him and his honor till there is not a single tattered remnant of his reputation to which she can pin her faith. i tell you, old chum, you may congratulate yourself that you got off as you did." "i have tried to do so," said hodge, "and i resolved to be a man and forget her. but it was harder to forget than i dreamed, and then, when i was beginning to forget, that other came upon me again." "that other? what other?" "her half-sister." "isa isban?" "yes." "you met isa?" "in sacramento." "and she looks as she did long ago--just as handsome?" "a hundred times more so!" cried bart, his eyes kindling and a flush suffusing his cheeks. "merriwell, she is the handsomest girl i ever knew!" frank whistled, regarding bart searchingly and uneasily. "what's this? what's this?" he exclaimed. "what has she been doing with you? why, hang me if i don't believe--i know you were hard hit by her!" "i was," confessed bart, flushing still more. "when i first saw her i thought her vida, but she seemed to have grown more beautiful than ever, and i could not help looking at her. then i discovered there was a difference--i saw it was not vida but isa. when i spoke to her she remembered me, and then--well, we became very friendly. i told her everything, and she laughed. she said vida was too soft for anything--said the old aunt made vida do anything she wished, and the girl hadn't spirit enough to do as she desired. she said she would stick to a fellow if she loved him even though he were jailed for twenty years. there was spirit, dash, go about her, merriwell! she fascinated me. i saw in her what i had missed in vida." frank shook his head in a very sober manner. "my dear fellow," he said, "do you remember isa had a husband?" "yes, but he is dead," said bart, quickly. "i know that; but do you remember the sort of fellow he was?" "of course; he was a counterfeiter." "exactly, and isa 'shoved the queer' for him. she didn't do a thing to me the first time we met. i changed a fifty-dollar bill for her, and when i tried to pass the bill i came near being arrested. you remember that?" "sure." "i hardly think that is the sort of girl you wish to get stuck on, old boy." "i don't know about that," said bart, rather defiantly. "she stuck to her husband through thick and thin, and i think all the more of her for it." frank was alarmed. "my dear fellow," he cried, "you are an easy mark. that girl is shrewd--altogether too shrewd for you to match your wits against hers. she will play you for a fool--i am sure of it." bart reddened again and then turned very pale, his manner indicating great embarrassment. he drew from frank a bit, and something in his air added to merriwell's alarm. "i hope you haven't been very friendly with isa isban," frank said. "i might have been more friendly, but she had a foolish idea that it would injure me if i were seen with her often." "she had such an idea?" "yes; and that goes to show the girl's heart is all right. she had consideration for me." frank bit his lip and scowled. "it is remarkable," he confessed. "are you sure it was out of consideration for you that she did not wish you seen with her?" "sure? of course." "it seems strange. it seems that the kind of life she has led with that reckless coiner husband would be sure to make her careless of others--make her hard and heartless." "it is not strange you think so, merriwell; but it is because you do not know her. i honor and respect her for standing by her husband, even when she knew he was a rascal, and i believe she has a heart and soul a thousand times more noble than the heart and soul of her half-sister." "bad, bad!" exclaimed frank. "look here, bart, you must go along with me. that is settled. isa isban will ruin you if you do not escape from her influence." a look of indignation settled on hodge's face, and he drew away. "if you knew her well, frank, i would not pardon you for saying that about her; but, as you know nothing about her, i will overlook it. but, old fellow, please don't speak of miss isban in that way." "miss isban? her name is mrs. scott; her husband's name was paul scott." "i know, but she has resumed her maiden name since his death. she calls herself miss isban now. you should see her, merriwell. she looks like a sweet girl graduate--a girl of eighteen, and----" "she must be twenty-one or two." "i don't know, and i don't care. she does not look it, and i believe she is a splendid girl. i honor and respect her." "great scott!" thought frank; "hodge is in the greatest peril of his life! i am sure of it. i am sure that girl will work his utter downfall if he is not saved from her influence. it is my duty to find a way to save him. i will!" when frank made up his mind to do a thing, he bent all his energies to accomplish the end. in the past hodge had been easily influenced, but he felt sure isa isban had a hold on the lad that could not be broken with ease. the task must be accomplished by clever work. "where is she now?" merry asked. "i don't know." "don't? how is that?" "well, you see, i--i left sacramento rather--rather suddenly," faltered bart. "suddenly? explain it, old chum. why did you leave sacramento suddenly? i trust you did not get into trouble there?" hodge ground his heel into the ground, seeming quite occupied in digging a hole in that manner. suddenly he started and listened. "a horse is coming this way--up the trail!" he exclaimed. "it is coming at a hot pace, as if hard ridden." "let it come. that needn't bother us. answer my questions, bart. you know i am your friend, and there should be perfect trust and no secrets between close friends." but hodge did not seem to hear those words. he was listening to the hoofbeats of the galloping horse, and his face had grown pale. "look here, merriwell," he hastily exclaimed, "the rider of that horse may be a person i do not care to meet." bart got up hastily, and frank arose, saying: "you needn't be afraid of him. the other boys are good fighters, and there is no single man in this country that can do you up while you are with this crowd. we will stand by you." "it's not that; you don't understand. i must not be seen. i'll get out of sight, and you must bluff him off, if he asks about me. that's all. here he comes!" a glimpse of the horseman was obtained as he flitted along between the great trees. immediately hodge slipped behind a tree, and lost no time in getting out of view. the horseman came on swiftly, and the boys saw that he was a large man with a grizzled beard that had once been coal black. he was roughly dressed, with his pantaloons tucked into his boots. as he approached the man eyed the boys closely. close at hand he drew up, saying in a harsh voice: "wa-al, who are you, and whatever are yer doing here?" chapter xxi. arrest and escape. frank was inclined to resent the stranger's words and manner. "i don't understand how that concerns you, sir," he said, rather stiffly. "hey," cried the man, glaring at merry. "don't git insolent, youngster! i don't like it." "your question was impertinent." "whatever is that? be careful. i don't want any foolin'." frank smiled at this, which seemed to make the horseman angry. "hang ye!" he exclaimed. "you want to be respectful, for you're liable to get into trouble with me, and you won't like that." "shoo fly!" chuckled toots, showing his big white teeth in a grin. "g'way dar, man! yo' gibs me de fever an' chillins." "wa-al, dern me!" roared the man, growing very red in the face. "it's the first time an ordinary nigger ever dared to speak to bill higgins that way." "hole on, sar! i ain't no ordumnary nigger, sar. i's a cullud gemman ob 'stinction, sar, an' po' white trash cayarn't talk to me lek dat--no, sar!" "choke off that critter!" growled the man, addressing frank. "if yer don't, i'll shoot him full of holes!" "i wouldn't advise you to do that," came calmly from merriwell. "you might get into serious trouble if you did." "trouble?--trouble over shootin' a nigger?" snorted the stranger. "wa-al, i think not! i've got the record of killin' a dozen white men, and----" "thirteen is an unlucky number you know. without doubt you will be hanged, as you deserve, when you kill the thirteenth one." "mebbe so, but a nigger won't count. i'll bore him if he opens his trap again!" "land ob mercy!" gurgled toots, dodging behind a tree. "dat man am crazzy fo' suah! look out fo' him, chilluns; dar am no tellin' when he'll tek a noshun inter his fool haid teh shoot you all." "you must be a very bad man," said merriwell, sarcastically. "i am; and now yer realize it, mebbe you'll have a little more respect. who be yer? an' what're yer doing here?" "if you will show that you have any right to ask those questions, i will answer them." "right! why, hang it! i'm ther sheriff of this county!" "well, what have we done that the sheriff of this county or any other county in california should come around and demand our names, as if we were criminals?" "ye're suspicious characters." "is that it? and we look like dangerous criminals?" "i've seen fellows what didn't look more dangerous than you as was rather tough." "well, we are not tough, and we have no reason for concealing our names." then frank gave the name of each of the boys, pointing them out as he did so, and told how they happened to be in california. bill higgins, as the man had called himself, listened and looked them over. his manner seemed to change, and he said: "you tell that pretty straight, and i reckon you're not giving me a crooked deal, but whar's to' other one?" "what other one?" "the one what owns the other bisuckle. thar's only five of you, and here are six bisuckles." the keen eyes of the sheriff made this discovery, and frank realized that hodge's wheel should have been concealed. "oh, the other fellow has just stepped aside to look at the big trees," he explained. "this is the first time we have ever seen trees like these. they are wonders, sir. do you have them all over the state? how tall are they? can you give us the dimensions of the largest tree discovered in this state? we desire some information concerning them." "i see ye do," said higgins, with sarcasm, "an' i desire a little information myself. you'll answer my questions." frank feared his ruse would fail, but he suavely said: "oh, certainly--of course, sir. we shall be pleased to answer your questions. do these trees make good timber for building purposes? are they difficult to work up? how thick is the bark? and how----" "that'll do!" roared the sheriff, fiercely. "i'm no bureau of information. whar is the other feller?" frank assumed a dignified and injured air. "as you do not seem inclined to answer my questions, i must decline to answer yours," he said, coldly. "if you will drive along, it will be agreeable to us." higgins showed his yellow teeth through his grizzled beard. "oh-ho!" he grated. "so that's the trick. wa-al, i know t'other chap is near, an' i'm goin' ter see him. that is settled." off his horse he sprang, leaving the animal to stand, and then, to the surprise of all, he ran to the tree behind which bart was concealed, dashed around it, and gave a shout of triumph. a moment later the sheriff reappeared, dragging hodge by the collar. "don't try ter git away!" he commanded. "if ye do, you'll be sorry. i don't fool with a critter of your caliber." "let go!" cried bart, indignantly. "what are you trying to do with me? take your hands off, sir!" "not till i lodge ye behind bars, young feller. you're under arrest, so cool down and keep still." "why am i arrested?" "oh, you don't know; oh, no!" "answer my question, sir! why am i arrested?" "now, don't go to gettin' funny and givin' orders. it ain't necessary to answer." frank stepped forward. "it is no more than right that you should tell me why you have arrested my friend, sir," he said. "ho! ho!" cried the sheriff. "so he is your friend! i thought as much! well, don't you get too frisky, or i may take a notion to arrest you, too." "such a thing would be an outrage, and i believe you have perpetrated an outrage in arresting mr. hodge." "i don't care what you think!" "at the same time, i see no reason why you should refuse to tell me why you have arrested him." "jive him gesse--i mean give him jesse!" fluttered rattleton, as he sought frank's side. "you know we will stand by you, old man. if you say the word, we'll take hodge away from him." bill higgins' ears were sharp, and he caught the words. like a flash he whipped out a huge revolver, which he held in a menacing manner, while he growled: "thirteen may be an unlucky number, but skin me if i don't make it thirteen or more if you chaps tries the trick!" he looked as if he meant what he said. "steady, fellows," warned merriwell, as the boys gathered at his back, ready for anything. "don't be hasty." "it won't be good fer yer if you are!" muttered higgins. "we can take hodge away from him--i know we can!" whispered diamond, eagerly. "say the word, and we'll jump him!" "that's right," nodded browning, with deliberation. higgins backed off a bit, still holding fast to hodge, and handling his revolver threateningly. "blamed if i don't take the whole gang in!" he shouted. "i reckon you're all standin' in together with this feller." "you will have a warm time taking in this crowd," said frank, quickly. "we are friends of mr. hodge, and therefore we think it no more than right that we should know why he is arrested." "if that's goin' to satisfy ye, you shall know. he's arrested for shovin' the queer." "shoving--the--queer?" "that's whatever!" "but--but there must be a mistake." "bill higgins never makes mistakes." frank was shocked, stunned. he looked at bart, and hodge's face, which had been pale, turned crimson with apparent shame. it was like a blow to merriwell, for the conviction that hodge was guilty came over him. "it was that wretched girl--she did it!" he thought. "she has led him into this. she has influenced him to put out some of that bogus money, and he, like the infatuated fool that he was, did it willingly. oh, it is a shame!" bart stole a glance at frank, and saw by the expression of merry's face that he was convinced of his folly. immediately hodge seemed to wilt, as if hope had gone out of him. the color left his face, and it became wan and drawn, with an expression of anguish that aroused frank's deepest pity. "i don't care!" merriwell mentally exclaimed. "he did it because he was hypnotized--because her influence compelled him to do so. if he is brought to trial now it will mean his utter ruin. what can i do for him? can i do anything?" bart saw the change that came over frank's face, but did not understand what it meant. instead, noticing a hard, determined look, he fancied his former friend was hardening his heart against him. of a sudden hodge gave the sheriff a shove and trip, sending him sprawling on the ground, his revolver being discharged as he fell. fortunately the bullet harmed no one. like a flash, the desperate boy darted away. he caught his wheel, which stood against a tree, and was on it in a moment. his feet caught the pedals, and away he went down the road. bill higgins scrambled up, uttering language that was shocking to hear. "the cursed whelp!" he roared. "he can't ride faster than bullets can travel! i'll fill him full of lead!" then he flung up the revolver. merriwell was quite as swift in his movements. "no, you don't!" with that cry on his lips, frank knocked the weapon aside just as it was discharged, and the bullet sped skyward through the tree tops. then bill higgins whirled and tried to shoot the boy who had saved bart hodge, but the heavy fist of bruce browning fell on his temple, and he dropped like a log to the ground. frank picked up the sheriff's revolver, which had fallen from his hand, and, when higgins sat up, he found himself looking into the muzzle of his own weapon. "get out!" merriwell uttered the words, and higgins took the hint. "all right," he snarled; "but this doesn't end it! i'll make all of yer suffer fer this!" he arose, mounted his waiting horse, and galloped away after hodge. chapter xxii. isa isban. late that same afternoon the five boys were riding westward, when frank said: "something mysterious has happened, fellows." "what is it?" asked jack, who was instantly interested in any mystery. "a short time ago i saw a horseman away down the road here." "yes." "he was coming toward us." "well?" "we have not met him." "no." "look--the road lies before us for a mile. where is he?" "not in sight, that is sure." "he must have turned off somewhere," said rattleton. "that is true, but we have seen no road that turned off from this." "perhaps he saw us and turned aside to avoid us." "or it may have been bill higgins, the sheriff, and he is lying in wait to arrest us all," suggested browning. "it was not higgins," assured merriwell. "it was a young man, i am sure, although i obtained but a glimpse of him through the trees. we have passed no house since then." "never mind him," said harry. "we must find a place to stop for the night." "i wish we might learn what has happened to hodge before we stop. i don't believe higgins recaptured him." "it's ten chances to one we'll never hear anything more about him while we are in california." "i know that, and i am sorry. i wanted to keep him with us, for he is in great need of friends to straighten him up. he has fallen in with bad companions, and they are ruining him." "i should say so!" exclaimed diamond. "he is a fool to let himself be worked by a girl." "don't take hodge for a fool, jack. he is anything but a fool, but he is easily influenced, and he is proud and passionate. fairly started on the wrong road, he may go to ruin in a hurry. if we could get him out of this state--save him from arrest! should he be arrested, tried and condemned, it would mean his utter and complete ruin. after serving a term in prison, he would feel the disgrace so deeply that nothing could save him." "well, you have taken a big contract if you are going to try to save him now," diamond declared. "it might be done, but----hello! this looks like a path." frank was off his wheel in a moment, and he quickly decided that a path led from the regular trail into the dark shadows to the forest to the northward. "wonder where it would take us," he muttered. and then, seized by a sudden inspiration, he cried: "come on, fellows; let's go on an exploring expedition." diamond protested, and browning growled after his usual lazy manner, but frank was supported by rattleton and toots, and the majority ruled. the path, where it turned off from the road, seemed to be somewhat hidden, but it soon became plain enough, and they were able to ride along in single file, merriwell leading. they had proceeded in this manner about a mile when they came in sight of a small cabin that was set down in a little hollow amid the trees. the place looked lonely and deserted, but frank rode straight toward it, and the others followed. the boys dismounted before the cabin, and merriwell rapped loudly on the door. he was forced to knock three times before he obtained a response. the door opened slowly, and a bent and feeble-looking man with dirty white hair looked at them. "who are you?" he asked, in a cracked voice, suspicion showing plainly in his eyes, which were bright and clear for all of his age. "travelers," replied frank, cheerfully. "we were passing, and, as night is at hand, we decided to ask shelter here." "it is useless to ask," the man declared, with a shake of his head. "i can't keep you. it is very strange that you should be passing this place. the road does not come within a mile of here." "that is true, but we found a path, and became convinced that it must lead to a house, so here we are." "you have had your trouble for nothing; i shall not keep you." "hospitable old man!" murmured browning, sarcastically. despite his age, the man was not hard of hearing, for he caught the big fellow's words and shot him a look. "surely you will not turn us away now," urged frank. "it will be dark by the time we reach the road again." "that is nothing to me." the old man was about to close the door, when, to the astonishment of the boys, a musical, girlish voice said: "let them stop here, drew. i know one of the young gentlemen." the bicyclists looked at each other inquiringly, wondering which one of them the owner of the voice could know. they all felt a thrill, for this added zest and romance to the little adventure. "am i dreaming?" whispered bruce; "or did i hear the gentle ripple of a female voice?" "smoly hoke!" gasped harry. "to find a girl in this spone lot--i mean lone spot! it is a marvel!" "an' dat voice oh hers am lek honeydew from heabben, chilluns--'deed it am!" gurgled toots, poetically. the old man seemed astonished and in doubt. "do you mean it, my dear?" he asked. "it was on your account----" "never mind me, drew," came back that musical voice. "it would be a shame to turn them away." "but--but----" "there are no buts about it!" cried the voice sharply, almost angrily. "you have heard what i said! they may stop here." "all right--all right, if you say so. there's nothing for them to eat, and so----" "i'll cook something, for you have corn meal in the house. young men who ride wheels have appetites that enable them to eat anything." "all right--all right," repeated the old man, vaguely. "let them put their bicycles under the shed back of the house." the old man came out, closing the door. "it is my niece, young gentlemen," he explained. "she is very peculiar, and--well, when she says anything, that settles it, so you'll have to stay." "under the circumstances," said frank, his natural delicacy influencing him, although he was rather curious to see the owner of that voice, "i am inclined to think we're intruding, and we had better go on." for a moment the face of the old man expressed relief, and then that look vanished, while he shook his head. "no," he said, "that will not do now. she has decided that you shall stop, and she will not leave any hair on my head if you go away. you must stop." "she must be a gentle maiden!" murmured bruce, with a faint smile. the boys followed the old man around to a shed, under which they placed their wheels. the shed had sometimes been used to shelter horses, but no horse was there then. "you mustn't mind my niece," said the old man, apologetically. "she has been spoiled, and she is determined to have her own way. she runs the ranch." again the boys looked at each other. "i wonder which of us she knows," said harry. "it must be merriwell," diamond declared. "it could not be any one else. this is a joke on him." diamond's ideas of a joke were decidedly peculiar. he seldom saw anything humorous in what pleased his companions, and he took delight in things which did not amuse them at all. he seldom laughed at anything. frank himself felt that he was the one the girl knew, if, indeed, she knew any of them, and he was wondering where he had met her. in the course of his wanderings over the world he had met many girls, not a few of whom he had forgotten entirely. "if she is one of your old girls, i'm going to make a stagger at cutting you out, old fellow," chuckled rattleton. "oh, i don't know!" smiled frank. "you're not so warm!" "just now i don't see any steam coming out of your shoes," harry shot back, quickly. "you're not the only good thing on the programme; you might be cut out." "land sakes, chilluns!" exclaimed toots, with uplifted hands. "i nebber heard no such slanguage as dat--nebber!" "any of you fellows may have the girl, if you want her," said jack. "i have not seen her, but i'm sure she is a terror, and i don't care for that kind." they followed the old man toward the door, and entered the house. a lamp had been lighted while they were disposing of their wheels, and the girl was standing where the unsatisfactory light showed her face as plainly as was possible. she was strikingly handsome, with dark hair and eyes and full red lips. an expectant flush of color was in her cheeks. as frank entered, the girl extended her hand to him, saying: "i am glad to see you again, mr. merriwell. have you forgotten me?" "good gracious!" cried merriwell. "it is vida milburn!" she tossed her head, her hand dropping by her side. "that is not complimentary to me!" she exclaimed. "it shows you remembered my half-sister far better than you did me." "your half-sister? then you are not vida!" "no, thank you!"--with another haughty toss of the head. "then--then you must be--isa isban!" "how remarkable that you should guess it," she said, with biting sarcasm. "but--you--you must remember it has been some time since i saw you, and--and i saw miss melburn last." "you saw me first, and you were so interested in me that you followed me from reno to carson city. after that you met my sister, and now you mistake me for her! i am extremely complimented, mr. merriwell! never mind. you are not so many! perhaps you will introduce your friends. some of them may have a better memory than you." for once in his life, at least, frank was "rattled." he introduced browning as rattling and diamond as brownton, while he completely forgot harry's name. the girl laughed sharply, plainly enjoying his embarrassment. she shook hands with all but toots, saying: "mr. merriwell doesn't seem to be at his best. it is possible he has ridden too far to-day." then frank pulled himself together, and immediately became as cool and collected as usual, which was no easy thing to do. "i beg your pardon, miss isban, but i was just thinking i had not ridden far enough." he said it in his most suave manner, but the shot went home, and it brought still more color to her flushed cheeks. "oh!" she cried, with the same toss of her head, "if your wheel is not broken, it is not too late to make several more miles before absolute darkness comes on." diamond edged up to frank, and whispered: "careful, merry! you're getting her very angry, and she is a mighty fine girl. go easy, old man!" this was very amusing to merriwell, for but a short time before diamond had expressed himself quite freely in regard to the girl, and it was plain his ideas had undergone a change since seeing her. "don't worry," frank returned. "she won't mind a little scrap. i think she will enjoy it. she is that kind." this did not seem to satisfy the young virginian, who immediately set about making himself as agreeable as possible with isa. the boys were invited to sit down, and seats were provided for all of them. frank became rather serious, for thoughts of hodge's misfortune began to trouble him, and he remembered that this girl was responsible for it all. isa did not look a day older than when he had last seen her, and it was hard to realize that she was a woman with an experience and a dead husband. browning was silent and apparently contented. he seemed to take great satisfaction in sitting down and resting. after a little silence, isa observed, seeming to take a malicious satisfaction in what she said: "one of mr. merriwell's friends had not forgotten me, at least." "it might have been better for him if he had," returned frank, in a manner that surprised himself, for never before had he made such an ungallant remark. the girl's eyes blazed and she bit her lip. it seemed that she was on the point of an outburst, but she restrained herself and laughed. that laugh was defiant and angry. "oh, well, i don't know!" she said. "the person i speak of may find i will stand by him better than some of his friends who would have looked on while he was dragged away to jail." this was a surprise to frank, for it showed that the girl knew something about the adventure with bill higgins, which had taken place that day. "so you have seen him since?" asked merry, eagerly. "where is he?" "find out." "i shall be able to find out in time, i think, miss isban." "as far as he is concerned, you need not worry, for i do not think he cares to see you again." "i do not believe that. he knows me too well, and he trusts me." "he thought he knew you, but he did not fancy you would remain passive and see him placed under arrest." "i did not." "what did you do?" "i did not have an opportunity to do much except save his life." "save his life?" "yes." "how?" "i kept him from being bored by a bullet from bill higgins' gun." "how did you do so much?" "i spoiled higgins' aim." "well, that was most remarkable! i presume you expect him to show the utmost gratitude for a service that any man might render another!" she snapped her fingers toward frank, laughing scornfully: "that's where you fool yourself. mr. hodge has told me that he hoped he might never meet you again. he has found other and better friends." "perhaps you speak the truth." the manner in which frank uttered the words implied not only a doubt but a positive belief that she was not speaking the truth and she did not misunderstand them. her teeth clicked together, gleaming beyond her curved, red lips, and her hands were clinched. on her white fingers were a number of rings, set with diamonds, which flashed and blazed like her eyes. "i care not whether you think i speak the truth or not," she said, and turned her back upon him. diamond evinced positive distress. "i can't understand you, merriwell!" he said, in an aside. "it is not at all like you. why, you are always gallant and courteous to ladies." "that is right," agreed frank, with deep meaning. "i am." jack did not like that. "and you mean to insinuate that this beautiful girl is not a lady?" "i have my doubts." "still it seems to me that you have made a bad break in your treatment of her. you were very rude. that is not the way to treat a young lady." "it is not the way to treat the most of them; but, my dear fellow, you will have to learn that they differ as much as men. if you were to treat all men with the utmost courtesy and consideration, you would find that not a few would regard you as a weak-kneed slob. they would impose on you, and their opinion of you would sink lower and lower as you permitted them to continue their impositions without giving back as good as they sent. in this respect, there is a class of women who resemble men. of course you cannot handle them as you would men, but you can't be soft with them. a man who insulted you you would knock down. you can't strike a woman, but you can strike her in a different way, and, in nine cases out of ten, if she is of a certain sort, she will think all the more of you in the end." "well, i am sure you have made a mistake with miss isban. i could see her deep anger and hatred for you in her eyes. she would like to strangle you this minute." "i haven't a doubt of it," coolly smiled frank, his manner showing not the least concern. "she will hate and despise you as long as she lives." "if so, it will make little difference to me." up to this time jack had not dreamed that frank could be anything but courteous and bending to a lady, and now the southerner saw there was a turn to his friend's character that he had not suspected. merriwell had not been at all brutal in his manner, but his words had touched isa isban like blows of a whip. they had stung her and stirred her blood, although they were spoken in a way that showed the natural polish and training of their author. in truth the girl longed to fly at frank merriwell's throat. she felt that she could strike him in the face with her hands and feel the keenest delight in doing so. as she turned toward him again, there came a sharp knock on the door. chapter xxiii. a knock on the door. the old man looked startled, and the girl showed signs of alarm. "quick, drew!" she whispered. "is the door fastened?" "yes!" quavered the old man. "my revolver--where is it?" "on the shelf--where you placed it." with a spring that reminded the boys of the leap of a young pantheress, she reached the shelf and snatched a gleaming pistol from it. then she faced the door again, the weapon half raised. the boys were on their feet. "land ob wartermillions!" chattered toots, his eyes rolling. "looks lek dar am gwan teh be a rucshun fo' suah!" then he looked around for some place of concealment. "what is it?" asked frank. "is there danger?" "to me--yes," nodded isa. "but you do not care! i expect no aid from you, sir." "who is at the door?" "it may be bill higgins, the sheriff!" "come to arrest you?" "perhaps." "he can't do it!" hissed diamond, as he caught up a heavy chair and held it poised. "we won't let him!" the girl actually laughed. "at least, i have one champion," she said. "to the death!" diamond heroically declared. the knock was repeated, and this time it was given in a peculiar manner, as if it were a special signal. an expression of relief came to the faces of the old man and the girl, but they seemed very much surprised. "who can it be?" isa asked, doubtingly. "it is the secret signal," said the man with the gray hair. "that is true, but who should come here to give the signal?" "it must be all right." "wait. i will go into the back room. if it is repeated, open the door. should it be an enemy or enemies, give me time to get away. that's all. hold them from rushing into the back room." "we will do that," declared diamond. in a moment isa disappeared. the knock was given for the third time, and the old man approached the door, which he slowly and deliberately opened. "who are you, and what do you want?" he asked. the reply was muffled and indistinct, but something like an exclamation of relief escaped the man, and he flung the door wide open. into the room walked a young man with a smooth-shaved face and a swaggering air. "hello, drew!" he called, and then he stopped and stared at the boys. "i didn't know you had visitors," he said. "so it's you, kent--so it's you!" exclaimed the old man, with relief. "i didn't know--i reckoned it might be somebody else." "you knew i was coming." "yes; but i didn't 'low you'd get here so soon. it's a long distance to carson, and----" "never mind that," quickly spoke the man, interrupting drew, as if he feared he would say something it were better the boys did not hear. "my horse is outside. where shall i put him?" "in the shed. i'll show ye. come on." the old man went out, followed by the newcomer, and the door was left open slightly. toots quietly slipped out after them. isa isban came back into the room. "i do not care to be seen here by everybody who may come along," she explained; "but this person is all right, for drew knows him." this was rather strange to all of the boys except frank, but merry instantly divined that she was afraid of higgins and more than half expected the big sheriff would follow her there. the secret signal and the air of mystery and apprehension shown by the girl and the old man convinced merriwell that all was not right. isa had at one time "shoved the queer" for a band of men who made counterfeit money, and bart hodge had told frank quite enough to convince merriwell that she was still in the same dangerous and unlawful business. the thoughts which ran riot in merry's head were of a startling nature, but his face was calm and passive, betraying nothing of what was passing in his mind. once more diamond set about making himself agreeable to isa, and she met him more than halfway. she laughed and chatted with him, seeming to have forgotten that such a person as frank merriwell existed. browning sat down in a comfortable position where he could lean against the wall, and proceeded to fall asleep. after a short time toots came slipping into the cabin, his eyes rolling, and his whole manner betraying excitement and fear. he would have blurted out something, but frank gave him a signal that caused him to be silent. at the first opportunity the colored boy whispered in merry's ear: "marser frank, de bes' fing we can do is teh git out ob dis 'bout as soon as we kin do it, sar." "what makes you think that?" asked merriwell, cautiously. "we am in a po'erful ba-ad scrape, sar." "what do you mean?" "it am mighty ba-ad folks dat libs heah, sar." "bad? in what way?" "dey hab done suffin' dat meks dem skeered ob de ossifers ob de law." "how do you know?" "i done hears de ol' man and de young man talkin'." "what did they say?" "say dat ossifers am arter 'em. de young man say dat he have to run from carson city to 'scape arrest, sar." "he is the horseman i saw ahead of us in the valley," said frank. "he must have seen us coming and concealed himself, expecting we would pass him. it is plain he did not wish to be seen." "suah's yeh bawn, boy! he has been doin' suffin' mighty ba-ad, an' he's dangerous. he said he wouldn't be 'rested alive, sar." "this is very interesting," nodded frank. "it seems that we are in for one more exciting adventure before we finish the tour." "i don' like it, sar--'deed i don'! no tellin' what such folks will do. he am feelin' po'erful ugly, fo' he say suffin' 'bout trubble wif his wife an' 'bout habbin' her follerin' him. dat am how it happen he wur comin' from de wes' 'stead ob de eas'. he done dodge roun' teh git 'way from his wife, sar." "he is a brave and gallant young man," smiled merriwell. "i admire him very much--nit!" "now don' yeh go teh bein' brash wif dat chap, marser frank. dar ain't no tellin' what he might do." "don't worry. keep cool, and wait till i take a fancy to move. i want to look him over some more. he will be coming back with drew in a moment, and---here they come now!" into the cabin came the old man, and the young man was at his heels. there was a sullen, unpleasant look on the face of the latter, and he glared at the boys as if he considered them intruders. isa looked up and arose as they entered. the light of the lamp fell fairly on her face, and the newcomer saw her plainly. he uttered a shout of astonishment and staggered back, his eyes opened to their widest and his manner betraying the utmost consternation. "is it possible!" he grated. then he clutched the old man by the shoulder, snarling: "confound your treacherous old hide! you have betrayed me. you said the woman was isa isban, and she is----" the girl interrupted him with a laugh. "you seem excited," she said. "i am isa isban, and no one else." he took a step toward her, his face working and his hands clinched. "how did you get here ahead of me?" he hoarsely demanded. "in the most natural manner possible," she answered. "a friend brought me, mr. kent." "you know my real name--you know everything! i suppose you are here to secure evidence against me. you are looking for a divorce." "a divorce?" "exactly." "i do not understand you." "you understand well enough. we have not been married so very long, and our married life hasn't been any too happy. you have accused me of abusing you--you have threatened to leave me." the girl looked bewildered. "what is the matter with the man?" she murmured. "is he crazy?" the man seemed puzzled by her manner, and the witnesses of the remarkable scene were absolutely at sea; they could not understand what it was about. "i am not crazy," said the young man; "but i was a fool to marry you. you were not worth the trouble i took to get you. i should have let the other fool have you, instead of plotting to disgrace him in the eyes of your uncle and aunt, so i could get you." a great light dawned on frank merriwell. "great fortune!" he mentally exclaimed. "this is the fellow who married vida melburn, isa's half-sister, and he thinks this girl is his wife! they used to look so much alike that it was difficult to tell one from the other. "married--married to you?" cried the girl. "not on your life! why, i never saw you before, although i have heard of you." the man seemed staggered for a moment, and then, with a cry of anger, he leaped upon her. "what is your game?" he hissed, as he shook her savagely. "what are you up to? i thought you a soft, innocent little girl, and now you are showing yourself something quite different. i believe you played me for a sucker! and you want a divorce! well, here is cause for it!" then he choked her. frank went at him like a cyclone. "you infernal villain!" he cried, as his hands fell on the man, and he tore the gasping girl from his clutches. "no one but a brute ever lays hands on a woman in anger, and a brute deserves a good drubbing almost any time. here is where you get it!" then he proceeded to polish off the girl's assailant in a most scientific manner, ending by flinging him in a limp and battered condition into a corner of the room. diamond had hastened to support the girl when frank snatched her from her assailant, but she repulsed him and flung him off, saying, hoarsely: "let me alone! i am all right! i want to see this fight!" with interest she watched frank whip the man whom she had called kent, though she swayed and panted with every blow, her eyes glittering and her cheeks flushed. as merriwell flung the fellow into the corner, the girl straightened up and threw back her head, laughing: "well, he was a soft thing, and that is a fact! think of being thrashed by a boy! drew, is it possible this is our carson city agent, whom you called 'a good man,' when you were speaking of him this evening? such a chap would blow the whole game if he were pinched. i wouldn't trust him." the old man stood rubbing his shaking hands together, greatly agitated and unable to say a word. then there came a thunderous knock on the door, and a hoarse voice demanded admittance. chapter xxiv. the sheriff's shot. old drew was greatly frightened, and davis showed alarm. "hold that door--hold that door one minute!" cried isa. "it will give us time to get out of the way!" bruce browning's shoulder went against the door, and he calmly drawled: "anybody won't come in here in a hurry." "come!" whispered the girl, catching hold of hart; "we must get away! quick!" davis leaped after them. "it will not be a good thing for me to be seen here," he said. "if there is a way of getting under cover, you must take me along." "that's right," nodded isa, "for you would peach if you were pinched. come!" by the way of the door that led into the back room they disappeared. rap-bang! rap-bang! rap-bang! "open this door instanter!" higgins roared the order from the outside. "what's your great rush?" coolly inquired browning. a volley of fierce language flew from the sheriff's lips. "i'll show yer!" he thundered. "down goes ther door if ye don't open it immediate!" "be good enough, mr. drew, to ascertain if our friends are under cover yet," said frank. the old man hobbled into the back room, was gone a moment, and then reappeared, something like a look of relief on his withered face. "they're gone," he whispered. "will it be all right to open the door?" "i reckon ye'll have to open it." "all right. admit mr. higgins, bruce." browning stepped away from the door, lifting the iron bar. instantly it flew wide open, and, with a big revolver in each hand, the sheriff strode heavily into the room. behind him came another man, who was also armed and ready to do shooting if necessary. higgins glared around. "whatever does this mean?" he asked, astonished by the presence of the bicycle boys. "whatever does what mean?" asked frank, innocently. "you critters bein' here. i don't understand it." "we are stopping here for the night." "sho! is that it? well, you're not the only ones. where are the others?" "what others?" "one in particler--the one you helped to get away to-day. you'll have to square with me for that." "i presume you mean mr. hodge?" "that's whatever." "i think your memory is at fault, sir. i did not aid him in getting away, but you owe me thanks for keeping you from shooting him. he would have made the unlucky thirteenth man." "well, hang me if you ain't got nerve! all the same, you'll have to take your medicine for aiding a criminal." "he has not been proved a criminal yet, sir." "oh, you know all about it! well, he's somewhere round this ranch, and i'm going to rope him. watch the front, britts." "all right, sir," said the man who accompanied higgins. then the big sheriff strode into the back room, picking up the lamp to aid him in his search. frank held his breath, wondering what higgins would find. after four or five minutes the sheriff came back, and he was in a furious mood. "i know the critter is here somewhere!" he roared; "and i'll have him, too! can't hide from me!" "that's right," smiled frank, with a profound bow. "you have an eagle eye, mr. higgins, and you should be able to find anything there is about the place. i wouldn't think of trying to hide from you." "ye-he! ye-he! ye-he!" giggled toots. higgins' face was black with fury. he pointed a revolver straight at frank, and thundered: "you think you're funny, but i'm going ter bore yer if you don't talk up instanter! you know where that galoot hodge is hid, and you'll tell, too." "my dear sir," returned frank, as he folded his arms and looked the furious man fairly in the eyes, "i do not know where bart hodge is hidden, and i would not tell if i did." higgins ground has teeth. "say yer prayers!" he grated. "i'm goin' to make you the thirteenth!" he was in deadly earnest, yet it did not seem that frank quailed in the least before him. indeed, in the face of such peril, merriwell apparently grew bolder, and a scornful smile curled his lips. "shoot!" he cried, his voice ringing out clear and unshaken--"shoot and prove yourself a detestable coward!" the other lads held their breath. they felt like interfering, but something in frank's manner seemed to warn them to keep still and not try to aid him. "you think i won't do it," muttered higgins. "well, i'll show ye! i always do exactly as i say. now, you eat lead!" there was a scream, a swish, a rush of feet, a flitting form, and isa isban had flung herself in front of frank, protecting him with her own body! the heavy revolver spoke! bang! frank had realized with wonderful quickness that the girl meant to save him by protecting him with her body, and he caught her by the shoulders, flinging her to the floor in an effort to keep her from being shot at any cost to himself. he would not have been successful, however, but for big bruce browning. the big fellow had been watching higgins as a hawk watches a chicken. at first, he had not thought it possible the sheriff would fire. he could not conceive that the man was such a ruffian. at the last moment, however, he saw higgins meant to shoot. browning's hand rested on the back of a chair. with a swiftness that was simply marvelous in one who naturally moved with the greatest slowness, he swung that chair into the air and flung it at the furious sheriff. higgins saw the movement out of the corners of his eyes, and, although the missile had not reached him when he pulled the trigger, his aim had been disconcerted. the bullet touched frank's ear as it passed and buried itself in the wall. then old drew dashed out the light, and the place was plunged in darkness. chapter xxv. escape--conclusion. the sheriff's assistant lost no time in getting out of the cabin, rushing to one of the horses, which had been left a short distance away, and mounted. then he rode madly away through the forest, deserting higgins in a most cowardly manner. when the lamp in the cabin was relighted, higgins was found stretched senseless on the floor, the chair having struck him on the head and cut a long gash, from which blood was flowing. "i'm afraid i've killed him!" exclaimed browning. "i didn't mean to do that, but i had to do something. i couldn't keep still and see him shoot frank down like a dog." "it serves him right!" said diamond, but his face was pale, and he looked very anxious. "i sincerely hope he will come around all right," said frank, as he knelt by the man's side. "this scrape is bad enough, and, although he has shown himself a ruffian, i do not think we care to take the life of any human being." isa isban was looking down at the man, and her face softened and showed pity. "you are right, mr. merriwell," she gently said. "you have taught me a lesson. higgins was a handsome man in his way, and it is a pity to have him die with his boots on like this. we'll see what we can do to fix him up." frank looked up at her, and one glance was enough to convince him of her sincerity. "poor girl!" he thought. "she has never been taught the difference between right and wrong. even now, if she had a show, she might become something far better than she is." she knelt on the opposite side of the unconscious man. "bring some water, drew," she sharply commanded. "bring something with which we can bandage his head." "why don't ye let him die?" whined the old man. "it would be a bad thing for you if we did," she returned. "his deputy has puckacheed, and he won't do a thing but bring a posse here as soon as possible. it will be all the better for you if bill higgins is all right when the posse appears." "i'm ruined anyway," declared drew. "i'll have to git out. they will search, and they're bound to find everything if they do." "we'll have everything out of here before morning, and then let them search. the first job is to fix bill higgins up." water was brought, and she bathed the head of the unconscious man, who groaned a little once or twice. then frank aided her in adjusting a bandage. once their hands touched, and she drew away quickly, catching her breath, as if she had been stung. frank looked at her in wonder, and saw that she had flushed and then grown very pale. her eyes met his, and then her lashes drooped, while the blush crept back into her cheeks. what did it mean? more than ever was this girl an enigma to him. the boys lifted higgins and placed him on an improvised couch in the corner, as drew would not permit them to place him on the bed in the little back room. by this time hart davis had become convinced that isa isban was not the girl he had married, although she looked so much like vida that he was filled with wonder whenever he regarded her. he asked her pardon for his actions of a short time before, but she gave him no heed, as she seemed fully intent on making the sheriff comfortable and restoring him to consciousness. hodge did not look at davis, whom he hated with the utmost intensity, as he feared he would spring upon the man if he did so. after a while, higgins opened his eyes and stared around in a blank manner. "did we stop the mill, pards?" he huskily asked. "the whole herd was stampeded and goin' like a cyclone down the range, horns clanking, eyes glaring, nostrils smoking and hoofs beating thunder out of the ground." "what is the man talking about?" asked frank, in wonder. "he was a cowboy once," isa explained. "he seems to be thinking of that time." "it was a wild ride through the night, wasn't it, pards?" higgins went on, although he did not seem to be speaking to any one in particular. "it was dark as ten million black cats, and the cold wind cut like a knife. but we stopped 'em--we stopped 'em at last." then he turned his face toward the wall and closed his eyes. "i hope he isn't going to die," said frank. "so do i," muttered browning, sincerely. "i don't want to have that to think about." when morning came bill higgins seemed quite strong, but his head was filled with the wildest fancies. he talked of strange things, and it was evident that his mind wandered. higgins did not wish to eat anything, but isa brought him bread and coffee, and he took it from her. "pretty girl," he muttered, with a gleam of reason. "fine girl! wonder how such a girl came to be out here on the ranch?" in vain they waited for the appearance of the deputy and a posse. the expected did not happen. frank had a long talk with bart. "old man," he said, "you must come with me--you must do it! i will not take no for an answer. if bill higgins comes around all right in his head to-morrow he will be after you again. you must make for san francisco and lose no time in shipping for some foreign port. after this affair blows over, you can come back." frank was not satisfied till he saw bill higgins delivered into the hands of friends. as for the deputy who took to flight, he met with a fatal accident while passing through the forest. either he was swept from the back of his horse by a limb or was thrown off. be that as it may he was found with a broken neck. and higgins still wandered in his mind when frank left him. the boys made great speed on the road to san francisco, which they reached in due time, and there, with the other mail that awaited him, frank found a brief letter from isa isban. "i wish to let you know what the physicians who have examined bill higgins have to say," she wrote. "they say he has lost his memory, and, although he may recover from the injury otherwise, it is doubtful if he will ever regain his memory. in that case, hodge is safe anywhere, but it will be well for him to get out of california." the news was gratifying to hodge, and he lost no time in disappearing from view. the arrival of the bicycle boys in san francisco was the cause of two celebrations, one among themselves and another among their friends in the east. the tour across the continent had been a success, and the papers were loud in their praise of plucky frank merriwell and his companions. "and now we can take it easy," said bruce, lazily. "that's bruce," laughed diamond. "always willing to take a rest." "dunno but wot we hab earned a rest," put in toots. "doking snownuts--no, smoking doughnuts! what a lot of adventures we have had since we left new york!" came from harry. "any of us could write a book of travels without half trying." "we'll take it easy for a while," said frank. "but not for long. i've got an idea for more sport, while we are out here." long letters followed telegrams to the east and long letters were received in return. "you've done the trick," wrote one fellow student. "when you get back to yale, well--i reckon the town won't be big enough to hold you." "dear old yale!" exclaimed frank. that night the boys sang college songs far into the wee small hours of the morning. they were more than happy, and all their past perils were forgotten. the end. no. 17 of the merriwell series, entitled, "frank merriwell's athletics," gives full play to frank's idea for more sport, and is full of fun, frolic, and daring deeds. value nobody objects to paying a fair price for a fair article; in other words, the public cheerfully pays for value received. we do not know of anything in the way of reading matter that gives such value for a modest outlay as do the _s. & s. novels_. the titles in this list are all 12mo books printed from good type, bound neatly in colored covers and are clean and wholesome. if you are in search of clean recreation let us recommend the s. & s. novels. street & smith corporation 79 seventh avenue, new york city what is the greatest thing in the world? years ago there lived a kindly man who sought the greatest thing in the world--and found it. his name was henry drummond, and the pearl beyond price that he found was--love! all treasure and gifts are as nothing beside this--love of the man for his fellow--love of the mother for her babe--love of the one man for the one woman--clean, pure love! it is entirely fitting, therefore, that at last a magazine has been devoted to love stories, exclusively. you may now find it at all news dealers. ask for love story magazine in it you will find nothing of the immoral--nothing sordid, but bright, cheerful love stories in which sunshine follows the shadows--as it should. love story magazine is for you, for every human being who has ever loved or been loved. buy a copy _now_. published semimonthly. price, 15c. street & smith corporation publishers, new york city frank merriwell's backers * * * * * excellent books of generous length the new medal library _issued every week._ :: _price, 15 cents_ this is a line of books for boys that is of peculiar excellence. there is not a title in it that would not readily sell big if published in cloth-bound edition at $1.00. one of the best features about these books is that they are all of the highest moral tone, containing nothing that could be objectionable to the most particular parents. next in importance, comes interest, with which every one of these books fairly teems. no more vigorous or better literature for boys has ever been published. new titles by high-priced authors are constantly being added, making it more and more impossible for any publisher to imitate this line. all titles always in print to the public:--these books are sold by news dealers everywhere. if your dealer does not keep them, and will not get them for you, send direct to the publishers, in which case four cents must be added to the price per copy to cover postage. 150--frank merriwell's school days by burt l. standish 167--frank merriwell's chums by burt l. standish 178--frank merriwell's foes by burt l. standish 184--frank merriwell's trip west by burt l. standish 189--frank merriwell down south by burt l. standish 193--frank merriwell's bravery by burt l. standish 197--frank merriwell's hunting tour by burt l. standish 201--frank merriwell in europe by burt l. standish 205--frank merriwell at yale by burt l. standish 209--frank merriwell's sports afield by burt l. standish 213--frank merriwell's races by burt l. standish 217--frank merriwell's bicycle tour by burt l. standish 225--frank merriwell's courage by burt l. standish 229--frank merriwell's daring by burt l. standish 233--frank merriwell's athletes by burt l. standish 237--frank merriwell's skill by burt l. standish 240--frank merriwell's champions by burt l. standish 244--frank merriwell's return to yale by burt l. standish 247--frank merriwell's secret by burt l. standish 251--frank merriwell's danger by burt l. standish 254--frank merriwell's loyalty by burt l. standish 258--frank merriwell in camp by burt l. standish 262--frank merriwell's vacation by burt l. standish 267--frank merriwell's cruise by burt l. standish 271--frank merriwell's chase by burt l. standish 276--frank merriwell in maine by burt l. standish 280--frank merriwell's struggle by burt l. standish 284--frank merriwell's first job by burt l. standish 288--frank merriwell's opportunity by burt l. standish 292--frank merriwell's hard luck by burt l. standish 296--frank merriwell's protégé by burt l. standish 300--frank merriwell on the road by burt l. standish 304--frank merriwell's own company by burt l. standish 308--frank merriwell's fame by burt l. standish 312--frank merriwell's college chums by burt l. standish 316--frank merriwell's problem by burt l. standish 320--frank merriwell's fortune by burt l. standish 324--frank merriwell's new comedian by burt l. standish 328--frank merriwell's prosperity by burt l. standish 332--frank merriwell's stage hit by burt l. standish 336--frank merriwell's great scheme by burt l. standish 340--frank merriwell in england by burt l. standish 344--frank merriwell on the boulevards by burt l. standish 348--frank merriwell's duel by burt l. standish 352--frank merriwell's double shot by burt l. standish 356--frank merriwell's baseball victories by burt l. standish 359--frank merriwell's confidence by burt l. standish 362--frank merriwell's auto by burt l. standish 365--frank merriwell's fun by burt l. standish 368--frank merriwell's generosity by burt l. standish 371--frank merriwell's tricks by burt l. standish 374--frank merriwell's temptations by burt l. standish 376--the rockspur eleven by burt l. standish 377--frank merriwell on top by burt l. standish 379--the young railroader's wreck by stanley norris 380--frank merriwell's luck by burt l. standish 381--chums of the prairie by st. george rathborne 382--the yankee middy by oliver optic 383--frank merriwell's mascot by burt l. standish 384--saved by the enemy by ensign clark fitch, u. s. n. 385--the young railroader's victory by stanley norris 386--frank merriwell's reward by burt l. standish 387--brave old salt by oliver optic 388--jack harkaway's struggles by bracebridge hemyng 389--frank merriwell's phantom by burt l. standish 390--frank's campaign by horatio alger, jr. 391--the rockspur rivals by burt l. standish 392--frank merriwell's faith by burt l. standish 393--the starry flag by oliver optic 394--the young railroader's long run by stanley norris 395--frank merriwell's victories by burt l. standish 396--jack brown, the hero by herbert strang 397--breaking away by oliver optic 398--frank merriwell's iron nerve by burt l. standish 399--jack lightfoot, the athlete by maxwell stevens 400--tom temple's career by horatio alger, jr. 401--frank merriwell in kentucky by burt l. standish 402--the young railroader's comrade by stanley norris 403--jack harkaway among the brigands bracebridge hemyng 404--frank merriwell's power by burt l. standish 405--seek and find by oliver optic 406--dan, the newsboy by horatio alger, jr. 407--frank merriwell's shrewdness by burt l. standish 408--young tom burnaby by herbert strang 409--the young railroader's promotion by stanley norris 410--frank merriwell's setback by burt l. standish 411--jack lightfoot's crack nine by maxwell stevens 412--freaks of fortune by oliver optic 413--frank merriwell's search by burt l. standish 414--the train-boy by horatio alger, jr. 415--jack harkaway's return by bracebridge hemyng 416--frank merriwell's club by burt l. standish 417--the young railroader's chance by stanley norris 418--make or break by oliver optic 419--frank merriwell's trust by burt l. standish 420--jack lightfoot trapped by maxwell stevens 421--the errand-boy by horatio alger, jr. 422--frank merriwell's false friend by burt l. standish 423--the young railroader's luck by stanley norris 424--down the river by oliver optic 425--frank merriwell's strong arm by burt l. standish 426--jack lightfoot's rival by maxwell stevens 427--the rockspur nine by burt l. standish 428--frank merriwell as coach by burt l. standish 429--paul prescott's charge by horatio alger, jr. 430--through by daylight by oliver optic 431--frank merriwell's brother by burt l. standish 432--the young railroader's challenge by stanley norris 433--the young inventor by g. manville fenn 434--frank merriwell's marvel by burt l. standish 435--lightning express by oliver optic 436--the telegraph boy by horatio alger, jr. 437--frank merriwell's support by burt l. standish 438--jack lightfoot in camp by maxwell stevens 439--the young railroader's hard task by stanley norris 440--dick merriwell at fardale by burt l. standish 441--on time by oliver optic 442--the young miner by horatio alger, jr. 443--dick merriwell's glory by burt l. standish 444--jack lightfoot's canoe trip by maxwell stevens 445--the young railroader's sealed orders by stanley norris 446--dick merriwell's promise by burt l. standish 447--switch off by oliver optic 448--tom thatcher's fortune by horatio alger, jr. 449--dick merriwell's rescue by burt l. standish 450--jack lightfoot's iron arm by maxwell stevens 451--the young railroader's ally by stanley norris 452--dick merriwell's narrow escape by burt l. standish 453--brake up by oliver optic 454--tom turner's legacy by horatio alger, jr. 455--dick merriwell's racket by burt l. standish 456--jack lightfoot's hoodoo by maxwell stevens 457--the go-ahead boys by gale richards 458--dick merriwell's revenge by burt l. standish 459--the young railroader's mascot by stanley norris 460--bear and forbear by oliver optic 461--dick merriwell's ruse by burt l. standish 462--ben bruce by horatio alger, jr. 463--jack lightfoot's decision by maxwell stevens 464--dick merriwell's delivery by burt l. standish 465--the young railroader's contest by stanley norris 466--the go-ahead boys' legacy by gale richards 467--dick merriwell's wonders by burt l. standish 468--bernard brook's adventures by horatio alger, jr. 469--jack lightfoot's gun club by maxwell stevens 470--frank merriwell's honor by burt l. standish 471--gascoyne, the sandal wood trader by r. m. ballantyne 472--paul hassard's peril by matt royal 473--dick merriwell's diamond by burt l. standish 474--phil, the showman by stanley norris 475--a debt of honor by horatio alger, jr. 476--frank merriwell's winners by burt l. standish 477--jack lightfoot's blind by maxwell stevens 478--marooned by w. clark russell 479--dick merriwell's dash by burt l. standish 480--phil's rivals by stanley norris 481--mark manning's mission by horatio alger, jr. 482--dick merriwell's ability by burt l. standish 483--jack lightfoot's capture by maxwell stevens 484--a captain at fifteen by jules verne 485--dick merriwell's trap by burt l. standish 486--phil's pluck by stanley norris 487--the wreck of the _grosvenor_ by w. clark russell 488--dick merriwell's defense by burt l. standish 489--charlie codman's cruise by horatio alger, jr. 490--jack lightfoot's head work by maxwell stevens 491--dick merriwell's model by burt l. standish 492--phil's triumph by stanley norris 493--a two years' vacation by jules verne 494--dick merriwell's mystery by burt l. standish 495--the young explorer by horatio alger, jr. 496--jack lightfoot's wisdom by maxwell stevens 497--frank merriwell's backers by burt l. standish 498--ted strong, cowboy by edward c. taylor 499--from circus to fortune by stanley norris 500--dick merriwell's back-stop by burt l. standish 501--sink or swim by horatio alger, jr. 502--for the right by roy franklin 503--dick merriwell's western mission by burt l. standish 504--among the cattlemen by edward c. taylor 505--a legacy of peril by william murray graydon 506--frank merriwell's rescue by burt l. standish 507--the young musician by horatio alger, jr. 508--"a gentleman born" by stanley norris 509--frank merriwell's encounter by burt l. standish 510--black mountain ranch by edward c. taylor 511--the boy conjurer by victor st. clair 512--dick merriwell's marked money by burt l. standish 513--work and win by horatio alger, jr. 514--fighting for fortune by roy franklin 515--frank merriwell's nomads by burt l. standish 516--with rifle and lasso by edward c. taylor 517--for his friend's honor by stanley norris 518--dick merriwell on the gridiron by burt l. standish 519--the backwoods boy by horatio alger, jr. 520--the young range riders by st. george rathborne 521--dick merriwell's disguise by burt l. standish 522--lost in the desert by edward c. taylor 523--building himself up by oliver optic 524--dick merriwell's test by burt l. standish 525--adrift in midair by ensign clarke fitch 526--true to his trust by stanley norris 527--frank merriwell's trump card by burt l. standish 528--lyon hart's heroism by oliver optic 529--fighting the rustlers by edward c. taylor 530--frank merriwell's strategy by burt l. standish 531--digging for gold by horatio alger, jr. 532--wyoming by edward s. ellis 533--frank merriwell's triumph by burt l. standish 534--louis chiswick's mission by oliver optic 535--facing the music by stanley norris 536--dick merriwell's grit by burt l. standish 537--stemming the tide by roy franklin 538--adrift in the city by horatio alger, jr. 539--dick merriwell's assurance by burt l. standish 540--royal tarr's pluck by oliver optic 541--holding the fort by ensign clarke fitch 542--dick merriwell's long slide by burt l. standish 543--two ways of becoming a hunter by harry castlemon 544--the rival miners by edward c. taylor 545--frank merriwell's rough deal by burt l. standish 546--the professor's son by oliver optic 547--frank hunter's peril by horatio alger, jr. 548--dick merriwell's threat by burt l. standish 549--fin and feather by wallace kincaid 550--storm mountain by edward s. ellis 551--dick merriwell's persistence by burt l. standish 552--striving for his own by oliver optic 553--winning by courage by roy franklin 554--dick merriwell's day by burt l. standish 555--robert coverdale's struggle by horatio alger, jr. 556--the west point boys by col. j. thomas weldon 557--frank merriwell's peril by burt l. standish 558--the last of the herd by edward c. taylor 559--making a man of himself by oliver optic 560--dick merriwell's downfall by burt l. standish 561--winning against odds by roy franklin 562--the camp in the foothills by harry castlemon 563--frank merriwell's pursuit by burt l. standish 564--the naval academy boys commander luther g. brownell 565--every inch a boy by oliver optic 566--dick merriwell abroad by burt l. standish 567--on a mountain trail by edward c. taylor 568--the plebes' challenge by col. j. thomas weldon 569--frank merriwell in the rockies by burt l. standish 570--lester's luck by horatio alger, jr. 571--his own helper by oliver optic 572--dick merriwell's pranks by burt l. standish 573--bound to get there by roy franklin 574--an annapolis tangle by commander luther g. brownell 575--frank merriwell's pride by burt l. standish 576--across the prairie by edward c. taylor 577--honest kit dunstable by oliver optic 578--frank merriwell's challengers by burt l. standish 579--the runaway cadet by col. j. thomas weldon 580--jack harkaway around the world bracebridge hemyng 581--frank merriwell's endurance by burt l. standish 582--out for big game by edward c. taylor 583--the young pilot by oliver optic 584--dick merriwell's cleverness by burt l. standish 585--oscar in africa by harry castlemon 586--rupert's ambition by horatio alger, jr. 587--frank merriwell's marriage by burt l. standish 588--the pride of annapolis by com. luther g. brownell 589--the cruise of the "dandy" by oliver optic 590--dick merriwell, the wizard by burt l. standish 591--captain nemo's challenge by edward c. taylor 592--the cabin in the clearing by edward s. ellis 593--dick merriwell's stroke by burt l. standish 594--frank and fearless by horatio alger, jr. 595--three young silver kings by oliver optic 596--dick merriwell's return by burt l. standish 597--his own master by roy franklin 598--an annapolis adventure by com. luther g. brownell 599--dick merriwell's resource by burt l. standish 600--ted strong's close call by edward c. taylor * * * * * look for the s. & s. imprint for fifteen years the s. & s. novel has held first place in the estimation of readers who want, first of all, good, clean, interesting fiction and _then_ a sufficient number of "_words_" to make them feel that the book is worth what they paid for it--if not more. mere "_words_" do not make a story, nor should a colored cover and heavy paper deceive the reading public into thinking that an imitation of the s. & s. novel is as good as the original. unscrupulous publishers are now trying to defraud the reading public. taking certain of the s. & s. novels, which are not protected by copyright, they change the titles and authors' names, and sell books at fifteen cents, the authentic editions of which may be had in the s. & s. edition for ten cents! hence, a word of caution to our readers: _look for the s. & s. imprint_ it is a guarantee of quality and protects you send a 2c. stamp for our complete catalogue street & smith, publishers new york * * * * * "alger" what a pleasant sound the name of horatio alger, jr., has to boys who read clean, wholesome stories of adventure! his name on a book means that it is a "good one"; that the money invested in it is well invested. street & smith publish the most complete list of his works in their famous s. & s. novels--it contains nearly all of them. if you want your boys to read helpful books, buy the "algers" in the medal and new medal libraries. price, 10c. and 15c. per copy at all newsdealers if sent by mail, add four cents per copy to cover postage. complete catalogue upon request. street & smith, publishers, new york * * * * * frank merriwell's backers or the pride of his friends by burt l. standish author of _the celebrated "merriwell stories"_ published exclusively in the medal library, in paper-covered edition [illustration] street & smith, publishers 79-89 seventh ave., new york city copyright, 1903 by street & smith frank merriwell's backers all rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the scandinavian. contents i--in the trap ii--in the hands of cimarron bill iii--into the night iv--in the old hut v--pinto pede receives his lesson vi--injun joe to the rescue vii--merriwell and big monte viii--the death-shot ix--frank makes a decision x--merriwell's method xi--smoke signals and a decoy xii--lost in the mountains xiii--frank's escape xiv--mysterious pablo xv--merry's discovery xvi--frank detects treachery xvii--the war-whoop of old eli xviii--a strange funeral xix--new arrivals in holbrook xx--mrs. arlington has a visitor xxi--seen from the window xxii--a sensation in town xxiii--boxer creates a stir xxiv--boxer to the rescue xxv--unto death! xxvi--the coming of crowfoot xxvii--arrested in holbrook xxviii--bill hikes out xxix--old joe takes a drink xxx--frank in sunk hole xxxi--the dance in sunk hole xxxii--dead or living xxxiii--the return to holbrook frank merriwell's backers. chapter i. in the trap. millions of bright stars shone serenely through the clear arizona night, shedding their soft white light on the great arid plains and the mysterious mesas and mighty mountains. throughout the night frank merriwell lay ensconced behind some sheltering rocks in a deep ravine, where he had been trapped by the ruffians in the employ of the mining trust, who were determined to wrest from him the precious papers they believed to be in his possession. old joe crowfoot, the aged indian friend of merriwell, who had been snared with him, had, shortly after nightfall, taken the precious oilskin package, containing the papers, and crept forth on his stomach, like a snake, from amid the rocks. joe had promised to take the papers to the nearest registry post-office, in case he escaped, and send them, according to directions, to richard merriwell, frank's brother, at fardale. frank had written a letter to dick, and had securely tied up and directed the package. he trusted the aged redskin, who declared that he might find a method of escaping from the trap, yet could not take the white youth with him. he had made certain that joe understood the matter of registering the package, in case he should reach the post-office with it in his possession. merriwell had become satisfied that this was the best course to pursue. it was plain that he was in a very bad trap, and he knew those ruffians could soon starve him out. there was no water or food for himself or his horse. a day of thirst behind those rocks must surely do for him. if joe carried out the plan successfully, the papers would be placed beyond the reach of the ruffians, even though frank fell into their hands. and it was the papers they had been engaged to secure. were they to kill him, dick would have the precious papers and be able to continue the battle for his rights. merry watched old joe wiggle silently away, wondering that the indian could slip along in that manner with so very little effort. the old redskin lay flat on the ground and took advantage of every little cover he could find, and soon he vanished amid the rocks and passed into the shadows, after which merry saw him no more. down the ravine a great mass of rocks and earth had been blown down by a mighty blast and blocked the passage. up the ravine armed and murderous men were waiting and watching, ready to shoot down the youth they had trapped. there were also armed ruffians on the barrier to the southeast. they had trailed merry with the persistence of bloodhounds. a full hour passed. the men above were making merry in a boisterous way. one of them began to sing. he had a musical voice, which rang out clearly on the soft night air. strangely enough he sang "nearer my god to thee." could they be watching closely? it did not seem so. frank rigged his coat on the barrel of his rifle. on the muzzle of the weapon he placed his hat. then, he lifted coat and hat above the rocks. crack! ping! the ringing report of a rifle and the singing of a bullet. the hat and coat dropped. in the coat merriwell found a bullet-hole. that settled it. there was no longer a doubt but that the desperadoes were watching like wolves. yet old joe had been able to slip forth from the protection of those rocks and creep away. more than ever merriwell admired the skill of the indian. thinking that the old fellow had instructed dick in the craft which he knew so well, frank believed such knowledge had not been acquired in vain. some time dick might find it very valuable to him. there was a hoarse burst of laughter from the watching ruffians. "oh, merriwell!" called a voice. "well," sang back frank, "what do you want?" "stick that thing up again. we'd like a leetle target practise." "you'll have to provide your own target," merry retorted. "oh, we reckons not! we'll stand you up fer one sooner or later," was the assurance. still they had not discovered old joe. it seemed marvelous. the night passed on. another hour was gone when there came a sudden commotion far up the ravine, as if on the further outskirts of the ruffians. there were hoarse shouts, angry oaths, the rattle of shots, and then the clatter of iron-shod hoofs. the ring and echo of those clattering hoofs receded into the night, coming back clear and distinct at first, but growing fainter and fainter. frank merriwell laughed and lay still until the sound of the galloping horse had died out in the distance. "old joe is on his way to the post-office," muttered merry. "he took a fancy to acquire one of their horses in order to make better time." the ruffians were filled with more or less consternation. they continued to wrangle angrily. at last, one cried: "oh, merriwell!" frank lay perfectly still and made no answer. "oh, merriwell!" peering forth from amid his rocky barrier, yet crouching where the shadows hid him, frank cocked his rifle and pushed it forward for use. there was a time of silence, during which he fancied the men were consulting in whispers. finally his keen eyes saw something move into the dim white light above some boulders. he laughed a little in a suppressed way and sent a bullet through the moving object. "put it up again!" he called cheerfully. "i don't mind a little target practise myself." he knew the thing had been thrust up there to draw his fire and settle the question if he still remained in the trap. but he had shown those ruffians that he could shoot as accurately as the best of them. after this he heard the men talking. he knew they were bewildered by what had happened. they could not believe it possible that a human being had crept forth from the snare. it seemed to them that the person who had seized their horse and ridden away had come upon them from the rear and was in no way connected with merriwell. after a time they were silent. they were satisfied that the trap held fast. then frank found a comfortable place where he was perfectly hidden and coolly went to sleep, with his hand on his cocked rifle. merriwell needed sleep, and he did not hesitate to take it. it spoke well for his nerves that he could sleep under such circumstances. it may seem that it did not speak so well for his judgment. still he knew that he would awaken at any sound of an alarming nature, and he believed those men would rest content, satisfied that they had him caged where there was no possibility that he could give them the slip. after an hour or more, he awoke and demonstrated the fact that he was still behind the rocks by exchanging a challenge with the watching ruffians. then he slept again. and so the night passed on. frank was wide-awake with the coming of dawn. he saw the stars pale and die in the sky. he saw the gentle gray of morning and the flush of sunrise. far up the ravine rose the smoke of a camp-fire, telling where the ruffians were preparing breakfast. "oh, merriwell!" "hello, yourself!" "are you hungry?" "no, thank you. i have plenty to eat." "are you thirsty?" "not in the least. i have my canteen." "that'll be empty right soon. how would you like some steamin' hot coffee?" "it wouldn't go bad. send some in." "we'll exchange a pot of coffee for sartin papers you has with yer." "you're very kind!" laughed merry derisively. "it's a right good offer. we're goin' to have them papers anyhow, an' you may not even git coffee fer them." "you're due for the greatest disappointment of your lives, gentlemen," declared frank. "if you're looking this way for papers, you're barking up the wrong tree." "oh, you can't fool us!" was the answer. "we know you've got 'em, and we'll have 'em." "ever gamble?" asked frank. "oh, we sometimes take a chance." "i'll go you my horse and outfit against that of any one in your party that you don't get the papers." "done! it's a sure thing as far as we're consarned. we has yer foul, an' we'll stay right yere till we starves ye out." "too bad to waste your valuable time so foolishly. but, say!" "say it." "i see no particular reason why my horse here should go hungry and thirsty." "not the least. bring the pore critter right out." "beg pardon if i seem a trifle lazy, but it's too much bother. however, i'll send him out, and i'll look to you to see that he's properly cared for." without exposing himself, frank managed to get the horse out from the niche in the wall where he had been placed, headed the animal through a break in the rocky barrier and sent him off, with a sharp crack of the hand. the horse galloped up the ravine, finally saw human beings, stopped, snorted, seemed about to turn back, but finally kept on and disappeared. then frank settled down to wait, being resolved to give old joe plenty of time. the day grew hot in the ravine, where there was little air. the sun beat down with great fierceness from the unclouded sky. those mountains seemed bare and baked. little wonder that their repelling fastnesses had presented little attraction for the prospector. little wonder it had often been reported that they contained no gold. but frank merriwell's "queen mystery" mine lay in that range, and it had developed so richly that the great consolidated mining association of america was straining every nerve to get possession of it--to wrest it from its rightful owner. so frank baked in the sun, taking care to keep well hidden, for he knew those men would gladly end the affair by filling him full of lead, if they were given the opportunity. once or twice he caught glimpses of them. several times they challenged him. he was prompt to answer every challenge, and he did not wish to shoot any of them. he had fully decided on the course he would pursue; but he was determined to give joe crowfoot plenty of time to perform his part of the program. frank smiled in grim irony over his position. he took it philosophically, satisfied that that was the best he could do. he did not worry, for worry would do him no good. he was given plenty of time to reflect on the course pursued by the syndicate, and it made him wonder that such high-handed things could take place in the united states. it seemed rather remarkable that the head of the mighty syndicate, d. roscoe arlington, was the father of chester arlington, dick merriwell's bitterest enemy at fardale. frank had encountered mr. arlington. he had found him blunt, grim, obstinate, somewhat coarse, yet apparently not brutal. being a clever reader of human nature, which many are not who pride themselves that they are, frank had become satisfied that there were many men in the world who were far worse than d. roscoe arlington, yet were considered models of virtue and justice. arlington was not a hypocrite. he was bluntly and openly himself. he had set out as a poor boy to make a fortune, and now it seemed possible that he might become the richest man in america. comfortable riches had first been the object for which he strived; but when his scheming poured wealth upon him, he set the mark higher. he determined to be one of the very rich men of the united states. that goal he had now arrived at; but the mark had been lifted again, and now he was determined to become the richest. arlington had not ordered those ruffians to take the papers from frank. still he was back of it all. he had turned the matter over into the hands of unscrupulous lieutenants, instructing them to employ any means within their power to obtain possession of the queen mystery and san pablo mines. those lieutenants were directing the operations of the ruffians. it is quite probable that arlington did not wish to know the method employed by his lieutenants. all he desired was the result. frank had also met mrs. arlington, and he had seen in her a haughty, domineering, icy woman, ready to do anything to gain her ends. she was proud and high-headed, although she had once been a poor girl. she looked down in scorn and contempt on all poor people. but merry had not forgotten june arlington, who had a truly high-bred face of great attractiveness, and who was vivacious yet reserved, proud yet considerate, high-spirited yet kind. he had not forgotten the girl, and ever he thought of her with feelings of kindness, for with her own hands she had restored to him the precious papers when they had been stolen from him, by agents of the trust, assisted by her mother. he knew dick admired june, and he did not wonder at it, for about june arlington there was such fascination as few girls possess. still merry could not help wondering if june would one day develop into a woman like her mother. such a result did not seem possible. midday passed, and the afternoon waned, yet without any diminishing of the scorching heat in the ravine. frank's water was gone, and he began to feel the torments of thirst. he had counted the time as it passed. finally he was satisfied that crowfoot had accomplished the task he had set out to perform. the papers were mailed. probably they were already on their way to dick merriwell at fardale. "well," muttered frank, "i think i'll go out and look these ruffians over now." chapter ii. in the hands of cimarron bill. a shout quickly brought an answer. "gentlemen," said frank, "i'm for a parley. what say you?" "we're willing. parley away." "if you were to get those papers i suppose you would feel yourselves perfectly well satisfied?" "i reckon you've hit it good an' fair." "such being the case, if i come forth with hands up and empty, i take it you won't take the trouble to shoot me up any?" "none at all," was the assurance promptly given. "if you comes out like that, you has our promise not to do any shooting whatever." "and how about the gentlemen below?" "they'll do no shootin' unless you goes that way." "is this all on the square?" "you bet! bring out that old redskin with ye, an' let him keep his hands up, too." "i think you've made a mistake, gentlemen; there is no redskin with me. i am quite alone." "we knows better! ye can't play any tricks on us!" "i am willing to convince you. just keep your fingers off your triggers. watch me as close as you like. i'm coming!" having said this, he left his rifle lying on the ground and rose to his feet with his hands held open above his head. it must be confessed that he did not do this without some doubt concerning the result, for he knew those ruffians were very treacherous; but somehow he was satisfied that they had been instructed to obtain the papers, if possible, without killing him, and that belief led him to run the risk that he now faced. he was ready to drop instantly if they fired as he arose into view. a moment he stood quite still, and then, as no shot rang out, he stepped through amid the boulders and walked boldly up the ravine. in this manner, frank walked straight into the midst of a party of nine thoroughbred frontier desperadoes, who were waiting for him, with their weapons in their hands. the leader was a thin, dark-faced, fierce-looking man, who covered merry with a revolver. "i rather 'lowed you'd come to it," he said, in satisfaction. "but i told ye to bring that old injun along." "and i told you there was no indian with me. i spoke the truth." "say, youngster, did you ever hear of cimarron bill?" frank looked the fellow over with his calm eyes. he saw a cruel, straight slit of a mouth, a thin black mustache, with traces of gray, and sharp, cruel eyes, set altogether too near together. he had heard of cimarron bill as the most dangerous "man-killer" in all the southwest. "yes," he said quietly, "i have heard of him." "well, you're lookin' at him. i'm cimarron bill. the butts of my guns have seventeen notches in 'em. you may make the eighteenth." merriwell knew what the ruffian meant, yet he showed no signs of fear. "i have heard," he said, "that cimarron bill has never yet shot a man in cold blood or one who was unarmed." "i opine that's right, young man; but this case is a leetle different. it's not healthy to irk me up under any conditions, and so i advise you to go slow." frank smiled. "i have no desire or intention of irking you up, sir," he said. "i am giving you straight goods. there is no indian with me." "there was last night." "yes." "well, i don't opine he's melted into the air or sunk into the ground, an' tharfore he has to be yander behind them rocks." "i give you my word, sir, that he is not there, and has not been there since last night." the ruffians had gathered about and were listening to this talk. picturesque scoundrels they were, armed to the teeth and looking fit for any job of bloodshed or murder. they glared at the cool youth standing so quietly in their midst; but he seemed perfectly at his ease. "sam," said the leader, turning to one of them, "go out yander to them thar rocks an' look round for that redskin." sam, a squat, red-headed desperado, seemed to hesitate. "what ef the injun is waitin' thar to shoot me up some as i comes amblin' along?" he asked. "go!" said cimarron bill, in a tone cold as ice. "if the injun shoots you, we'll riddle this here young gent with bullets." "which won't do me good none whatever," muttered sam; but he knew better than to disobey or hesitate longer, and so, dropping his rifle into the hollow of his left arm, he stepped out and advanced toward the spot where merriwell had been ensconced behind the boulders. the brutal band watched and waited. cimarron bill surveyed the face of frank merriwell, more than half-expecting the youth would call for sam to come back, knowing the fate that would befall him in case the indian began to shoot. but sam walked straight up to the boulders, clambered onto them, and looked over into the hiding-place that had served frank so well. "derned ef thar's ary livin' critter hyer!" he shouted back. "make sure," called the leader, in that metallic voice of his, which was so hard on the nerves. "don't make no mistake." sam sprang down behind the boulders. they saw his head moving about, but, very soon, he clambered back over them and came walking rapidly away. "the varmint is sartin gone," he averred. immediately cimarron bill thrust his cocked revolver against frank merriwell's temple. "tell us where the injun is!" he commanded. "speak quick and straight, or i'll blow the top of your head off!" "i am unable to tell you just where he is at present," said frank, with that perfect coolness that so astonished the desperadoes. "he left me last night." "left you?" "yes." "how? we had this side guarded, an' ther boys below kept close watch." "all the same, i think joe crowfoot passed you. how he did it i do not know. he told me he could." the leader of the ruffians looked as if he was not yet willing to believe such a thing had happened; but there no longer seemed much chance for doubt. "then it must have been that red whelp who stole one of our hosses!" he said. "i think it was," nodded merry. "something like two hours after he left me i heard a commotion this way, followed by some shooting and the sound of a galloping horse, which died out in the distance." some of the men began to swear, but bill silenced them with one swift look from his evil eyes. "well, that sure is the limit!" he observed, trying to hide some of his disgust. "we didn't opine a kitten could sneak past us without being seen an' shot up." "a kitten might not," said frank. "but old joe crowfoot should be compared with a serpent. he has all the wisdom and craft of one. i depended on him, and he did not fail me." "where has he gone? state it--state it almighty sudden!" "if he followed instructions, he has gone to holbrook." "for what?" "to send a message for me to my brother." "a message? what sort of a message?" "a letter and some papers." "papers?" said cimarron bill, in a low, threatening tone. "what papers?" "certain papers referring to the queen mystery and san pablo mines, which i own." a look of disappointed rage contorted the cruel face of the murderous ruffian. the lips were pressed together until they appeared to make one straight line no wider than the thin blade of a knife. the eyelids closed to narrow slits, while that dark face turned to a bluish tinge. many times had frank merriwell stood in deadly peril of his life; but, looking at that man then, he well knew that never had his danger been greater. still, if he regretted his act in walking forth and surrendering himself into the hands of such a creature he effectually concealed it. he betrayed not a whit of trepidation or alarm, which was a masterly display of nerve. the ruffians began to murmur fiercely, like the growling of so many wolves. perhaps it was to this outbreak that merry owed his life, for the leader suddenly bade them be silent, and the sounds ceased. "so you sent those papers off by that old redskin, did you?" asked bill. "i did." "and you have the nerve to come out here and tell me that! if you had known me better, you would have stayed, and choked and starved, or even shot yourself behind those rocks, before doing such a thing!" merriwell made no retort, for he felt that too many words would be indiscreet. this man was capable of any atrocity, and another straw might break the camel's back. "mr. merriwell," said the ruffian, "i came here for them papers, and i'm goin' to have them!" "you may take my life," said merry; "but that will not give you the papers. in fact, it will utterly defeat the object of those men who have employed you to obtain them." "how do you figger that out? with you out of the way, they'll have less trouble in takin' your mines." "on the contrary, if i am murdered, the fact will react against them. i have written a full account of the facts concerning my position and fight with the syndicate to my brother, to be used in case anything serious happens to me. with that, and with the papers i have sent him, i fancy he can so arouse public indignation against the syndicate that the men who are pushing this thing will be glad enough to pull in their horns and quit the battle. so you can see that by killing me you will defeat the object of the syndicate and disgust it with your method of procedure." frank spoke those words convincingly, and certain it is that he made an impression on cimarron bill. the other ruffians, however, who failed to reason clearly, were fierce enough to shoot the captive where he stood. bill stood still and looked the young man over, beginning to realize that he was dealing with a youth of more than ordinary courage, resource and sagacity. his respect for merriwell was beginning to develop amazingly. frank could read the man well enough to feel that the danger-point had been successfully passed, and he breathed more freely, although there was no outward change in his manner. "i'm not yet satisfied that you're not lying to me," said the chief of the ruffians; whereupon he ordered his satellites to search the captive. the closest search, which was supervised by bill, failed to bring to light the package of coveted papers. bill seemed to pass a few moments in thought. then he said: "we'll all go over yander and have a look round among the boulders." with frank in their midst, they proceeded to the spot where he had successfully held them off. as they went forward, they called to the men down the ravine, and soon those ruffians came hastening to join them. "have ye got the papers?" demanded one called big monte, a strapping ruffian, who was the leader of the party. when he learned what had happened the giant swore in angry disappointment. "however did you all happen to let the injun slip ye that way?" he demanded scornfully. bill looked him over. "i opines you're not castin' reflections any whatever?" he said, in a deadly manner. big monte looked large enough to eat the thin, dark-faced chap, but he hastened to disclaim any intention of "casting reflections," whereupon bill gave him no further heed. the chief set them to searching amid the boulders, overseeing it all and taking care that no possible place of concealment was neglected. but all this search came to nothing, and the baffled wretches were finally forced to confess that they were outwitted. but merriwell was a captive in their hands, and in their disappointment they might be led to revenging themselves upon him. chapter iii. into the night. cimarron bill was a man who disliked being outwitted and outdone, especially by a youth of frank merriwell's years, and he was one who was not at all likely to let such a thing pass without seeking to recover and accomplish his object by some method, failing in which, he was almost certain to take summary and tragic vengeance on the one who had baffled him. merriwell knew well enough in what peril he stood, and yet he maintained his manner of composure. bill spoke to two of the ruffians, of whom big monte was one, and sam, the red-headed rascal, the other. "you two take charge of this here altogether too smarty young gent," said the leader of the desperadoes, "and look out for him a heap close. don't let him come none of his slick tricks on you, for you will be held responsible for him, and i opines you know what that means." "oh, we'll take care of him!" said sam significantly, as he fingered the butt of a pistol. "all i wants is a right good chance to do that!" bill fixed the red-head with a look of his narrow black eyes. "at the same time," said he, "permit me to suggest that you lets no special harm come to him, as i reckons him valuable property just about now, and i may need him a whole lot later. if anything unnecessary happens to the young gent, you'll deal with me for it!" it must be confessed that merry felt somewhat safer in the hands of those ruffians after that, for he began to perceive that, for some reason, bill wished to preserve him for the time being without harm. apparently the captive gave little heed to these words, but in truth he missed nothing. as the others drew aside with bill, big monte took a picket rope, observing: "i allows, sam, that we'd better be keerful, jest as the boss suggests, fer it ain't a whole lot healthy to have anything happen contrarywise to his wishes. such bein' the case, i propose we tie up this here young gent some, so he'll not bring trouble on hisself an' us by tryin' to lope out." sam looked disappointed. "i was a-thinkin'," he said, "that i'd like to see him try to lope; but sense the boss has put it so plain, i kind of changes my mind, an' i thinks your propersition is kirect. go ahead, monte, while i keeps him kivered with my shootin'-iron." frank made no objection as big monte tied his hands behind him. he knew it was quite useless, and so he submitted with a meekness that was rather deceptive, for it seemed to indicate that he was quite awed by his situation and the men who had taken him captive. "i judges that will do," said the big man, having bound the rope about merry's wrists until it was uncomfortable in its tightness. "he's good an' fast now." merriwell sat down on a rock, while the two ruffians flung themselves on the ground in the shadow of the wall and waited the end of the consultation between the chief and the remainder of the band. bill was talking to his ruffians in his low, quiet way, and they were listening. frank wondered what was passing, but they were too far away for him to hear. at last, one of the men, who had but one arm, started off from the others, hurrying toward the horses. bill had thrust something into this man's hand, seeming to give him a final admonition. five minutes later the one-armed man, mounted on the very best horse he could find, rode away at good speed. even then merry did not conceive that it was the desperate purpose of one-hand hank to follow those papers all the way to fardale, if necessary, in the attempt to gain possession of them. he fancied that hank meant to try to find the indian, with the hope that the papers still remained in old joe's possession. bill came back and stood looking merriwell over. several of the men had departed toward the spot where the horses were kept. "i reckons you thinks yerself some slick, kid!" he said, with cold contempt. "you'll git all over that before you're through dealin' with cimarron bill. i'm sartin to take the conceit out of ye a whole lot." to which merry vouchsafed no retort. "bring him along," said the chief, to sam and monte. "we're goin' to pull up stakes and hike." so frank was marched up to the horses, among which was his own animal, which had been captured by the ruffians. "if you don't mind, gentlemen," said merry, "it would give me considerable satisfaction to imbibe a little water." "you'll choke plumb to death afore ye ever gits a drap from me," averred sam. whereupon bill looked at the red-head sharply, saying: "sam, give him a drink from your canteen." and sam did so. "thanks," said merry easily. "it was the desire for water that led me to saunter out from my place among the rocks earlier than i intended. i feel much better now." his saddle had been brought along, and, when it was strapped upon his horse, he was tossed into it by big monte and another. the rest of the band had prepared to move, with the exception of those who had come from down the ravine and one fellow who seemed to have taken the place of the departed fellow with one arm. these men had horses beyond the rocky barrier that had been blown down to prevent merriwell from escaping in that direction, and it was necessary for them to return and pursue another course, as the horses could not be brought over that barrier. there was little delay when everything was ready. bill took the lead, and those who were to follow did so, the captive in their midst; his horse led by one of them. the others had turned back. the sun was descending peacefully behind the barren mountains, and night was spreading her sable pinions over the land. there was gold in the western sky. the heat yet seemed unabated, save in the valleys and gorges; but later it would become unpleasantly cool. in silence those men rode onward, with their dark, cruel-faced leader at their head. the hoofs of the horses clinked and rang, bestirring the echoes; and, when the gloom of night had stolen upward from the gulches, there came an occasional spark like a firefly when the iron of a hoof struck a flinty rock. so night came on, and still they went forward. frank wondered what their destination could be; but he saw they were taking a course that must bring them nearer the queen mystery mine. he wasted no words in seeking to engage any of them in conversation. all the while, however, his thoughts were busy. he wondered much if he could come safely through this perilous mischance and how it was to be accomplished. for frank had not given up, and he had confidence that somehow he would find a way, or one would be opened to him. chapter iv. in the old hut. in a valley amid the hills that lay at the base of the barren mountains stood an old hut. who had built it there? it seemed that it had, beyond doubt, been erected by some prospector. what fate had befallen the builder no man knew. the hut remained, weather-worn and falling to pieces. the coming of another day found frank merriwell a captive in that hut, closely guarded. the ruffians had stopped there, for in the vicinity could be found wood and water, and feed for the horses. some time during the night they had been joined by big monte and the others who had turned back to secure the horses beyond the barrier in the ravine. in the morning the men lay about in the vicinity of the hut. two fires had been built, and breakfast was preparing. inside the hut an armed man kept guard over the captive. at intervals the guard was changed, but always a man was near with a pistol ready to shoot merry down if he offered to make a break for freedom. but frank seemed strangely contented. after the ride through the night, he asked for a blanket to make himself comfortable, suggested in a pleasant way that it would be agreeable to have the cords about his wrists loosened a little, as they were chafing him and his wrists were swollen, and, when the ropes were entirely removed, then lay down on the blanket and went calmly to sleep. merry slept until one of the men brought him some breakfast. this fellow kicked him to awaken him, whereupon frank looked up and observed: "gently, partner--gently! you don't have to kick in a rib in order to get my eyes open." "ef it wasn't fer ther boss," said the fellow, "i'd take a heap o' satisfaction in kickin' ev'ry dern rib outer ye!" "then i am thankful for the boss." "hush! mebbe ye thinks so now; but wait till he gits round ter deal with ye. i opines he'll disterb ye some." "well, don't lead me into worriment before it is necessary," entreated frank, with a smile. "as long as i'm comfortable, i see no reason to disturb myself over what may happen--for there is always a chance that it may not happen." "waal, not in this case. ye've robbed us outer a clean two hundred dollars apiece by sendin' off them papers." "only that? why, you seem to be cheap men! i should fancy it would take at least five hundred each to hire men to go out to commit robbery and murder." "thar ain't no robbery about it." "now, you don't tell me? perhaps you are right, but the object was robbery, all right enough." "nary robbery! ther papers belongs to ther gents what wants to git 'em an' what engaged bill to do the job." "possibly i might convince you to the contrary if i had time; but just now i will admit that i'm remarkably hungry. put down the feed right here on the floor, and i'll turn to directly." as the man stooped to put down the stuff, as directed, he brought his head quite close to frank's lips. in the fellow's ear merry whispered: "i'll make it one thousand dollars in your fist if you find a way to help me out of this scrape." the man started a little, gave frank a look, then glanced toward the armed guard, who had heard nothing. merry touched a finger to his lips, thus enjoining silence. "ha!" he exclaimed. "thank bill for me! this coffee smells most satisfactory. it will serve finely to wash down the hard bread and beef. to a healthy appetite, like mine, this will be a feast fit for an epicurean." the ruffian looked at him in apparent wonderment. "fer a cool galoot, you sure are the limit!" he exclaimed. then he went out. frank wondered if his proposal to the fellow would bear fruit. he knew well enough that these men stood in great awe of cimarron bill; but would the greed of this one overcome his fears of the chief and lead him to attempt to set frank at liberty? that was a serious question. having eaten heartily, merry once more made himself comfortable and slept. when next he was awakened, cimarron bill himself was sitting near, smoking a spanish cigarette. "good morning," said frank. "it's a long distance past morning," said the leader of the ruffians. "you've slept away the whole morning. you seem to be takin' it a heap easy and comfortable like." "just bottling up a little sleep in case of need," said merry, sitting up and placing his back against the wall. "there's no telling when i may have to keep awake a whole lot, you know." "instead of keeping awake," said bill, in a sinister manner, "you're a heap more likely to fall asleep some of these yere times an' never wake up." "in that case, it will be of no consequence, so i am not losing anything by sleeping while i may." the man surveyed merry long and intently, as if trying to probe the nature of this cool youth. at last, he turned to the sentinel and dismissed him. the sentinel went out, closing the door. bill lighted a fresh cigarette. "young man," he said, "i want to inform you right yere and now that it will do you no good whatever to try to bribe any of my men." "possibly not," said frank noncommittally. "you bet your life it won't!" said bill emphatically. "thar ain't one of them but what knows me, an', knowin' me, thar ain't one what would dare play me crooked. savvy?" "it's quite plain." "it's straight goods, merriwell. a while ago you offered one of 'em a thousan' dollars if he would find a way to get you out of this." "correct," admitted merry immediately. "and had he accepted the offer and accomplished the job, i should have congratulated myself on getting off very cheap." he had seen at once that it was useless to try deception or denial with bill, and so he spoke frankly. "that's right," nodded bill. "a thousan' would be small money fer such a job; but it ain't no use, for none of them will take the job at that or five times as much. 'cause why? 'cause they knows me, cimarron bill, right well. they know i'd sure settle up with 'em if they done any crooked work. they have seen the notches in my guns. some of 'em has seen me shoot." "well, my dear sir," smiled merry, "i don't presume you fancied i would remain here like a man in a trance without trying to get away in some fashion?" "i hardly opined that would be your style. but i has to warn ye that you has about one chance in fourteen million of gettin' off with a hull hide. i keep a guard inside and outside, besides another over the hosses. i don't want to shoot ye--now--but it sure will be done if you breaks an' runs fer it." "of course i'd have to take chances on that." "don't! but your offer to jake has set me thinkin'. somehow i kinder take to your style." "thanks!" laughed merriwell. "you has a heap of nerve for a youngster." "thanks again!" "and i opine we'd make a pretty strong team together. such bein' the case, i has a propersition to make to ye, whereby, in case you accepts, you gits outer this scrape in a hurry an' none the worse for wear." "let it drive," said frank. "i'm listening." "like 'most ev'rybody," said bill, "i'm out fer the dust. that's what brought me up against you. i opined you'd be easy meat. i've sorter changed my mind. you look an' talk like a tenderfoot, but i take it that you has your eye-teeth cut, an' this yere ain't the first time you've seen arizona." "i have been in arizona before. i have likewise been in various parts of the west." "i knowed it," nodded bill. "i likewise opine you has a whole lot of fight in ye." "well, i rather enjoy the strenuous life." "but you're certain up against a right powerful combination in this yere gang what means to have your mines." "without doubt." "you needs assistance to hold them there mines. such bein' the case, suppose we strikes a partnership, you an' i, an' stan's by each other. you'll find me a right handy partner when it comes to fightin', an' i kin back ye up with a gang what will wade through gore fer me. under them circumstances, i reckons we kin give this yere minin' trust a run fer its money." "your offer is very interesting, not to say fascinating," confessed frank. "but there is something behind it. come out with the whole matter." "there's nothing to come out with, save that i'm to be taken in a half-partner in your mines." "only that?" smiled merry scornfully. bill did not like the manner in which the youth spoke those two words. "i 'lows," he said, "that you'll be gettin' off a heap cheap at that. if you fails to accept, it's almost certain your friends never hears of you no more. you'll be planted somewhere yereabouts. arter that, the minin' trust will have easy goin'." "well," said merry, "i presume you will give me time to think this matter over?" "certainly. i gives ye till to-morrer mornin'." "all right." again bill lighted a fresh cigarette. "but, without 'pearin' to press ye too hard, which might cause ye onpleasant rememberances in the futer, i hints that i'll be a heap riled up if you fails to accept my offer." then bill called the guard and sauntered out. frank had no thought of permitting the desperado to force him into such a partnership, but he believed that it would be well to appear to take time to consider it. that afternoon, toward nightfall, he was permitted to go outside in the open air, with two armed guards watching over him. frank inhaled the open air with a sense of gratitude, for the hut had become stuffy and oppressive. he looked around, noting the surroundings, without betraying any great interest in the location. he saw that all about the hills rose to enclose the valley, but conjectured that the party had entered from the south or southeast. by this time the men were interested in him, and they looked him over curiously. four of them were playing cards, and merry sat down on the ground where he could watch the game. "you don't want to be makin' no remarks about what keerds ye sees in anybody's hand, young man," growled one of them, whose cards merry could see. frank smiled. "i'm not quite that fresh," he said. "i have played the game occasionally myself. if i had a chance to sit in, i might give you some points." they laughed derisively at that, for the idea that this smooth-faced youth could give them points at poker seemed preposterous. "why, ef you got inter this game we'd skin the eye-teeth outer ye!" declared one. "you'd be easy pluckin'," said another. "it would be a shame to rob ye," sneered a third. "but seein's you ain't got no dust we won't have that pleasure." "if it's dust that bars me," said merry, "i might have enough to last a hand or two. i see you're playing five dollars limit, with a two bits edge." "why, you're plumb skinned dry!" said big monte. "you ain't got no stuff." whereupon frank displayed a little thin wad of bank-bills, amounting to about twenty-five dollars in all. they were astounded, for no money had been found on him when he was searched for the papers. "how is this?" growled monte. "whar did ye keep it hid?" "that's my business," said merry. "if you're anxious to teach me this game let me in." they made a place for him, assuring him that he would "last quick." now merry was a most adept poker-player, although he let the game entirely alone, not believing in gambling. he was also a clever magician, and he could do tricks with cards to astonish far more astute men than these ruffians. it was pinto pede's deal, and the mexican handled the cards in a slick manner. without pretending to watch him, merry really kept a close eye on the fellow's movements. pede looked his cards over carelessly. big monte chipped a dollar, the next man raised him a dollar, and it was up to frank, who immediately raised five. monte laughed hoarsely. "throwin' yer money away right off, eh?" he said. the man after frank dropped out. pinto pede raised five dollars. the fellow whose edge it was dropped his cards, but monte came in, as did the next man and frank. "how men' card?" asked the mexican. "i'll take two," said monte. "better draw to the strength o' yer hand," advised the next man. "gimme three." pede looked inquiringly at merry. "one card," said frank. pede frowned and looked annoyed. he had stacked the cards, and everything had worked perfectly up to merriwell, who had been given three jacks on the deal, and whom the mexican had expected would draw two. "you take da two card!" exclaimed pede. "yo' no fool anybod' with da side card." "i'll take one!" said frank grimly. "if i choose to hold a side card to threes that is my business. perhaps i have two pairs." the mexican had betrayed his trick by his anger at merry's style of drawing. writhing with anger, he tossed frank one card. "i tak' two," he said. merry leaned forward and watched the mexican's fingers so closely that pede was given no chance to perform any crooked work, if he had contemplated it. "now we're off," said frank. "go ahead and do your betting." then he glanced at his cards. he had held up a five spot with his three jacks. to his satisfaction, he found pede had given him another five spot. merry had conceived that it was the mexican's plan to give him threes and then to fill his hand with a small pair, but to take a pair himself, having on the deal secured threes of a higher denomination than those in merry's hand. for that very reason, frank had decided to draw one card, instead of two, thinking to defeat pede's object in securing a full. by a strange chance, frank had held up a five spot, while all the time pede had been intending to give him a pair of fives. this being the case, the youth secured his full hand just the same, but without the knowledge of the dealer. at the same time, he spoiled pede's draw, for the pair the mexican had counted on getting had been divided, he getting instead one of the fives intended for merriwell. this left pede with three queens, a five, and a nine. but the mexican believed that merriwell had secured only threes, as he did not dream for an instant that the side card held up with the three jacks could be a five spot. in case frank had three jacks only, pede's three queens were "good." the betting began. monte started it with a dollar. the next man had failed to improve his hand, and he fell out. frank raised five. pede shoved in six dollars, and added another five. "i tak' dis pot," he said. monte looked his cards over. then he looked at pede. he knew the mexican. "you oughter be shot!" he said. and he threw his cards down, turning to frank. "you ain't got a ghost of a show agin' that greaser, youngster," he averred. "well, as long as my money lasts i'll stay with him," smiled merry. he did. having thrust the last of his money into the pot, he finally called. pede spread out his three queens, smiling with crafty triumph. "you no fool me," he said. "my t'ree bigger dan your t'ree. i tak' da mon'." "wait a minute," said merry. "i happen to have more than threes here." and he displayed his full hand, coolly raking the money over to his side of the blanket. chapter v. pinto pede receives his lesson. pinto pede was the most disgusted mexican in all arizona. at the same time he was thoroughly thunderstruck. that merriwell had secured the pair of fives with his three jacks for all of his style of drawing seemed like legerdemain. big monte gave a shout of surprise, that was not entirely unmingled with delight. "waal, say!" he roared; "that's the furst time i ever seen pede done up on his own deal by a tenderfoot! haw! haw! haw!" as the game continued frank soon demonstrated that he was quite capable of holding his own with those men. on his deal he simply played "hob" with them. in less than thirty minutes he had won over a hundred and fifty dollars. cimarron bill had sauntered up and was standing near, his arms folded, silently watching the progress of the game. "gentlemen," said frank finally, "you're too easy for me. just to show you how easy you are, i'll deal a hand around and then tell you what you have." "not if you lets me cut," declared monte. merry had gathered the cards and was shuffling them. "you may cut," he said. he put the cards down on the blanket, and monte divided them into two parts, after which he watched frank to see that he picked them up right. merry picked them up with one hand, doing so swiftly. he picked them up all right, but he cleverly made the pass, which restored the cards to their original positions, as they were before monte had cut. then he dealt. when they picked up their cards, he began at the left and called off the cards each man held, going around the entire circle. monte threw his down, with a cry of amazement. "an' this yere is what we takes for an easy mark!" he exclaimed. "he cheat!" grated pinto pede. "dat how he win all da mon'." "i don't want your money," said merry. "i find it too easy to make money off such chaps as you. you talk about tenderfeet, but the east is full of tenderfeet who could skin you fellows to death. if you ran into a new york bunco man he'd have your boots off your feet in less than thirty minutes. in fact, gentlemen, you need to get your eye-teeth filed." he was laughing at them, as they plainly saw. this made pinto pede furious, and, with a cry of rage, the mexican snatched out a knife, flung himself forward on his knees, clutched the captive's throat and seemed about to finish him. quick as a flash, merriwell had seized pede's wrist, which he gave a twist that made the bones crack and brought a yell from the yellow-faced fellow's lips. the knife dropped. merry tossed it over his shoulder, and then flung pede backward, groaning over his wrenched arm. "the only safe way to play such tricks on me," said the undisturbed captive, "is to catch me when i'm asleep." then cimarron bill spoke, and they saw he had a pistol in his hand. "it sure is a good thing for pede that the gent stopped his play just as he did, for if pede had done any cuttin' i'd sartin shot him up a whole lot. i has told you boys that mr. merriwell is to be kept safe an' unharmed until i gits ready to finish with him, an' when i says a thing like that, i generally has a way o' meanin' it. if pede had used his knife, i'd a-let daylight through him instanter." now they all knew bill spoke the truth, and so pede was doubly humiliated. "he was a trifle hasty," said merriwell coolly. "i was about to explain that i never keep money won at cards, as i do not believe in gambling. i sat in this game to illustrate to you fellows that it doesn't always pay to get puffed up and look contemptuously on a tenderfoot. having made the lesson plain, i will withdraw my own money, which will leave the amount i have won. you may divide it equally among you and go on with your game." this frank did exactly as he said, taking himself out of the game. there would have been a quarrel over the division of the money had not bill interfered. possibly frank was counting on that quarrel, for a fight among the men might have given him an opportunity to escape. however, if such was his plan, it miscarried, for bill acted as judge and saw that the matter was settled without further dispute or bloodshed. merry turned away, his hands in his pockets, seeming to take no further interest in the gambling ruffians. they looked after his fine, supple, manly figure, and big monte said: "gents, he shore is a hummer! i admits it now. he's put up a heap different from any tenderfoot i ever struck afore. we knows he kin shoot, fer didn't he perforate sam's coat back yander in the raveen when sam h'isted it on his rifle. we know he kin play keerds, fer didn't he jest demonstrate it to our complete satisfaction. we know he has a heap of nerve, fer he sure has showed it all the way through. an' i'm bettin' he's goin' ter make it a right hot fight afore the galoots what are arter his mines gits what they wants." "you forgits he's dealin' with bill," said one of the others; "an' bill shore has the keerds stacked on him." "that's all right," said monte; "but you got ter do somethin' more than stack the keerds on that young chap. didn't pede do that, an' didn't he beat pede a-plenty at his own game? that showed me that you never kin tell when you has frank merriwell beat fer fair." frank had known all the time that bill was watching. he had played the game more for the benefit of the chief of the rascals than any one else. at the same time, it had served to pass away a little time and had been a diversion for the moment. the guards also were near, watching every move closely. frank had satisfied himself that there was no chance of making a break to escape without throwing his life away, and so he seemed to return to the hut with perfect content. indeed, his nonchalance and apparent lack of fretfulness and dissatisfaction over his misfortune was most amazing to the rough men. merry ate supper heartily. there was a clay fireplace in the hut, and, the night coming on cool, a fire was built there. merry lolled before the fire on the hard-packed earth, which served as a floor to the hut. bill came in, sat down on the ground, and rolled a cigarette. "well," he finally said, "how do you find yourself to-night?" "oh, comfortable," carelessly answered frank. "smoke?" "never do." "drink?" "out of my line." "still you can shoot and play poker! i certain admits you're a queer one!" after a little silence, bill again dismissed the guard. then he said: "i'm in a leetle hurry to know what your answer is to that there propersition i made ye. i sw'ar, partner, i sure reckons we'd make a hot pair. i takes to you!" "you're very complimentary!" "i'm givin' it to ye straight. you're my style. now, i wants ye ter know that i kin be of great service to ye, so i reckons it was well enough to tell ye what has been done. you sent them papers to your brother in the east. well, i has sent one of my best men a-chasin' the papers, an' he'll be sure to get 'em if it kin be did. if he succeeds, you'll be plumb out in the cold. howsomever, in case we rigs up a partnership, it won't be nohow so bad, fer my man he brings me the papers, an' that fixes it all right. savvy?" "that is the way you look at it." "sure. you may have thought you was a-givin' me too much to let me have a half-share in your mines; but when you reckons that you gits your liberty, my friendship, and you has your papers saved, which same otherwise would go to the minin' trust, i opine you'll come to see that you're not makin' such a powerful bad trade after all." "but it is not at all certain that you'll get possession of those papers. in fact, everything is against such a thing happening." "is that so?" "it is." "how do ye make it out?" "my brother knows his business, and he will take care of the papers." "how did you send them?" "registered mail." "so i opined. now you knows it takes things registered a heap sight longer to travel than it takes other mail." "well?" "such bein' the case, one-hand hank is powerful sartin to git thar ahead o' the letter." "he may." "in which case he watches the post-office close. when he sees your kid brother take out the package, he follers the boy, taps him on the kebeza, knocks him stiff, takes the papers and ambles. see how easy it is to be did?" "it is easy enough to talk about it; but my brother is pretty shrewd, and one-hand hank will have the time of his life getting those papers." "you don't know hank. he's perfectly familiar with the east, an' that was why he was sent. one time he escaped from sing sing. that was when he had two good arms. he's a mighty bad man, an' he'll eat up that brother of yours but he'll have the papers." "i give you my assurance that dick will sit hard on hank's stomach. i am not greatly worried, for all of what you have told me." bill frowned. "all right," he said. "i did have some intentions of usin' persuasive measures on ye, such as puttin' your feet to the fire, or things like that; but i holds them things off to the last finish, as i opine a partnership brought about that there way would be onpleasant to us both." "rather," laughed frank. "still," said bill; "i may have to be rather harsh, which certain would grieve me up a lot with such a fine young fellow as you are. i hopes you don't bring me none to that. thar's no chance fer you to give me the slip. i've taken mighty good keer of that p'int. it will save ye a great amount of trouble if you decides to-night that we becomes pards. i'll jest walk out with ye an' interduce ye to ther boys as equal with me, an' ev'rything will be lovely. i don't reckon you'd be fool enough to go back on any sech arrangement you made, fer cimarron bill ain't the man to be throwed down in such a way." "there is no need of even suggesting a threat," said merry. "if i enter into such a partnership with you, you can be sure i'll stand by it." bill urged him to make the agreement at once, but still merry declined. "time is right precious," said the leader of the ruffians. "perhaps i'll give you an answer to-morrow." and that was all bill could get out of him then. so the chief fell to talking of other things, and they chatted agreeably for some time. when the ruffian was ready to retire, he called the guard. then he bade frank good night and went out. merry slept with the same amazing peacefulness. but some time in the night he started wide-awake, seeming to feel near him the presence of some one. the fire had died out, save for a few glowing coals on the hearth. the sentinel sat rigid in his corner. merry could not tell if he slept or not. outside the cabin something seemed to brush lightly against the wall. this gentle sound was not repeated. after listening a long time, frank fell asleep once more. in the morning he found a black feather where it had fallen to the ground after being thrust through a crack in the wall. at sight of the feather he started. then he hastened to pick it up and conceal it. for that feather told him that old joe crowfoot was near. it promised escape from the hands of the ruffians, and caused merry to suddenly cease planning himself and trust things wholly to crowfoot. he knew old joe would find an opportunity to try to aid him to escape. that morning frank was asked by bill to come out and take breakfast with the rest of the men, an invitation which he willingly accepted, as he was beginning to thirst for the open air. it was a glorious morning, just as all mornings in that land of eternal sunshine seem to be glorious. the elevation was sufficient to give the air a pleasant coolness. the sun shone down brightly. the horses fed in the valley. the men were lazing about, as usual. never had merry seemed so perfectly at his ease as he was on this morning. he was in a jovial mood. some of the men attempted to chaff him. "you're right peert fer a tenderfoot," said red sam. "but the effeet east is ruther slow as compared with the west, you knows." "i'm sure i don't know," smiled frank, sipping his coffee. "in what way is the east behind the west?" "waal, when it comes to fast trains, we lays away over the east out yere." "i have my doubts." "waal, you see it's this a-way," said sam, winking at some of his companions, "the trains out yere don't hev to stop ev'ry few miles, an' so, havin' once got started, they kin keep increasin' an' a-pilin' on speed till they literally tears along. now, thar's the overland express. why, i was a-ridin' on that train oncet when she was jest running at comfortable speed, and the telygraft-poles beside the track seemed as nigh together as teeth in a fine-tooth comb." "that's speedy," confessed frank. "you bate. but it warn't northin' to what she did later. a hot box, or somethin', kind o' delayed us, an' we hed to make up lost time. sir, it's a fact that arter she got on full head the telygraft-poles looked presactly like a solid fence along beside the track!" "but you see," said frank, "you confess that your trains out here have to take time to get up such high speed. that is where they are behind the trains in the east." "how?" demanded sam contemptuously. "why, having to stop often, the eastern trains make it a practise to start quick and at high speed. they don't have to pump away for fifteen or twenty miles in order to get to going at a comfortable rate of speed. instead of that they start right off at full speed. now there is a train runs between new york and washington. i got aboard at the station in jersey city. my girl had come along to see me off. i opened the car window and leaned out to kiss her good-by, and, so help me, i kissed a colored woman in philadelphia!" there was a moment of silence, and then big monte gave a roar of delighted laughter. this was the kind of humor he could appreciate, and the fact that red sam had been doubly outdone by the tenderfoot gave him great joy. the others laughed, also, and their respect for their captive rose several notches. cimarron bill thoroughly appreciated merry's cleverness in getting ahead of red sam. "that youngster'd make the greatest pard a man could tie to!" thought bill. after breakfast merry coolly sauntered about the hut. he was followed everywhere by the two guards, but he gave them no heed whatever. he looked for some further sign of old joe, but saw nothing. merry wondered how the redskin would go to work to accomplish what he meant to attempt. bill let frank alone until after dinner. then he sat down with merry, they being by themselves, and again broached the subject that seemed uppermost in his mind. "see here," said frank, "i offered one of your men a thousand dollars to get me out of this. the same offer stands good with you." the dark face of cimarron bill flushed and he looked deadly. "mebbe you don't know you're insultin' me a heap!" he said. "such bein' the probable case, i resents it none. the minin' trust has promised me five thousan' when i turns them papers over." "which you will never do." "which i'll sure do if you gits foolish an' refuses to tie up with me." "well," said frank, "i'm not bidding against the mining trust. i have refused to recognize that organization." "then you refuses my proposal?" said bill, in that cold, dangerous voice of his. "not that. i want until to-morrow morning to think it over. just till to-morrow." "you'll give me my answer to-morrer mornin'?" "yes." "then it's settled that you has that much more time. i won't ask ye no more about it until to-morrer morning; an' then you must sure give an answer. i knows what that answer will certain be if you has the level head i thinks." chapter vi. injun joe to the rescue. along in the middle of the night frank awoke. again he was overcome by that strange feeling that some person was near him. then he felt a touch, light as a feather, and saw at his side a dark figure. the starlight came in at the small, square window. a hand grasped frank's wrist and gave it a gentle pull. there was not even a whisper. merry knew what was wanted. without making a sound, he crept across the ground to the wall, where a timber had been removed from the lower portion, making an opening large enough for a man to slip through. some one passed noiselessly through this opening ahead of him. frank followed as silently as he could. outside he found at his side the one who had entered the cabin in that manner. this person lay flat on the ground and moved away with amazing deftness and silence. frank could not follow as easily, but he wormed along as best he could. in that manner they finally passed to the shelter of some scrubby bushes. there frank found a dark form sitting on the ground. "heap all right," whispered a voice. "you no make a row when joe him come. joe he know you be ready if you find feather." it was crowfoot, the faithful old redskin. "all right now. make um no noise. foller joe," continued the indian. the old fellow did not hurry. he took his time to crawl along on hands and knees until they were far from the hut. at last he arose, and frank followed his example. they bent low and went on like two dark shadows. "can we get out of the valley all right?" asked merry. "one man him guard this way to go out," said joe. "how do we pass him?" "joe know. leave it to him." the valley narrowed at last. they slipped along between rocky walls. joe's feet made absolutely no sound. "stop here," advised the redskin. "joe him come back in minute." so frank stopped and waited. the minute was long. indeed, it became ten minutes at least. but the old fellow returned, saying: "all right. coast clear." "what's that?" exclaimed frank, as they nearly stumbled over a dark figure, as they were hurrying on again. "him guard," said joe. "guard? what's the matter with him?" "him sleep." merry shuddered a bit, for he fancied he knew the sort of sleep meant by the old fellow. cimarron bill would receive his answer in the morning. it would be a great surprise to him, and would please him not at all. more than two miles had been traversed when they came, in a deep gully, upon old joe's horse. "no keep him so near," said the indian. "bring him here to have him ready to-night. you ride." frank did not fancy the idea of riding, but the old fellow insisted, and merry finally mounted. so they passed through the silent night, joe leading for a time. "did you get the package off all right?" merry asked. "him go," said joe. "no worry." "joe, i don't know how i can repay you; but anything i have in this world is yours. you want to remember that. take what you want that belongs to me." "joe him not need much. he soon go off to the long hunt." frank thought of the time when this old redskin had been his bitter enemy, when joe had seemed treacherous and deadly as a rattlesnake, and smiled somewhat over the transformation. he had won the confidence of the indian, who was now as faithful as he had once been dangerous. "did you see anything of the one-armed man who was with my pursuers?" asked merry. "no see him after leave you." "he was sent away to follow you." "no see him. he no bother me." frank was thoroughly well satisfied with the work of the faithful redskin. they took turns at riding throughout the night. three hours after dawn they came into a large, wooded valley amid the mountains. as they approached this valley they heard afar a rumbling, jarring sound that brought a smile to the face of frank merriwell. "the stamps are in operation," he said. riding up the valley, through which flowed a stream of water, they saw reared against the bold face of a high mountain, looking like ant-mounds, some buildings, four or five in number. in the side of the mountain opened the black mouth of a shaft. "hurrah!" merry cried, waving his hat over his head. "there, joe, is the queen mystery, and it is in full blast!" the queen mystery mine was located a long distance from the nearest railroad, but merriwell had been to the expense and trouble of having the very latest machinery brought there and set up. he had in his employ jim tracy, as a foreman, said to be thoroughly capable and reliable. only about fifty men were employed in the mine at that time; but merry contemplated increasing the force extensively. there was talk of a branch railroad being constructed to pass within ten or fifteen miles of the queen mystery. were the mine to fall into the hands of the mining trust, without doubt that railroad would be constructed, and it would run direct to camp mystery and onward. the influence of the great railroad magnate would easily bring about the running of the railroad to suit his fancy. the mining trust had been completely baffled in its first efforts to get the best of merriwell. frank was welcomed at the mine, where he made himself comfortable. old joe disappeared within six hours after arriving there. he vanished without saying a word to merry about his intentions. two days later he reappeared, frank finding him sitting, in the morning, with his back against one of the buildings, his red blanket pulled about him, serenely smoking. "hello, joe!" cried merry. "so you're back?" "ugh!" grunted joe, as he continued to smoke. "what's your report, joe?" "bad men heap gone." "cimarron bill and his gang?" "joe mean um." "they have gone?" "git out. they go heap quick after strong heart he git away." "well, that looks as if bill had given up the fight, but it seems hardly possible." "no can tell," said the old fellow. "may come 'gain with great lot many more bad men." frank sat down and talked with the old redskin for some time. then joe was given a square meal, and he ate heartily. merry had some business to look after in the mine, and he departed, at last, with the idea that he would find joe and have another talk with him after the business was done. but when merry came to look again for the indian, joe had disappeared once more in his usual mysterious fashion. merry was not at all satisfied that cimarron bill had given up the struggle. in any event, he was confident that the syndicate had not given up, and experience had taught him that the organization would resort to any desperate means to accomplish its purpose. so merriwell, having seen that all things were going well at the mine, set out the following day for holbrook, in which place he mailed a letter to dick, informing him of his fortune in escaping from the ruffians. in holbrook merry purchased a supply of rifles and cartridges, also small arms. this stock he had boxed and contracted with a man to deliver everything with the least possible delay at the queen mystery mine. having attended to this matter, merry rested over night and set out with the first hint of coming day for the mine. through the hottest part of the day he rested in a ravine where there was some shade. then he traveled again until after nightfall. the following forenoon found him in a part of the mountains that seemed familiar. he had diverged somewhat from the regular trail between holbrook and the mine. riding through a narrow pass, he came into a valley that was somewhat wooded and had a decidedly familiar aspect. five minutes later he drew rein, uttering an exclamation of surprise. before him, at a distance, stood an old hut. it required no second glance to show merriwell that it was the very hut where he had been held a captive by cimarron bill and his gang. frank looked around keenly, but the valley seemed desolate, and apparently he and his horse were the only living creatures within its confines. "the very place!" said merry. "i wonder how bill liked my answer to his proposition. he must have been decidedly surprised when he found me missing in the morning." he rode forward toward the hut, having a fancy to look around the place. as he drew nearer, suddenly his horse plunged forward and fell, while a shot rang out. merry had seen a puff of smoke come from the window of the hut. he managed to jerk his feet from the stirrups and drop to the ground behind the body of the horse, where he lay quite still. the animal had been shot through the brain, and it did not even kick after falling. chapter vii. merriwell and big monte. as he lay behind his stricken horse, merriwell pulled his rifle around and got it ready for use. peering over the body of the animal, he watched the hut. the sun, which was dropping toward the west, was still decidedly uncomfortable. it blazed upon him with a feeling like the heat from a bake-oven. frank knew his peril. he knew better than to lift his head high and give his hidden foe another chance at him. he could not jump up and rush for cover, as cover lay too far away. only one thing could he do, and that was to remain quietly there and watch and wait. after a time it is likely the man who had fired the shot began to believe merriwell seriously hurt. frank caught a glimpse of him within the hut. "he's coming out!" merry decided. he was mistaken. time dragged on and the sun dipped lower toward the mountain-peaks; but still no person issued from the old hut. the situation was anything but comfortable. "confound him!" muttered frank. "who is he, and what does he mean?" even as he asked the question, he again saw the man moving beyond the window. frank thrust the rifle across the horse, resting it on the animal's body. then he got into a position where he could take good aim, and then waited again. the sun was touching the mountain-tops when beyond the window merry saw the head of a man. then the clear report of his rifle rang through the valley. the puff of smoke from the muzzle blotted out the window for a moment. when it floated away the window was empty. "did i reach him?" thought frank anxiously. he felt that he had not missed, and still he could not be sure. he did not venture to rise from behind the horse. in case he had missed, he might fall before a second bullet from the hut. the sun went down behind the mountains, flinging a hundred golden and crimson banners into the sky. finally these began to fade, and a few stars peeped forth palely. "if somebody's watching for me there," thought merry, "it's going to be dangerous to move, at best." but something told him his lead had not gone astray. as the light faded still more he arose quickly, rifle in hand, and started on a run for the hut. as he ran he felt that it was far from impossible that another shot might bring sudden death to him. still he did not hesitate, and, running steadily, he came up to the hut. the door swung open before his hand. he looked in. it was not so dark as to hide a black figure that lay sprawled on the dirt floor. frank shuddered a little, and felt like turning away at once. "he brought it on himself!" he whispered. "it was my life or his. but i'm sorry i had to do it." then he entered the hut. striking a match, he bent over the prostrate figure. the reflected light, coming from his hollowed hands, showed him a familiar face. "big monte!" he cried, starting back and dropping the match. it was in truth the big man who had been one of cimarron bill's paid satellites. he found the man's wrist and felt for his pulse. "good lord!" merry cried. big monte's pulse flickered beneath his fingers. the ruffian still lived. frank knew where there was some wood, and this he soon had piled in a little heap in the open fireplace. he applied a match, and soon a blaze sprang up. by the growing light of the fire he examined monte's wound. "creased him as fine as can be!" he muttered. "maybe there is a chance for him, after all." it may be explained that by "creased" frank meant that the bullet had passed along the man's skull, cutting his scalp, yet had not penetrated the bone. this had rendered big monte unconscious. merry removed the fellow's revolvers and knife and stood his rifle in a far corner. then he brought some water in his drinking-cup and set about the effort of restoring the wretch to consciousness, which did not prove such a hard task as he had anticipated. after a little monte's eyes opened and he lay staring at the youth. he seemed bewildered, and it was plain he could not readily collect his scattered wits. "well, monte," said frank coolly, "that was a pretty close call for you. i came near shooting off the top of your head, which i would have been justified in doing. all the same, i'm glad i failed." the big man continued to stare at frank. already merry had bound up the ruffian's wound. "ho!" came hoarsely from monte's lips. "back! back to the depths! you are dead!" "if i am dead," said frank, "i'm just about the liveliest dead man you ever saw." a strange smile came to the lips of the wounded man. "if you are not yet dead," he said, "i opines you soon will be a heap." "never count chickens before they are hatched, monte." "when you come back you'll find your mine in the hands of the syndicate. bill will have it." "that's interesting! how will bill get it?" "he will take it while you are away. he has gathered a right good gang, and he's a-goin' to jump the mine to-night." "monte," said frank, "you interest me extensively. how does it happen you are not with the gang?" "i am one of the watchers. i watch to see that you do not get back. i reckons i have done my part o' the job, for i shot you dead a while ago." the big ruffian was not in his right mind, but already he had said enough to stir frank merriwell's blood. so cimarron bill had been watching his movements from some place of cover, and had hastened to gather his ruffians the moment frank left the mine. without doubt bill had counted on frank remaining away longer. however, this night he was to strike, with his gang. the mine was to be seized. "i must be there!" muttered merriwell. fortunately big monte had a horse hidden not far from the cabin, and frank was able to find the animal. the wounded ruffian was raving at intervals. he seemed quite deranged. "i can't leave him like this," thought merry. "he might wander off into the mountains and perish." still he disliked to be encumbered with the wretch. some would have deserted the wounded man without delay and ridden with all haste to reach the mine. it must be confessed that such a thought passed through the head of frank merriwell. "no!" murmured frank. "he's a human being. it is my duty to do what i can to save him." so it came about that two men rode monte's big horse away from that valley. one of them muttered, and laughed, and talked wildly. "riding with the dead!" he said. "we're on the road to purgatory! ha! ha! ha! whip up the horse! gallop on!" it was a strange ride through the starlight night. the clicking clatter of the horse's hoofs aroused the big man at intervals, and he laughed and shouted. "i'm dead!" he finally declared. "i am a dead man! two dead men are riding together! and we're on the road to the burnin' pit! but it's getting a heap cold! i'm beginnin' to freeze. the fire will be good an' hot!" "shut up!" said merry. "we're getting near the queen mystery. you may get shot up some more if you keep your jaw wagging." as they came nearer to the valley, merry slackened the pace of the foam-flecked horse. fortunately the animal had been big and strong, for once frank had seemed to have little mercy on the beast he bestrode. monte continued to talk. he had grown so weak that merry was compelled to partly support him. "look here," frank said, in a commanding way, "you are not to say another word until i give you permission. do you understand that?" "yes." "then close up. not another word from you." monte closed up, obeying like a child. they were entering the valley. suddenly there came a challenge. "hold up, thar! who goes yander?" not a word from merriwell's lips, but he drove the spurs to the horse, clutched big monte tighter, and they shot forward into the valley. instantly sounded a shot, followed by several more. bullets whistled past them. frank felt monte give a great start and lurch sideways, but he held the man steady. there were cries of rage from the men who had fired the shots. not a word did frank speak, but he held straight on toward the head of the valley and camp mystery. as he approached he saw lights gleaming ahead, seeming to indicate that the sound of shooting had come up the valley and aroused the miners. he was challenged, but gave an answer that caused the men to welcome him with a shout. it was crowfoot who seized the lather-white horse by the bit, but it was another who caught big monte as the ruffian plunged from the saddle on being released from frank's arms. "i 'lows he'd got it good an' plenty," said the man who caught monte. "ef he ain't dead a'ready, he'll be so right soon." "take him inside somewhere," directed frank. "every man who can find a weapon wants to get ready to fight. we're going to have a gang of ruffians down on us here, and we'll have to fight to hold this mine." "we're all ready, mr. merriwell," said jim tracy, the foreman. "joe crowfoot came and warned us what was doin'. i opine them galoots must 'a' bin shootin' at you some down yander?" "that's right," said frank. "i had to ride through them, and they banged away at me to their satisfaction. i was lucky to come out with a whole skin." "which the other gent didn't. who is he?" "big monte." "what? not that galoot? why, he's one o' the wust devils unhung in arizona!" the men began to murmur. "big monte!" cried another. "why i has a score to settle with that thar varmint! he shot my partner, luke brandt." "an' i has a score to settle with him, too!" declared another. "he stole a hoss off me!" many others claimed grievances against monte, and suddenly there was a rush toward the room into which the wounded man had been conveyed. somehow frank merriwell was ahead of them all. as they came crowding in at the door, merry stood beside the blanket on which the wounded ruffian was stretched. "hold on, men!" he called quietly. "monte is dying!" "what do we keer fer that!" cried one. "all the more reason fer us to hurry an' swing the varmint afore he crokes!" "let him die in peace." "that's escapin' what's his due." frank lifted one hand. "there is one above who will judge him," he said. "it is not for us to do that." but those men did not fancy the idea of being robbed of their vengeance. big monte was helpless in their hands, and they were for swinging him before he could escape them by giving up the ghost. "mr. merriwell, sir," said one, "we respects you all right, an' we don't like to run contrarywise to anything you says here; but in this yere case we has to, most unfortunate. it is our sollum duty to hang this onery hoss-thief, an' that is what we proposes to do. arter that we'll be ready ter fight fer you an' your mine as long as it's necessary." "that's right!" shouted others, as they again crowded forward. "let us have him! we'll make it right short work! then we'll be ready fer his pards!" some of them flourished weapons. they were an ugly-looking crew. quick as a flash frank merriwell whipped out a pair of revolvers and leveled them at the crowd. "gentlemen," he said, "i have just one thing to observe: if you don't, one and all, get out of here instanter and leave monte to shuffle off in peace i shall open on you! if i open on you, i shall reduce you so that cimarron bill and his crowd will have no trouble whatever in taking this mine." they did not doubt but he meant it, remarkable though it seemed. if they attempted to seize monte, merriwell would begin shooting. it was astonishing that he should choose to defend this ruffian that had been one of his worst enemies. as the men were hesitating, old joe crowfoot suddenly appeared. "com'ron bill he come!" said the indian. "there be a heap fight in a minute! come quick!" "come on!" cried jim tracy. and the men rushed forth to meet and repulse cimarron bill and his gang. chapter viii. the death-shot. frank was about to follow, when big monte clutched weakly at his foot. "pard," said the ruffian, "i may never git another chanct to say it. you're the white stuff! they'd shore hanged me a whole lot but for you. now i has a chanct to die comfortable an' respectable like. thankee, frank merriwell." "don't mention it!" said frank. "die as comfortably as you can. i have to go out to help the boys shoot a few of your pards." "i ain't got northin' agin' them," said monte; "but i wishes ye luck. they're in the wrong, an' you're right." at this moment the sound of shooting outside startled merry, and, without another word, he rushed forth, leaving monte lying there. cimarron bill had counted on capturing the mine by strategy and meeting with very little resistance. when frank had returned and ridden into the valley bill knew that it would not do to delay longer, and he had led his men in swift pursuit. but old joe crowfoot, faithful as ever, had prepared the miners for the attack; so it came about that the ruffians were met with a volley of lead that dismayed and demoralized them. this was not the kind of work they relished. thus it happened that frank merriwell came hurrying forth, only to find the enemy already repulsed and retreating in disorder. the starlight showed two men and a horse stretched on the ground, while another horse was hobbling about. at a distance down the valley the mine-seizers were fleeing. "they git heap hot time!" said old joe, in frank's ear. "what?" cried merry. "have they quit it as quick as this?" "it looks that way, sir," said jim tracy. "and i didn't get into the game." "you was too busy defending big monte. i hopes you pardons me, sir, but i thinks that was a mistake." "you have a right to think whatever you like, but i object to your freedom in expressing yourself." this was plain enough, and it told tracy that frank would not tolerate any criticism from him. "it's your own game," muttered tracy, turning away. "i see you have dropped two of those chaps." "yes." revolver in hand, frank walked out toward the spot where the two figures lay. he was followed by crowfoot and several others. the first man was stone-dead. the next proved to be the mexican, pinto pede, who was sorely wounded. "that cursed greaser!" growled one of the men. "give me lief to finish him, mr. merriwell!" he placed the muzzle of a pistol against pede's head. frank knew that a word from him would send the mexican into eternity. "none of that!" he said sternly and commandingly. "pick the fellow up and take him in yonder. he may not be shot up too bad to recover." but they drew back. "sir," said tracy, "i don't opine thar is a man here but what thinks hisself too good to be after handlin' the onery greaser." "and you would let him remain here to die?" "i reckons that's correct." in another moment merry had stooped and lifted the slender body of pinto pede in his arms. with long strides, he bore the mexican toward the building in which big monte lay. the miners looked on in amazement. "waal, he's the limit!" said jim tracy, in disgust. crowfoot followed frank, who took pede into the room and placed him beside big monte. the redskin stopped at the door, where he stood on guard. "well, pede," said frank, "we'll examine and see just how hard you're hit." the mexican was shot in the side. at first it seemed that the wound might be fatal, but, examining with the skill of an amateur surgeon, frank made a discovery. "she struck a rib, pede," he said. "she followed around and came out here. why, you're not in such a bad way! you may pull through this thing all right. you'd be almost sure to if you had the right sort of treatment." the mexican said nothing, but certain it is that he was bewildered when he found merry dressing the wound. this frank did with such skill as he possessed, making the fellow comfortable. big monte had watched all this, and he spoke for the first time when the job was done. "i reckon," he said, "that they don't raise galoots like you ev'rywhere. why, it shore was up to you to finish the two o' us! why you didn't do it is something i don't understand none at all. an' you keeps them gents from takin' me out an' swingin' me. you shore air plenty diffrunt from any one i ever meets up with afore!" old joe crowfoot had been watching everything. the indian understood frank not at all, but whatever "strong heart" did joe was ready to stand by. "don't worry over it," laughed merry. "i owe you something, monte." "i fail to see what." "why, you warned me that bill and the others meant to jump the mine to-night." "did i?" "sure thing." "i don't remember. but i tried ter shoot ye. bill said you was ter be shot ef you comes a-hustlin' back afore he gits around to doin' his part o' the job." "you got the worst of it in that little piece of shooting, so we'll call that even." "if you says even, i'm more'n willin'." "now," said frank, "i'm going out with the men to watch for a second attack from bill. i have to leave you, and some of the boys may take a fancy to hang you, after all. that bein' the case, i don't want to leave you so you won't have a show. here, take this gun. with it you may be able to defend yourself until i can reach you. but don't shoot any one if you can help it, for after that i don't believe even i could save you." so he placed a revolver in the hand of big monte and went out, leaving the wounded ruffians together. when frank was gone the two wounded wretches lay quite still for some time. finally pinto pede stirred and looked at big monte. "how you get shot?" he asked. "the gent who jest went out done a part o' the job," said monte, in reply. "heem--he shoot you?" "yes." "ha! you lik' da chance to shoot heem?" "waal, i had it, but i missed him. he fooled me a whole lot, fer he jest kept still behind his hoss, what i had salted, an' then he got in at me with his own bit o' lead." "that mak' you hate heem! now you want to keel heem?" "oh, i don't know! i don't opine i'm so mighty eager." "beel says he gif one thousan' dol' to man who shoot frank mer'well." "that's a good lot." "beel he do it." "no doubt o' that, i reckons." "mebbe you an' i haf the chance." "waal, not fer me! i quits! when a chap keeps my neck from bein' stretched arter all i has done ter him--waal, that settles it! i opines i has a leetle humanity left in me. an' he thought i was dyin', too. i kinder thought so then, but i'm managin' ter pull along. mebbe i'll come through." the face of pinto pede showed that he was thinking black thoughts. "gif me da chance!" he finally said. "you no haf to do eet. gif me da chance. i do eet, an' we divvy da mon'. ha?" "don't count me into your deviltry." "no count you?" "no." "what matter? you no too good. i see you shoot man in back." "mebbe you did; but he hadn't kept me from bein' lynched." "bah! why he do eet? you fool! he want to turn you ofer to law." "mebbe you're right; i don't know." "you safe yourself if you help keel him." "looker hyer, pede, i'm a low-down onery skunk; but i reckon thar's a limit even fer me. i've struck it. this hyer frank merriwell made me ashamed a' myself fer the fust time in a right long time. i know i'm too onery to reform an' ever be anything decent, even if i don't shuffle off with these two wounds. all the same, i ain't the snake ter turn an' soak pisen inter merriwell, an' you hear me. others may do it, but not big monte." "bah! all right! you not get half! yes; you keep steel, you get eet." "what are you driving at?" "wait. mebbe you see. all you haf to do is keep steel." "waal, i'm great at keepin' still," said monte. it was not far from morning when merriwell re-entered that room. pinto pede seemed to be sleeping, but big monte was wide-awake. "hello!" exclaimed frank. "so you're still on these shores. i didn't know but you had sailed out." "pard, i opine mebbe i may git well enough to be hanged, after all," grinned the big ruffian. "possibly you may," said frank. "and the chances are you would be if i were to leave you alone long enough. i heard some of the boys talking. they contemplate taking you out and doing things to you after i'm asleep. but they did not reckon that i would come here to sleep, where they cannot get their hands on you without disturbing me." "that was right kind of you," said monte. "how's bill?" "i think that bill has had his fill for the present. indications are that he has left the valley with his whole force, and we are not looking for further trouble from him in some time to come." "bill shore found hisself up against the real thing," said monte. frank placed a blanket near the door, wrapped himself in it, and was soon sleeping soundly. big monte seemed to fall asleep after a time. finally the mexican lifted his head and listened. he looked at monte, and then at frank. seeming to satisfy himself, he gently dropped aside his blanket and began creeping across the floor, making his way toward merriwell. he moved with the silence of a serpent. now, it happened that big monte was not asleep, although he had seemed to be. the mexican had not crept half the distance to frank when the big man turned slightly, lifted his head, and watched. as the creeping wretch drew nearer to the sleeping youth the hand of big monte was gently thrust out from the folds of his blanket. pede reached frank, and then arose to his knees. suddenly he lifted above his head a deadly knife, which he meant to plunge into the breast of the unconscious sleeper. at that instant a spout of fire leaped from something in the hand which big monte had thrust from beneath the blanket, and with the crashing report of the revolver pede fell forward across the body of his intended victim, shot through the brain! frank was on his feet in an instant. "what does this mean?" he cried, astounded, stirring the body of the mexican with his foot. "you gave me a gun," said big monte, "so that i might defend myself. it came in handy when i saw pede gittin' keerless with his knife an' goin' fer to cut you up." "was that it?" exclaimed frank. "why, he was going to stab me! and you saved my life by shooting him!" "which mebbe makes us some nearer square than we was," said monte, "as you saved my life a leetle time ago." chapter ix. frank makes a decision. frank leaned against the door-jamb of his cabin and looked out into the sunny valley. to his ears came the roar of the stamp-mills of the mine, which was in full blast. before him lay the mine-buildings about the mouth of the tunnel, from which rich ore was being brought to be fed to the greedy stamps. it was now something like ten days since the ruffians under cimarron bill tried to carry the mine by assault. frank had remained watchful and alert, well knowing the nature of cimarron bill and believing he would not be content to abandon the effort thus easily. still the second attack, which he had so fully expected, had not come. he was wondering now if the ruffians had given it up. or had they been instructed by the trust to turn their attention to the san pablo mine? if the latter was the case, frank felt that they would find the san pablo prepared. he had taken pains before hastening to the queen mystery to fortify his mine in mexico, leaving it in charge of a man whom he fully trusted. nevertheless, frank felt that it would be far better were he able to personally watch both mines at the same time. just now he was meditating on the advisability of leaving the queen mystery and journeying southward to the san pablo. as he thought this matter over, something seemed to whisper in his ear that such an action on his part was anticipated by the enemy, who were waiting for him to make the move. then, while he was away, they would again descend on the queen mystery. again the old indian, crowfoot, had disappeared, after his usual manner, without telling frank whither he was going. merry knew he might be in the vicinity, or he might be hundreds of miles away. still, joe had a remarkable faculty of turning up just when he was most needed. merry turned back into the little cabin, leaving the door open. he had been feeling of his chin as he stood in the doorway, and now he thought: "a shave will clean me up. great scott! but i'm getting a beard! this shaving is becoming a regular nuisance." indeed, frank was getting a beard. every day it seemed to grow heavier and thicker, and he found it necessary to shave frequently to maintain that clean appearance in which he so greatly delighted. frank could wear old clothes, he could rough it with joy, he minded neither wind nor weather, but personal cleanliness he always maintained when such a thing was in any manner possible. to him a slovenly person was offensive. he pitied the man or boy who did not know the pleasure of being clean, and he knew it was possible for any one to be clean, no matter what his occupation, provided he could obtain a cake of soap and sufficient water. so frank was shaving every day when possible. he now turned back into the cabin and brought out his shaving-set. on the wall directly opposite the open door hung a small square mirror, with a narrow shelf below it. here merry made preparations for his shaving. over a heater-lamp he prepared his water, whistling the air of the boola song. this tune made him think of his old friends of yale, some of whom he had not heard from for some time. a year had not yet passed since he had gathered them and taken his baseball-team into the mad river region to play baseball. in that brief space of time many things had occurred which made it evident that never again could they all be together for sport. the days of mere sport were past and over; the days of serious business had come. frank thought, with a sense of sadness, of old eli. before him rose a vision of the campus buildings, in his ears sounded the laughter and songs, and he saw the line of fellows hanging on the fence, smoking their pipes and chaffing good-naturedly. with some men it is a sad thing that they cannot look back with any great degree of pleasure on their boyhood and youth. they remember that other boys seemed to have fine times, while they did not. later, other youths chummed together and were hail-fellow-well-met, while they seemed set aloof from these jolly associates. with frank this was not so. he remembered his boyhood with emotions of the greatest pleasure, from the time of his early home life to his bidding farewell to fardale. beyond that even unto this day the joy of life made him feel that it was a million fold worth living. there are thousands who confess that they would not be willing to go back and live their lives over. had the question been put to frank merriwell he would have said that nothing could give him greater pleasure. when the water was hot, frank carefully applied his razor to the strop and made it sharp enough for his purpose. then he arranged everything needed on the little shelf beneath the mirror. now, it is impossible to say what thing it was that led him to remove his revolver from the holster and place it on the shelf with the other things, but something caused him to do so. then he applied the lather to his face, and was about to use the razor, when he suddenly saw something in the mirror that led him to move with amazing quickness. behind him, at the open door, was a man with a rifle. this man, a bearded ruffian, had crept up to the door with the weapon held ready for use. but for the fact that the interior of the cabin seemed somewhat gloomy to the eyes of the man, accustomed as they were to the bright glare of the sun outside, he might have been too swift for frank. another thing added to frank's fortune, and it was that he had drawn his revolver and placed the weapon on the little shelf in front of him. for this reason it was not necessary for him to reach toward the holster at his hip, an action which must have hurried the ruffian to the attempted accomplishment of his murderous design. for merriwell had no doubt of the fellow's intention. he saw murder in the man's eyes and pose. the rifle was half-lifted. in another moment frank merriwell would have been shot in the back in a most dastardly manner. he snatched the revolver from the little shelf and fired over his shoulder without turning his head, securing such aim as was possible by the aid of the mirror into which he was looking. frank had learned to shoot in this manner, and he could do so as skilfully as many of the expert marksmen who gave exhibitions of fancy shooting throughout the country. his bullet struck the hand of the man, smashing some of the ruffian's fingers and causing him to drop the rifle. merry wheeled and strode to the door, his smoking revolver in his hand, a terrible look in his eyes. the wretch was astounded by what had happened. blood was streaming from his wounded hand. he saw merriwell confront him with the ready pistol. "you treacherous cur!" said frank indignantly. "i think i'll finish you!" he seemed about to shoot the man down, whereupon the ruffian dropped on his knees, begging for mercy. "don't--don't shoot!" he gasped, holding up his bleeding hand, "don't kill me!" "why shouldn't i? you meant to kill me." "no, no--i swear----" "don't lie! your soul may start on its long trail in a moment! don't lie when you may be on the brink of eternity!" these stern words frightened the fellow more than ever. "oh, i'm telling you the truth--i sw'ar i am!" he hastened to say. "you crept up to this door all ready to fill me full of lead." "no, no! nothing of the sort! i was not looking for you! it--it was some one else! i swear it by my honor!" a bitter smile curled the lips of the young man. "honor!" he said--"your honor! never mind. how much were you to receive for killing me?" "it was not you; it was another man." "what other?" "tracy." "my foreman?" "yes." "you were looking for him?" "yes." "why?" "him and me have had a fallin' out, and he cussed me. he threatened to shoot me, too." "what was the matter?" "oh, he didn't like the way i done my work. it's true; ask him. i swore i'd fix him." "well, what brought you here to my cabin to shoot the foreman?" "i thought i saw him coming this way." frank pressed his lips together and looked the man over. somehow he believed the ruffian was lying, in spite of all these protests. "see here, anson," he said, "you were hired by the mining trust, or by some of its tools, to shoot me, and you tried to earn your money. don't deny it, for you can't fool me. just own up to the truth and it will be better for you. tell me who made the deal with you and how much you were to receive. if you come out honestly and confess all, i'll spare you. your hand is bleeding pretty bad, and it should be attended to at once. i'll see to that, but upon condition that you confess." still the ruffian continued to protest, insisting that it was tracy he was looking for. in the midst of this he suddenly stopped, seeming to be badly frightened. "oh, lord!" he choked. "here comes tracy! don't tell him! i can't defend myself! don't tell him, or he'll sure shoot me up and finish me!" jim tracy was coming with long strides. he saw frank and the wretch with the bleeding hand. "whatever is this?" he demanded. "i heard the shooting. what has this yaller dog been up to?" "i shot him," said frank quietly. "he came walking into my door in a careless manner with his rifle in his hand, and i shot him in a hurry. he was foolish; he should have been more careful. it's dangerous to walk in on me that way, even with the most peaceable intentions." there was a strange look on tracy's face. "so that's how it happened?" he exclaimed, in a harsh voice. "well, it's pretty certain that hop anson needs to have his worthless neck stretched, and all i ask is permission to attend to the job. i'll dispose of him very quickly." "i told you, mr. merriwell!" muttered the wounded man. "you have had some trouble with him, have you, tracy?" asked frank. "confound his hide! yes, i have. he has no business here at this time. his place is discharging the rock as it comes out. the fact that he's here counts against him. turn him over to me." "instead of that," said frank, thrusting his revolver into his holster, "i think i'll take care of him. come in here, anson." tracy seemed astonished and disgusted. "what are you going to do?" he asked. "i'm going to see if i can't dress that hand and keep him from bleeding to death," was merriwell's answer. "well, by thunder!" muttered the foreman. chapter x. merriwell's method. it was not easy for such men to understand frank merriwell. hop anson was as much astonished as was jim tracy. he entered the cabin at frank's command, and merriwell proceeded to wash and examine the wound. "you'll have to lose two fingers and part of another one," said merriwell. "i can do the job for you right here, if you say so. or i'll patch them up, stop the bleeding, and let you get to a regular saw-bones." "you go ahead," said anson. so frank opened a trunk which sat behind a curtain in one corner of the room, bringing out a case, which, on being opened, revealed a complete set of surgical instruments. these he spread out on the rough table, and soon he was ready to operate on hop anson's mangled hand. jim tracy, his hands on his hips and his feet rather wide apart, stood looking on in silence. frank spent the greater part of an hour about his task, impressing tracy as an assistant, and when he had finished two of the ruffian's fingers and a part of the third were gone, but the amputation and dressing had been done in a manner that was anything but bungling. frank had been as careful as possible to preserve cleanliness about his work. "well, you're certain a wonder!" exclaimed tracy admiringly. "but you makes a big mistake in wastin' so much trouble on a dog like this." anson did not retort, save with a sullen flash of his treacherous eyes in the direction of the foreman. "permit me to know my business, tracy," said merry shortly. "you may go now, anson." "what? you're not going to let him go where he likes?" "yes." so hop anson walked out of the cabin, picked up his rifle, and disappeared. "i don't want to criticise you, mr. merriwell," said the foreman. "you know i am devoted to your interests. but i feel confident that you will be very sorry you treated that man in such a decent way and then let him off. he's a snake. i still believe he crept up to the door to shoot you in the back." "perhaps he did," nodded frank, cleansing his instruments with the utmost coolness. "if so, he got the worst of it." "but would you let him off like that if you knew it was so?" "no. he swore it was not. i had no proof, so i let him go." "you're altogether too easy with your enemies," asserted tracy. "just you turn them over to me. i'll take care of them, and they'll never bother you again, be right sure of that." "i'll think about it," smiled frank, returning the instruments to the case. "you came mighty near being killed by that greaser because you were easy with him." "and my life was saved by big monte because i had been easy with him. that balances things, i fancy. in fact, for me, it more than balances things. i'd rather let a dozen bad men escape punishment than strike one who is innocent." "but neither big monte nor pinto pede was innocent." "and pinto pede provided a subject with which to start a graveyard here. big monte seemed repentant. pede would have knifed me, but monte shot him just as he was ready to strike." "well, where's big monte now?" "i don't know," confessed frank. "he skipped out." "sure thing. he took a walk the first chance he got." "and it's certain he's gone back to his pals. when they strike at you ag'in, if they do, monte will be with 'em." "all right. perhaps he has an idea he'll be fighting fair that way." "and he may kill you yet." "possibly." "well," said tracy, "i must admit that i don't understand you none whatever! hop anson left his work, got a rifle and came sneakin' up to your door. you shoots him in the hand, then doctors him and lets him go. that's right peculiar. but i have him to deal with somewhat, and i propose to deal. if you hear before night that hop has hopped the divide don't be any surprised." tracy seemed about to depart. "look here," said frank, "before you go, i have some things to say. unless hop anson gives you good and sufficient cause, you are not to lift your hand against him. i don't want any shooting to get started here at the mine. i want these men to dwell together peaceably. the first shooting is likely to lead to other work in the same line." "you're too much against such things," said tracy; "and still i notice you don't hesitate any whatever to use a gun at times." "when forced to it; never at any other time. i am decidedly against it. it would be dead easy to start an affair here that would lead to disturbances that might get the men to quarreling. that would put the men in condition to revolt, and an assault upon the mine would find us weakened. i trust you, tracy, to be careful about this matter. much depends on you. you have proved satisfactory in every way." "thankee," said the foreman, somewhat awkwardly. "i've tried to do my best, sir." "that is all i ask of any man. that is all any man can do. you should understand why i wish no disturbance. but, at the same time, let me warn you to watch hop anson closely--for your own benefit. if you have to do any shooting, well and good." "i think i understand," said tracy, as he walked out. at the door he paused and half-turned, as if to say something more. already frank was facing the little mirror on the wall, ready to resume his shaving. he stood exactly as he had stood when he shot at anson, and his revolver lay on the shelf beneath the mirror. tracy went on. chapter xi. smoke signals and a decoy. frank grew restless. on the day following the shooting of anson he called tracy and said: "tracy, i want you to keep your eyes open and be on your guard while i am away." "are you going away, sir?" asked the foreman. "yes." "for a long time?" "that is uncertain. i may return by night, and i may not be back for several days." the foreman looked as if he wished to ask where frank thought of going, but held himself in check. "i wish to satisfy myself if any of my enemies are in this vicinity," said merriwell. "i leave things in your hands here, and i believe i can trust you." "you can, sir, fully." merry attended to the saddling of his horse. when he rode forth from the mine he was well armed and prepared for almost anything. behind him the roar of the ore-crushers died out, and he passed into the silence of the mountains. not an hour had passed when he was somewhat surprised to see before him from an elevated point a big, ball-like cloud of dark smoke rising into the sky. "that's odd," was his immediate decision. he stopped his horse and watched the smoke as it ascended and grew thinner. it was followed by another ball of smoke as he watched, and after this came still another. then frank turned in the saddle, looking in various directions. some miles behind him three distinct and separate clouds of smoke seemed to be mounting into the sky from another high elevation. "if those are not smoke signals," said frank, "i'm a chump! in that case, it's likely i'll have indians to deal with if i keep on. perhaps i'd better turn back." for something told him that he was the object of those signals, and this was an indian method of communication. he sat still for some time, watching the smoke fade in the upper air, which it did slowly. at last, however, it was gone, and the clear atmosphere held no black signal of danger. frank's curiosity was aroused. he longed to know the meaning of those signals. having looked to his weapons, he rode on slowly, keenly on the alert. coming through a narrow gorge into a valley that looked barren enough, he suddenly snatched forth a revolver and cried: "halt, there! stop, or----why, it's a woman!" for he had seen a figure hastily seeking concealment amid some boulders. at sound of his voice the figure straightened up and turned toward him. then he was more amazed than ever, for he saw a dark-faced mexican girl, wearing a short skirt and having about her neck a scarlet handkerchief. her head was bare, and her dark hair fell over her shoulders. she looked like a frightened fawn. no wonder he was astonished to behold such a vision in that desolate part of the mountains. she seemed trembling, yet eager, and she started to advance toward him. "oh, señor!" she said, in a voice that was full of soft music, "eet mus' be you are good man! eet mus' be you are not bad an' weeked. you would not hurt gonchita?" "not on your life!" exclaimed merry, at once putting up his revolver. at which she came running and panting up to him, all in a flutter of excitement. "oh, _madre de dios_! i am so much happeeness! i have de great fear when you i do see. oh, you weel come to heem? you weel do for heem de saveeng?" the girl was rather pretty, and she was not more than eighteen or nineteen years of age. she was tanned to a dark brown, but had white teeth, which were strangely pointed and sharp. "who do you mean?" "my fadare. _ay-de mi_! he ees hurt! de bad men shoot heem. they rob heem! he find de gold. he breeng me with heem here to de mountain, all alone. he theenk some time he be vera reech. he have de reech mine. then de bad men come. they shoot heem. they take hees gold. he come creep back to me. what can i to do? _ay-de mi_!" "your father--some bad men have shot him?" said merry. "_si, si, señor_!" "it must have been cimarron bill's gang," thought merry. the girl was greatly excited, but he continued to question her, until he understood her quite well. "is he far from here?" he asked. "no, not de very far. you come to heem? mebbe you do for heem some good. weel you come?" she had her brown hands clasped and was looking most beseechingly into frank's face. "of course i'll come," he said. "you shall show me the way. my horse will carry us both." he assisted her to mount behind him, and told her to cling about his waist. frank continued to question gonchita, who sometimes became almost unintelligible in her excitement and distress. they passed through the valley and turned into a rocky gorge. frank asked if it was much farther. "we be almost to heem now," assured gonchita. almost as the words left her lips the heads of four or five men appeared above some boulders just ahead, and as many rifles were leveled straight at frank's heart, while a well-known, triumphant voice shouted: "i've got you dead to rights, merriwell! if you tries tricks you gits soaked good and plenty!" at the same moment the girl threw her arms about frank's body, pinning his arms to his sides, so that he could make no move to draw a weapon. merry knew on the instant that he had been trapped. he realized that he had been decoyed into the snare by the mexican girl. he might have struggled and broken her hold, but he realized the folly of such an attempt. "be vera steel, señor!" hissed the voice of gonchita in his ear. "eet be bet-are." "you have betrayed me," said frank reproachfully. "i did not think it of you. and i was ready to do you a service." he said no more to her. out from the rocks stepped cimarron bill. "so we meet again, my gay young galoot," said the chief of the ruffians. "an' i reckon you'll not slip me so easy this time. that old injun o' yours is food fer buzzards, an' so he won't give ye no assistance whatever." "old joe----" muttered merry, in dismay. "oh, we finished him!" declared bill. "that's why you ain't seen him fer some time. set stiddy, now, an' don't make no ruction. "gonchita, toss down his guns." the mexican girl obeyed, slipping to the ground with a laugh when she had disarmed frank. the ruffians now came out from the shelter of the rocks and gathered about the youth, grinning at him in a most provoking manner. he recognized several of the same fellows who had once before acted as guard over him. red sam was there, and nodded to him. "you're a right slick poker-player," said the sandy rascal; "but we 'lowed a girl'd fool ye easy. goncheeter done it, too." frank nodded. "she did," he confessed. "i was taken off my guard. but you want to look out for indians." "why for?" merry then told them of the smoke signals, whereupon they grinned at one another knowingly. "that'll be all right," said bill. "them signals told us when you was comin', an' which way." "then you were doing the signaling?" "some o' the boys." frank was then ordered down and searched. he appeared utterly fearless. he observed that gonchita was watching him closely, a strange look in her eyes, her lips slightly parted, showing her milky, pointed teeth. when the men were satisfied that no weapon remained in the possession of their captive, two or three of them drew aside to consult, while the others guarded frank. cimarron bill patted gonchita's cheek with his hand. "well done, leetle gal!" he said. "you fooled him powerful slick." she smiled into bill's eyes, but in another moment, the chief, having turned away, she was watching frank again. the result of the consultation led to the placing of merry on his own horse, and he was guarded by the armed men who escorted him along the gorge until they came to a place where two men were watching a number of waiting horses. then there was mounting and riding away, with frank in the midst of his triumphant enemies. gonchita rode with them, having a wiry little pony that seemed able to cope with any of the other horses. frank was not a little disgusted because he had been decoyed into the trap, but he did his best to hide his feelings. it was some hours later that they halted to rest until the heat of the day should pass. a fire was built, and a meal prepared, gonchita taking active part in this work. frank sat near and watched all that was passing. he had not been bound, and his manner was that of one free amid the scoundrels by whom he was surrounded. it was gonchita who found an opportunity to whisper in his ear: "be vera careful! dey mean to shoot you eef you try de escape." he did not start or betray any emotion whatever. it hardly seemed that he had heard her whispered words. later, however, he gave her a look which conveyed to her the assurance that he had not failed to understand. as she worked about the fire she called upon him to replenish it with more fuel, which he did. he was putting wood on the fire when she again whispered to him: "i weel drop by you a peestol. tak' eet; you may need eet." he made no retort, but watched for her to keep her promise, which she afterward found opportunity to do. merry was lying carelessly on the ground when the weapon, a tiny revolver, was dropped at his side. immediately he rolled over upon his stomach, in a lazy fashion, hiding the weapon, and shortly after he succeeded in slipping it into his pocket. frank wondered how this strange girl happened to be with those ruffians. it seemed a most remarkable and mysterious thing. he also wondered why she had been led to give him the pistol. having led him into the trap, she had suddenly changed so that she now seemed to wish him to escape without harm. the truth was that his coolness and nerve, together with his handsome, manly appearance, had quite won gonchita's heart. she was a changeable creature, and had quickly come to regret leading this handsome youth into such a snare. when the food was prepared all partook heartily. two of the men, a big fellow with an evil face, called brazos tom, and a thick-shouldered brute hailed as mike redeye, had been drinking freely from a flask. brazos tom was given to chaffing the others in a manner that some of them did not appreciate, and this inclination grew upon him with the working of the liquor. redeye was a sullen, silent fellow, and frank regarded him as a very dangerous man. once or twice cimarron bill gave tom a look, and, at last, the big fellow seemed to quiet down. after the meal, while the men were yet resting, bill had his horse saddled for some reason, and rode away, having left the men in charge of red sam. as soon as the chief was gone, brazos tom brought forth his flask, which was now nearly emptied. "gents," he said, "while we is waitin' we'll finish this an' try a hand at poker. wot d'yer say?" "oh, blazes!" growled one. "you an' mike has purt' near finished that. thar ain't enough left fer a drap apiece if we pass it around." "drink up your stuff," said red sam. "it's poor firewater, anyhow. i'm fer the poker. does you come inter this yere game, young gent, same as ye did oncet before?" this question was addressed to frank, but merry already "smelled a mouse," and so it did not need the warning look from gonchita and the slight shake of her head to deter him. "excuse me," he said. "i have no money." "waal, fish some out o' the linin' o' your clothes, same as you did afore," advised sam. "but i have none in the lining of my clothes." "i begs yer pardon, but we knows a heap sight better. don't try no monkey business with us, younker! you was good enough ter git inter a game oncet before an' try ter show us up, so we gives ye another chanct, an' ye'd better accept it in a hurry." "i hardly think i have a friend here who will be willing to lend me money," smiled merry. "unless somebody does so, i cannot play. that being the case, i reckon i'll keep out of it." sam laid a hand on the butt of his revolver. "you can't play none of that with us!" he declared fiercely. "we knows how you found the money afore, an' you'll find it ag'in. come, be lively." frank looked the man over. "you could get blood from a turnip easier than money from me," he declared. then, as red sam seemed about to draw his weapon, gonchita chipped in, crying: "don't do it, sam! i have you cover' weez my peestol! i weel shoot!" the men were astonished, for gonchita had drawn a pistol and had it pointed at the head of red sam, while in her dark eyes there was a deadly gleam. "what in blazes is the matter with you?" snarled red sam, looking at her over his shoulder. "you hear what gonchita say," she purred, a flush in her brown cheeks. "she mena de busineeze." frank could not help admiring her then, for she presented a very pretty picture. reluctantly sam thrust back his weapon into his holster. "oh, all right!" he laughed coarsely. "i see you're stuck up a heap on the feller." "you not to shoot heem while i am around." "whoop!" roared brazos tom, in apparent delight. "thar's a gal fer ye! i shore admires her style!" then, being in a position to do so, he sprang on gonchita, caught her in his strong arms so she could not defend herself, and gave her a bearlike hug and a kiss. the next instant something like a hard piece of iron struck tom behind the ear and he measured his length on the ground. frank merriwell had reached his feet at a bound, and hit the giant a blow that knocked him down in a twinkling. through all this gonchita had held fast to her drawn revolver, and now she had it ready for use, so that, when those ruffians placed hands on their weapons, she again warned them. at the same time she flung herself between them and frank, so that he was partly protected as he stood over brazos tom, who lay prone and dazed. "take hees peestols!" she palpitated. and frank followed this piece of advice, relieving the fallen ruffian of his revolvers, so that tom's hand reached vainly for one of the weapons as he began to recover. "eef you make de fight," said the girl to the ruffians, "we now gif you eet all you want." never before had they seen her in such a mood, and they were astounded. but they knew she could shoot, for they had seen her display her marksmanship. "you little fool!" grated sam. "are you goin' to help that galoot try to git erway?" "no, i do not dat; but i see he ees not hurt till beel he come back." then she commanded frank to throw down the pistol he had taken from tom, which merry did, knowing there was no chance for him to escape then without a shooting affray, in which he was almost certain to be wounded. immediately on this act of frank's the ruffians seemed to abandon any desire to draw and shoot at him. but brazos tom rose in a great rage, almost frothing at the mouth. "ten thousan' tarantulas!" he howled. "let me git my paws on him!" he made a rush for frank, who seemed to stand still to meet him, but stepped aside just as the ruffian tried to fold him in his arms. then the big wretch was somehow caught about the body, lifted into the air, and sent crashing to the ground, striking on his head and shoulders. the young athlete from yale handled brazos tom with such ease that every witness was astounded. the big fellow lay where he fell, stunned and finished. gonchita looked at frank with a light of the most intense admiration in her dark eyes. "how you do eet so easee?" she asked. "that's nothing, with a bungler like him to meet," said merry quietly. the ruffians said nothing, but exchanged meaning glances. they had been foiled for the time being by the girl and by the cleverness of their captive. chapter xii. lost in the mountains. four persons were lost in the mountains. three of them were young men who were scarcely more than youths. all were mounted on broncos. one was a bright-eyed, apple-cheeked chap, who had an odd manner of talking, and who emphasized his words with little gestures and flirts of his hand that were very peculiar. another was dark and silent, with a face that was decidedly handsome, although it denoted a person given more or less to brooding and morbid thoughts. the third youth was long and lank and talked with a nasal drawl and a manner of speech that proclaimed him a down-easter. these three were respectively jack ready, bart hodge, and ephraim gallup, all friends and former companions of frank merriwell. the fourth one of the party was a red-nosed bummer, known as whisky jim, whom they had picked up to guide them from the little railroad-town to frank merriwell's mine. jim had averred that he knew "every squar' foot o' arizony frum the grand cañon to the mexican line," and they had trusted in his promise to lead them, with the smallest possible delay, to the queen mystery mine. jim would not acknowledge that he was lost. they had provided him with the bronco he bestrode and promised him good pay when they should come to the mine. he had collected enough in advance to "outfit" with a liberal supply of whisky, and had managed to keep beautifully loaded ever since they rode out to the southwest. their horses were wearied and reluctant, while they were sun-scorched and covered with dust. "by gum!" groaned gallup. "i'm purty near pegged! this is too much fer me. i wish i was to hum on the farm!" "prithee say not so!" cried ready. "you give unto me that feeling of sadness known to those who are homesick. ah, me! to endure thus to have my beautiful complexion destroyed by this horrid sun! and behold my lily-white hands! are they not spectacles to make the gods sigh with regret! permit me to squeeze out a few salt teardrops." hodge was saying nothing. "'sall ri', boysh," assured the useless guide thickly. "jesht you wait an' shee. whazzer mazzer with you? i know m' bushiness. who shays i dunno m' bushiness?" he was able to sit perfectly straight in the saddle, although he was disgustingly intoxicated. "i say you don't know your business, you old fool!" said hodge, breaking out at last. "it would serve you right if we were to leave you here in the mountains. a great guide you are! you'd die if we left you! you'd never find your way out." jim looked astonished. this was the first time bart had broken forth thus plainly. "you don't mean it?" he gurgled. "you bet your life i meant it! i'm in for leaving you to get back to town the best way you can." "oh, don't do that!" exclaimed jim, sobered somewhat by his alarm. "someshin' might happen t' you, boysh." "let's leave him," nodded jack ready, amused by the consternation of the old fellow. "derned ef we don't!" cried gallup. upon which the "guide" became greatly alarmed, begging them for the love of goodness not to leave him there in the mountains to die alone. "but you're a guide," said hodge. "you would be able to get out all right." "boysh," said the old toper, "i got a 'fession to make." "what is it?" "i ain't been in the guidin' bushiness for shome time. i'm a leetle rusty; jest a bit out o' practish. that's whazzer mazzer." "why didn't you say so in the first place? what made you lie to us?" "boysh, i needed the moneysh. hones' injun, i needed the moneysh bad. been a long time shince i've had all the whisky i could hold. great treat f' me." bart was disgusted, but jack ready was inclined to look at the affair in a humorous light. "i'd like to know the meaning of those smoke clouds we saw," said hodge. "they looked mighty queer to me." they consulted together, finally deciding to halt in a shadowy valley and wait for the declining of the sun, which would bring cooler air. they confessed to one another that they were lost, and all felt that the situation was serious. it was not at all strange that hodge was very angry with the worthless old toper who had led them into this predicament. "we may never get out of these mountains," he said. "or, if we do, we may perish in the desert. i tell you, fellows, we're in a bad scrape!" "dear me!" sighed ready. "and i anticipated great pleasure in surprising merry to-day. alas and alack! such is life. i know this dreadful sunshine will spoil my complexion!" gallup looked dolefully at the horses, which were feeding on the buffalo-grass of the valley. "we're a pack of darn fools!" he observed. "we'd oughter sent word to frankie that we was comin', an' then he'd bin on hand to meet us." the "guide" had stretched himself in the shadow of some boulders and fallen fast asleep. "i suppose i'm to blame for this thing, fellows," said bart grimly. "it was my scheme to take merry by surprise." "waal, i ruther guess all the rest of us was reddy enough ter agree to it," put in gallup. "we're jest ez much to blame as you be." they talked the situation over for a while. finally bart rose and strolled off by himself, gallup calling after him to look out and not go so far that he could not find his way back. hodge was gone almost an hour. his friends were growing alarmed, when he came racing back to them, his face flushed with excitement and his eyes flashing. "come, fellows!" he cried, his voice thrilling them. "i've got something to show you! we're wanted mighty bad by a friend of ours who is in trouble!" they were on their feet. "who in thutteration be you talkin' abaout?" asked gallup. "perchance you mean frank?" said ready. "you bet your life!" said bart. "make sure your rifles are in working order! leave the horses right where they're picketed. leave jim with them. he'll look after them, if he awakes." for whisky jim continued to sleep soundly through all this. so they seized their weapons and prepared to follow bart. as they ran, bart made a brief explanation. he had climbed to a point from whence he looked down into a grassy valley, and there he discovered some horses and men. the horses were feeding, and the men were reclining in the shade, with the exception of one or two. while bart looked he recognized one of the men, and also saw a girl. at first he thought he must be deceived, but soon he was satisfied that the one he recognized was the comrade he had traveled thousands of miles to join, bringing with him ready and gallup. as he watched, he saw the encounter between merry and brazos tom, and that was enough to satisfy hodge that his friend was in serious trouble. then he hastened back to get jack and ephraim. when bart again reached the point where he could look into that valley he was astonished to discover that another struggle was taking place down there. frank was engaged in a knife-duel with red sam, having been forced into it. and red sam meant to kill him. the watching ruffians were gathered around, while gonchita, a pistol in her hand, was watching to see that the youth had fair play. without doubt, the sandy ruffian had expected to find merriwell easy, and finish him quickly in an engagement of this sort. but frank merriwell had been instructed in knife-play by a clever expert, and he soon amazed red sam and the other ruffians by meeting the fellow's assault, catching his blade, parrying thrust after thrust, leaping, dodging, turning, charging, retreating, and making such a wonderful contest of it that the spectators were electrified. it was frank's knife that drew first blood. he slit the ruffian's sleeve at the shoulder and cut the man slightly. gonchita's dark eyes gleamed. more than ever she marveled at this wonderful youth, who seemed more than a match for any single ruffian of bill's band. "he is a wonder!" she told herself. "oh, he is grand! they meant to kill him. if he beats red sam they shall not kill him." sam swore when he felt the knife clip his shoulder. "i'll have your heart's blood!" he snarled. frank smiled into his face in a manner that enraptured the watching girl. "you are welcome to it--if you can get it! but look out for yourself!" then he began a whirlwindlike assault upon sam, whom he soon bewildered by his movements. he played about the man like a leaping panther. once sam struck hard at frank's breast, and merry leaped away barely in time, for the keen knife slit the front of his shirt, exposing the clean white skin beneath. but again and again frank cut the big ruffian slightly, so that soon sam was bleeding from almost a dozen wounds and slowly growing weaker in spite of his efforts to brace up. the knives sometimes flashed together. the men stood and stared into each other's eyes. then they leaped and dodged and struck and struck again. little did frank dream of the friends who were watching him from above. bart hodge was thrilled into silence by the spectacle. he knelt, with his rifle ready for instant use, panting as the battle for life continued. "great gosh all hemlock!" gurgled ephraim gallup, his eyes bulging. "did you ever see anything like that in all your natteral born days? dern my squash ef i ever did!" "it is beautiful!" said jack ready. "frank is doing almost as well as i could do myself! i'll have to compliment him on his clever work." twice bart hodge had the butt of his rifle against his shoulder, but lowered it without firing. "he's gittin' the best of the red-headed feller!" panted gallup. "of course!" nodded ready. "did you look for anything else to happen?" "them men don't like it much of enny." "they do not seem greatly pleased." "i bet they all go fer him if he does the red-head up." "in which case," chirped jack, "it will be our duty to insert a few lead pills into them." bart was not talking. he believed frank in constant danger of a most deadly sort, and he was watching every move of the ruffians, ready to balk any attempt at treachery. as sam weakened frank pressed him harder. the fellow believed merry meant to kill him, if possible. at length merriwell caught sam's blade with his own, gave it a sudden twist, and the fellow's knife was sent spinning through the air, to fall to the ground at a distance. at that moment one of the ruffians suddenly flung up a hand that held a revolver, meaning to shoot frank through the head. before he could fire, however, he pitched forward on his face. down from the heights above came the clear report of the rifle in the hands of bartley hodge. bart had saved the life of his old friend. chapter xiii. frank's escape. as the ruffian pitched forward on his face, gonchita uttered a cry. the attention of the men was turned toward the point from which the unexpected shot had come. the mexican girl caught hold of merry, thrust a pistol into his hand, and hissed: "back--back there! quick! it's your chance! you take eet!" frank did not hesitate. with the pistol in his hand, he went leaping toward the point of cover indicated. he was behind the rocks before the desperadoes realized what had taken place. they turned, uttering exclamations of anger and dismay. "steady, you chaps!" rang out frank's clear voice. "keep your distance! if you don't----" but now the three young fellows above began shooting into the valley, and their whistling bullets sent the ruffians scudding to cover. gonchita disdained to fly. she walked deliberately to the shelter of the rocks near frank. "i geet horse for you," she said. "you take eet an' ride. eet ees your chance. mebbe them your friend?" frank had caught barely a glimpse of the three fellows, and he was not at all sure that his eyes had not deceived him. "perhaps they are my friends," he said. "they must be." "you ready to go?" "yes." she ran out and pulled the picket pin of one of the horses. this animal she brought up close to the point where frank crouched. "take heem queek!" she panted. "you haf de chance! down de vallee. mebbe you git 'way." frank hesitated. he knew the danger of such an attempt. he no longer doubted the friendliness of gonchita, although the remarkable change in her was most astonishing. but the firing from above continued, and the ruffians were forced to again take to their heels and seek still safer shelter farther up the valley. that was merry's opportunity, and he seized it. in a twinkling, while the rascals were in confusion, he leaped upon the bare back of the horse, headed the animal down the valley, and was off. a yell came down from above; but frank, bending low, did not answer it. two or three bullets were sent after him. he was untouched, however. gonchita had armed him with two pistols, neither of which he had used. one he held gripped in his hand as the horse carried him tearing down the valley, and thus he came full upon cimarron bill, who was returning to his satellites. bill was astounded. he had drawn a pistol, and he fired at the rider who was stooping low along the neck of the horse. the animal tossed its head and took the bullet in his brain. even as the horse fell, frank fired in return. he flung himself from the animal, striking on his feet. bill's horse reared high in the air, striking with its forward feet. the rider leaned forward and fired from beneath the creature's neck as it stood on its hind legs, but the movements of the animal prevented him from accuracy. merry's second shot struck the hind leg of bill's horse, and the creature came down in such a manner that its rider was pitched off, striking upon his head and shoulders. frank did not fire again, for bill lay in a heap on the ground. the horse struggled up, being caught by merry. frank looked to the beast's wound, fearing to find its leg broken. this, however, was not the case, although the bullet had made a rather ugly little wound. in another moment frank was in bill's saddle, and away he went on the back of the chief's horse, leaving the stunned rascal where he had fallen. "an exchange of horses," he half-laughed. "you may have my dead one in place of your wounded one. if you do not like the bargain, captain bill, blame yourself." he was in no great fear of pursuit, but he longed to know just what friends had come to his rescue at such an opportune moment. how was he to reach them? when he felt that he was safe, he drew up bill's splendid horse, dismounted and examined the bleeding wound. it was far less serious than he had feared, and he proceeded to dress it, tearing his handkerchief into strips to tie about the creature's leg. having attended to his horse, merry remounted and sought to find a means of approaching the spot from which his unknown friends had fired into the valley at such an opportune moment. he was thus employed when he came upon a most disreputable-looking old bummer, who had in his possession four horses. this man was startled by the appearance of merriwell and acted very strangely. frank rode slowly forward, ready for whatever might take place. however, he was recognized by the man, who uttered a shout of astonishment. the man with the horses was whisky jim, who had awakened to find his companions gone. he greeted merriwell with protestations of delight. "i knew i wash a guide!" he said. "who shed i washn't guide? i shed i'd bring 'em to frank merriwell, an' i done it. but whazzer mazzer? where zey gone? i dunno." barely had merry started to question the old toper when hodge, ready, and gallup appeared, hurrying forward. when they saw merriwell they gave a cheer of delight, and, one minute later, they were shaking hands with him. "what does this mean?" asked frank, when he could recover enough to ask anything. "it means," said bart, "that we are here to back you up in your fight against the mining trust. you can depend on us to stand by you. after getting your letter, in which you wrote all about the hot time you were having fighting the trust, i hastened to get hold of ready and gallup and light out for this part of our great and glorious country. here we are, though we're dead in luck to find you, for this drunken duffer managed to lose us here in the mountains." "and you were the ones who chipped in just at the right time after my little encounter with red sam? fellows, you have given me the surprise of my life! it's great to see you again! i ran into those gents, or was led into a trap by a very singular girl, and it looked as if i was in a bad box. the girl, however, seemed to change her mind after getting me into the scrape, and she wanted to get me out. i owe her a lot. but there is no telling when cimarron bill and his gang may come hiking this way after me, so i propose that we light out for the queen mystery, where we can talk things over at our leisure." they were ready enough to follow his lead. jim tracy sat with his feet elevated upon frank merriwell's table, smoking his pipe and talking to hop anson, who was on the opposite side of the table when the door opened and frank stepped in, followed by his friends, with whisky jim staggering along in the rear. tracy's boots came down from the table with a thud, and he jumped up, uttering an exclamation and looking astounded. "well, may i be derned!" he said, staring at frank. now merriwell was not at all pleased to find the foreman making free in his cabin in such a manner. "what's the matter, tracy?" he asked sharply, glancing from jim's face to that of anson, who seemed no less confounded. "you seem disturbed." "i allow i didn't expect ye back so soon," mumbled the foreman, who could not recover his composure at once. "but i told you i might be back in a few hours, or i might not return for many days." "i know, but----" "but what?" "oh, nothing!" "it's plain you were making yourself quite at home here. what were you doing with anson?" "jest givin' him a piece o' my mind," answered tracy promptly. "i reckon he knows now purty well what i think of him." now to merry, it had seemed on his appearance that these two men were engaged in a confidential chat. "well, couldn't you find some other place to talk to him?" frank asked. "i brought him here so the rest of the boys wouldn't hear us," explained tracy. "i opined they might take a right strong dislike to him in case they found out what happened this mornin'." "you have not told them?" "no." "well, your consideration for anson seems very strange, considering the talk you made to-day at an earlier hour." "i'm jest follerin' your orders," protested the foreman, not at all pleased by merry's manner. "very well. you may retire, tracy. boys, make yourselves at home." as tracy and anson were going out, the eyes of the latter encountered those of whisky jim, who was surveying him closely in a drunken manner. "who are you lookin' at?" muttered anson. "sheems to me," said jim thickly, "i'm a-lookin' at a gent what had shome deeficulty down tucson way 'bout takin' a hoss what b'longed to nozzer man." "you're a liar, you drunken dog!" grated anson, as he hastened from the cabin. "do you know that man?" asked merry, of jim. "sh!" hissed the toper, with a cautioning gesture. "i don't want 't gener'lly know i ever shaw him before. he'sh a hosh-thief. he'd shteal anything, he would. i never 'nowledge him ash 'quaintance of mine." "do you know the other man, my foreman?" "sheems to look ruzer nacheral," said jim; "but can't 'zactly plashe him. all shame, if he keeps comp'ny wish that hosh-thief, you look out f' him." frank celebrated his safe return to the mine in company with his friends by preparing a rather elaborate spread, and all gathered about the table to enjoy it and chat about old times and the present fight merry was making against the mining trust. "waal, dinged if this ain't scrumpshus!" cried ephraim gallup. "i'm feelin' a hanged sight better than i was when we was lost out in the maountains this arternoon." "fellows," said merry, "you have given me the surprise of my life. i never dreamed of seeing you at such a time. and bart's shot saved my life. i know it! i owe him everything!" there was a glow of satisfaction in the dark eyes of hodge. "you owe me nothing," he said earnestly. "whatever i am i owe it to you. do you think i am a fellow to forget? that is why i am here. i felt that this was the time for me to prove my loyalty. when i explained it to ephraim and jack they were eager to come with me to back you in your fight. if you need them, you can have any of the old gang. they'll come to a man." "thus far," said merry, "i have been able to balk every move of the enemy. they have employed ruffians who hesitate at nothing. you saw the fellow with the bandaged hand who was here with my foreman? well, it was this very morning, while i was shaving at that glass, that he crept up to that open door and tried to shoot me in the back. i fired first, and he has lost a few fingers." "dear me!" said ready. "i'm so frightened! what if somebody should take a fancy to shoot me full of holes! it might damage me beyond repair!" "gol ding it!" chuckled gallup. "you must be havin' enough to keep you alfired busy around here. but what is that chap a-doin' of stayin' here?" frank explained fully about hop anson, adding that he had partly believed anson's statement that it was the foreman for whom he was looking. "but since coming back here unexpectedly," said merry, "and finding them together in such a friendly fashion, i am inclined to think differently. tracy pretended to have a powerful feeling against anson. something leads me to believe now that tracy will bear watching." they sat up until a late hour talking over old times and other matters that interested them all. when they slept they took pains to make sure that the door and windows were secured. whisky jim slept outside in another building. chapter xiv. mysterious pablo. the following morning, while frank and his friends were at breakfast, there came the sounds of a struggle outside the cabin, followed by a knock on the door. merry drew a revolver and laid it in his lap. "come in," he called. the door was flung open, and tracy entered, dragging by the collar a small mexican lad, who held back and betrayed every evidence of terror. "found him skulking about, mr. merriwell," said the foreman. "don't know whar he come from. just brought him yere fer you to deal with." the boy seemed badly frightened. "let him go, tracy," said frank. the boy hesitated when released, seeming on the point of running, but pausing to look appealingly at merry. he was not a bad-looking little chap, although he was rather dirty and unkempt. he had wondrous dark eyes, big and full of interrogation. "well, my boy, what do you want?" asked merry, in a kindly way. the boy shook his head. "i want notheenk de señor can gif," he answered, in a low tone. "how came you around here?" "i hunt for my seestar." "your sister?" "_si, señor_." "where is she?" "that i cannot tell, señor. she be take away by de bad man. he haf fool her, i t'ink." "what bad man do you mean?" "seester call heem beel." "bill?" "dat ees hees name." "bill what?" the boy shook his head once more. "i know eet not," he said. "he half manee man like heem who do what he say. he get my seester to go wif heem." "what is your sister's name?" "eet ees gonchita." frank jumped. "gonchita?" he cried. "dat ees eet," nodded the boy. "mebbe you do know her?" "i think i have seen her," said merry. "by jove! so this fellow bill led her to run away with him, did he, the scoundrel? and you are searching for him. what will you do if you find him?" "i cannot tell, but i want my seestar to come 'way an' leaf heem. he ees bad man." "that's right. what's your name?" "pablo." "well, pablo, my boy, i hope you find your sister all right and get her away from bill, but you have a big job on your hands. come here and have some breakfast. are you hungry?" "oh, vera hungree, señor!" "you shall have all you can eat. it's all right, tracy. you may go. i'll take care of the kid." "i wish to report, sir," said tracy, "that hop anson is missing." "what's that? anson--he's gone?" "skipped out last night, sir. he was not to be found this morning. i thought he'd do it, sir." "well, let him go. i don't think he'll do much harm." "if you had listened to me, i'd fixed him so he'd never done any further harm." "all right, tracy--all right. i'll see you later." tracy left the room. "look out for that man, frank," said hodge, in an ominous manner. "he is not to be trusted at all." "all right," said merry. "we'll not discuss him--now." which remark was made with a meaning look toward the mexican lad. pablo was given a place at the table and a steaming cup of coffee placed before him. corn bread and bacon, with some canned stuff, made up the breakfast, and the boy ate almost ravenously of everything given him. but he kept his hat pulled low over his eyes all the while. after breakfast frank sought to question pablo further, succeeding in drawing from the boy that both his father and mother were dead, and that he had lived in holbrook with his sister, where she had seen bill, who seemed to fascinate her. at least she had run away with the man, and, arming himself with a knife and pistol, pablo had followed to rescue or avenge her. chance had led him to the valley in which the queen mystery mine was located. it was rather a pathetic little story, and merry was somewhat stirred by it. "what could you do if you should find bill?" he asked. a grim look came to pablo's soiled yet attractive face. "i haf my peestol," he said. "but bill is a very bad man, and he would have a pistol, too." "i do my best. i am not skeert of beel." "well, as i happen to know something of bill, i tell you now, pablo, that it will be better for you if you never meet him." "but my seestar--my seestar! i mus' find her." frank was tempted to tell the boy what he knew about gonchita, but decided not to do so, believing it would be to no purpose. so pablo remained in the valley for the time, seeming in no hurry to continue the search for his sister. he wandered about the mine and the buildings, peering curiously at everything with his big eyes, listening to the talk of the men, and seeming to have a great curiosity. all this was observed by bart hodge, who watched the lad as closely as possible. that afternoon bart said to frank: "merry, that greaser boy acts queer. have you noticed it?" "how do you mean?" "why, he told a story about being in a dreadful hurry to find his sister, but he hangs around here." "i suppose the little chap doesn't know where to look for the girl." "but he's such an inquisitive little rascal. he goes slipping around everywhere, looking at everything, and listening to the talk of the men. he acts to me like a spy." "it's his way. mexicans have a sneaking way about them, you know." "well, it may be his way, but i wouldn't trust him." "i don't propose to trust him," said frank, with a laugh. "i am not given to trusting greasers. it is probable that he will go away to-morrow and we'll never see anything more of him." "perhaps so." "i expect to find him gone in the morning," said merry. but in the morning pablo was found sleeping just outside frank's door when merry opened it. he lay there, his old hat pulled down over his ears, curled up like a dog; but he started wide-awake and sat up, staring at merriwell with his big black eyes. "what the dickens you doing here?" asked frank, annoyed. "i tak' de sleep," grinned pablo faintly. "well, couldn't you find any other place? have you been there all night?" "oh, i haf no odar place. thees good for pablo." "well, it may be all right for you; but it seems deuced uncomfortable to me. when are you going to look for bill and your sister?" "_manana_." "to-morrow?" "_si, señor_." frank could not refrain from smiling at this characteristic answer. with the spaniards everything is to be done to-morrow, and the lazy mexican, having adopted the language of the spaniard, has also adopted his motto. when frank turned back he found hodge washing. "i told you," said bart. "the fellow acts to me like a spy. it wouldn't surprise me to find out that he had been sent here by bill. this story about his sister may be faked up." "but i know gonchita is with the ruffians." "that's all right. that makes it all the easier to deceive you. that made the boy's story seem all the more probable. just you watch him close and see if he doesn't act the spy." "all right," laughed merry. "but let's have breakfast without worrying about him." it was necessary to drag ready out. "oh, me! oh, my!" sighed jack dolefully. "methinks i have bestridden something that hath galled me extensively. i am likewise weary and sore in every limb and joint." gallup had stood the riding much better, but even he was lame. after breakfast frank went out and found pablo curled in the sunshine around the corner of the hut. and not more than four feet from the mexican lad was a rattlesnake. the crack of the pistol in frank's hand caused pablo to start up with a jump. he stared in astonishment at merry, who stood over him, holding the smoking pistol. then he looked and saw the headless snake stretched on the ground. "oh, _madre de dios_!" he cried. "you shoot de snake! mebbe you save me from de snake!" "perhaps so," nodded frank, with a slight smile. "you had better be careful, for snakes are not all the dangerous things you will find on the ground." pablo made a spring and caught frank's hand. "to me you are so veree goode!" he said, kissing merry's hand in a manner that surprised frank somewhat. then he saw the pistol with which the snake had been shot. "_carrambo_!" he cried, in astonishment. "where you geet eet? de peestol. eet do belong to my seestar." for merry had shot the snake with the pistol given him by gonchita. "how you haf eet?" asked pablo, with great eagerness. "where you geet eet?" frank was fairly cornered. as a result, he sat down there and told the mexican boy of his capture by cimarron bill's gang and of gonchita. "then she be steel alife?" exclaimed pablo. "beel haf not keeled her!" "he had not then." "but she help you to geet away?" "yes." "then mebbe beel be veree angry weeth her--mebbe he keel her! eef he do that----" "if he does he ought to be hanged! pablo, bill is sure to be hanged or shot before long, anyhow." "but he tell gonchita he mak' veree much monee. he say big men what can buy the law pay him much monee." "i know what he means, pablo. a lot of men have banded together to rob me of my mines, this one here and another in mexico. they expected to do so with ease at first, but made a fizzle of it. they thought to take the mines from me by law; but now they know they cannot do that, and they have hired bill and his ruffians to seize it. those men are the ones who are paying bill for his work. he expects they will protect him when it is done. he is looking for a pardon for all past offenses." "but you weel not let him beat you?" "not if i can help it. he has failed thus far. he attacked the mine with his ruffians and was repulsed." "de nex' time he do eet deeferent. he come een when you do not expect. mebbe he geet somebody to gef de mine up to them." "nobody here," said merry, with a laugh. "i can trust my men." "you theenk so." "oh, i'm sure of it." "one try to shoot you not long 'go." "yes. how did you learn of that?" "pablo have de ear. he hear something." "what did you hear?" "dat man be paid to try de shoot." "look here, how do you know?" "oh, i hear some of de men talk. they all say they pritee sure of eet. how you like my seestar?" the boy asked the question with such suddenness that frank was a bit startled. "i am sorry for her, pablo. i'm sorry bill has her in his hands." "oh, beel he say he marree her; but i know he lie. mebbe she know eet now. beel want her to help heem. you theenk she veree bad girl?" this question was put almost pathetically, pablo again grasping frank's hand and gazing wistfully into merry's eyes. "no; i do not think she is very bad." "she do noteeng to make you theenk so?" "well, she fooled me somewhat at first by telling me a story about her wounded father. she had such an innocent way that i swallowed the yarn. that was how i fell into bill's hands. i accompanied her to go, as i supposed, to her wounded father. she decoyed me into a trap." "but afterward--afterward?" eagerly asked the boy. "she seemed to change in a most remarkable manner, and helped me out of it. but for her, i fancy i'd surely been disposed of by those ruffians." "then you see she be not so veree bad. when she first see you mebbe she never seen you before. mebbe she haf promeesed to beel that she take you eento trap. aftare she see you she be soree, and she want you to geet away." "i think that was about the way things happened, pablo." "i am glad you do not theenk she ees so veree bad girl. what you do eef i breeng her here?" "what would i do?" "_si señor_; how you like eet?" pablo was watching frank's face closely. "why, i would do my best for her," said merry. "i should feel it my duty after what she did for me." "you would not be veree angree?" "no." "nor veree please'?" "why, for your sake i would be pleased." "but you never care for your own sake at all? you never want to see my seestar again?" "i should be glad to see her and thank her." "dat ees all?" "and to do her any other favor in my power. i am not ungrateful enough to forget what she did for me." "dat ees all?" "what more do you want?" demanded merry, in surprise. "notheeng," murmured pablo regretfully, as he turned and walked away. chapter xv. merry's discovery. the actions of tracy seemed strangely suspicious to merry, who undertook to watch the man, only to find that pablo seemed to be watching him still more closely. thus it happened that merry followed the foreman up the valley and saw him meet another man at a point removed beyond view of the mine. the man tracy met was none other than hop anson, readily recognized at a distance by his bandaged hand. "something doing!" muttered frank, as he crouched behind the rocks and watched the two. "tracy wanted to lynch anson. now they meet like this, apparently by appointment. my foreman is playing some sort of a double game." this point was settled in frank's mind. he longed to be near enough to hear what was passing between the two, but could not reach such a position without exposing himself. the men were suspicious that they might be watched. they did not remain there long. but frank distinctly saw anson give tracy something, which the latter placed in his pocket. then the foreman turned back, and hop anson vanished in the opposite direction. frank was tempted to step out and confront the foreman, demanding to know what it meant, but he chose to remain quiet and seek the truth in another manner. so he let tracy pass. but when the foreman had disappeared merry sprang up and went racing after hop anson, hoping to run the rascal down. he came out where he could see far along a broad gorge, and there, riding into the distance, mounted on a good horse, was anson. frank knew the folly of trying further pursuit, so he stood still and watched the vanishing figure. "i'd like to know just what it was that hop anson gave tracy," he said, aloud. immediately, within less than twenty feet from him, pablo, the mexican boy, arose into view. "i teel you what eet was," he said. "eet was monee." frank was startled by this sudden appearance of the boy. "what are you doing here?" he asked sharply. "oh, i watch de tracy man," returned the lad craftily. "i see something." "were you near enough to hear their talk?" "just a leetle beet." "ha! what was it? what did you hear?" "de man with hurt hand he geef oder man monee. oder man take eet. say eet not enough. must have two times more as much before he do something man with hurt hand want heem to do. man with hurt hand mad. eet do no goode. oder man say breeng as much more twice over to heem at same place same time to-morrow." it is needless to say that this revelation was intensely interesting to merriwell. "why, hop anson has no money!" exclaimed frank. "where did he get it? it must have come from bill. in that case, an attempt is being made to bribe my foreman. i have a traitor in the mine, and he means to deliver me into the hands of the enemy." "tracy man he say to man with hurt hand that pablo, the brother of gonchita, ees here." "so tracy told anson that?" "_si, señor_." "well, i think i need a new foreman--and need him bad! it is about time for mr. tracy to get out!" "you wait and watch, you ketch heem." it was arranged that pablo should return in advance to the mine, in order that they might not be seen coming in together. so the mexican boy strolled back with assumed carelessness. but it happened that jim tracy was watching, and he saw pablo, whereupon he hastened to meet the boy. "where have you been?" harshly demanded the foreman. pablo looked surprised. "i go to tak' de walk," he said. "you little liar!" snarled tracy. "you have been playing the spy! i know what you have been doing!" "de spyee--how you mean?" the mexican lad seemed very innocent. "i've seen you sneaking around. why are you hanging around here, anyhow? why don't you get out?" "dat none of your busineeze," returned the lad saucily. "you little runt!" growled tracy, catching the boy by the shoulder. "do you dare talk to me that way?" "you beeg rufeen!" cried pablo. "you hurt! let of me a-go!" then he kicked the foreman on the shins. immediately, with a roar of rage, tracy struck pablo with his fist, knocking the boy down. pablo was armed with a pistol, and this weapon he snatched out when he scrambled to his feet. but tracy was on hand to clutch him and wrest the weapon from his grasp. "you little devil!" grated the man. "i'll cut your throat on the spot!" there was a terrible look in his eyes as he whipped out a knife and lifted it. "drop that!" crack!--the report of a revolver emphasized the command, and the bullet struck the knife and tore it from the hand of the aroused ruffian. frank merriwell had arrived just in time to save pablo, who was bent helplessly backward over tracy's knee, the hand of the wretch being at his throat. tracy shook his benumbed and quivering hand, releasing the boy and looking at frank resentfully. "oh, you're not badly hurt!" said merry, as he strode up. "my lead struck the knife blade, not your hand. and i seemed to be barely in time, too." "oh, i wasn't going to hurt the kid!" declared tracy harshly. "i was going to teach him a lesson, that was all. i wanted to frighten him a little." "well, your behavior looked remarkably bloodthirsty. you seemed on the point of drawing the knife across his throat. that was enough for me. you may go, tracy, but you are to let pablo alone in the future." "if he insults me----" "report to me; i'll make him apologize. go." tracy seemed to wish to linger to argue over the matter, but the look in merriwell's eyes forbade it, and he picked up the knife and slouched sullenly away. "i hope he did not hurt you much," said frank, lifting pablo's hat to see the bruise made by the ruffian's fist. with a cry, the boy grasped his hat and pulled it down upon his head. but frank had made a most surprising discovery, and it was enough to give merry something to meditate over. he decided that the boy must be closely watched, and he longed for the presence of old joe crowfoot, than whom no one was more fitted to such a task. but the outlaws had averred that old joe was "food for buzzards," and the protracted absence of the redskin led merry to fear that he had looked into the indian's beady eyes for the last time. frank spoke to no one of his discovery. as far as possible, he kept his eyes on pablo, as if he believed the boy meditated treachery of some sort. frank's friends wandered about the place and investigated the mine, watching operations. the calm of the valley was most deceptive, and both ready and gallup declared they could not conceive any possible danger lurking near. hodge, however, professed to feel a warning in the very peacefulness, which he declared was the calm before a storm. jim tracy sulked. his treatment by frank was altogether displeasing to him, and he felt that he had been humiliated, which caused him to register a secret vow of vengeance. pablo was generally found lingering about frank's cabin or somewhere near merry. "he knows a good thing when he sees it," said ready sagely, "and he means to stick to it. he doesn't seem in any great hurry about rushing to the rescue of his 'seestar.'" frank smiled in a knowing manner, observing: "perhaps he has reasons to know that his sister is in no great peril at present, and he is satisfied to stay here." "he's a gol dern lazy little beggar!" said gallup. "an' he oughter hev to wash his face once in a while." the evening was cool and agreeable. the sun dropped peacefully behind the mountains and the shadows gathered deeply in the gorges and cañons. the roar of the stamps sank to silence, and peace lay like a prayer on the valley. frank and his friends sat about the cabin door and chatted of old times. sometimes they sang little snatches of the old songs. and as the darkness deepened a slender, boyish figure lay on his stomach and wiggled cautiously nearer and nearer, taking the utmost pains not to be seen. this eavesdropper was pablo, and he evinced the greatest interest in all they were saying; but it was when frank spoke or sang that he listened with the utmost attention, keeping perfectly still. thus it was that the boy heard hodge say: "merriwell, i'm half-inclined to believe that dirty little mexican rascal is a fakir. i suspect him." "of what?" asked frank. "of being a spy. he told a slick tale, but i've had time to think it over, and somehow it seems too thin. why shouldn't bill send him here to play the spy?" "my dear bart," said merry, with a laugh, "what would be bill's object? what could the boy do?" "he might get a chance to put a knife in your back, old man." "i'll chance it. i do not believe pablo that bad. i'll trust him." "well, i wouldn't trust any greaser." "i hate you, señor hodge!" whispered the listening boy, to himself. "i hate you; but i lofe frank merriwell!" the miners gathered near their quarters. as far as possible, frank had secured miners who were not mexicans, but there were a few mexicans among them. among the men were some who were hard characters when they were drinking, and merry had taken particular pains to make rules and regulations to keep liquor away from them. the morning after the encounter between pablo and jim, the foreman, frank arose and flung open the door of his cabin, but immediately made the discovery that a sheet of paper was pinned to the door with a knife. "hello!" he exclaimed. "here's something interesting!" gallup came slouching forward, followed by ready. "what, ho!" cried jack, as his eyes fell on the knife and the paper. "methinks i see something! hist! that is what the tragic actor said when he appeared upon the stage. he crept in and looked around, after which he said, 'hist!' and he was hissed." "by gum!" cried ephraim. "there's writin' written on it! what does it say?" this is what they read written sprawlingly on the sheet of paper that was pinned to the door by the knife: "frank merriwell: you are hearby giv notis that you are to send away the boy pablo instanter. he promised to come to his sister, and he has not come. you are warned not to keep him. bill." frank looked at the notice and laughed. "well," he said, "that is rather interesting. so bill wants the boy? why doesn't he come and take him?" hodge came and read the notice, a deep frown on his darkly handsome face. "what do you make of it, merry?" he asked. "give us your opinion." "nerve." "shall we give up the boy?" now bart had not favored pablo, but at this juncture he grimly declared: "i'm against it." "good!" nodded merry. "let bill come and take him! if the boy's story is true, it would not be a healthy thing for him to fall into bill's hands." just as he spoke these words jim tracy came around the corner and appeared on the scene. he halted, appearing surprised, and stared at the knife and the notice. "whatever is it?" he asked. "something left there during the night," said merry. "read it." tracy looked it over. "well, bill sure wants the greaser kid," he said, "an' i reckon you'd best give the youngster up." "why do you reckon that?" "cimarron bill is a heap dangerous." "he may be," said merry; "but he has failed thus far to get ahead of me. i don't like his notice, if this came from him. but i thought you took pains to have the place guarded at night, tracy?" "so i does, sir." "then how did bill or any of his gang manage to creep up here and pin this to my door?" "that i can't say, sir." "i think i'll look after things to-night," said frank grimly. "if we're getting careless around here bill may walk in some night and seize the mine before we know a thing of what's going to happen." he jerked the knife from the door, took the paper and placed it in his pocket, after which he indicated that he was ready to speak with the foreman, who had some matter of business to discuss. when tracy departed frank sat down and meditated, for he had noticed something peculiar and remarkable. there were ink-stains upon the thumb and two of the fingers of jim tracy's right hand. chapter xvi. frank detects treachery. needless to say frank did not send pablo away. he did not tell the boy of the warning found on the door. instead, he called the mexican lad and said: "pablo, i want you to watch tracy closely for me. will you?" "señor frank can be sure i weel," said the boy. "if possible, i want you to get some of tracy's handwriting and bring it to me." "eet i will do, señor." "but look out for him. he's dangerous. don't let him catch you playing the spy." "i tak' de great care 'bout that." before noon the mexican boy came hurrying to merry, his big dark eyes glowing. he caught hold of frank's hand and gave it an excited pressure. "i haf eet!" he said. "what is it you have?" "some of hees writeeng. he do eet in de mine offeese when he think no one watch heem. i see heem through window. he put eet in lettare, stick eet up, put in pocket, then drop um. i know; i watch; i pick eet up. here eet ees!" he thrust into merry's hand a soiled, sealed and undirected envelope. "eet ees inside," said pablo, all aquiver. "come in here," said frank, leading the way into the cabin. bart and jack were watching ephraim gallup at a distance from the cabin, the yankee youth being engaged in a brave attempt to ride a small, bucking bronco. when they were inside the cabin, frank closed and fastened the door. making a hasty examination of the envelope, he quickly lighted a small alcohol-lamp beneath a tiny brass tea-kettle, which he partly filled with water. in a very few moments steam was pouring from the nozle of the kettle. holding the envelope in this, merry quickly steamed open the flap, taking from it a sheet of paper. pablo's eyes seemed to grow larger than ever as he watched. frank unfolded the paper and read: "i have decided to except terms, and to-night will be the time for you to come down on the mine. the whisky will be yoused to get the men drunk, jest as you perposed, and i'll hev them all filled up by ten o'clock. wate tell you hear three shots right togather, then charge and you'll take the mine, havin' only merywel and his tenderfeet backers to fight, and them i will hav fastened into their cabin. j." merry whistled over this, showing no small amount of surprise. "ees de writin' what you expec'?" asked pablo anxiously. "it's somewhat more than i expected," said frank. "by jove! there will be doings here to-night." he quickly decided on the course he would pursue. carefully drying the flap of the envelope, he placed some fresh mucilage on it, thrust the message into it, and resealed it carefully. "see here, pablo," he said quickly, "if you can do it, i want you to take this and drop it just where you found it, so that tracy will be pretty sure to recover it. i do not wish him to know that it has been picked up. do your best. if you can't do it, come and tell me." "i do eet," assured pablo, as he took the envelope, concealed it beneath his jacket, and slipped from the cabin. frank had been given something to think about. "so tracy has turned traitor," he meditated. "he has decided to betray the mine into the hands of cimarron bill's gang. it was his writing on the notice pinned on the door, not bill's. that notice was a fake, and it made him angry because it didn't work out as he planned. bill got at him through hop anson, who must have been in bill's employ all along. well, to-night is the time i give those ruffians their final setback. another repulse will discourage them. they would have descended on the place while i was in their power if they had fancied there was any chance that i might escape with my life." pretty soon he walked out, with his hands in his pockets, and joined his friends, laughing heartily over gallup's trials, and seeming undisturbed by any worry. later he entered the mine and found that tracy was not about. nor could he discover anything of pablo. the afternoon was far spent when the mexican boy suddenly appeared before frank. "hello, pablo!" said merry. "what's the word?" "i followe heem," whispered pablo excitedly. "i haf drop de letter where he find eet when he look for eet. then he find time to go 'way. i followe. i see heem take letter to place in rocks long distance down vallee. he hide eet there. pablo let heem go; stay watch letter. he haf hoss hid some piece off. he geet to hoss, geet on heem, ride off." "that's all?" "dhat ees all." "well, you have done well, pablo," said merry. "i'll not forget it." pablo again grasped frank's hand, which he kissed. "you freen' to pablo," he said. "you goode to heem. he not forget." "tell no one what you have seen and done." "you look out for beel." "you may be sure i'll do that, pablo. when bill comes here, he'll receive a warm reception." that night after supper, as the miners sat about the long table in the low, open room, smoking their pipes and cigarettes and enjoying the grateful coolness of the evening, jim tracy, the foreman, came into the room and cried: "well, boys, you've been working right hard to open up this yere old mine, an' i appreciates it, if the young man what owns the property don't. it's a long distance to town, an' ye can't all git off together to have a leetle blow, so i has brought ye some good whisky, and i perposes that you all takes a drink on me." saying which, he produced two big quart bottles and held them above his head, so the lamplight fell upon them. instantly two shots sounded through the place, and the bottles were smashed in the foreman's hands by a pair of bullets, the glass flying and the liquor spattering over him. in through the doorway at the opposite end of the room stepped frank merriwell, a pistol in each hand. "keep your hands up and empty, jim tracy!" he said, in a commanding tone. "it will be unhealthy for you if you lower them!" behind frank were bart, jack, and ephraim, with pablo hovering like a shadow still farther in the rear. tracy was astounded. "what in blazes does this mean!" he snarled, but he kept his hands up, as frank had ordered. "it means that i am onto your game to drug these boys and betray us all. steady! if you try to get a weapon i shall drop you! you know i can shoot a little. just tie him up, fellows." "with the greatest pleasure," chirped jack ready, as he waltzed lightly forward, accompanied by hodge and gallup. in spite of the protests of tracy, they bound him hand and foot, so that he could barely wiggle. the miners had been amazed, but they believed merry when he told them of tracy's plot to betray the mine. "he would have drugged you all," said frank. "then, when bill's gang charged on the mine, it's likely many of you would have been killed. but what did he care about that. now we'll fool cimarron bill and teach him a lesson." he explained his plan to them, and they readily agreed. so it happened that, a little later, the miners began to sing and shout and pretend to be riotously merry. this they kept up until it seemed as if they were engaged in a fearful carousal. then the noises began to die out and grow less. it was past ten o'clock when dead silence seemed to rest on the camp. frank merriwell stepped to the door, lifted his hand and fired three shots into the air. five minutes later the sound of galloping horses coming up the valley was distinctly heard. "here they come!" breathed frank. "all ready for them!" right up to the mine-buildings charged the horsemen. they were dismounting when frank's challenge rang out sharp and clear: "hold, cimarron bill! stop where you are! stop, or we fire!" the outlaws uttered a yell and charged, firing the first shots. then merry gave the command, and the armed and waiting miners fired on the raiders. it was a withering volley, and must have astounded the ruffians. bill, however, had come this time determined to succeed, and he called on his men to break down the doors. as they were hammering at the front doors, frank led some of the men out by the back way and charged round the buildings. the encounter that took place was brief and sanguine. the miners were encouraged by hodge, ready, and gallup, who fought with savage fury, and the raiders began to waver. suddenly a tall figure came rushing into the thick of the fight and confronted frank. it was tracy, who had been released from his bonds by a sympathetic miner. "yah!" he snarled, having heard merry's voice and recognized him. "so it's you! i've found you! take that!" he pitched forward a revolver and fired pointblank at frank. at that very instant, with a cry, pablo, the mexican boy, leaped in front of merry. struck by the bullet intended for frank, the little fellow tossed up his arms and fell backward into merriwell's clasp. at the same instant somebody shot jim tracy through the brain. as merriwell lowered the death-stricken boy, the raiders, completely baffled, gave over the attack and took to flight, leaving half their number behind, stretched upon the ground. "are you hurt--badly?" asked frank, as one of the boy's arms dropped limply over his neck and seemed to cling there. for a moment there was no answer. then came the faintly whispered words: "i--theenk--i--am--keeled--señor merriwell." "oh, no, gonchita!" said frank earnestly; "not as bad as that! it cannot be!" "you know me," was the surprised whisper. "how you know i am gonchita?" "oh, i discovered it the other day--i found you had your hair tied up beneath your hat. here, men--somebody bring a light! be lively about it!" "all right, sir," said one of the men. "have one directly." "no use, señor merriwell," came weakly from the lips of the disguised girl. "i shall be dead in a minute. _ay-de mi_! poor gonchita! you theenk she ees veree bad girl? beel he say he weel marree her. he get me to fool you, señor. then you are so veree brave! señor frank, i theenk you are de han'someest, de braveest man i evere know. i run away from beel. i wear de boyee's clothes an' come here. dat ees all. now i haf to die." "perhaps not, gonchita," said merry, with infinite pity for the unfortunate girl. "we'll see what can be done for you." she managed to press one of his hands to her lips. "so goode--so han'some!" she whispered. "good-by, señor! eet ees ovare." then one of the men came out with a lighted lantern; but before the light fell on the face of the wounded girl frank knew he was holding a corpse in his arms. * * * * * among the dead was found hop anson. jim tracy lay where he had fallen immediately after the shot which ended the life of poor gonchita. such of the ruffians who were wounded were cared for as well as possible. the dead were buried there in the valley. cimarron bill's band was completely broken up. on his next visit to town merry had a marble slab cut for the grave of the mexican girl, which was located at a distance from those of the outlaws. on the slab were chiseled these words: "poor gonchita!" chapter xvii. the war-whoop of old eli. the afternoon sun lay scorching hot upon the arid plain. heat waves moved in the air like the billows of a phantom sea. to the west were barren mountain-peaks and the nearer foot-hills; to the east the unbroken plain lay level to the horizon. behind the body of his dead horse lay a sorely wounded man, with his dog crouching close at his side. the dog's dry tongue lolled from the animal's mouth; at times the poor creature whined and sought to lick the hand of its master; anon he growled fiercely, the hair bristling on his neck, and started up in a savage manner. "down, boxer, down!" the man would order, in a voice ever growing weaker. "you can't help. the red devils will get you with a bullet. down, sir!" at which the dog would sink back, whine again and draw his filelike tongue along the hand or cheek of his master. "heavens!" muttered the man. "for a swallow of water. i'd give the last ounce in the saddle-bags if i could finish one or two more of those murderous curs before i cash in!" his almost nerveless hands grasped the barrel of his rifle, and he looked away toward the spot where six horsemen had drawn up in a little cluster just beyond bullet-reach. they were indians, mounted on tough ponies, and some of them armed with modern weapons. two or three carried lances, on which the glaring sun glinted. they had hunted him down; they had killed the horse beneath him and wounded him unto death. the bullet was through his body, and the sands of life were ebbing fast. he had reached the end of his trail, and the red fiends out there on the baking plain knew they had only to wait a while and then ride forward unmolested and strip off his scalp. yet, being far from their reservation, the savages were impatient at the delay. their hearts were vengeful within them, for in the chase he had slain two of their number. one of them, an impetuous young buck, was for making haste in finishing the paleface. he motioned toward the declining sun and suggested that the wounded man might try to crawl away with the coming of darkness. besides, they had far to go, and it was a waste of time to wait for the paleface to die. likely he was so far gone that he could not shoot to defend himself, and there would be little trouble in getting near enough to despatch him. the impetuous spirit of this savage prevailed, and soon the redskins began riding around and around man and horse and dog, spreading out into a circle with great gaps and slowly closing in, now and then uttering a challenging yell. as they closed in they flung themselves over upon the sides of their ponies opposite the wounded man, so that their horses seemed riderless. occasionally a shot was fired from beneath the neck of a racing pony. the dying man gathered himself a little and watched them. a puff of white smoke leaped out before a pony and was quickly left behind to dissolve and fade in the heated air. a bullet threw up a bit of dust within three feet of the white man. the dog bristled and growled. another bullet clipped a stalk from a cactus plant five feet away. "they're within shooting distance," whispered the doomed wretch. "wonder if i've got nerve enough to drop a pony." he rested his rifle on the body of the dead horse and waited. out on the plain the racing ponies began to swim in a haze. he could see them indistinctly, and he brushed a hand across his eyes. "i'm going fast, boxer," he muttered to the dog. "my sight is failing! i'm burning inside! and i know you're choking yourself, poor dog! it's a hard way to pipe out." the dog whined sympathetically and pressed closer. a bullet whistled past the head of the man. he tightened his grip on his rifle, sought to take aim, and finally fired. his bullet went wide of the target he sought, and a yell of derision floated to his ears through the hot air. "no use!" he muttered huskily. "i'm done for! it's the finish! they can close right in and wipe me out!" the savages seemed to know it, and they were drawing nearer. of a sudden out from the depths of a long barranca, a mighty fissure in the plain, produced in former ages by a convulsion of nature, or marking the course of a river--out from one end that rose to the surface of the plain not far from the circling savages, came a horse and rider. as the rider rose into view he began shooting with a magazine rifle, and his first bullet caused a redskin to lose his hold and tumble end over end in the dirt, while the pony galloped on. the following indian stooped and seemed to catch up his wounded comrade as he swept past. the lone horseman rode straight at them in a reckless manner, working his repeater. a pony was wounded, another plunged forward into the dirt. in another moment the redskins wheeled and were in full flight, astounded and demoralized by the attack, two of the horses carrying double, while another left drops of blood upon the ground. the daring paleface uttered a strange war-whoop of triumph: "brekekek co-ax, co-ax, yale!" never before had those indians heard such a singular cry from the lips of a white man. it seemed to fill them with a mad desire to get away, to flee at top speed. it struck terror into their hearts, as many a time the same slogan has struck fear to the hearts of those battling against old eli on some athletic field. they urged their ponies forward, and away they went, scurrying into the distance, with bullets singing around them. the man behind the dead horse lifted himself and strained his bedimmed eyes, seeing the youthful rider shoot past in pursuit of the savages. the dog rose, planting his forefeet on the horse's body, and barked madly. when he was satisfied that the indians were in full retreat, with little thought of turning or offering resistance, frank merriwell, for it was he who had dashed out of the barranca, drew up and turned about, galloping back toward the man he had dared so much to save. but he had come too late. as merry rode near the dying man had fallen back beside his dead horse. over him stood the dog, covered with dust, its eyes glaring redly, its teeth disclosed, ready to defend the body of its master. as frank drew up the dog snarled fiercely. merry saw at a glance that the situation of the dog's master was serious in the extreme. he dismounted and stepped forward, leaving his horse, knowing well the animal would stand. as he approached the dog grew fiercer of aspect, and he saw the creature meant to leap straight at his throat. "good dog!" he said, stopping. "fine dog! come, sir--come! ah-ha, fine fellow!" but all his attempts to win the confidence of the dog were failures. "the man is dying," he muttered. "perhaps i might save him if i could get to him now. must i shoot that dog? i hate to do it, for the creature seems very intelligent." at this moment the man stirred a little and seemed to realize what was happening. he lifted his head a little and saw the dismounted horseman and the threatening dog. "down, boxer; down, sir!" he commanded. "be quiet!" his voice rose scarcely above a whisper, but the dog reluctantly obeyed, still keeping his eyes on frank, who now stepped up at once. "you're badly wounded, sir," he said. "let me see if i can do anything for you." "give me water--for the love of heaven, water!" was the harshly whispered imploration. in a twinkling frank sprang to his horse and brought back a canteen that was well filled. this he held to the lips of the wretched man, while the crouching dog watched every move with his red eyes. that water, warm though it was, brought back a little life to the sinking man. "god bless you!" he murmured gratefully. the dog whined. "can't you give boxer a little?" asked the dog's master. "he's suffering as much as i am." frank quickly removed from his saddle-bags a deep tin plate, on which some of the water was poured, and this the dog greedily licked up, wagging his tail in thankfulness. "poor old boxer!" sighed the doomed man. "now, sir," said the youth, "let me examine your wound and find out what i can do for you." "no use," was the declaration. "i'm done for. it's through the lung, and i've bled enough to finish two men. the blood is all out of me." but the young man insisted on looking and did what he could to check the flow of blood. the doomed man shook his head a little. "no use," he repeated. "i'm going now--i feel it. but you have done all you could for old bens, and you won't lose nothing by it. what's your name?" "frank merriwell." "well, pard merriwell, you sure went for those red devils right hot. i allowed at first that you must have four or five friends with ye." "i'm alone." "and it was great grit for you to charge the red skunks that way. however did you happen to do it?" "i saw what was going on from the high land to the west with the aid of a powerful glass. i knew they had a white man trapped here. i struck the barranca and managed to get down into it, so i was able to ride close without being seen and charge up from this end, where it rises to the level of the plain. that is all." "it was nerve, young man, and plenty of it! my name is benson clark. i'm a miner. been over in the mazatzals. struck it rich, young pard--struck it rich. there was no one but me and old boxer, my dog. i took out a heap of dust, and i opine i located a quartz claim that certainly is worth a hundred thousand dollars, or i'm away off. been a miner all my life. grub-staked it from the canadian line to mexico. have managed to live, but this is my first strike. no one staked me this time, so it's all mine. but see, pard, what black luck and those red devils have done for me! i'm finished, and i'll never live to enjoy a dollar of my wealth. pretty tough, eh?" "pretty tough," admitted frank merriwell; "but brace up. who can tell----" "i can. bens clark is at the end of his trail. young man, i want you to see me properly planted. you'll find enough in the saddle-bags here and in the belt around my waist to pay you for your trouble." "i want no pay, sir." "well, i reckon you may as well have it, as i have neither kith nor kin in the wide world, and most of my friends have cashed in ahead of me, so i'm left all alone--me and boxer." the dying man lifted his hand with a great effort and caressed the dog. the animal whined and snuggled nearer, fixing his eyes on his master's face with an expression of devotion and anxiety that was quite touching to see. "good old boxer!" sighed the man, with deep feeling. "you'll miss me, boy, and you're the only one in all the wide world. what will become of you, boxer?" again the dog whined a little, touching the bloodless cheek of the man with its tongue. "i'll do what i can for your dog, sir," said frank merriwell. "what do you mean? will you take boxer and care for him?" "yes, sir." "do it! you'll never be sorry. you'll find him the most faithful, devoted, and intelligent of dumb animals. truly, he knows almost as much as a man--more than lots of men. it's a shame he can't talk! he knows what i say to him almost always. i've almost fancied he might be taught to talk; but that's ridiculous, i know. take him, frank merriwell, treat him well, and you'll never regret it." the dog seemed listening. he looked from one to the other in a peculiar manner, and then, as if realizing what had passed and that he was soon to part with his master forever, he uttered a whining howl that was doleful and pathetic. "poor old boxer--good boy!" said benson clark. "i've got to go, boy." the dog crept close, and the dying man weakly folded the animal in his arms. frank merriwell turned away. the sunlight was so bright and strong on the plain that it seemed to cause him to brush a hand over his eyes. he stood looking far off for some moments, but was given a start by hearing a weak call from the man. "i'm going!" breathed clark huskily. "here--in my pocket here you will find a rude chart that may lead you to my rich mines in the mazatzals. feel in my pocket for the leather case. that's it. take it--keep it. it's yours. the mines are yours--if you can find them. boxer is yours. be good to him. poor old boxer!" he closed his eyes and lay so still that frank fancied the end had come. but it was not yet. after a little he slowly opened his eyes and looked at merry. immediately frank knelt beside him, with uncovered head. the dying man then looked at the dog. "boxer," he said faintly, "i'm going off on my long trail, and we'll never meet up again this side of the happy hunting-grounds. good-by, old dog! this is your new master. stick to him like glue, old boy. fight for him--die for him, if you have to. i opine you understand what i mean." a strange sound came from the throat of the dog--a sound that was almost like a human sob. if ever a dog sobbed that one did. agony and sorrow was depicted in his attitude and the look in its red eyes. the miner took the dog's paw and placed it in frank merriwell's hand, his body lying between them. "i make you pards," said benson clark. then he whispered to frank: "can't you pray? i've clean forgot all the prayers i ever knew. but i feel that i need a prayer said for me now, for i'm going up before the judgment bar. pray, partner--pray to the great judge that he will be easy with me." so frank merriwell prayed, and that prayer fell upon the heart of the dying man with such soothing balm that all fear and dread left him, and he passed into the great unknown with a peaceful smile on his weather-worn face. chapter xviii. a strange funeral. frank found the saddle-bags and the belt about the dead man's waist heavy with gold. it took him some time to make preparations for transporting the precious stuff, and it was no easy task for him to quiet his horse and induce the animal to stand while he lifted the corpse and placed it where it could be tied securely on the horse's back. he had no thought of leaving the body of benson clark to be devoured by wolves and vultures. the sun was resting close down to the blue tops of the western mountains when everything was ready to start. the dog had watched every move with eyes full of singular intelligence, but made no move or sound until merry was ready to go. then frank turned more water from the canteen, after taking a few swallows himself, placing it before boxer in the tin plate. the dog licked it up. "good boxer!" said merry, patting the beast's head. "i'm your master now, my boy. your other master is dead. he has told you to stick to me. did you understand?" the dog made some strange swallowing and mumbling sounds in its throat, as if trying to talk back in words. "by jove!" said merry, gazing at the creature with great interest. "you are a knowing fellow, and you actually try to talk. your master fancied you might be taught to talk." again those strange swallowings and mumblings issued from the dog's throat, and the creature wagged its tail a little. "we'll go now," said frank. "it's a good distance to the mine, and we have something to do before we can set out in earnest." so they started off, frank leading the horse bearing the ghastly burden, while the dog walked behind with hanging head, the perfect picture of sorrow. a strange funeral procession it was, making its way toward the setting sun and the hazy mountains. the dead horse was left behind, while far in the sky wheeled two black specks, buzzards waiting for the feast. the indians had long vanished from the face of the plain, yet frank knew their nature, and he was not at all sure he had seen the last of them. the sun vanished behind the mountains and the blue night lay soft and soothing on the hot plain when the funeral procession came into the foot-hills. it was not frank's intention to carry the dead man farther than was needful, and, therefore, he kept his eyes about him for some place to bestow the body where it might rest safe from prowling beasts. this place he found at last, and, with the aid of a flat stone, and with his bare hands, he scooped a shallow grave. into this the body was fitted. over the man's face frank spread his own handkerchief. then he besprinkled the dry earth lightly over the body at first, afterward using the flat rock to scrape and shovel more upon it, ending with covering it heavily with such stones as he could find, knowing well with what skill the ravening beasts of the desert could use their claw-armed paws. for a time the dog sat and watched everything. when his late master was placed in the grave he whined and cried softly; but when the body was covered he lay down beside the grave in silence, and there was in his posture something so heartbroken that frank was moved to a great pity. "poor old boxer!" he murmured. "it is the end to which all living things must come, each in its own time. but it is the law of nature, and it is not so bad, after all. blessed is he who goes to his last deep sleep without fear, feeling that he has done his best and is willing to trust everything in the hands of him who sees and knows all. the fear of death and what may follow is such as should trouble alone the coward or the wicked wretch. boxer, your master seemed to pass without fear, and something tells me it is not so bad with him. his case is in the hands of the great judge, and we may rest sure that he will be done no wrong." was there ever such a strange funeral oration! a youth with bared head and solemn face, speaking above a grave, and a silent, grief-stricken dog as the only mourner and attendant! the still arizona night all around, with no sound of humming insect, no stir of foliage, no whisper of moving breeze, the dome of heaven above, studded with millions of clear stars! the dog did not move or lift its head, but frank saw the starshine glint upon his eyes, which were wide open and fastened upon the speaker. when the work was completed frank knelt for a moment beside that grave, praying softly, yet with an earnestness that bespoke his faith that his words were heard. it was over. his horse was at a little distance. he went and brought the animal up and adjusted the saddle. the dead man's belt, stuffed to bursting and wondrous heavy, he had fastened about his own waist. "come, boxer," he said, again stooping to pat the head of the dog. "we must go. bid farewell to your master's grave. it's not likely you may ever again come beside it." the dog stirred. he sat up and lifted his muzzle toward the stars. from his throat came a low note that rose and swelled to the most doleful sound imaginable. with his blood chill in his body, frank listened while the dog sang a requiem above that grave. tears started from merry's eyes, and never while life was his could he forget that sound and that sight. never chanted words of mass had more of sorrow! no human tongue could speak greater grief. at last the sound died away into silence, and the dog stood on all fours, with hanging head and tail, his muzzle kissing some of the rough stones heaped on that grave. how long he might have remained in that attitude cannot be said; but soon frank spoke again and called him to follow. at the word he turned, and his manner denoted he was ready. merry swung into the saddle and started, looking over his shoulder. in dead silence, the dog followed. and so they passed into the still night. chapter xix. new arrivals in holbrook. the town of holbrook had been greatly stirred. it had not yet settled into its accustomed grooves. the proprietor of the best hotel in town had received a consignment of fine furniture, carpets, draperies, wallpaper and pictures, and he had set about renovating and decorating several of the largest rooms in his house, having for that purpose a number of workmen imported from some eastern point. it was said that the rooms had been rearranged to connect with each other in a suite, and that when they were completed, and furnished, and decorated they were dazzlingly magnificent, nothing like them ever before having been seen in the place. the good citizens of holbrook wondered and were amazed at all this; but they did not know that not one dollar had been expended by the proprietor of the hotel. all this work had been done without expense of his to accommodate some guests who came in due time and took possession of those rooms. the california special had dropped four persons in holbrook, who regretfully left the comfort of a palace car and looked about them with some show of dismay on the cluttered streets and crude buildings of the southwestern town. holbrook was even better in general appearance than many western towns, but, contrasted with clean, orderly, handsome eastern villages, it was offensive to the eyes of the proud lady who was aided from the steps of the car and descended to the station platform with the air of a queen. she turned up her aristocratic nose a little on glancing around. this woman was dressed in the height of fashion, although somewhat too heavily for the country she now found herself in; but there was about her an air of display that betokened a lack of correct taste, which is ever pronounced in those who seek to attract attention and produce astonishment and awe. she had gray hair and a cold, unattractive face. still there was about her face something that plainly denoted she had been in her girlhood very attractive. she was followed by a girl who was so pretty and so modest in appearance that the rough men who beheld her gasped with astonishment. never in the history of the town had such a pretty girl placed her foot within its limits. she had a graceful figure, fine complexion, cupid-bow mouth, flushed cheeks, large brown eyes and hair in which there was a hint of red-gold, in spite of its darkness. a colored maid followed them. from another car descended a thin, wiry, nervous man, who had a great blue beak of a nose, and who hastened to join the trio, speaking to them. the hotel proprietor had at the station the finest carriage he could find, and this whisked them away to the hotel as soon as they had entered it, leaving the loungers about the station wondering, while the train went diminishing into the distance, flinging its trail of black smoke against the blue of the arizona sky. at the hotel the lady and her daughter occupied two of the finest rooms, the colored maid another, less expensively furnished, and the man with the blue nose was given the fourth. holbrook wondered what it meant. the lady ordered a meal to be served in her rooms. the report went forth at once, and again holbrook stood agog. the hotel register was watched. finally the man with the restless eyes and blue beak entered the office and wrote nervously in the register. barely was he gone when a dozen persons were packed about the desk, seeking to look over one another's shoulders to see what had been written. "whatever is it, hank?" asked one. "you sure kin read writin'. whatever do you make o' it?" "'mrs. d. roscoe arlington,' the fust name," said the one called hank. "then comes 'miss arlington,' arter which is 'mr. eliot dodge,' an' lastly i sees 'hannah jackson.'" "which last must be the nigger woman," said one of the rough men. "i allows so," nodded hank. "an' it 'pears to me that name o' arlington is some familiar. i somehow thinks i has heard it." "why, to be course you has!" said another of the men. "d. roscoe arlington, did you say? who hasn't heerd that name? he's one o' them big guns what has so much money he can't count it to save his gizzard. ev-rybody has heerd o' d. roscoe arlington. if he keeps on gittin' rich the way he has the past three years or so, old morgan won't be in the game. why, this arlington may now be the richest man in this country, if ev'rything were rightly known about him. he owns railroads, an' mines, an' ships, an' manufacturin' plants, an' nobody knows what all." "that sartin explains a whole lot the fixin' up that has been a-doin' around this ranch," said a little man with a thirsty-looking mouth. "they was a-preparin' fer the wife o' this mighty rich gent." "but say!" exclaimed a young fellow with a wicked face, "ain't she got a slick-lookin' gal with her, what?" some of them laughed and slapped him on the back. "go on, pete!" cried one chap. "you're a gay one with greaser gals, but you won't be able to make a wide trail with that yar young lady, so don't be lookin' that way." "wonder whatever could 'a' brought such people here," speculated a man with tobacco juice on his chin. "they must mean to stay a while, else they'd never had them rooms fixed up the way they are." a ruffianly-looking man with a full beard broke into a low laugh. "why, ain't none o' you heard about the fight what's bein' made to git holt o' a certain mine not so very fur from yere?" he asked. "i mean the mine owned by a young chap what calls himself frank merriwell. you oughter know somethin' about that." "why, 'pears to me," observed the fellow with tobacco juice on his chin--"'pears to me i did hear that thar was trouble over a mine somewhar down in the mogollons, an' that cimarron bill had been sent to take it." "he was sent," said the full-bearded man. "then i 'lows he took it, fer bill's sure to do any job he tackles." "he ain't took it none. frank merriwell is still a-holdin' the mine, an' bill has had his troubles, leavin' a good part o' his backers stiff arter the ruction." "say you so? waal, this merriwell sure must be a hot fighter. but bill will down him in the end, an' you kin bet your last simoleon on that." to which the man with the full beard said nothing. "all this don't explain any to me jest why this lady an' her party is hyer," said the one with the thirsty mouth. "it ain't noways likely she's lookin' arter cimarron bill none," said another. "whoever is a-takin' my name in vain?" demanded a voice that made them all start and turn toward the door. "it's cimarron bill hisself!" gasped one, in a whisper. and the entire crowd seemed awe-stricken and afraid. chapter xx. mrs. arlington has a visitor. the black maid stood over the little table at which mother and daughter sat taking tea. "sugar, jackson," said the lady wearily. the maid lifted the sugar-bowl, but, finding no tongs, was compelled to use a spoon. "why don't you use the tongs, jackson?" asked the woman. "dar am no tongs, ma'am," answered the maid. "no tongs? no tongs?" exclaimed mrs. arlington, in astonished surprise. "and i directed that everything should be prepared here--that we should have every convenience of a first-class hotel. dear me! why, i've found nothing right! the hardship of spending some days in such a place will prostrate me. i know it will!" "but why have you come here, mother?" asked june arlington, in a voice that denoted culture and a refined nature. "i cannot understand it. you told me in the first place that you were going to mexico. then i heard you urging father to come here. when he said it was not possible, you seemed to get angry, and you declared that you would come here yourself. but why should you come because he could not? that i wonder at." "he would not!" exclaimed mrs. arlington, sipping her tea. "it was his duty. never mind the particulars, june; you may know some time, but not now." "and i did not wish to come here, mother. you knew that." "my daughter, i have decided that it is necessary to keep you with me. i determined on that after your surprising behavior the last time you went to fardale. you deceived me, june! i cannot forget that." the words were spoken with cold severity. june flushed a little. "it was for chester's good, as i explained to you," she said somewhat warmly. "he has never thanked me for it, yet it is i who have kept him in fardale academy. had i not entreated dick merriwell to be easy with him, chester must have been compelled to leave or be expelled before this." "i cannot believe that, june. but, were it true, it is no excuse for your action. i want no favors from either of the merriwells. i will accept nothing from them! dick merriwell is my boy's enemy, and he shall know what it is to have an arlington for a foe. i have determined on that. i repeat that i'll accept nothing from him." "once----" june stopped short. she had been on the verge of telling her mother that once that lady had accepted something from dick merriwell--her life! for, as mrs. arlington slipped on the icy platform of the railway-station at fardale and was falling beneath the wheels of a moving train, dick had grasped and held her till the cars passed and she was safe. but june had seen her mother turn blue with anger at mention of this affair, so she checked herself now, not wishing to arouse the lady. tea was finished in silence, mother and daughter being occupied with their thoughts. the maid moved softly about the table. they had just finished when there came a tap on the door. "see who it is, jackson," directed mrs. arlington. the man with the blue beak was at the door. "i must speak with mrs. arlington," he said, and entered, hat in hand. "what is it, mr. dodge?" asked the lady, frowning coldly and plainly annoyed. eliot dodge paused and looked at june significantly. "oh, is it a private matter?" asked the lady. flushing a bit, june arose at once and withdrew, from the room. "william lamson has arrived in town, and demands to see you," said dodge, when june had disappeared, the maid having likewise withdrawn. "that man?" said mrs. arlington, with a little start and a slight shiver. "i have brought you to do the business with him. you are a regular attorney of the c. m. a. of a., and you have my instructions." "so i told him." "well?" "he refused pointblank to do any business whatever with me." "he did." "yes. i talked to him pretty straight until--ahem!--until i could say no more." "you could say no more?" "no, madam; it was impossible." "why impossible?" "he had drawn and cocked a revolver and pointed it at me. he told me to shut up and take word from him to you at once or he would shoot me." "what a dreadful creature!" "he is, indeed, madam; he's a typical ruffian of the worst sort." "and, therefore, the very man to accomplish the work," said she, with growing interest. "but i dislike very much to have dealings with such a fellow." "i thoroughly understand that, madam." "you might attend to the matter fully as well." "that is true, mrs. arlington." "you told him so?" "i did." "and still----" "and still he drew a gun on me. he is bound to see you. he says he will, and i am sure he is a man to make his word good. really i don't know how you are going to get out of it." "then i shall not try," said the lady, composing herself. "you mean----" "i'll see him." "here?" "yes." "now?" "send him up at once. i may as well have it over." eliot dodge hesitated. "i shall be in my room," he said. "if you need me----" "i understand. go bring this man to my door." dodge departed, and mrs. arlington waited. when there came a knock on the door she coldly said: "come in!" cimarron bill entered the room! mrs. arlington had not called her servant to let this man in. she glanced toward the door of the room into which her daughter had retired, and the look on her face was one of apprehension. cimarron bill was a wicked man, as his every aspect betokened, and this woman could not think without shame that june should have any knowledge of her dealings with such a creature. so she arose hastily, which was quite unlike her, and crossed the floor to close the door, a strange thing, considering that she seldom did a thing that another could do for her. when june was thus shut out, the woman recrossed the floor to likewise close the door of the room into which the colored maid had retired. all the while cimarron bill, hat in hand, stood watching her closely with his evil eyes. for him it must have been a most exceedingly strange thing to come thus into the presence of a woman whose husband was known far and wide as a money king, a woman whose every wish that wealth could serve was sure to be granted almost as quickly as expressed. when she had closed the doors she turned about and faced him, surveying him from head to feet with her cold and penetrating eyes. he looked back at her with a sort of boldness, for this man was not one to be in the least downcast in the presence of a human being of whatever degree. mrs. arlington motioned toward a chair. "will you sit down, sir?" she invited. "thank you, madam," said bill, casting aside the rough manner of speech that he sometimes assumed and now using very decent english. "i don't care if i do." whereupon he placed his hat upon the table and sat upon a chair, with a certain pantherish undulation of his body, as if his muscles flowed beneath his skin. "mr. dodge saw you," said the woman, remaining standing. "i directed him to inform you that he was my accredited agent and prepared to transact any business with you. i thought it better for him to attend to this affair." "and i, madam, if you will excuse me, thought it best that we should come face to face and have our dealings thus. that is why i declined to do any business whatever with the gent with the blue nose." "i did not suppose it would be necessary for me to go so far into this matter until i was informed of your failure to take possession of the property that rightfully belongs to the consolidated mining association of america. i must say, sir, that i am very much displeased over your failure." "and you can be no more so than am i myself," returned bill, civilly enough, yet with a sort of boldness that did not please her, as she was accustomed to much deference and respect. "but you must know it is difficult, even in this country, to find men who are eager to put on themselves the brand of outlaws, and i acknowledge that my force was not sufficient. the young dog is a stiff fighter, and that i had not counted on, him being a tenderfoot to a certain degree--though," he added, as if on second thought, "he's not so very tender, after all." "you were told to collect an army, if necessary. mr. dodge informs me that you were directed to get together a force sufficient to make failure out of the question. yet you were repulsed and beaten off when you went to seize the mine." "twice," said bill grimly. "and the second time a full half of my men were dropped cold or hurt so bad that they were put out of the fight. it was not just my fault that i failed then, for the treachery of a mexican girl betrayed my plans to merriwell, so he was ready with a trap when i expected to take him by surprise. that is how it came about, madam. i had his foreman bribed and should have walked into possession of the mine with little or no trouble but for the girl i mention. it was a bad piece of business." "bad!" she exclaimed, nodding a little. "it was very unfortunate!" "a word that scarce expresses it, madam. the rest of my men, the curs, with one or two exceptions, weakened and gave it up as a bad job. and then, on top of that, i was informed that the syndicate had grown disinclined to press the matter further in such a manner, fearing to get itself into serious trouble." "that's it!" said the woman sharply. "but i have taken hold of this matter. the syndicate seems willing to obtain the mine by some other and slower method. i am not. i cannot brook delay! i have a reason why i wish the taking of the mine with the smallest possible delay, and it makes no difference to me how the work is accomplished. that is why i am here on the scene of action. i shall remain here until i triumph! if you are able to accomplish the work, well and good. if you are not, then another man must be found for it." cimarron bill smiled in a most evil manner. "madam," he said, "i think you will have trouble to find in all this country another man so well prepared to accomplish the task." "yet you confess that you have failed twice." he shrugged his shoulders. "for which reason," he averred, "i am all the more dangerous. there is an old saying that the third time never fails. i am ready for the third trial." "i am glad to hear you speak this way. what will you do?" "gather a stronger force and lay my plans so there can be no failure." "it is well." "but that will take much money, madam. you have it at your command. it is almost certain that all of us, to the last man, will bear the brand of outlaws. we may be hunted. it may be necessary for me to hasten into mexico and lose myself there for a time. i must have money in abundance for myself. as for the men who take part with me, they will all demand high prices. when it is over and the mine is delivered into the possession of the syndicate, i shall not trouble about any one save myself. the men who are with me may look out for themselves." this was said in a most cold-blooded manner, speaking plainly the real character of the wretch. "i care nothing about that," said the woman. "fix that matter as you choose. how much money will you require?" "let me see," said bill, as if meditating. "it will take, i am sure, at least fifty men. they may be got at various prices, some more, some less; but there will be the bringing of them together and other expenses. i should say that they must cost at least two hundred dollars each, which makes a pretty little sum of ten thousand dollars." "then it will cost ten thousand dollars?" said mrs. arlington quickly. "i'll draw the sum from my own private account." "wait a bit, madam," said the chief of desperadoes. "i have reckoned for the men, but that does not include myself. i have said that i must be well paid. i value myself quite as much as fifty common men, and that is another ten thousand, or twenty thousand dollars in all, for which sum i am ready to undertake the job. i'll add, also, that i guarantee it shall not fail this time." it seemed that such a sum must have staggered the woman. indeed, her face went a trifle pale, but her lips were pressed together, and she coldly said: "it is a bargain! you shall have the money, but not until you have accomplished the work. understand that, not until the work is done!" chapter xxi. seen from the window. never before had there been such a bargain between such a man and such a woman. it was the strangest compact on record. and no wonder mrs. arlington had closed the doors that her daughter and her maid should not hear! had june known all she must have turned with loathing and horror from the woman. had d. roscoe arlington known he must have been shocked and heart-torn beyond measure. had he known he must have wondered if this woman had matured from the sweet country girl who once declared with blushes and hanging head that love in a cottage with him was all the happiness she asked. had he known he might have remembered the soft moonlight night in june when beneath the fragrant lilacs they plighted their troth, and surely his gold-hardened heart would have melted with anguish over the frightful change. in truth, mrs. arlington had become deranged, as it were, on one point. her son was her idol. she had petted, and flattered, and spoiled him. she had sent him off to school at fardale with the conviction that he was certain to rise superior to all other boys there. and from him she had come to learn that he had not risen, but had been imposed upon, defeated, baffled, and held down by another lad who was the recognized leader in the school. into the ears of his astonished and angry mother chester arlington had poured his tale of woe, and it had filled her soul with intense hatred for this other boy by the name of merriwell who had dared think himself better than her chester. she had gone to fardale to set things about as they should be, and had failed. that seemed to fill her with such bitterness that she was quite robbed of sober judgment and reason. when mrs. arlington learned that the mining syndicate had claims to the mines belonging to frank and dick merriwell, she was aroused. when she came to understand that the taking of those mines by the syndicate would leave the merriwell brothers almost penniless and would be the signal for dick merriwell to leave fardale, she determined that the thing should be brought about at any cost of money, or time, or trouble to herself. and it was in pursuit of this determination that the wife of d. roscoe arlington had come to arizona and placed herself face to face with a ruffian like cimarron bill, with whom she now struck a bargain that was most astounding. was the woman in her right mind? it made little difference to bill if she were sane or not, as long as he obtained possession of that money. but when he asked for it in advance she smiled upon him coldly, almost scornfully. "you were paid money by the syndicate, and you pledged them to accomplish a task at which you failed. this time there will be no money forthcoming until the work is done." in return the man smiled back at her, and he said: "that settles it! i'm not a fool. when the work is done i may find myself on the run for mexico, with the law reaching for me. in such a case i'll have no time to collect. cash in advance is my motto. you'll bargain with me, or you'll fail, in everything. you cannot get another man to fill my boots in the whole country. and if you were to throw me down and give the job over into the hands of another gent, i'd speak one word to him that would be enough." "what do you mean?" she asked, wondering and angry. "what word?" "the word 'stop,'" said bill. "when cimarron bill says 'stop,' you can bet they stop. they know what it means if they don't. if you don't think so, count the notches on my guns." "you mean that you would turn against me?" "not exactly, madam; i mean that i have no idea of letting any other gent get my job. i do this piece of work--or no one does it. i rather admire the sand of this merriwell, though i'd slit his throat, just the same, for the price. if there was no object in being against him, i'd surely be for him; and it seems that you ought to know better than to put cimarron bill in the ranks of the enemy." "it's a threat!" cried the woman. "not so; it's a business statement, begging your pardon, madam. i don't propose that any gent shall jump my claim." "how can i be sure you'll not play me false? how can i know you'll not take the money and do nothing?" "the syndicate paid me in advance, as you know. i did my best to earn the money. it was not my fault that i failed. in this case, if you pay the sum i have named, i swear to you i'll know no rest until i have succeeded. if i cannot succeed in one way, i will in another." "what do you mean by that?" "i'll capture or kill frank merriwell himself." "if you could do that!" said the woman, with great eagerness. "he is the great stumbling-block." "that's right. with him out of the way, taking the mine would be easy." "is there no way this can be done before you try to seize the mine?" "he keeps pretty close to it. if he could be caught by himself. i have had my hands upon him twice, and he has slipped me both times. next time he will not!" "next time----" "an accident will happen to him," assured bill, with deadly meaning. "that will be the simplest method." "you are right!" she said, in a whisper. "if that could happen----" "would you pay the money?" "i would. understand, i make no bargain with you for such a thing, but that mine must be torn from him somehow. i have with me some money." cimarron bill understood her well, and he nodded. "madam," he said, "give me a little time and i'll find a way to see to it." at this moment there was a commotion in the street, the sound of fighting dogs, shouts of men, and the clatter of horses' hoofs. bill rose quickly and strode to the window, looking down into the street. a handsome irish setter had been attacked by two mongrel dogs, and he was giving those dogs the surprise of their lives. he had one by the neck in a moment, and the mongrel was shaken like a rat. when the setter let go the mongrel took to his heels, howling with pain and terror. then the setter turned on the other dog and a battle that was fierce enough for a few moments ensued, which ended again in the complete triumph of the setter. two young men had ridden into town behind the setter, and they had drawn up to witness the result of the fight. a crowd had quickly gathered, and the triumphant setter was loudly applauded. at sight of one of the two horsemen cimarron bill burst forth with an exclamation of excitement. "look!" he said, pointing from the open window. "see--see that fellow on the dark horse!" mrs. arlington was near the window. "the one with the small mustache?" she asked. "yes, that's the one." "i see him." "well, that's frank merriwell!" said bill. cimarron bill was right. frank merriwell and bart hodge had ridden into holbrook, and with them had come boxer, the dog. boxer had been attacked by the mongrel curs, and he showed his mettle by quickly putting them to flight. as bill gazed down from that window the evil light in his eyes deepened. "remember our bargain!" he said in such a terrible voice that the woman at his side shuddered. then she saw him bring forth a revolver, and, knowing what he meant to do, she uttered a little scream and ran back into another part of the room, unwilling to witness the dark deed. quickly kneeling, bill rested his elbow on the window-ledge and took aim, meaning to send a bullet through the heart of the rightful owner of the queen mystery mine. the commotion in the street and her mother's cry had brought june arlington into that room. june saw the man with the revolver, and her eyes fell on the horseman below. she recognized frank merriwell, for all that he was bronzed and changed, and had a small mustache. with a sudden scream, the girl flung herself on bill and spoiled his aim, so that when the revolver spouted smoke the bullet flew wide of the mark intended. bill uttered a savage snarl, wheeling about. "you wretch!" panted the girl, who was now pale as snow. "you murderer!" the man was dazzled by her beauty. immediately he moved back from the window, bowing low. "beg your pardon, miss," he said. "he sure is an enemy of mine, and out here we shoots on sight. but mebbe he is your friend, in which case i lets up and gives him another show." in that moment of excitement he had fallen into the frontier manner of speaking. she looked at him with unspeakable horror in her eyes. "what are you doing here?" she panted. "you--you--murderer! mother--this man--why is he here?" but mrs. arlington, usually cold as ice and perfectly self-possessed, had quite lost her nerve. she sank into a chair, seeming on the verge of fainting, while she gave bill a look that, ruffian though he was, he understood as an appeal to be left alone with june. nor was he loath about getting out of that room. his pistol had been discharged from the window, and, though the bullet had found no human target, men might come in haste to ask unpleasant questions. "i begs your pardon, madam," he said, hurriedly picking up his hat. "i thinks i'll call again and finish this yere bit o' business. just now i has another matter to attend to." then he hastened out. june had flown to her mother. "tell me--tell me, mother, what it means!" she implored. "my smelling-salts," faintly breathed the woman. "my heart, june! i--i'm afraid!" now, june knew well that the one great fear of her mother's life was sudden death from a heart trouble that came upon her at times, and so the girl hastened to bring out the bottle of salts and hold it beneath the pale lady's nose till she was somewhat recovered, though still resting limp on her chair and breathing heavily. "what does it mean, mother?" asked the girl again. "i do not understand these strange things. i do not understand why such a wicked-looking man should be here in this room and about to shoot down in cold blood a young man in the street. he would have shot him from this very window had not i spoiled his aim." mrs. arlington turned her eyes toward her daughter's face, but looked away quickly, still trembling. "did you know him at whom the man was about to shoot?" she weakly asked. "yes, i knew him, or i am much mistaken. it was frank merriwell. i saw him at the hotel in fardale the day i returned to him those papers. you recollect, mother?" "yes, i remember it all too well, and it was the giving back to him of those papers that has made no end of trouble for us all. but for that foolish act of yours, june, he would not still be holding the mines that are rightfully the property of the c. m. a. of a." "if those mines do not belong to him, how is it that he can hold them?" "he has possession, and he holds it with armed men." "but the law----" "the law is slow, and, without those papers, it is not very sure. it is your folly, girl," declared the woman reproachfully, "that has made no end of trouble. it is your folly that brought frank merriwell near to his end a few moments ago, though you it was who saved him then." "mother, you speak in riddles! how can that be? i gave him back what was his. and have you forgotten that it was his brother, dick, who kept you from slipping beneath the car-wheels, where you must have been maimed or killed?" at this mrs. arlington sat up, and something like anger took from her her great pallor. "no," said she, "nor have i forgotten that it was dick merriwell who brought upon my son all his trouble at fardale! dick merriwell has been his blight there! dick merriwell is his enemy. he has tried to set himself over my boy, and no one shall do that!" june knew how useless it was to talk of this matter with her mother, who refused to listen to reason, and so she did not try to press it further; but she again asked who was the man who had tried to shoot from the window. "he was a miner," said mrs. arlington. "and what business had he here in this room?" "that is nothing to you, girl. forget that you saw him here." "a thing easier said than done, mother. i saw his face and his eyes, and i know he is a wicked man and one to be greatly feared. why should you have dealings with such a wretch?" "you ask too many needless questions, june. look out and tell me if you still see anything of--of--frank merriwell." but when june looked from the window frank merriwell was not to be seen on the street, which had again resumed its usual aspect. "i must have a spell of quiet to restore my nerves, june," said mrs. arlington, when the girl had told her. "leave me. call jackson. i think i will lie down." so the colored maid was called, and june lingered to make sure there was nothing she could do for her mother, who coldly bade her go. in her own room june found herself filled with tempestuous thoughts and vain speculations. she was bewildered by it all, and there was much that she could not understand, for her mother had told her little or nothing of what had brought them to that arizona town. she was wise enough to know full well that the lady had not come there in search of health, and surely it could not be pleasure she expected in such a place, which left but one thing to suppose--it was business. but what sort of business could she have there? and why should she meet and do business with a murderous wretch like the man who had tried to shoot frank merriwell from the open window? knowing there was little danger of interruption, june found pen, ink, and paper and sat herself down to write a letter. she thought at first that she would make it very brief, and she found it exceedingly hard to begin; but when she had begun it, it ran on and on until she had written many pages. sometimes she laughed over it, and sometimes she blushed; once her chin quivered and tears seemed to fill her splendid eyes. when it was all finished she read it over, her cheeks glowing, and at the end she kissed the paper, at which the blush swept down to her very neck, and in great confusion she folded it all hastily and put it into an envelope, which she hurriedly sealed. although she was not aware of it, she had spent nearly two hours over the letter. on the envelope she wrote a name and address, and then, finding her hat, she slipped out to mail it. chapter xxii. a sensation in town. frank's little "scout," as he called it, on which expedition he had driven the redskins from the wounded miner, had convinced him that cimarron bill and his gang had withdrawn from the vicinity of the queen mystery mine. so it came about that merry and bart hodge started for holbrook, bringing with them the gold frank had found in the saddle-bags and belt of the dead miner. boxer would not be left behind. since the death of his former master the dog kept close to frank, for whom he seemed to have formed an affection quite as deep as that he had entertained for benson clark. frank and bart came, dust covered and wearied, into holbrook. boxer's engagement with the mongrel curs, who set upon him, was an incident to enliven their advent in town, and it demonstrated the mettle of the setter. the shot that came from the window of the hotel was somewhat surprising; but, as the bullet failed to pass anywhere near either bart or merry, they did not fancy it was intended for them. still frank dropped a hand toward the pistol swinging at his hip, thinking the lead might be intended for boxer. a puff of smoke was dissolving before the open window, but cimarron bill had vanished, nor did he again appear there. neither frank nor bart had seen him. so they were not greatly alarmed, and they laughed over the manner in which boxer had put his assailants to flight, merriment which was joined in by many of the spectators who had gathered to witness the fight. "good boy, boxer!" said merry. "you did that up slickly." at which the setter turned toward frank and showed his teeth in a grin, and something followed that caused several of the bystanders to gasp and stagger or stand dazed and astounded. when frank and bart rode on two or three of those men hurried into schlitzenheimer's saloon, where one of them banged the bar with his clenched fist, and shouted: "by thunder! that's the first time i ever heard a dog talk! was i dreaming?" "none whatever, pard!" declared another, mopping sweat from his face. "i heard it plain enough. for the love of goodness, fritz, give me a snifter of tanglefoot! i need something to brace my nerves after that!" "vot id vos you peen sayin'?" asked the fat dutchman behind the bar. "vot vos dot voolishness apoudt der talkings uf a tog?" "no foolishness," declared the sweating individual, as whisky and glasses were placed on the bar. "i'll swear to it. the dog that came in with those young gents an' whipped two other dogs in short order sartin made an observation in good, clean united states, or i'm the biggest liar on two legs." "say, benchy!" said the dutchman scornfully, "i pelief you vos readiness to haf anoder attack py dose delerium triangles, ain'd id! uf you vill undertook my advice, you vill off svear alretty soon und safe yourseluf from der snakes some droubles." "this is my first drink to-day," asserted benchy, as he poured with shaking hand; "and i'd not take this if i didn't need it a whole lot to steady my nerves arter hearin' a dog talk." "it's on the level, fritz," assured the man who had banged the bar with his fist. "i heard it myself. the young fellow with the mustache says to the dog arter the dog had licked t'other dogs, says he, 'good boy, boxer; you done that up slick.' then the dog turns about and grins up at him and winks, and he opens his mouth, and i hope i may be struck dead where i stand this minute if he didn't answer and say, 'oh, that was no trick at all, frank; those low-bred curs haven't any sand.' i heard it, fritz, and i'll swear to it with my last breath!" "you vos craziness!" said the dutchman. "oh, you vos drying some jokes on me to play alretty." but now several of the others asserted that they also had heard the dog speak, and that the animal had uttered the very words quoted by the man called spikes. "id peen a put-up jobs!" shouted schlitzenheimer angrily. "uf vor a greadt vool you tookit me, you vos not so much uf a jackass as i look to peen! id vos nod bossible a tog vor to speech, und i vill bate zwi t'ousan' tollar it on!" "but i heard him!" declared benchy. "i'm another!" averred spikes. "we all heard him!" cried the others at the bar. "you got vrom my blace uf pusiness out britty queek!" ordered the dutchman, in a great rage. "i vill not had so many plame liars aroundt! und dond you back come some more alretty undil you vos readiness apology to make vor me drying to vool!" "look here, fritz," said benchy, leaning on the bar, "i'll bet you ten dollars coin of the realm that the dog can talk! if i had been alone in hearing the beast, i might have thought myself fooled; but all these other gents heard him, and so there is no mistake. do you take me?" "den tollars haf nod seen you in a month," declared schlitzenheimer disdainfully. "howeffer, uf you prings pack by you dot tog und he vill speech my saloon in, i vill gif you den tollars my own moneys out uf, and all der drink you can a whole veek vor. now, you tookit my advice und shut upness or make goot britty queek." "i'll do it!" cried benchy, and he hastened forth. frank and bart had proceeded directly to the bank, where their dust was weighed and taken on deposit. this done, they left and sought a square meal in the very hotel where mrs. arlington and june were stopping. fortunately the presence of his guests, who paid extravagantly well, had caused the proprietor to have on hand an unusual stock of cooked food, and he was able to see that the young men from the mines were provided for in a manner that surprised and pleased them not a little. although he took good care to keep out of sight, cimarron bill knew frank merriwell was in the hotel. at the bar of the place bill found a rough, bewhiskered fellow, whom he drew aside. "bob," said bill, in a whisper, "are you ready to tackle a tough proposition?" "for the needful, bill," was the quiet answer of the man, who, in spite of his rough appearance, was known by his mild manner of speech as gentle bob. "what is it?" "you know the young tenderfoot gent what i have been stacking up against--the one what i spoke to you about?" "i reckon." "well, he is now eatin' in the dinin'-room." "sho!" said bob, in placid surprise. "fact," assured bill. "him an' one of his pards is thar. they came inter town together a short time ago. now, i could pick a quarrel with them, and i allows i could shoot 'em both; but it would be knowed agin' me that i had been tryin' to jump their claim, which sartin' would rouse feelin's. in your case, as you were nohow consarned in the raid on the mine, it would be different, an' i 'lows you might find a way o' doin' the job easy an' slick. you kin plead self-defense, an' i promise you there will be plenty o' money to defend ye." "it's the money fer the job i'm a-thinkin' of first, bill," said bob. "a good clean thousan' dollars if you shoots the young gent with the mustache," whispered bill. "do you mean it?" asked bob, looking at him hard. "where does it come from?" "that i allow is none of your business. you has my word that you gets it. and i opine the word o' cimarron bill is knowed to be good." "as his bond," said gentle bob, taking out a brace of pistols and looking them over. "i takes the job, bill; and there sartin will be a funeral in these parts to-morrer." chapter xxiii. boxer creates a stir. when frank and bart came out of the hotel, with boxer at their heels, they found a group of men on the steps engaged in earnest discussion. immediately, on sight of the two young men and the dog, the babel of voices fell to a hush and the men all squared about and stared. but merry immediately noticed that it was not at bart or himself that they were staring, but at boxer. the dog seemed to observe this, likewise, for he stopped short, with one paw uplifted, surveyed the men, and frank, who was a clever ventriloquist, made the animal apparently say: "say, frank, what do you suppose the ginnies are gawking at?" "mother av moses!" cried an irishman in the group. "oi swear be all the saints the baste did spake!" "yah! yah!" chattered a pig-tailed chinaman by the name of sing lee, who ran a laundry in town. "dogee talkee allee samee likee chinyman." "go on, you rat-eater!" contemptuously exclaimed the dog. "if i couldn't talk better than you i'd go drown myself!" needless to say this brought the excitement of the crowd to a high pitch. benchy and spikes were on hand, and now the former appealed to frank. "is that your dog?" he asked. "well, i lay claim to him," smiled merry. "he--he--can he talk?" "didn't you hear him?" "yes, but----" "well, what better evidence do you want than your own ears?" "that's enough; but schlitzenheimer called me names and said i was trying to put up a joke on him because i told him i heard the dog talk." "who's schlitzenheimer?" "he runs the saloon down the street right in front of which your dog whipped those other dogs what jumped on him. he's a black-headed dutchman. come on down and show him the dog." "come on!" cried others. merry didn't mind the lark, but he now turned to the dog, with a very serious expression on his face, saying: "how about it, boxer? i believe you told me you hold an antipathy against dutchmen. will you go down to schlitzenheimer's with me?" the dog seemed to hesitate, and then he answered: "oh, i don't care; go ahead. i'm not stuck on dutchmen, but i'll teach this one a lesson." "all right," said merry. "come on." benchy triumphantly led the way, being followed by frank and bart and the dog, with the crowd at the heels of them. the irishman was protesting his wonderment, while the chinaman chattered excitedly. within the hotel a man had been watching and listening. he was a bewhiskered ruffian, and he strode forth and followed the crowd to the dutchman's saloon. cimarron bill watched his tool depart, smiling darkly and muttering to himself: "good-by, bob! you're going up against a hard proposition in frank merriwell, and it's not likely you'll call to collect that little sum of money from me. all the same, i hope you get in a shot, for you shoot straight, and you may make a round sum for my pocket, as i'll compel the old lady to lay down the cash. i'll be able to scare her into it by threatening to tell the whole story and bring her into the game as an accomplice. that will yank her around to her feet in short order, i opine." for all of bill's reputation as a "killer," he was willing to let this piece of work over to the attention of another. so gentle bob followed merriwell, an evil purpose in his black heart, nor knew that his employer believed and half-hoped he might be going to his own end. benchy burst into the saloon, uttering a cry of triumph. "here comes the dog!" he said. "now i have you, you old duffer! you'll find out he can talk." schlitzenheimer stared at the door, through which the crowd followed frank, and bart, and the dog. "vos dot der tog?" he said. "do you take me for a monkey, you lobster-faced frankfurter?" saucily demanded the dog. "hey?" squawked the saloon-keeper, turning purple. "vot id vos? dit i hear correctness?" "be careful, boxer," said frank reprovingly. "don't be so free with your lip. you may offend the gentleman." "gentleman!" exclaimed the setter, in a tone of profound contempt. "do you call that sourkraut-barrel a gentleman? i'm surprised at you, frank!" at this there was a burst of laughter, and schlitzenheimer turned as red as he had been pale a moment before. "vot vor did dot tog vanted to insult me?" he exclaimed indignantly. "i dit not someding to him do!" "boxer, i'm surprised!" cried frank. "you will get me into trouble with your careless language. i insist that you apologize immediately to the gentleman. i insist, sir!" "oh, very well," said the dog; "if you insist, i'll apologize. i was joking, anyway." "and i add my own apology, mr. schlitzenheimer," said merry. "i hope this will be sufficient?" "oh, yah, dot peen all righdt," said the dutchman at once. "but py dunder! der tickens id does peat to heard a tog dalking!" "it's a good one on you, fritz!" cried benchy triumphantly. "remember your agreement! you're stuck!" "vale, i will stood py dot agreements," said the saloon-keeper, rather reluctantly, "efen if in pusiness id does preak me up. und i vill sdant treat der crowdt vor. sdep up, eferpody, und your trink name." "that's the talk!" cried the dog. "you're not such a bad fellow, schlitzy." schlitzenheimer leaned on the bar with both hands and looked over at boxer. "vot will you haf yourseluf?" he asked. "excuse me," said the setter; "i'm on the water-wagon. go ahead, gentlemen, and don't mind me." so they lined up in front of the bar, expressing their amazement over the accomplishment of the dog and burdening merriwell with questions, all of which frank cheerfully answered or skilfully evaded. boxer had been lifted and placed on one end of the bar, where he immediately sat, surveying the line of men with his clear, intelligent eyes. "hello, mike!" he called to the irishman. "when did you leave the old dart?" "it's goin' on three year now," answered the son of the old sod civilly; "and me name's not moike--it's pat." the dog seemed to wink shrewdly. "it's all the same," he declared; "mike or pat makes no difference, as long as your last name is murphy." "but me last name's not murphy at all, at all--it's o'grady, av yez plaze." "thanks," snickered the dog. "i have it down pat now. it's a way i have of finding out a man's name when no one takes the trouble to introduce him. drink hearty, pat; the whisky'll add to the beautiful tint of your nose." "begorra! it's a divvil the crayther is!" muttered pat, nudging his nearest neighbor. "ah, there, chink!" called the setter, seeming to get his eye on the chinaman, who was staring open-mouthed. "how's the washee-washee business?" "oh, velly good, velly good!" answered the celestial hurriedly, backing off a little, his face yellowish white. "vele," said schlitzenheimer, holding up a glass of beer; "here vos goot health to der smardest tog vot effer vos." "drink hearty," said boxer; and, with the exception of frank and bart, all swallowed their drinks. not wishing anything to drink, and still desiring to join in so that the saloon-keeper might not be offended, frank and bart had taken cigars, which they slipped into their pockets. "dot tog peen der vonder der vorld uf," said schlitzenheimer, gazing admiringly at boxer. "vot vill you soldt him vor?" "there's not enough money in arizona to buy him from me," answered frank at once. "you know a good thing when you see it," chuckled the dog. "vos there anything exception talk vot he can do?" asked fritz. "lots of things," answered merry. "he can play cards." "beenuckle?" asked the dutchman. "you bet! he's a dabster at pinocle." "easy, merry!" cautioned the setter, in a whisper. "if you want to skin the old bologna-sausage out of his shekels, don't puff me up. i can't beat him at his own game." "vale, i pet den tollars you can't dot do!" cried schlitzenheimer. "i nefer vould acknowledgment dot a tog could peat me!" frank sternly turned on boxer. "what do you mean by getting me into such a scrape?" he demanded, shaking his finger at the setter. "you know i never gamble, and i will not bet on a game of cards. if you make any more such foolish talk, i'll not let you play at all." the dog hung his head and looked quite ashamed. "beg pardon," he whined softly. "i was joking again!" "i'll blay der fun uf him vor," said schlitzenheimer. "id vill peen a creat jokes to said i had a came uf beenuckle blayed mit a tog. come on." he hurried out from behind the bar. "begorra! oi'd loike to take a hand in this!" cried pat o'grady, as a square table was drawn out and the cards produced. "it's a shlick game av peenockle oi play." "but three-handed----" said frank. "be afther makin' the fourth yesilf." "i have to hold the cards for boxer, he having no hands of his own," explained merry. then it was that gentle bob stepped forward, saying, in a very quiet voice and polite manner, that he would be pleased to enter the game. now, with the exception of frank and bart, all knew that bob was a very bad man to offend, and so they were willing enough that he should play, and it was soon arranged. frank was keen enough to see in what manner the ruffianly looking fellow with the quiet voice was regarded, and, as he was not in holbrook in search of a quarrel, he raised no dissent. however, he gave hodge a look that bart understood, and the silent youth nodded. from that moment bart watched gentle bob closely. the crowd drew about the table, eager to witness a game of cards in which a dog took part. merry sat on a short bench, with boxer at his side. the cards were cut, and the deal fell to schlitzenheimer. "be careful, dutchy," advised boxer. "we're watching you, and you'd better not try any slick tricks." "eferything on der lefel shall pe," assured the saloon-keeper, pulling at his long pipe. o'grady was likewise smoking, and his pipe contrasted ludicrously with that of schlitzenheimer. when the cards were dealt, it fell the dog's turn to meld first. frank spread out the cards and held them in front of boxer's nose. "i will meld one hundred aces," said the dog. "put 'em down, frank." merry did so. "sixty queens," called boxer, and merry spread them out. "lally ka lolly loka!" chattered sing lee, or something like that; whereupon boxer seemed to fix the chinaman with a scornful stare, and observed: "you ought to take something for that. it must be painful." "gleatee sklot!" gasped the celestial. "dogee hab a debbil!" and he backed away. "that's right," said boxer. "i like you a long distance off, the longer the distance the better i like you." "pay attention to the game," said frank. "are you going to meld anything else?" "forty trumps, twenty spades, and twenty hearts," said boxer. "dunder!" muttered schlitzenheimer, and his hands trembled so that he dropped some of the cards. "get a basket," snickered the dog; and the crowd laughed loudly at the saloon-keeper's expense. when all the melding was finished they prepared to play. "i'll lead the ace of trumps," said boxer. frank ran the cards over. "it's here," he said. "but i didn't see it." "what's the matter with your eyes?" snapped the dog. "didn't i meld one hundred aces? you ought to learn something about this game!" "i seldom play cards," said merry apologetically. "well, you want to keep your eyes open!" exclaimed boxer sharply. "these chaps may try to skin us." at this gentle bob looked up and said: "i do not mind a little faking none whatever, but i sure objects to being called a skin, either by a dog or his master, so i opine it will be best for somebody to apologize." and, as he made this remark, he suddenly whipped forth a pistol, with which he covered both frank and the dog, but held the weapon more in merry's direction. cimarron bill's tool had found the opportunity he sought, and he meant to make the most of it. merry saw in the fellow's eyes the full extent of his evil purpose. "if the apology is not forthcoming instanter," murmured the ruffian, "i shall puncture the wonderful talking dog with a bullet!" now, it seemed that bob had frank at a great disadvantage, but at this point bart hodge shoved the muzzle of a pistol against the fellow's ear and harshly commanded: "put up that gun--instanter! if you don't i'll blow the whole top of your head off!" but bart had made a miscalculation, for gentle bob had not come alone to the saloon, having noted well that frank merriwell had a friend. he had picked up a chap of his own sort, and now this fellow had a gun at bart's head. "you're the one who'll lose the ruff o' his head!" he said. "you put up your gun!" gentle bob still sat pistol in hand, but boxer had taken advantage of an opportunity to drop down from the bench to the floor. of a sudden there came a wild yell from bob, who kicked out with his feet and flung himself backward, his pistol being discharged straight up at the ceiling. boxer had seized him by the leg beneath the table. instantly there was a fearful uproar in the saloon. the action of the dog had disconcerted the plans of every one. hodge ducked and whirled, catching the ruffian at his back a fearful blow on the solar plexus that drove him slam against the bar, and he went down and "out." merry went across the table in a leap at gentle bob, from whom he tore the revolver that the fellow was trying to use on boxer. "let up, boy," said frank to the dog. "i'll attend to his case." boxer seemed reluctant to let go, but he did so at the second command. merriwell pinned bob down and deftly disarmed him, removing every weapon, which he passed over to schlitzenheimer. "take care of these tools, sir," he said, "until i leave town. it will save this fellow's life--perhaps." "und dot vill peen a pity!" muttered the saloon-keeper, who had no love for the ruffian, but held him in great awe. having disarmed bob, merry rose and commanded him to get up. the fellow rose immediately and sprang at frank, trying to strike him. boxer would have mingled in, but bart held him in check, saying: "keep out of it. frank can attend to that case now without any of your aid." hodge was not mistaken, as merriwell quickly demonstrated. he avoided the blows of the ruffian and quickly knocked him down. bob rose, only to be struck in the eye and sent to the floor again. four times this happened, and then merry picked the wretch up, carried him bodily to the door, and kicked him into the street, observing: "if you come back here or bother me again, i'll send you to the hospital for a month!" and the dog barked with great satisfaction. chapter xxiv. boxer to the rescue. the second ruffian was ejected, and frank and the talking dog were regarded with unbounded admiration by every one present. "i neffer haf seen shentle pob done upness pefore," remarked schlitzenheimer. "he vos a pad man." "you bettee!" put in sing lee, who crept forth from behind a barrel, where he had taken refuge during the encounter. "him velly bad. him shootee, stabbee, killee." "an' so he will," nodded pat o'grady, seeming quite concerned. "it's me opinion he wur lookin' fer throuble whin he came here." "well, he found it," smiled merry. "that's what!" said boxer, wagging his tail and looking up at frank knowingly. "but he tasted disagreeable. you don't suppose it will make me sick, do you?" frank stooped and patted the dog's head. "i hope not," he laughed. "you got hold of his leg just in time, old boy." "oh, i didn't dally when i saw him throw his gun out," said boxer, winking rapidly with both eyes. "i allowed he was going to begin shooting directly." "uf you vould tookit my device," said schlitzenheimer, "you couldt out uf dis town get a hurriness indo." "thot's roight," nodded o'grady. "it's moighty dangerous to remain after this, oi know." "pob vill got vor heemseluf another gun, und he vill look vor you on der sdreet," declared the saloon-keeper. "well, he may find us, eh, boxer?" smiled frank. "sure thing," said the dog. "and i reckon you can shoot as quick and as straight as he can." schlitzenheimer shook his head and averred that bob was the greatest pistol-shot known in those parts, which, however, did not seem to alarm frank merriwell in the least. suddenly there came a scream from the street, the voice being that of a girl, and the sound indicating that she was in great fear and distress. frank sprang to the open door, boxer barking at his heels, and hodge was not slow in following. the cry had issued from the lips of june arlington, who was then on her way to the post-office to mail the letter she had written, not wishing her mother to see it. june had arrived in the vicinity of the saloon as gentle bob was turning away. she noted that the man's face was cut and bruised and one eye was swollen. his appearance led her to look at him with something like sympathy, when, of a sudden, he turned on her, smiling evilly, and seized her arm. "derned ef you ain't a right peert gal!" said the fellow insolently. "gimme a kiss, sweetness." then june screamed and tried to break away, striking at him with her clenched fist. she was frightened and angry. "stop yer squarmin'!" snarled the fellow, who had thought to kiss her quickly before she could make much resistance, and then hasten along, it being his intention to boast of what he had done. but june would not stop. she saw a tall, athletic young man come bounding through an open doorway into the street, followed closely by a dog and another young man. her eyes recognized the one in advance, and she cried out: "mr. merriwell, help--help, quick!" with a growl of rage, gentle bob released her and turned. as he did so, the dog, terrible in his fury, shot past frank, and made a great spring through the air straight at bob's throat. bob threw up his arm, and the teeth of the dog fastened on it. the force of the creature's leap hurled the ruffian backward. the man went down in the dust, and boxer was at him with all the fury of a mad animal. he would have torn the wretch to pieces right before their eyes, but frank fearlessly grasped the dog and pulled him away, at the same time crying commandingly to him. "keep him off!" palpitated bob, now filled with a great terror for the fierce animal. "don't let him touch me ag'in! he's near bit me to pieces now!" "you got just what you deserved, and no more, you miserable creature!" said frank indignantly. then he turned and asked june what bob had been doing. "oh, he grasped me, and he tried to kiss me!" "did he!" grated merry, very white. "then i should have let boxer finish him!" "no, no!" gasped june. "no, no!" exclaimed bob. "on your knees!" cried frank, in ringing tones--"on your knees and apologize to the young lady! if you don't do it, so help me, i'll let boxer get at you again!" bob did not hesitate. ruffian and desperado though he was reputed to be, he cast himself on his knees before june and humbly begged her pardon, all the while watching boxer, who glared back at him and licked his chops. "get up and go, you pitiful coward!" said frank. "keep out of my sight while i'm in town, and be careful not to try any dirty tricks. if you hurt me, boxer will eat you up; if you hurt boxer, i'll have your life! go!" the wretch lost not a moment in getting away. frank stooped and picked up the letter june had dropped. he was restoring it to her when his eye caught the address upon it, and he stared in astonishment. "mr. richard merriwell, "fardale." that was the name and address he read. then he looked closely at june and recognized her. "miss arlington?" he exclaimed, his hat in his hand; "is it possible?" the color was coming back into her cheeks. "mr. merriwell," she said, "let me thank you for coming so quickly to my assistance." "it was boxer who got there first. but i'm amazed to see you here--here in arizona." "i don't doubt it." "what brings you to this place?" "i came with my mother." "your--your mother?" he said, still further astonished. "and your father--he is here, also?" "no, sir." "he is coming?" "no, sir, i believe not." merry had thought at once that there might be a very good reason why d. roscoe arlington should come to holbrook to learn just how well the hired ruffians of the syndicate had performed their tasks, but the presence there of mrs. arlington and june, without d. roscoe, rather bewildered him. june looked back toward the hotel windows, thinking it must be that her mother had heard her cry and would be looking forth; but was relieved to see nothing of the lady. "you were on your way to mail this letter?" said frank, divining her destination. "yes." "may i accompany you, to make sure you are not molested further?" she accepted his escort. bart had lingered near, and frank presented him. "an old school and college chum, miss arlington," he said, "and one of my closest friends." bart lifted his hat and bowed, smiling a bit on the pretty girl. in his way, which was dark and silent, he was almost every bit as handsome as frank himself, and it is no cause of wonderment that june could not wholly repress the flash of admiration that came into her splendid eyes. on his part, bart was quite smitten with her, and he stood watching frank walk away at her side, boxer following, smiling without envy, yet thinking his friend fortunate to have the company of such a charming girl for even a brief time in that part of the country. frank found himself somewhat embarrassed, not a little to his surprise, as he walked down the street with june. the girl was the daughter of the man who was doing his best to bring upon merriwell complete ruin--or seemed to be doing his best to that end, for frank could not know that all his trouble at the queen mystery had not risen directly from d. roscoe arlington. much less did he suspect that any great part of it came without mr. arlington's knowledge and through the vengeful malice of mrs. arlington. it was not agreeable to speak of this matter with june, and still in his heart merry was more than eager to know what had brought the girl to holbrook. he had not forgotten that it was the hand of june that had restored to him the precious papers relating to the mines when those papers had been stolen from him in fardale, a service for which he remained grateful. further than this, frank had learned that dick had a deep interest in june--so deep, indeed, that the boy himself did not quite suspect its measure. merry had been able to read his brother, and his good sense told him beyond question that never would dick hold his hand from the person of his most persistent enemy simply because that enemy's sister thus entreated him, unless there was back of it all a feeling of affection for the sister that was of no small magnitude. that june cared something for dick, merry more than half-suspected, and the sight of the name on the letter she now carried in her hand seemed very good evidence that this was not false fancy on his part, for did she not care for the lad far away in fardale, then why should she write to him? it was june herself who relieved frank's embarrassment by earnestly turning to him and beginning speech. "mr. merriwell," she said, with such a sober face that he was greatly surprised, "i have wanted to see you since you came into town." "then you knew i had entered town?" "i saw you; and i have wanted to speak with you to warn you." "to warn me?" said frank. "of what?" "of your great danger, for you are in danger here. you have in this town a man who would kill you." "i think we lately parted from such a man," smiled merry. "but he is not the one." "is there another?" "oh, yes! i saw him! perhaps i saved your life." at this frank gave a great start of surprise and asked her how that could be, upon which she told him how cimarron bill had shot at him from the window, and how she had spoiled the aim of the would-be murderer. she held back the fact that the man had fired from one of the windows of her mother's rooms, and that her mother had shortly before been in consultation with him. still frank was keen enough to see that she was hiding something, and he had the good discernment to come close to guessing the truth. "miss arlington," he said, "it seems that i owe you my life. i heard the shot, but i could not be sure it was fired at me. if i mistake not, the man who fired it has a deadly aim, and i could not have escaped but for your quickness in spoiling his sight. i owe you a great deal more than i can ever repay." june knew something of the truth, and she was aware that her father was concerned in a movement the accomplishment of which meant ruin to both frank and dick; therefore this acknowledgment by frank of his indebtedness to her caused her to flush with shame. "it is i who owe you a great deal!" she exclaimed. "see what you have just done--saved me from a ruffian! but your brother--dick--he did more. he saved me once from the fangs of furious dogs, at another time from being killed in a runaway, and that is not all. it is i who owe you much more than i can ever repay. my brother"--she choked a little--"my brother is dick's enemy, yet, for a promise to me, dick has been easy with him and has not forced him in disgrace from fardale. oh, mr. merriwell!" she suddenly exclaimed, feeling her utter inability to express herself, "it seems to me that never before was a girl placed in such a position as i find myself in! what can i do?" "you can do nothing, miss june," he said gently. "you are not to blame for anything that may happen, and i shall not forget that. i am very sorry for you, as i fancy you must be far from comfortable." at this her pride returned, and she straightened, thinking she could not acknowledge to him that her people were in the wrong. "you know there is always two sides to any question," she said, "and there may be as much of right on one side as the other. i presume my father has every reason to think himself right." now, june knew that it was her mother who hated dick and frank with undying intensity, while her father cared very little about either of the merriwells, save that he had been led to wonder immoderately at the success of frank in fighting the syndicate; but she wished to avoid the shame of confessing that her mother had such a vengeful nature and could enter with vindictiveness into an affair that might well be left to men. frank had no desire to hurt her feelings. he understood her pride and sensitiveness, and he said: "it is very likely you are correct about that. at any rate, we will not argue it. it is no matter for us to speak of, as what we might say would not change the situation in the least. still, if i should become satisfied that your father had the right in this thing, even though it stripped me of my last dollar and made me a beggar, i would surrender to him immediately." she did not doubt him then, and she saw that the character of frank merriwell was one to be admired, his one concern being for perfect and complete justice, even though by justice he might be the sufferer. inwardly she was struck with the conviction that her father seldom made inquiry into the justice of any project he wished to carry through, his one concern being to accomplish his ends by any method whatever, so long as it did not involve him in difficulties of a nature too serious. "mr. merriwell," she said quickly, "you must leave holbrook just as soon as you can!" "why?" "the man who tried to shoot you is here--the man with the wicked face and evil eyes." "i am not given to running away from one man." "it's not that. he is an assassin! see how he tried to kill you without giving you a show! you don't know what moment he may try it again. if he were to meet you face to face it would be different. you cannot defend yourself from attacks in the dark. you have no show." "well, there is some truth in that," smiled merry. "he will attack you that way again. i know it! he will strike at you from behind." "possibly." "you must go! you must leave holbrook before dark!" "i hardly fancy it," muttered frank, frowning. "i do not like the notion. it leaves an unpleasant taste in my mouth to think of running away from cimarron bill." for, although june had not mentioned the ruffian by name, not knowing it herself, her description of him had satisfied frank that it could be no other than the baffled scoundrel who had twice attempted to seize the queen mystery mine. "but you will go?" she urged. "i'll think of it." they had reached the post-office and were now standing in front of the building. bart hodge was sauntering slowly in their direction on the opposite side of the street, having kept within easy pistol-shot of frank all the while. frank's words did not satisfy june. he saw she was in distress. "if you will not go for your own sake," she said, "please do for mine." he looked astonished. "for your sake?" he said. "why, i had not an idea in the world that it could be of so much concern to you. i'm afraid i do not understand why it should be. now, if dick----" she stopped him with a gesture, her face flushing very warm. "don't!" she entreated, in a low voice. "at least, you are his own brother! but it is for my sake more than yours. i cannot explain. do not embarrass me! but promise me you will go--for my sake!" having a quick perception, frank suddenly fancied he caught an inkling of the truth. in that moment he saw mrs. arlington dealing with cimarron bill. it was a conjecture, but it struck him hard as the truth. this, then, was the reason why june wished him to flee from holbrook. she feared that her mother somehow would become involved in the murder in case cimarron bill should carry into execution his dastardly purpose. of course, it was not possible for him to be sure he had struck upon the truth. "it is hard for me to refuse a girl when she corners me like this," he smiled. "you'll go?" persisted june. "if you insist." "oh, thank you--thank you! i shall not breathe easy until i know you are well out of this dreadful place." "and i shall not breathe easy as long as i know you remain here, where you may become subject to such insults as to-day happened. it is no place for you at the present time. holbrook is well enough in its way; but you are too pretty to walk its streets without an escort. western gentlemen are gentlemen in every sense of the word, and no man can hold the honor of a lady more sacred; but western ruffians are dangerous, and it seems there are several of the latter class in this place." "i must remain while mother stays here; i must stay with her." the letter was dropped in the post-office, and june urged frank to depart at once; but he insisted on escorting her back to the hotel. boxer kept close to their heels, seeming to listen to their conversation at times; but, strange though it may appear, he made no attempt to take part in it, nor did he speak as much as one word during all the time that he seemed neglected by his master. frank made a sign to bart, who crossed the street and joined them. "i have decided to leave town right away," said merry. "have the horses saddled and prepared. we'll start as soon as i have escorted miss arlington back to the hotel." hodge looked surprised. "the horses are in no condition, frank," he said. "you know they are in sore need of a good rest." "i know it, bart; but i have a reason for this. we'll go. get them ready, please." "all right," said bart, as he turned away to carry out instructions. chapter xxv. unto death! the sun was down in the west and night was gathering over the face of the world when frank and bart rode forth from holbrook, setting their faces to the southwest. boxer trotted behind them. they were not molested, although frank remained in constant expectation of an attack until they were fairly clear of the place and had it a long rifle-shot at their backs. the blue night grew upon the distant plain, and the stars were coming forth over their heads as they rode down into the distance, the beating hoofs of the ponies making rhythm on the baked ground. the first cool breath of night touched their heated cheeks with grateful kisses. "how did you happen to do it, frank?" asked bart. "i found out a thing or two," merry answered. "cimarron bill is in town, and he was watching his chance to get another shot at me." "another?" exclaimed bart; upon which merry explained how bill had fired at him already. "it was rather dangerous to stay there, and i couldn't resist when a pretty girl took enough interest in me to urge me to get away," frank laughed. "we had some sport with our talking dog, and now----" "you can't mean to ride far?" "remember the hut we passed on the way into town? it's not very far. we'll stop there to-night." "good!" said bart; and they rode on. coming to the deserted hut, they stopped there. the horses were cared for, and frank and bart entered the hut with their blankets, where they prepared to sleep until toward morning, planning to rise before daybreak and get an early start, so that some distance could be covered ere the sun rose. both of the young men were weary, and they lost little time in drawing their blankets about them and rolling on the floor. boxer curled in a corner and went to sleep. the door of the hut was left open to admit the cool night air. frank fell asleep at once, and bart was not slow in following his example. they were awakened in the middle of the night by a snarl, a cry, a struggle, and a fall. both sat up, grasping their weapons. the moon was up, and by its light, which streamed in at the wide-open door, a man and a dog were seen struggling on the floor. the dog was boxer, who had leaped at the throat of the man as he came slipping in at the open door. "great scott!" exclaimed hodge. "what's the meaning of this?" "one of my friends has arrived," said frank. "boxer has him." the struggle was fierce and terrible. the dog seemed to have the man by the throat. before either merry or hodge could interfere the moonlight glinted on something bright in the hand of the man, who struck and struck again. not a sound came from the dog. but the bright thing in the man's hand grew suddenly dark. "heavens!" gasped frank, leaping forward. "he has a knife!" then a terrible sound came from the throat of the man, and he lifted his arm no more. the thing in his hand, dark and dripping, fell to the floor of the hut. a moment later the man rolled into the shadow, and then boxer was seen dragging himself away, while the man lay still. "boxer! boxer!" cried frank, bending over the dog. "are you hurt, boy? merciful goodness! he ripped your whole side open with that knife!" hodge struck a light and bent over the man who lay in the shadow. when the match burned out in his fingers he dropped it and stepped out to join merriwell, who had picked up the dog and carried the creature into the open air. bart found merry sitting on the ground, with the dog in his arms. boxer had been cut in a terrible manner, and was bleeding in a way that plainly told his end was near. "oh, the wretch!" choked merry, in a husky voice. "oh, the wretch who did this! he ought to be hanged!" "no need of hanging for him," said hodge. "he'll be beyond that in less than three minutes." "you mean----" "he's pretty near dead now. boxer's teeth found his jugular vein." "who was it, bart?" "the fellow who made the row in schlitzenheimer's saloon." "gentle bob?" "yes." "one of cimarron bill's hired tools, or i am mistaken! he followed us here and tried to creep in on us with that knife, meaning to finish the job at which he failed in town. boxer saved us. good old boxer! poor old boxer!" the dog whined a little on hearing this name from frank's lip's, and feebly wagged his tail. the moonlight showed his eyes turned toward merry's face. "is it so bad there's no show for him?" asked hodge, in genuine distress. "no show!" sobbed frank. "he's finished, bart! it's a shame! the most knowing dog in the whole world! and he has to die like this, killed by a human being that is more of a beast than he!" "it's a shame!" said bart. the dog licked frank's hand. merry bowed his head, and tears started from his eyes. "poor boxer!" he choked. "boxer, we have to part here. you're going to another country, where i must follow in time. it's all up with you. you may find your first master over there; but he'll never love you more than i have. good-by, boxer!" the dog uttered a whine. and so his life ended in frank's arms, with the moonlight falling on them and the stillness of the arizona night all around. hodge entered the hut, only to come forth, bringing the blankets and looking very sick. "for heaven's sake, let's get away from here!" he exclaimed. "the man in there?" "dead!" said bart. "the place is gory! i'm faint from it!" boxer's body was wrapped in a blanket, and they mounted and rode away, frank carrying the dead dog in his arms to find a burial place where there could be no chance that his body should be exhumed by any prowling thing of the desert. chapter xxvi. the coming of crowfoot. rap! rap! rap! "wait a minute!" called frank. "no need to knock the door down!" he flung the door of his cabin wide open, standing on the threshold. it was early dawn in mystery valley. sunrise was beginning to gild the barren peaks of the mogollons. the new day had come to its birth in a splendid glow, and the world smiled refreshed after the cooling sleep of the departed night. frank was just risen and not yet fully dressed, but about his waist was his cartridge-belt, and his pistol swung ready in the holster at his hip. he had no use for the weapon, however. outside the door stood old joe crowfoot, his blanket drawn about his shoulders. those keen eyes gazed on merry with an expression of friendly greeting. with a shout of surprise and joy, frank clasped the old redskin in his arms in the most affectionate manner. "old joe crowfoot, as i live!" he cried, showing unusual excitement and delight. "why, you old reprobate, here you come popping back from the grave after i've been mourning you as dead! what do you mean by it, you villain?" "ugh!" grunted old joe, something like a merry twinkle in those beady eyes. "strong heart him think crowfoot dead, eh?" "hang me if i didn't!" "crowfoot him heap tough; no die easy," declared the indian. "i should say not! why, you tricky scoundrel, they told me you were done for." "who tell so?" "some of cimarron bill's delectable gang. they averred they had disposed of you for good and all." "waugh! no let such cheap carrion kill me!" said joe. "they mebbe think some they do it. joe he fool um heap lot." "but where have you been?" "oh, all away round," was the answer, with a wide sweep of the arm. "joe him scout--him find out how land lay. do a little biz." "do business? what sort of business?" "catch the sucker some." "catch the sucker? what's that?" the redskin flung open his dirty red blanket and tapped a fat belt about his waist, which gave back a musical clink. "play the game of poke'," he exclaimed. "make heap plenty mon'." "you've been gambling again?" "strong heart him guess," nodded joe, with something like a sly smile. "you villain! and i'll wager you got away with your ill-gotten spoils." "heap do so," said joe. "have some firewater. find one, two, three, four crooked paleface follow to kill and rob. let firewater 'lone till fool crooked palefaces so um no follow some more. then go safe place drink firewater a heap." "you've been drunk, too!" cried merry. "mebbe so," admitted the indian. "white man firewater heap good while um last; heap bad when um gone. make um feel much glad at first, then much sorry little time after." frank laughed heartily at the queer manner of the old indian as he said this. "i suppose that's about right," he said. "i've never tried it to find out." "strong heart him no try firewater?" exclaimed joe, in surprise. "crowfoot him think all paleface drink the firewater." "well, here is one who doesn't. i've seen too much trouble come from the stuff." "ugh! strong heart him got heap more sense than anybody joe ever see," asserted the indian admiringly. "once git taste of firewater, always be heap fool and drink him some. many times old joe he say no drink some more. head all swell, middle all sick, mouth all dry, taste nasty a lot, bone ache--then him say no more the firewater. mebbe he go 'long some time, but bimeby he take it some more. white man make firewater. bad! bad! bad! no firewater made, nobody drink it." from inside the cabin a voice called. "what, ho! methinks thou hast found a philosopher, merry! bring the sage in that i may survey him with my heavenly blue eyes." "yes, dew!" drawled another voice. "i want to set my eyes onter him, by gum!" merry led the old indian into the cabin. "here he is," merry laughed. "crowfoot, these are some of my friends, whom you met last summer. you remember them. they played ball with me in the mad river country." "ugh!" grunted the redskin. "heap remember!" bart hodge stepped forward, his hand outstretched to the indian. "i am glad to see you again, crowfoot," he said. "me same," said joe, shaking bart's hand. "you heap good to ketch hard ball when strong heart him make it go fast like a bullet and man with stick he--whish!--strike at it so, no hit it at all." they all laughed at the indian's manner of describing bart's skill at catching. "consarned if it ain't a sight fer sore eyes to see ye, mr. crowfoot!" said ephraim gallup, as he froze to the redskin's hand and shook it warmly. "yeou was the best mascot a baseball-team ever hed." "how! how!" said the old fellow. "nose talk him stand way out far, ketch ball when it come there. how! how!" "nose talk!" laughed frank. "well, that's one on you, gallup!" jack ready was smiling blandly. he gave his hand a little flirt in salute, and stepped forward with an odd movement. "gaze on my classic features, joseph crowfoot, esquire," he invited. "see if you can recollect what i did in the game." "sure remember," nodded crowfoot. "talk-talk a heap, no do much else." then the joke was on jack, and even bart hodge was forced to smile, while gallup gave ready a resounding smack on the shoulder with his open hand. "bless my punkins!" snickered the vermonter. "that's a thunderin' good one on you, jack!" ready looked sad. "alas!" he sighed. "is it thus i am to be defamed! and by a copper-colored aborigine! the thought is gall to my sensitive soul! i shall peek and pine over it! for days to come no sweet smile shall adorn my beautiful features!" joe looked puzzled. "no say something bad," he declared. "when red cheek him talk-talk a heap lot other man that throw ball he got a lot mixed, no make good pitch. red cheek him help win game a heap." jack's face cleared at once. "crowfoot, you have poured soothing balm on my wounded heart!" he cried. "i'm glad to know that i do amount to something, for, so help me! of late i have begun to wonder what i was made for!" "sit down, joe," invited frank. "we're going to have breakfast in a short time, and you are to eat with us." "ugh!" said the indian, disdaining a chair and sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. "joe him do so. him a heap empty. mebbe after him eat him tell strong heart something much good to hear." when breakfast was over the old indian lighted his rank pipe and smoked contentedly, still sitting on the floor, with his back against the wall. through the open door came the sounds of work at the mine. frank was not yet running the mine day and night, with shifts of men, but it was his intention to do so later. smoke was rising from the high pipe of the stamp-mill, and soon the stamps began to rumble and roar, awaking the echoes of the valley. the sound was a pleasant one in merriwell's ears. "this running a mine in arizona is a snap," said jack ready, as he elevated his feet to the top of the table, in which the breakfast-dishes and remnants of the meal remained. "the hardest part of it seems to be washing the dishes. it's gallup's turn this morning." "not by a thuttering sight!" exclaimed ephraim. "yeou can't shoulder that onter me! you've gotter wash the dishes to-day. i done it yisterday." "is it possible!" cried jack. "why, i thought it was day before yesterday, or, perchance, the day before that. alas, how time flies--tempus fugit!" "now, don't go to springin' any latin on us!" growled gallup. "you never learned enough latin to hurt ye, an' ye don't want to try to show off." "behold how the green-eyed monster turneth a friend into a critic!" said jack. "you can attend to the dishes later," said frank. "just now i am anxious to hear the good news crowfoot said he might have to tell. what is it, joe?" "some time little while 'go, few days, you be in holbrook?" questioned the indian, pulling away at his pipe. "yes, i was there--hodge and myself." "joe him been there since." "and you bring good news from that place?" "heap good to strong heart. in holbrook him find white woman who hate him a lot, eh? white woman she is the squaw of man who make for strong heart big trouble 'bout mine." "you mean mrs. arlington?" "ugh! mebbe that her name." "that is it. she is in holbrook, or was a few days ago." "she hate strong heart a heap." "i reckon she does," nodded frank, wondering how the old redskin found out so much. "she come to get bad men to take mine." "possibly that is right." "joe him know it. she make much business with cim'run bill." "that i suspected, although i did not find it out for a certainty while in holbrook." "it so." "go on." "she give bill heap much mon' to buy bad men to take from strong heart the mine." "is that so?" "waugh! joe him find out. joe he play sharp; he listen." "crowfoot, you're as good as a detective." "no know 'bout that. find out white squaw she hate strong heart, then try to find out more. now squaw she heap sorry she come to holbrook." "she is sorry?" "heap so." "why?" "she have papoose girl with her--young squaw." "her daughter june." "ugh! now she no have young squaw." "what's that? what do you mean by that. what has become of june?" "you tell," said joe, with a strange gesture. "she gone. old squaw tear hair, tear run from her eye, she make a loud weep. ha! now you hear good news, strong heart! now you know your enemy have the great sorrow! that make your heart much glad!" but frank was on his feet now, his face rather pale and a look of excitement in his eyes. "see here, crowfoot," he said, "do you mean to tell me that june arlington has disappeared and that her mother does not know what has become of her?" joe nodded. "laugh!" he said. "laugh, strong heart!" but frank did not laugh; instead, to the wonderment of the indian, he betrayed both consternation and dismay. "are you sure of this, joe?" he demanded. "how long had the girl been missing when you left holbrook?" "the sun had slept once." "by which you mean that one night had passed?" "ugh!" "then this is serious, indeed! something most unfortunate has happened, or june arlington would not be missing overnight. boys, prepare at once to start for holbrook! get ready to mount and ride as fast as horseflesh can carry us; we'll start at the earliest moment possible!" crowfoot arose, a look of wonderment in his dark eyes. he reached out and grasped frank's arm. "what would strong heart do?" he asked. "i'm going to holbrook hotfoot," was the answer. "i'm going to find out, if possible, what has happened to june arlington, and i shall do my best to return her to her mother, if she has not already returned when i reach there." the redskin's hand dropped from merriwell's arm and the old fellow stared at the white man in uncomprehending amazement. "why so?" he asked. "paleface squaw she hate you, she is your enemy. now she have something to think a heap of, and no time to make trouble for strong heart. he should have a great happiness that it is so. why does he hurry to the bad white squaw? is it to laugh at her? is it to see her weep and cry?" "no, crowfoot; it is to find out, if possible, what has happened to the girl, just as i said a moment ago, and to return her to her mother." the indian shook his head. "waugh! no understand!" he declared. "strong heart him much strange." "joe, will you go with us? you shall have a good horse. i may need your aid. will you go?" "joe him go. no understand; him go, all same." "then hustle, fellows!" cried frank. "we'll be off soon!" he rushed from the cabin. chapter xxvii. arrested in holbrook. another morning was dawning when five weary horses bore five persons into the town of holbrook. the animals had been pushed to the utmost, and the riders showed signs of deep fatigue. the dust of the desert lay white upon men and beasts. at the head of the party rode frank merriwell, showing of them all the least weariness, his lips pressed together with an expression of grim determination. bart, jack, and ephraim were behind, with old joe bringing up the rear. straight to the hotel they went, where frank learned immediately that mrs. arlington was still there, and he also found out that she was very ill, having been completely prostrated by the vanishing of june, who was still missing. when frank asked to see the woman he was told that the doctor attending her had said no one was to see her without his permission. "then i must see that doctor in a hurry," merry declared. "where can i find him?" he was directed and hastened to the home of the doctor, who proved to be a red-faced, pompous little fellow. "impossible to see the lady," declared the doctor. "she has heart trouble, and it might prove fatal. i cannot permit it." "see here, doctor," said frank, "i have ridden a right good distance to see her, having heard of the disappearance of her daughter june. i have come to see what i can do about tracing the missing girl and restoring her to her mother. to start the work right, i should have an interview with the lady." "hum! hum!" coughed the doctor. "i don't know about it." he shook his head, but merriwell caught his eye and continued to talk earnestly until the man gradually ceased his opposition. "i'm afraid it's not just the wisest thing," he said. "but still it is anxiety over her daughter that has brought her to this pitiful condition. if you can do anything to relieve that anxiety, it may be better than medicine. but you must take care not to excite her more than possible." this frank readily promised, and they set out for the hotel. having ascended to the rooms occupied by mrs. arlington and those she had brought with her, the doctor entered first, being admitted by the faithful colored maid. in a few moments he came out and said: "i forgot to ask your name, but mrs. arlington says she will see you. come in." frank followed the doctor into the room. mrs. arlington, partly dressed, was reclining on a couch, propped up amid cushions. she was very pale and showed signs of great worriment and grief. the moment her eyes rested on frank, who came forward, hat in hand, she gave a great cry and started up. the doctor hurried to her side, cautioning her against becoming excited, but she appeared to heed him not in the least. "you?" she cried, pointing at frank. "you have dared to come here?" merry bowed. "i know of no reason why i should not come here," he said. "i have heard of your misfortune, and----" "wretch!" the woman panted, glaring at him. "how dare you! i'll have you arrested at once!" frank was surprised by this reception, but he kept his composure, although he was struck by a thought that the woman must be mad. "why should you have me arrested?" he asked. "for defending my property? i scarcely think you will do that, madam!" "you--you scoundrel!" panted mrs. arlington, pointing at him. "where is my daughter? you shall never leave this place until you restore her to me!" this did stagger merry somewhat. "mrs. arlington," he said, "i have come to offer my services in searching for your daughter. if i can be of any assistance----" "you--you lured her away!" declared the shaking woman. "you were seen talking with her on the street. is this the way you defend your property? i know your game! you mean to make me promise to drop the battle against you, on which condition you will restore june to me! i have been told that you would try that trick! but i am ready for you, and you shall be arrested immediately. you have walked into the trap!" "my dear woman," said merry quietly, "you never were more mistaken in all your life. i know absolutely nothing of the whereabouts of your daughter; but i fancied you might be able to tell me something that would serve as a clue in the search for her." "don't tell me that! i have sense enough to know you would not offer to help me find her!" startled by the sound of mrs. arlington's excited voice, eliot dodge, her agent, who was in an adjoining room, now entered quickly. when he saw merriwell he stopped short. frank had met dodge once in denver, at which time the man with the blue nose had made him an offer in behalf of the mining syndicate for the san pablo and queen mystery mines, an offer that merry had scornfully declined. now frank recognized the crafty fox of a lawyer at once. "so you are here, dodge?" he said. "and i fancy you are behind some of the doings that have been going on in this region of late." dodge puckered up his mouth and tried to look at the young man with something like contempt, although the effort was a failure. "yes, i am here," he said, in his raspy voice; "and i fancy it is a pretty good thing for mrs. arlington that i am. i have been able to show her the inwardness of this last move of yours." "then you are the one who has filled her mind with the idea that i know something of the whereabouts of miss arlington? well, dodge, i know you are not a fool, and, therefore, i must conclude at once that you have some rascally reason for giving her such an impression. be careful, sir, that you do not make a false step! in this part of the country it is very dangerous. down here men are sometimes lynched for rascality." "don't you dare threaten me!" fumed dodge, shaking his fist at frank. "there is a warrant out for your arrest, and you'll find that the end of your career is pretty near." frank smiled derisively. "you remind me of a snapping cur, dodge," he observed; then he turned from the man, as if not deigning to waste further words on him. "mrs. arlington," he said earnestly, "i assure you on my honor that i have come to you with the most friendly intentions. i assure you that i have ridden more than one hundred miles for the purpose of offering my services in the search for your daughter. you may not believe me, but it is the simple truth. you have received me in a manner most disheartening; but i understand that your nervous condition must be the excuse. "i am not your enemy. i do not wish to fight you. i am fighting the consolidated mining association of america. i would not like to think that i have a woman among my enemies, who have hired murderers and ruffians to try to seize my property! such a thought is most distasteful to me. i have had the pleasure of meeting your daughter, and i found her a most charming girl. i was interested in her. when i learned that she had disappeared i lost not a moment in gathering a few friends and starting for this place. we have covered the ground as fast as possible, taking the heat into consideration. if any one has told you that i am even remotely connected with the disappearance of miss june that person has lied to you and deceived you. if you will give me a little aid, i shall exert myself to the utmost to restore june to your arms. that is all i have to say." she heard him through with impatience. frank saw before he had finished that her mind was set and that he had wasted his breath. "like your brother," said the woman passionately, "you are a scoundrel! like him, you assume the airs of a gentleman. i know your tricks, and i am not deceived. you have been told that there is a warrant out for your arrest. it is true--and here is the officer to serve it!" behind merry there was a heavy step. he turned and found himself face to face with a plain, quiet-looking man, who promptly said: "are you frank merriwell?" "i am." "then let me tell you that i am ben file, city marshal of holbrook, and you are my prisoner! if you try to pull a gun, i'll shoot you in your tracks!" frank showed his nerve then. he did not even change color, although the arrest had fallen upon him so suddenly. "your words are plain enough, sir," he said. "there is no reason why i should provoke you into shooting me, as i have nothing to fear from arrest." "i have been led to understand that you are a very dangerous character," said file, looking merry over in some surprise. "you do not seem so at first glance." frank smiled a bit. "i assure you i am not in the least dangerous," he said. "i surrender without the least resistance." eliot dodge stood in the background, rubbing his hands together and grinning. "mr. dodge," said the city marshal, "will you be good enough to relieve this young man of his weapons." "eh?" said dodge nervously. "i--i--yes, sir." he came forward and took frank's revolvers, handling them gingerly, as if fearing they would explode in his hands. he passed them over to file, who afterward searched merry himself. in spite of frank's coolness, he was indignant over the outrage. mrs. arlington astonished the doctor by seeming stronger and better than she had been since it was known that june had disappeared. "now i have you!" she said exultantly. "if you do not tell me at once where my daughter may be found it will go still harder with you." merry gave her a look of pity. "madam," he said, "i fear that you are not in your right senses. your action in coming to this part of the country and bringing your daughter here, where you have had dealings with ruffians, confirms me in this belief. i cannot believe you would do such things if perfectly sane." "you insult me!" she exclaimed, tossing her head. "but you shall pay dearly for your insults! the law will punish you!" "and are you to stand clear of the law--you, who have incited ruffians to attack me and my property? i am well aware that law and justice may frequently be two different things; but i fancy it will be to your discomfort to have the whole truth come out. i know a ruffian called cimarron bill fired at me from the window of this very room. how came he here unless by your permission? and were you in partnership with a man of his character in an attempted murder?" frank's fearless words struck home, and the woman turned pale, in spite of herself. "oh, doctor!" she said, sinking back on the couch. the astonished physician, who had remained dumb and staring through the most of this scene, now cried to frank: "see what you have done! see what you have done!" "she brought it on herself," retorted merry, turning away, his heart hardened toward the woman. "i have ridden a hundred miles to do everything in my power to find her daughter and restore her to her mother, and i am--arrested!" there was deep bitterness in his tone and manner. "mr. file," he said, "i am ready to go with you, sir." "hold! wait!" called mrs. arlington from the couch. "tell me where you have taken my daughter!" frank gave her a look, shook his head a bit, and again turned away. "oh, tell me!" pleaded the wretched mother. "i can't bear this suspense! my poor june!" then she sat bolt upright and almost screamed: "if you harm a hair of her head, i'll make you regret it until the day of your death! you'll be conpelled to tell! i'm going to see that you are sent to prison! i'll make a convict of you!" frank did not retort. as he was walking out with file's hand on his shoulder, the woman fell on her knees and begged him to restore her daughter. "too bad!" said merry, when the door was closed. "i believe she really thinks i know something about the girl." file said nothing until they had descended to the street. on the steps of the hotel he paused and looked hard at frank. "young man," he said, "you don't act to me like a desperado. i'm mightily disappointed in you. from what i heard, i supposed you a ruffian. to tell you the truth, i'm rather inclined in your favor." "thank you," said frank, with a bit of bitterness. "little good that does me, although i am grateful to know that i have not become villainous in appearance. i came here to do that woman a favor, knowing all the while that she hated me, and this is the way i have been received." "why did you take so much pains to come?" "because i know her daughter, a handsome, refined, noble-hearted girl. it was not for the woman's sake, but for her daughter's that i put myself to the trouble that has drawn me into this scrape, mr. file. tell me, what has been done to find and rescue june arlington?" "everything possible," said the city marshal. "but the girl seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. she vanished in the very heart of this town, too. it's a most mysterious affair. mr. merriwell, i regret that my duty compelled me to place you under arrest and now compels me to lock you up. i hope circumstances may give you your freedom very soon." frank was somewhat touched by these simple words. "go ahead," he said. "but you had better get me under lock and key before my friends find out what has happened. they might raise trouble, and i don't want to see anybody hurt over this affair." so they started down the street, walking side by side, like two friends. file did not even keep a hand on merry. they had proceeded but a short distance when a man suddenly appeared in the open doorway of a saloon. frank saw the pistol in the man's hand, and he recognized his mortal enemy, cimarron bill. as bill appeared in that doorway, merry knew the fellow's purpose was to make a second attempt to kill him, and frank was unarmed and defenseless, under arrest at the time. as bill's weapon came up frank made a sidelong spring. he did this at the very instant, it seemed, that the revolver spoke. the fact was that he sprang a trifle before the shot was fired. his movement seemed much like that of a man death-smitten by a bullet, and cimarron bill dodged back at once, believing he had accomplished his dastardly purpose. frank was not touched. but the bullet meant for him had found a human target. ben file swayed from side to side, his legs buckling beneath him, and fell into merriwell's arms. chapter xxviii. bill hikes out. "got it!" whispered file huskily. "he nailed me good and plenty that time!" without a word, fearing cimarron bill might discover he had shot the wrong man and seek to rectify his bad work, frank lifted file in his muscular arms and ran into a store with him. the city marshal was stretched on a counter. "send for a doctor!" commanded merry. "and turn out a posse to take cimarron bill. he fired the shot." at the mention of cimarron bill, however, consternation reigned. the desperado was all too well known in holbrook, and scarcely a man in all the place cared to face him. "no use," said file faintly. "nobody'll dare touch bill. he'll get out of town deliberately without being molested." "impossible!" exclaimed merry. "why, you don't mean to say they will let that murderous hound escape?" "he'll escape now that i'm flat. there's not a man in holbrook that dares face him." "you're mistaken!" said merry. "there is one man!" "what one?" "this one!" "you?" "yes." "do you mean to say----" "that i dare face that man! give me my weapons and i'll go out and get him!" ben file looked at the boyish young man incredulously. "you don't know what you're talking about," he said, as they were trying to stop the bleeding of his wound, which was in his left side. "that man has a record. he's the deadliest ruffian in arizona. he would kill you." "i don't believe it," said frank. "i've seen his like before. give me my revolvers, and i'll go take him. i'll bring him to you if you live!" file fumbled in his huge pockets and brought out merry's long-barreled revolvers. "go ahead if you want to," he said. "somehow i take stock in you, though i'm afraid it's your funeral you're going to. anyhow, if i'm booked to cash in, i don't mind giving you a show to levant. here comes the doctor." the same red-faced little man came rushing into the store, brought there by a messenger who had gone in search of him. frank examined his weapons, and then walked out of the store. there was considerable excitement on the street, caused by the shooting. merry minded no one, yet kept his eyes wide open for every one. as fast as he could step he proceeded straight to the open door from which cimarron bill had fired the shot. he had a pistol in either hand when he stepped through that doorway. as he had expected, it was a saloon. three persons were in the room, but cimarron bill was not there. "gentlemen," said merry, "i'll be obliged if you will tell me where i can find the white-livered cur who just shot ben file from this doorway." they stared at him as if doubting their senses. "if it's cimarron bill you're looking for, young man," one of them finally said, "take my advice and don't. it's the most onhealthy occupation you can engage in, and i advise----" "cut out the advice," said merry sharply; "and tell me where the cowardly dog has gone." "he ambled out o' yere directly arter doin' the shootin', and we last sees him lopin' down the street that-a-way. but you wants to keep a heap long distance----" frank waited for no more. he was satisfied that bill had departed just as the man said, and he wheeled at once and started down the street. merry knew full well what sort of mission he had undertaken, but he was not daunted in the least by its magnitude. cimarron bill was his deadly foe, but he now saw his opportunity to bring the ruffian to an accounting for his crimes, and he did not propose to let the chance slip. so he inquired as he passed down the street and found that bill had hurried to the saloon kept by schlitzenheimer. again merry had his pistols ready when he entered the saloon. early though it was, he found four men there engaged in a game of draw poker, and one of the four was old joe crowfoot. schlitzenheimer gave a shout when he saw frank. "my gootness!" he cried. "how you vos? vere vos dot dalking tog alretty? i vouldt like to blay dot tog anodder came beenuckle of." frank was disappointed once more in failing to discover cimarron bill. he asked if the man had been there. "he vos," nodded schlitzenheimer. "und avay he dit his saddle take." "he took his saddle?" "yah." "then his saddle was here?" "it he dit keep here, vor id vos very valueless," said the dutchman. "he vos avraid stolen id would pe. i know pill. ven he come und say, 'vritz, you tookit my saddles und keepit it a vile undil vor id i call,' i say, 'yah, you pet.' i haf nod any anxiety him to make some drouble by." "if he came for his saddle it is likely he meant to use it. was he in a hurry?" "der piggest hurry i ever knewn him to pe indo. ven i invortationed him to a drink take, he said he could not sdop vor id." "he's on the run!" exclaimed frank. "where does he keep his horse when in town?" "ad dorvelt's shust down a liddle vays." frank almost ran from the saloon and hurried down the street to dorfelt's stable. he was stared at in the same wondering amazement when he asked for cimarron bill. "mebbe you has urgent business with that gent?" said one man. "i have," answered merry. "he shot ben file about ten minutes ago, and i am after him." "waal, you'll have to hustle to ketch him, an' i 'lows it's jest as well fer you. his hoss was saddled jest now, an' i opine he's well out o' town by this time." frank listened to hear no more. on the run, he set out to find his friends. singularly enough, not one of them knew anything of his arrest, although they had heard of the shooting. he found them in short order, and what he told them in a very few words stirred them from lassitude to the greatest excitement. "fellows," he said, "i'm going to run cimarron bill down if it takes a year! i've given my word to ben file that i would bring bill back. i mean to make good. are you with me in this chase?" they were with him to a man. chapter xxix. old joe takes a drink. away on the horizon, riding to the southeast, was a black speck of a horseman as frank, bart, jack, and ephraim galloped out of town on fresh mounts secured by merry. "there he is!" cried frank. "we mustn't lose him! we must keep him in view and run him down before nightfall. can we do it?" "we can try!" said bart grimly. these young fellows seemed made of iron. all their weariness had vanished, and they sat in their saddles like young centaurs, with the exception of gallup, who could not be graceful at anything. "this is what might well be called the strenuous life," observed jack ready. "it's almost too much for my delicate constitution. i fear my health will be undermined and my lovely complexion will be ruined." "he has seen us," declared frank. "he knows we are after him! it's going to be a hard chase." "how about june arlington?" asked bart. "when i gave ben file my word to bring cimarron bill back i was under arrest for kidnaping june arlington. had i not made that promise i might still be under arrest. i must keep my word to file. i hope to do something for june later." so they rode into the scorching desert, seeming to be gaining on the man ahead for a time. the sun poured down mercilessly. alkali dust rose and filled their nostrils. red lizards flashed before them on the ground at rare intervals. and far ahead the black speck held into the distance. "he knows where he's going, fellows," said frank. "he's not the man to strike blindly into the desert. he'll come to water and feed before his horse gives out, and so we must find the same." but fate seemed against them. afar on the desert a haze arose and grew and became a beautiful lake, its shores lined with waving trees. and in this mirage the fugitive was swallowed up and lost. when the lake faded and vanished the black speck could be seen nowhere on the plain. "vanished into a gully of some sort," said frank. "we must find just what has become of him." so they kept on; but in time they came to feel that the search was useless. water they had brought for themselves, together with some canned food; but the only relief they could give the horses was by pouring a little water over a sponge and wiping out the dry mouths of the poor animals. they were forced to turn aside and seek some hills, where frank felt certain there was a spring. thus it was that nightfall found them at the spring, but cimarron bill was gone, none of them knew where. there was feed for the horses in the little valley, and they made the best of it. frank was far from pleased. everything had gone wrong since their arrival in holbrook, and the prospect was most discouraging. "by gum! it's too bad to hev to give it up," said ephraim. frank shot him a look. "i have no intention of giving it up," he said. "but i confess that i made one bad mistake." "what was that?" "i left crowfoot back there in schlitzenheimer's saloon playing poker." "you think he'll be skinned, do you?" said bart. "oh, i'm not worrying about that. the old reprobate can take care of himself. i knew it would be almost impossible to drag him away from that game, and that was why i did not bother with him. didn't want to lose the time. but that redskin can follow a trail that would bother a bloodhound. if we had taken him at the start, he'd never lost the scent." they lay on the ground and watched the heavens fill with bright stars. the heat of the day melted into coolness, and all knew it would be cold before morning. frank had anticipated that they might have to spend the night in this manner, and blankets had been brought. they seemed alone in the wild waste, with no living thing save their horses within miles and miles. so, with no fear of attack, they wrapped their blankets about them and slept. the wind swept almost icy through the little valley before morning dawned. as the eastern sky grew pale frank opened his eyes and sat up. a moment later a shout from his lips aroused the others. merry was staring at a familiar figure in a dirty red blanket. in their very midst old joe lay stretched, and apparently he had been sleeping as soundly as any of them. nor were his slumbers broken by merry's shout, which astounded frank beyond measure, for never before had he known the old fellow to sleep like that. always when he had stirred he had found the beady eyes of the redskin upon him. "behold!" said jack ready. "lo, the noble red man is again within our midst. but how came it thus?" "waal, may i be honswizzled!" grunted gallup. frank flung aside his blanket. "something is the matter with him!" he said, in a tone that indicated anxiety. "if there wasn't, he'd not sleep this way. i wonder what it is. is he dead?" but when the red blanket was pulled down it was found that joe lay with a quart bottle clasped to his heart in a loving embrace. the bottle was fully two-thirds empty. "that explains it!" said merry, in deep disgust. "the old dog is drunk as a lord! that's how we happen to have the pleasure of finding him asleep. i'll give any man fifty dollars who will catch him asleep when he is perfectly sober." "what a picture he doth present!" said ready. "look upon it! and yet there is something in it to bring sadness to the heart. behold how tenderly he doth hold the long-necker to his manly buzzum! 'tis thus that many a chap hugs a destroyer to his heart." "the old sinner!" said hodge. "i don't see how he got here without arousing any of us. there's his horse, picketed near the other animals." frank stooped and tried to take the bottle from joe's clasp, but the sleeping indian held it fast. "go heap better five dol's," he muttered in his sleep. "he's still playing poker," said frank. he gave crowfoot a hard shake. "wake up, you copper-colored sot!" he cried. "wake up and see what you've got in your hands." "four king," mumbled joe thickly. "heap good!" at this the boys laughed heartily. "that's a pretty good hand!" said frank. "it takes four aces or a straight flush to beat it." then he wrenched the bottle away, whereupon the redskin awoke at once. "mine! mine!" he exclaimed, sitting up. "it's poison," said frank, and smashed the bottle. with a snarl of fury, the indian staggered to his feet and made for merry, drawing a wicked-looking knife. "look out!" cried gallup, in consternation. frank leaped to meet old joe, clutching his wrists and holding him helpless, while he gazed sternly into the bloodshot eyes of the drunken old man. "what's this, crowfoot?" he demanded. "would you strike strong heart with a knife? would you destroy the brother of indian heart? has the poison firewater of the white man robbed you of your senses?" "firewater joe's!" exclaimed the redskin. "no right to spill um! no right! no right!" "i did it for your own good, crowfoot," said merry quietly. "you are in bad shape now. i want you to come out of it. you may be able to help us. what you need is a good drink of water." "ugh! water heap good. joe he take some." immediately frank released the old man's wrists, and joe slipped his knife out of sight with something like a show of shame. in another moment merry had his canteen, filled it at the spring, and handed it to crowfoot, who gravely took it and began to drink. the boys stood around, and their eyes bulged as the old man held the canteen to his mouth, tipping it more and more skyward, a deep gurgling coming from his throat. he continued to drink until the canteen was quite emptied, when he lowered it with perfect gravity, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and observed: "joe him a little dry!" "well, i should say so!" smiled frank. "your interior must have been as parched as an alkali desert, joe." "if he takes many drinks like that," said ready, with a queer twist of his mug, "there'll be a drought in this country that will make an ordinary dry spell look like a back number." crowfoot did not smile. giving back the canteen, he sat down on the ground, resting his elbows on his knees and taking his head in his hands. he was the picture of misery and dejection. "injun big fool!" he groaned. "last night feel much good; to-day feel a lot bad. big pain in head." "we've all been there many's the time," sang jack ready softly. then the eccentric chap sat down on the ground beside the redskin, about whom he placed an arm. "joseph," he said, "methinks i know how it is! i have felt that way heap often. ugh! sick all over." joe grunted. "nothing worth living for." another grunt. "much rather be dead with the beautiful daisies growing on my grave than living in such misery." again a grunt. "internal organs all out of gear, stomach on a strike, head bigger than a barrel. are those the symptoms, joseph?" "much so," confessed old joe. "joseph, you have my sympathy. you've never been to college, but you have received part of a college education. i have taken my degree in that branch. i'm a p. m. of j. c.--past master of jag carriers. but i have reformed, and now 'lips that touch wine shall never touch mine.' joseph, i would reclaim you. i would woo you tenderly from the jag path that leadeth to destruction. it is broad and inviting at first, but toward the finish it is rough, and hubbly, and painful to travel. pause while there is yet time. my heart yearns to save you from destruction. listen to the pearly words of wisdom, that drop from my sweet lips. shun the jag juice and stick to the water-wagon. heed this advice and your days shall be long ere you pass to the happy hunting-grounds." "heap talk a lot," said joe; "no say anything. make injun lot sicker!" gallup laughed heartily, slapping his knee. "that's right, by gum!" he cried. "the wind blows ev'ry time jack opens his maouth." "you are jealous," said ready. "you are jealous of my wisdom and eloquence. get thee behind me, nose talk! your face is painful to look upon." "don't you go to makin' that kind of gab!" snapped gallup. "if yeou do, dinged if i don't jolt ye one in the slats!" "such language! slats! i'm shocked! never have you heard words of slang ripple from my tuneful vocal chords. i disdain such frivolity! slang gives me a pain! go lay down!" "lay!" snorted ephraim. "i'm no hen!" "let's have breakfast," said hodge. "we may as well get on the move before it grows too hot." it did not take long to prepare breakfast, but old joe seemed to grow ill at the sight of food. all he wanted was water, and he threatened to drink the weak little spring dry. after a time, he seemed more inclined to talk. "no ketch cim'r'n bill?" he said. "so you found out we were after him?" said frank. "ugh!" nodded the indian. "joe no big fool only when firewater is to get. he play poke', all time him keep ear open. mebbe him learn a whole lot." "it's quite likely. if you had been with us yesterday, we might have stuck to bill's trail. now it is lost, and he may get away." "crowfoot he know how find bill." "what's that? you know how to find him?" "ugh!" "well, that is interesting, for i am bound to find him. i gave ben file my word to bring bill back, and i'm going to keep that promise. if you can help----" "you bet!" grunted joe. "how did you find out so much?" "joe him take drink in saloon. keep much careful not git full. make um believe so. go sleep. hear men talk in whisper. waugh! find out a heap." "well, you're a clever old rascal!" cried merry; "and i'm in love with you!" "joe him play game pritty slick," said the indian. "same time him get one, two, three drink. that bad. make um want heap more. make um take firewater when um git out town." "so you really got drunk because you were trying to do me a good turn?" said merry. "joe, i appreciate it! but what did you hear?" "bill him go to sunk hole." "sunk hole?" cried frank. "that place?" "where's that?" asked hodge, who was deeply interested. "down in the white mountain region, near the head of coyote creek." "why did you exclaim, 'that place?'" "because it is a camp made up of the worst characters to be found in the southwest. it is a place without law and order of any sort. murderers, gamblers, and knaves in general flee there when in danger. they are banded together to defy the law. travelers who happen into that wretched place seldom come forth. at times the ruffians quarrel among themselves and shoot and kill with impunity. the people of the territory have more than once asked that the place be invaded by troops and wiped off the map. it is a standing disgrace." "an' cimarron bill has gone there?" asked ephraim gallup, his eyes bulging. "so joe says." "waal, i ruther guess yeou'll take a couple of thinks afore ye foller him any furder." "i shall follow him into sunk hole if i live!" declared merry grimly; "and i mean to bring him out of the place, dead or alive. i do not ask the rest of you to risk your lives with me. you are at liberty to turn back. joe----" "him stick by strong heart!" declared the old indian quickly. "you bet!" "thank you, joe!" said frank. "i shall need you to show me the road to the place, for i have heard sunk hole is not easy to find." "i hope," said bart hodge quietly, "that you do not fancy for a moment that i'm not going with you? i don't think you would insult me, frank, by entertaining such a thought. i shall be with you through thick and thin." "dear me!" said ready. "how brave you are! please stand in the glow of the limelight where we can admire your heroic pose! la! la! you are a sweet creature, and one to make the matinée girls rave with adoration." "don't get so funny!" growled hodge, who always took ready's chaffing with poor grace. "softly! softly!" smiled jack, with a flirt of his hand. "let not your angry passions rise. you can't play the bold and fearless hero any better than can your humble servant. i'm in this, and you want to watch me and note what a bold front i put on. i'll wager a lead nickle you will begin to think me utterly fearless, and all the while, beyond a doubt, i'll be shaking in my boots. oh, i can make an excellent bluff when i have to." "bluff heap good sometime," said crowfoot. "mebbe bluff take pot." "but it's a mighty poor thing if the other fellow suspects and calls," said jack. "waal," drawled gallup, "darn my punkins! i s'pose i'm in fer it, but i kinder wisht i was to hum on the farm." frank knew the vermonter well enough not to fancy by those words that ephraim was badly frightened. it was gallup's way of expressing himself, and, even though he might be afraid in advance, the tall, lank fellow always showed up well "in a pinch." "then it's settled," said merry. "we all go." "joe him not talk all he find out," put in the indian. "is there more? well, give it to us quick. there are many miles of alkali between here and sunk hole." "joe him hear men whisper 'bout gal." "eh? about a girl?" "ugh!" "then it must be about june arlington? what did they say?" "mebbe bill him know where she is." "what?" cried merry, clutching the redskin by the arm. "is that possible?" "reckon um heap so." "then there is a double reason why i should get my hands on cimarron bill!" "mebbe joe he no hear right; no could ketch all men whisper. he think gal she be took to sunk hole." frank reeled, his face going white. "merciful heaven!" he gasped. "june arlington, innocent little june! in that dreadful place? come, fellows, we must go! june arlington there? the thought is horrifying! if that is true, cimarron bill may go free until i can do my best to get june out of that sink of wickedness! come, fellows--come!" "we are ready!" they cried, in response. chapter xxx. frank in sunk hole. the great dipper indicated by its position that the hour was not far from midnight. crowfoot halted and pointed downward, where, in the gloom of a round valley, a few lights twinkled. "sunk hole!" he said. "at last!" breathed frank. the others stood in silence, looking down at those lights. suddenly they started, for to their ears came the sound of music, dimly heard because of the distance. "perchance my ears deceive me," said ready; "but i fancy i hear the soothing strains of a fiddle." "sure as fate!" exclaimed bart hodge. "listen!" cautioned merry. there were other sounds, a sing-song cry at intervals, and then hoarse laughter and several wild whoops. "by gum!" exclaimed gallup. "saounds jest like one of them air country dances they uster hev over to billing's corners, varmount. the boys called them 'hog wrastles.'" "see," said merry, "there is one place that seems more brightly lighted than the others. it's right in the center of the other lights. fellows, i believe there is a dance going on down there!" "just what i'm beginning to think," said bart. "my! my! how nice!" exclaimed jack. "let's go right down and get into it! balance your partners all! all hands around! let her sizzle!" "that would be a splendid place for you to get into a dance!" said frank sarcastically. "but a dance there!" exclaimed hodge. "it does seem mighty strange," agreed frank. "still something of the kind is going on. hear 'em yell!" and now they could faintly hear the sound of feet keeping time to the music. "we've struck this place in a most excellent time to get into it," said merry. "i suppose one of us ought to go back and watch the horses." the horses had been left in a little pocket some distance behind and they had climbed on foot to the point where they could look down into the round valley. "no need watch um now," said joe. "um hosses all picket fast. we go down there, better go quick." "correct," agreed frank. "just show us how to get down." "follow," said the redskin. "take heap care." the path over which he led them, if path it may be called, was precarious enough. at times they felt that they were on the edge of some precipice, with a great fall lying beneath. but the aged redskin went forward with surprising swiftness, causing them all to strain every nerve to keep up with him, and in time he brought them down into the valley. "take lot care," cautioned crowfoot. "have guns reddy. no can tell. may have to use um 'fore git out." "it's quite likely," said merry grimly. so they all made sure that their pistols could be drawn quickly and readily, and then they crept toward the dark huts, from the windows of which lights gleamed. the sounds of fiddling and dancing grew plainer and plainer. now and then a shout would awake the echoes. "where do they find their 'ladies' for a dance?" asked hodge wonderingly. "oh, there are a few women in this hole," answered merry. "perhaps others have come in." they reached the first hut and paused where they could peer along the street, if such it could be called, for the huts had been built here and there, so that the road between them zig-zagged like a drunken man. in the very center of the place was the building, somewhat larger than its neighbors, from which came the sounds of revelry. doors and windows were wide open. the music having stopped, there might be heard a hum of voices, and then the wild, reckless laugh of a woman floated out upon the night air. frank shuddered a little as he heard the sound, which, to his ears, was more pitiful and appalling than any cry of distress that could fall from female lips. "poor creature!" he thought. "to what depths has she fallen!" they went forward again, slipping around a corner, and merry stumbled and fell over the body of a man that was lying prone on the ground. "hold on!" he whispered. "let's see what we have here. it's a man, but i wonder if he is living or dead." he knelt and felt for the man's heart. "living all right," he declared; "but dead in one sense--dead drunk! whew! what a vile smell of liquor!" "let him lie," said hodge. "i have a fancy to take a peep at him," said frank. "hold still. i want a match. i have one." bringing out a match, he struck it and shaded it with his hands, throwing the light on the prostrate man. the light of the match showed them that the fellow was an unusually large mexican, dressed after the custom of his people in somewhat soiled finery. "dead to the world!" sighed jack ready softly. the match died out in frank's fingers, but merry did not rise. "what are you doing?" asked jack. "are you accumulating his valuables?" "hardly," said merry. "i'm thinking." "can such a thing make you think! what is passing in your massive brain?" "i have an idea." "that's more than ready ever hed," muttered gallup. "fellows," said frank, "this man's clothes ought to be a fairly good fit for me." "well, what of it?" "i'm going to wear them. get hold here, and we'll carry him aside where there'll be little chance that any one will stumble upon us. let's move lively." they did as directed, although wondering why frank should wish to exchange clothes with the drunken mexican. chapter xxxi. the dance in sunk hole. a low-ceiled room with a bar at the end near the door. the odor of smoke, liquor, and perspiration. the place lighted with oil-lamps having dirty chimneys. the lights of the lamps dancing and flaring to the stamp of many heavy-shod feet. a maze of human beings whirling, shifting, prancing, and cutting figures on the floor. rough-looking men, bearded and armed; disheveled women, their faces glowing with excitement and from the effects of drink. at the far end of the room an old man, mounted on a square box and seated on a chair, sawing away for dear life at his fiddle, while he called the figures in a sing-song tone. and this was the way the fiddler called: "first couple balance and swing, promenade the inside ring, promenade the outside ring, balance and swing and cast off six, ladies to the right and gents to the left. swing the one you swung before, down the center and cast off four, swing the one that comes to you, down the center and cast off two." the men were such as most women would avoid. with few exceptions, they had wicked faces. they had been drinking, and at intervals some elated and enthusiastic fellow would utter a blood-curdling yell. but the figures they cut were laughable at times. they "spanked 'er down" furiously. they seized their partners and swung them until often they were lifted off their feet. but those were not the sort of women to mind. three or four of the citizens of sunk hole were married. two had daughters old enough to be present at the dance. other "ladies" had come in from the surrounding country, brought there by their partners. there were a number of mexicans in the crowd, and three or four mexican women. into this smoky room came yet another mexican, a young man, dressed in soiled finery, his wide-brimmed high-peaked hat shading his face. he had a little mustache that was pointed on the ends, and he walked with a swagger. immediately on entering he made for the bar and called for a drink. had any one been watching him closely that person must have noticed that he did not drink the stuff put out to him, but slyly and deftly tossed the contents of the glass into a corner under the bar. this newcomer was frank merriwell, who had disguised himself as well as possible and boldly walked into this den of ruffians. having pretended to drink, frank stood back in a retired spot and looked the dancers over. in a moment his eyes fell on cimarron bill, who had a mexican girl for a partner and was enjoying himself in his own peculiar way. frank knew it would not be safe to come face to face with bill, although he saw at once that the desperado had been drinking heavily and could barely "navigate" through the mazes of the dance. "gents chassé and put on style, resash and a little more style- little more style, gents, little more style," sang the fiddler; and the dancers strictly obeyed the admonition by putting on all the style of which they were capable. under different circumstances merry would have been amused by the spectacle; and even now, for all of his peril, he was greatly interested. cimarron bill was not habitually a hard drinker, but on this occasion he had surprised everybody present by the amount of whisky he had imbibed. he seemed determined to get intoxicated, and it was plain that he was making a success of it. frank did not wish to dance if he could avoid it, knowing he might be brought face to face with bill in the course of some of the figures. all around the sides of the room men were leaning and looking on, some of them laughing and calling to various dancers. "go it, seven spot!" "spank it down, dandy!" "steady, pie face! your left hoof belongs to the church!" "see honeydew! he's a holy terror!" "watch lanky jim cut a pigeon wing!" "say, big kate can dance some! you bet your boots!" "hi! hi! there goes sweet william, plumb off his pins!" now the fiddler was calling: "first lady out to the right; swing the man that stole the sheep, now the one that packed it home, now the one that eat the meat, now the one that gnawed the bones." frank found an opportunity to slip along the wall toward the back of the room. no one seemed to pay any attention to him until he accidentally stepped on a big fellow's foot. instantly he was given a shove, and the man growled: "what in thunder ails ye, you yaller-skinned greaser? keep off my corns, ur i'll make hash o' you with my toad-sticker!" "pardon, señor, pardon!" entreated merry, in a soft voice, with an accent that seemed perfectly natural. "i deed not mean to do eet, señor." "ef i'd 'lowed ye did i'd sure slashed ye without no talk whatever!" was the retort. having no desire to get into trouble, merry took great pains to avoid stepping on another foot, and he finally reached the point he sought. in the corner at the far end of the room there was not so much light. a bench ran along there, and frank found a seat on it, where he could lean against the thin board partition, and he did not mind if some of the men stood up before him so that he was partly screened. merry knew full well that he had done a most reckless thing in entering that place, where all around him were ruffians and murderers; but there was something about the adventure that he relished, and the danger gave it a spice that was far from disagreeable. he thanked his lucky stars that this dance had given him the opportunity to get in there without attracting any more attention. "meet your partner and all chaw hay, you know where and i don't care, seat your partner in the old armchair." that particular dance ended with this call from the fiddler; but there were no armchairs in which the ladies could be seated, and merry crowded up into the corner in order to be as inconspicuous as possible and to escape being disturbed. there was a general rush for the bar, the fiddler getting down from his box and hastening across the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. some of the women accompanied their partners to the bar and drank with them. such depravity was not pleasant to witness, and merry felt pity for the fallen creatures. sentiment, however, he sought to put aside, thinking only of the dangerous mission that had brought him into that nest of gambolling tigers. two men sat down near merry. they had been dancing, and observed, with some lurid embellishments, that it was hot. then one of them said something that interested frank. "bill's goin' it a whole lot stiff to-night." "that's whatever. never saw him punish the razzle juice this way afore." "you know why, mebbe." "waal, i opine he's some irked up over his mistake in holbrook. first time he ever shot the wrong gent. he warn't gunnin' fer file. it was another galoot he was after." "i jedge that's the matter with him. bandy tried to joke him some about it, an' bandy came mighty near gettin' his." "bandy's a dern fool! he should 'a' knowed better than to shoot off his mouth at bill." "i say so. but bill he's a-playin' a right steep game in that thar gal business." "bill kin play his keerds. you let him alone." "no danger o' me chippin' in. they say the gal's folks are a heap rich." "i opine so, else bill he'd never taken so much trouble over her." "oh, i dunno; she's the purtiest leetle thing i ever set my blinkers on. i 'lowed mebbe bill was lookin' some fer a wife." "wife--northin'! he's lookin' fer the dust. why, he sent word as how he'd skin the galoot what dared hurt her or even say somethin' impolite afore her." "let me tell you somethin'." "fire erway." "han'some charley has seen that gal, an' i 'low he's taken a likin' to her a whole lot. bill better look sharp, ur charley will sure get away with her." "i ain't the one to give charley no advice, but if i were, i'd whisper fer him to think twice afore tryin' it." "charley's some clever. look, thar he is a-drinkin' with bill now. say, pard, i've got an idee that charley's doin' his best to load bill to-night. if that's so, he's got somethin' up his sleeve, an' we want to look right sharp fer a breeze afore this dance is over. i'm goin' to stand ready to duck instanter when the shootin' begins." frank could peer past a man in front of him without moving and see the person referred to as handsome charley, who was drinking with cimarron bill at the bar. this man was larger than bill and heavier. he had a flushed, reckless face that wore a smile nearly all the time. he had a dark mustache and imperial, and there was about him the atmosphere of a dashing desperado. charley at this time seemed very friendly with cimarron bill, and it was plain that he was urging bill to drink again. "all right," thought frank; "i'll watch you both." at this moment a man appeared in the open door and looked timidly into the room. at sight of this man frank gave a start in spite of his wonderful nerve, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that he kept himself from crying forth a name. eliot dodge, the crafty lawyer with the blue nose, stood there in the door. no wonder merry was astounded to see that man appear in such a place and at such a time. dodge was rather pale, but an expression of relief flashed over his face when his eyes fell on cimarron bill. then he stepped into the room. bill seemed no less astonished, but he advanced to meet dodge, holding out his hand, which the lawyer accepted. "however is this, mr. dodge?" inquired bill. "i sure am a whole lot surprised to meet up with you here--that is, i'm surprised to have it occur so soon. will you wash the dust out of your throat?" "don't care if i do," said dodge, and they crowded nearer to the bar. "bill, i thinks mebbe you might present yer friend," chipped in handsome charley. "waal, charley," said bill, "this yere is mr.----" "lewis," interposed dodge quickly. "mr. lewis," said bill queerly. "mr. lewis, permit me to make you acquainted with charley sears, generally called handsome charley. will you take a little pisen with us, charley?" handsome charley gave dodge his hand, which the lawyer shook gingerly, his coolness causing the fellow to frown. they all drank, and bill lurched, catching at the edge of the bar. "'scuse me," he said, with unusual politeness. "always makes me dizzy to dance. there is a right good lot of whirlin' around in it, you know." charley smiled. "you had a fine partner that last dance, bill; but you ought to bring out that handsome gal an' take a spin with her, man. i 'low it ain't right to keep her under kiver when every gent yere is yearnin' to set eyes on her." "they'll have to keep right on yearnin'," averred bill, frowning. "you're gettin' a whole lot selfish," declared charley. "are you afeared some other gent will git her away from ye if you brings her out?" "none at all, charley. but she ain't for this gang to hustle around any, and that's level." at this the other seemed to take offense. "i opine, bill," he said, "that you don't set yourself up as a heap better than the rest of this gang?" the cruel face of cimarron bill took on an expression that was a warning. "charley," he said, in a low, smooth voice, with one hand on the bar to steady himself, "i am willing to confess that you disturbs me some. i has my reasons for not bringin' the gal out, an' you'll sure excuse me if i don't recite them none at present. some other time i may explain." but charley persisted. "some other time it will be too late," he said. "i'm certain looking to dance one set with the little beauty myself, bill." "sorry to disappoint you," returned bill; "but the young lady doesn't dance none, if you want to know one good reason." "well, at least, you can bring her forth and permit us to gaze upon her a while," suggested charley. "not to-night," was the firm retort. "then it certain will seem a heap like you thought her too good for us, and the boys won't like that a great deal if i tell 'em so." bill leaned on the bar, his back against it and his elbows resting so that his hands were close to his hips. in that manner he stood perfectly steady, and he was in a position to draw his pistols quickly. "charley," he said, his voice like the purring of a cat, all the thickness seeming gone from his tongue, while his wicked eyes narrowed to two thin slits, "i don't think you'll go for to say anything whatever to the boys on this point. you are my friend, i opine. am i sure right on that?" at this juncture handsome charley realized all at once that bill was not yet drunk enough not to be deadly. charley's eyes noted in a flash how the man had steadied himself and was ready for anything, and charley decided that the time was not yet ripe for bringing on a quarrel. "of course i'm your friend, bill!" he said, with pretended heartiness, "and whatever you says goes with me. i was just speakin' because i has heard some of the boys growlin' over this business. that's all." bill smiled, but his smile was anything but pleasant. "if any o' the boys growl around in your hearin' some more," he said, "refer 'em to me, please. i reckons i can certain stop their growlin' in a hurry." "all right, all right!" nodded charley. "and you, pard," bill went on--"you, i judge, will say to them that i know my business a-plenty, and that you backs me up. eh?" "sure, sure, bill." "i thought you would," nodded the desperado with the deadly eyes. "i opined i could depend on you." "you bet! have another drink, you and mr. lewis?" "excuse us, please," urged bill. "i hates most mortally to decline; but i has some business to transact with mr. lewis, an' i says business first an' pleasure arterwards. arter we has settled the business i'll stand up here to this yere bar an' drink with you as long as the pisen lasts. is that all satisfactory like?" this question was put in a manner that indicated beyond question that it would be best for charley to acknowledge that it was satisfactory, and the acknowledgment was made. "thanks," bowed bill. "you're a sure enough gent, charley, an' i'll shoot the galoot what says to the contrary! an' now i reckons you'll excuse us a while. come, mr. lewis, thar's a small back room, an' we'll jest step in thar." through this dodge had stood there pale to the lips, with the exception of his blue nose, for he realized that these men were on the verge of a disagreement, and he understood that a disagreement between them meant shooting in short order. bill, however, had won out by a display of calm assurance and nerve, which was remarkable, considering his condition. the ruffian slipped an arm through that of dodge, and they crossed the floor and passed through a narrow door just as the fiddler resumed his seat and called for the men to select partners and form for the next dance. frank had watched every move, realizing full well that there was a possibility of a "gun play" between those two desperadoes. he was unable to hear what passed between them, but still he fancied he knew the bulk of it, and, in spite of himself, in spite of the character of the man, he could not help admitting cimarron bill's masterfulness. frank comprehended that charley had thought at first of forcing a quarrel, but had been cowed by bill's manner. the agitation of eliot dodge was also quite apparent. merry had already marked dodge down as a coward. when the two men passed into the back room frank longed to follow them. he sat there, wondering what course to pursue. that june arlington was somewhere in sunk hole he now felt certain. the talk of the two men who had been seated near him was assurance enough on that point. but where was she? how was he to find and rescue her? this task he now understood as the most important one before him and the one to which he was to give his attention at once, regardless of the capture of bill, which could be accomplished later. as he sat there, thinking the affair over and seeking to decide on some course to pursue, he was surprised and pleased to distinctly hear bill speaking in the room beyond the board partition. these boards were thin and badly matched, so that there were large cracks at intervals. one of these cracks happened to be just behind frank's head. by shifting his position slightly, he brought his ear close to the crack. the fiddler was tuning up, and the rough men and women were laughing as they formed on the floor for the next dance. frank was able to concentrate his mind on anything he chose, at the same time becoming quite oblivious to everything else; and now he shut out the sounds of the room in which he sat and listened with all his ability to hear what passed beyond the partition. "sure, partner," bill's voice was saying, "it surprises me a whole lot to see you come pokin' in here. however did you git here?" "terry came with me all the way. you said he would bring word to you from me, but i could not wait. i wanted to have a talk with you face to face, without trusting to any middle man. i felt that i must do it, and that's what brought me here for one thing." "waal, here you are, and now open up. i'm ready to listen to anything whatever you has to say." "in the first place," frank distinctly heard dodge say, "ben file is dead." "say you so?" exclaimed bill, and his voice indicated regret. "i allow i'm a-plenty sorry." "it was bad work." "that's right. don't know how i happened to do anything like that. never did afore. i saw merriwell make a jump, and i thought from the way he done it the bullet sure had gone clean through him." "and you never touched him!" "don't rub it in harder than you kin help, mr. dodge!" "hush! don't speak that name here! it must not get out that i'm in this game! it would ruin me!" "that's all right, pard; no danger. hear the racket out yonder in that room. nobody would ever think o' tryin' to hear what we're sayin'." "still it will be better to keep on calling me lewis. it's a dangerous game we've tackled, and i want to get it through in a hurry now. that's why i'm here." "waal, whatever do you say is the next move?" "merriwell got out of holbrook right after you." "i knows it. the gent sure chases me a distance, but he gits lost, together with his pards, some time afore night." "well, now is the time to make the demand on mrs. arlington for the ransom money. it must be rushed along. she's in a state of mind so that she'll be sure to give up easy now. i've waited for this, and i find she will pay well to have june returned to her unharmed." "that's a heap soothin' and agreeable news. i has waited fer you to say when it was best to make the demand on the old lady." "and i've waited until i felt sure she was so distressed and agitated that she would yield. she did not wish her husband to know of her presence here, and so she sent no word to him at first. now she has wired him the whole facts, and we can reckon that he'll be coming this way as fast as steam can carry him. it's best to get the whole deal through, if possible, before he shows up." "i'm for it." "you must write a demand on the woman for the boodle. she has diamonds and jewels with her on which she can raise ten thousand dollars. make her raise it at once. don't let her delay. frighten her into it." "i opines i can do that. i'll give her a scorcher. i'll tell her the gal is all safe an' onharmed, but she has to plunk down instanter or i'll send her one o' miss june's fingers to hurry her up a leetle." "that will go. i think that ought to start her." "if you says so, i'll make it stiffer. what if i adds that one o' the gal's prittey hands will foller? or an ear--mebbe that's better?" "as you choose. say that the money is to be placed in my hands to be delivered to your agent, who will meet me on the open plain ten miles from holbrook in whatever direction you choose. then i can ride out with it and come back, and you can bring the girl into town under cover of night." "i reckon that ought to work, partner. this yere game is your plannin', an' i falls inter it because i reckons it was easier than gittin' ahead o' merriwell an' seizin' the mine. had i shot up merriwell, instead o' file, i'd 'a' called on the lady hard fer the price, which, together with the money i'll get out o' this strike, would have made me easy for a right good while." "i'm against your idea of trying to saddle the kidnaping onto merriwell." "why?" "i don't think it will go. merriwell might return to holbrook. if the demand for money had his name attached, his arrest would seem to put him where it would be necessary for him to produce the girl. mrs. arlington was for forcing him to do so when file took him. anything like that would cause delay, and delay is something we do not want." "mr.--ah--mr. lewis, you sure reasons correct. we'll jest hitch a made-up name to the demand for money, which will be a whole lot better." "i think so. and now let's write this demand, so that i may turn about and get out of this hole immediately. you must furnish me with a fresh horse. i'm supposed now to be searching for merriwell, several men in town having set out upon the same task, for mrs. arlington offered a reward for his recapture. i will be able to make a very satisfactory explanation of my absence from holbrook." chapter xxxii. dead or living. frank's feelings on listening to this talk, the greater part of which he was able to hear very well, may be imagined far more easily than described. at last he was in full possession of the facts relating to the abduction of june arlington, and a greater piece of villainy had never come to his knowledge. from the first he had regarded eliot dodge as a scoundrel of the worst type; but he had not gaged the man as one who would enter into such a desperate scheme as this. merry had also learned that ben file was dead, and, therefore, he was released from his promise to bring back cimarron bill. immediately his one thought turned to june and to the devising of some method of discovering her whereabouts and going to her rescue. later he could think of other things; but not until this great object had been accomplished. the voices of the men ran on in the little room, though words grew fewer, and merry knew the demand for the ransom money was being written. for a moment he thought of the satisfaction it would give him to expose the rascally lawyer and bring him to the end of his tether. then he saw handsome charley speaking quietly in the ear of a man, afterward passing on to another and yet another. there was something in charley's manner that seemed very significant. "there's trouble brewing for bill," frank decided. "it's coming as sure as fate." he felt for his own weapons, making sure they were where he could draw them and use them without delay; but frank did not propose to become involved in the affair unless circumstances made it impossible to keep out. again he listened at the crack in the partition, hoping that some word passed between dodge and bill would tell him where june was hidden. in this merry was disappointed. true, dodge asked about the girl and bill assured him that she was perfectly safe and unharmed, but that was all. the dance was over and another was in progress when bill and eliot dodge came from that back room. handsome charley and his satellites were watching these two men. but they were permitted to pass to the door, where bill shook hands with dodge, who hurried forth into the night. "how is that, bill?" demanded charley, hastily approaching. "i opine you agreed that you an' your friend would sure drink with me arter your business was over. i notices that he has hiked." bill turned. "count me in, charley," he said easily. "mr.--ah--lewis, he didn't hev time. my neck is again a whole lot dry, and i'll be pleased to irrigate with you." so they stood up to the bar, and frank saw a number of men drawing near from different directions, all coming forward quietly. charley openly expressed his disapproval of the conduct of eliot dodge. "he certain was most onmannerly, bill," he declared. "forget it," advised bill curtly. and this was not at all agreeable to the other. "mebbe i can't do that none," said charley; "but i'll tell ye, bill, what will help a whole lot." "go ahead," said bill. "you has right up-stairs in this same ranch a young lady what is handsome enough to make any gent fergit a wrong, an' her i most mightily wants to bring down yere." frank heard the words distinctly, and they gave him a start. handsome charley was speaking of june arlington; there could be no doubt of that. he said june was "up-stairs in that same ranch." at last frank had received the clue he was seeking. more than merry saw trouble was brewing between charley and bill, and now the attention of almost every person in the room was directed toward them. bill's face grew grim, and again his eyes narrowed and glittered. "see yere," he said harshly, "i allows we has settled the p'int in regard to her, an' so you lets it drop, charley." frank knew that pistols would be out in a few seconds more. he did not wait for the men to draw and begin to shoot. there was no flight of stairs in the room where the dance was taking place, and, therefore, he immediately decided that the stairs might be found in the back room, where the interview between bill and eliot dodge had taken place. the door leading into that room was closed, but frank slipped quickly to it, and it readily opened before his hand. he found himself in a bare room, having but little furniture, a table, a bed, some chairs, and, as frank had believed likely, a steep flight of stairs ran railless up one side of the room, disappearing at a dark landing above. in a twinkling merry was bounding lightly up those stairs, the sounds of loud and angry voices coming from the dance-room, where the music and dancing had now stopped. frank knew that whatever he did must be done in a hurry, for, allowing that in the trouble in the dance-room, handsome charley should come forth triumphant it was likely that june would be sought by some of those ruffians. the thought of this spurred merry on. he pictured to himself the terror of the poor girl seized by those men and dragged into the presence of the mob below. "they shall not touch her!" he muttered. "if i can reach her, they shall not touch her!" then he found himself, in the gloom of the landing, against a heavy door. he sought to open it, but it was locked. from below came the sound of a shot. then there were shouts and other shots. "the devils have broken loose!" exclaimed merry, and he wondered how it fared with bill. in vain he felt for the fastenings of the door. his heart smote him with the fear that it would withstand any attack he might direct upon it. then he found a match and struck it. the light showed him something that made his heart leap with satisfaction. across the face of the door, lying in iron slots, was an iron bar that held it fast. the match was dropped in a twinkling, and frank's fingers lifted the bar from the slots and its socket. then he easily opened the door. at that instant it seemed as if pandemonium broke loose below. there was a perfect fusillade of shots, hoarse shouts from men and wild shrieks from women. there was likewise a terrible crash, as if some part of the building had been ripped down. "june!" called frank. "june! june!" the room in which he found himself was dark and silent. "june! june! i am a friend! answer me!" still silence. again he brought forth and struck a match. it flared up in his fingers, and he lifted it above his head, looking all around. stretched on the floor in a huddled heap in one corner was the body of a girl. the glance he had obtained convinced him that it was june beyond question. frank sprang forward, again speaking her name and assuring her that he was a friend. in the darkness he found her with his hands. she did not move when he touched her, and his fingers ran to her face. it was cold as marble to the touch, and a great horror filled his soul. "merciful god!" he groaned, starting back a little. "they have killed her. the devils!" the shock was so great that he remained quite still on his knees for a few moments. he was aroused by the sound of heavy feet upon the stairs. frank sprang up and dashed across the room to the door. the door leading into the dance-room had been left wide open below. he saw that a number of men had entered the back room, and already two or three were on the stairs. handsome charley was at their head. frank was trapped! at once he realized that cimarron bill was, beyond a doubt, lying in a pool of his own blood in the dance-room. at last the most desperate and dangerous man-killer of the southwest had met his master. merry had little time, however, to think of anything like this. his own life was in the utmost peril. he drew his revolver, and, with the utmost coolness, put a bullet through handsome charley's right shoulder. with a cry, the man fell back into the arms of the one directly behind him, and that fellow was upset, so that all were swept in a great crash to the foot of the stairs. "perhaps that will hold you for a while!" muttered frank, as he picked up the iron bar and promptly closed the door at the head of the stairs. he had seized the bar because he thought it might be a good weapon of defense in case his revolvers should be emptied and he remained in condition to fight. now he thought of something else, and decided that the bar might do for a prop at the door. "there ought to be some other way out of this room," he muttered. "isn't there even a window?" again he struck a match, looking around with the aid of its light. at the end of the long room in which he found himself he fancied he must find a window. toward this end of the room he hurried, and another match disclosed to him a window that was hidden by heavy planking. plainly the planks had been spiked over the window after it was decided to hold june a prisoner in that room. down dropped the match, and instantly frank attacked the planks with the iron bar. fortune must have favored him, for had it been light he could not have been more successful. every stroke was effective, and he began ripping off the planks. there was wild excitement below, and merry prayed for a little time. his heart was filled with a hope that handsome charley's fate would be a warning to others, so they would not be eager to rush up the stairs to the door. in just about one minute he had torn the planks from the window. once more he heard men ascending the stairs. instantly he dashed across the floor, finding the door in the darkness. "halt!" he cried savagely, from behind the closed door. "halt, or i fire!" then he sought to prop the door with the iron bar, pressing it down in such a position that it might hold for some moments against an ordinary attack upon it. "i'll shoot the first man who tries to open this door!" he shouted. but he did not remain there to await an effort to open the door. instead he quickly found the girl in the corner, lifted her limp body, and sought the window once more. reaching the window, frank promptly kicked out sash and glass with two movements of his foot. bang! bang! bang!--sounded heavy blows on the door behind him, but the iron bar was holding well. merry swung his leg over the window-ledge. desperate as he was, he meant to venture a leap from the window to the ground with the girl in his arms. but just then, pausing to look down, he was amazed and delighted to see below him his four friends, who were on the point of entering the building, led by bart hodge. instantly frank hailed them. "catch her!" he cried, swinging the girl out over the window-ledge, so that they could see her below. immediately bart and ephraim extended their arms and stood ready. "let her come!" shouted hodge. frank dropped the girl, and the two young men clutched at her as she fell directly into their arms. at that moment the door behind merry flew open with a slam and the ruffians came bursting into the room. one of them held a lighted lamp. the fellow in advance saw frank in the window and flung up his hand. there was a loud report and a burst of smoke. when the smoke cleared the window was empty, frank having disappeared. "nailed him!" shouted the ruffian who had fired. "nailed him for sure!" he rushed forward to the window and looked down, expecting to discover the body of his victim stretched on the ground. but in this he was disappointed, for neither frank nor his friends were beneath the window. into the darkness of the crooked street some dusky figures were vanishing. frank had leaped from the window, being untouched by the bullet that fanned his cheek in passing. he struck on his feet, but plunged forward on his hands and knees. in a moment he was jerked erect by some one who observed: "methinks your parachute must be out of order. you descended with exceeding great violence. what think you if we make haste to depart?" "jack!" exclaimed frank. "the same," was the assurance, as ready clutched his arm and started him on the run. "dear me! i know this strenuous life will yet bring me to my death!" ahead of them frank saw some figures moving hastily away. "the girl----" "they've got her," assured jack. "old joe is with them. we'll talk it over later." so they ran, well knowing the whole of sunk hole would be looking for them within thirty minutes. it did not take them long to come up with bart, ephraim, and old joe. behind them there sounded shouts and commands, and it was well the whole of sunk hole had been at the dance, else the place must have been aroused so that they would have run into some of its inhabitants. here and there amid the buildings they dodged until they arrived at the edge of the collection and struck out for the side of the valley, crowfoot leading. it was necessary to trust everything to the old indian. without him they could not have known with any certainty that they were taking the proper course to enable them to get out of the valley. the girl was passed from one to another as they ran. they did not waste their breath in words. the old indian ran with an ease that was astonishing, considering his years. looking back, they could see torches moving swiftly here and there through the town, telling that the search for them was being carried on. soon they came to a steep gully that led upward, and the ascent was very difficult, even at first. it grew more and more difficult as they ascended, and it became necessary for them to work slowly in the darkness, the girl being passed upward from time to time, as one after another took turns at creeping ahead. joe did not seem to have much trouble, but he did not bother with the girl. finally he said: "here come bad palefaces! make some big hurry!" it was true that a party of men were running toward the gully. their torches danced and flared, showing them with some distinctness. to the right and left in other parts of the valley were clusters of torches. "heap try to stop us," exclaimed crowfoot. "one way to go up there, 'nother way down there, this be 'nother way. they know all. that how um come here so fast." by the time the men with the torches reached the foot of the gully frank and his comrades were so far above that they were not betrayed by the torchlight. but one of the ruffians bade the others listen, and at that very moment ephraim gallup dislodged a stone that went clattering and rattling downward with a great racket. instantly a wild yell broke from the lips of the ruffians below. "here they are!" they shouted. "they're up here!" then one of them began to blaze away with his pistols, and the bullets whistled and zipped unpleasantly close to the party above. bart hodge stooped and found some rocks as large as ducks' eggs in the hollow of the gully. he knew it would expose their position if he should answer the fire with his revolvers, and so he simply hurled those rocks with all the accuracy and skill that had made him noted on the baseball diamond as a wonderful thrower to second base. the first rock struck a fellow on the wrist and broke it. the third hit another man on the shoulder, and not many of the six bart threw failed to take effect. astonishing though it seemed, this method of retorting to the shooting proved most effective, and the ruffians scattered to get out of the way, swearing horribly. the fugitives continued till the top of the gully was reached and they struck something like a natural path that soon took them where they could no longer see the valley nor hear their enemies. knowing they would be followed still farther, they halted not for a moment until their horses were reached. then they paused only to make ready and swing into the saddle. even as june was passed up to frank she sighed and seemed to come a little to herself. and as they rode into the dusk of the night she recovered consciousness, the cool breeze fanning her face. she wondered and shuddered until she heard the voice of frank merriwell reassuring her, and then she was certain that it was all a dream. in her prison room she had listened with shaking soul to the sounds from below, she had crept to the barred door and heard cimarron bill and eliot dodge talking below, and the horror of knowing the rascally lawyer was in the plot that had brought about her abduction and detention in that den had been a fearful shock to her. when the quarreling and the shooting began, she was filled with mortal dread. she heard some one on the stairs and fumbling at her door, and then, kneeling in a corner of the room, all the world slipped away from her, and she remembered nothing more until she awoke in the arms of her brave rescuer, frank merriwell. chapter xxxiii. the return to holbrook. haggard from worriment and need of sleep, her face seeming drawn and old, her eyes feeling like coals in her throbbing head, mrs. arlington welcomed eliot dodge, who came into the room, looking dejected yet seeming to appear hopeful. "june! june, my child?" cried the tortured mother. "have you no news of her?" "nothing but--this," said dodge, pulling out an unsealed letter. then he briefly told of being held up by three ruffians, who had given him the letter. mrs. arlington read it, and fell half-fainting on the couch, while dodge bent over her with protestations of sympathy. "my poor girl!" gasped the miserable woman. "and she is in the power of such monsters! the ransom money must be paid! she must be saved at once!" "is there no way to avoid paying the money?" said dodge. "is it not possible she may be saved in some other manner?" "i think it is," said a clear voice, as the door was thrust open and frank merriwell, covered from head to heel with the dust of the desert, escorted the rescued girl into the room. "mrs. arlington, i have brought you your daughter." with a scream of joy, mrs. arlington leaped up and june ran into her arms. eliot dodge seemed to turn green. he stood and stared at the girl in a sort of blank stupor, failing to observe that just behind frank merriwell, who still wore the clothes taken from the intoxicated mexican, there was the officer newly appointed to fill the place left vacant by the death of ben file. "june! june! june!" cried mrs. arlington, her face flushed with gladness. "is it you, my poor girl! i can scarcely believe it! how does it happen? tell me how you come to be here!" "i am here, mother, because i was rescued from those horrible ruffians by that brave gentleman whom you have so greatly wronged, frank merriwell. he risked his life for me. i will tell you all, but first--first i must tell you that you have trusted a snake. i mean that monster there!" she pointed her finger at dodge, who started and looked startled, but pretended the utmost amazement. "he is the villain who planned it all!" declared june. "i know, for i heard them talk it over. but he shall not escape!" "i hardly think so," said frank. "officer, he is a desperate man. be careful of him." "this is an outrage!" declared dodge, as the new city marshal grasped him. "i'll not permit it! i----" frank clutched him on the other side, and, a moment later, the officer had ironed his prisoner. mrs. arlington would have interfered, but merry declared he had sworn out the warrant for dodge's arrest, and she saw it was useless. "madam," said frank, "i will leave you alone with your daughter. when she has told you all, you will be ready, i am confident, to prosecute eliot dodge. i shall then withdraw my charge and permit you to have him arrested. in the meantime i bid you good day. i shall be in this hotel for the next day or so." he bowed gracefully to both mrs. arlington and june and left the room. * * * * * when there was plenty of time, frank and his friends talked it over. he told them of his experience in the dance-room, and they told him how they had lingered near, ready to rush to his rescue. when they heard the sounds of the quarrel between cimarron bill and handsome charley they hurried to the door, but there they halted, for they looked in and saw nothing of frank. thus it was that they beheld the shooting of bill as he tried to draw on charley. he was shot down from behind by charley's tools, and they fired several bullets into his body as he lay weltering on the floor. frank shook his head as he heard this account of bill's end. "he was a bad man, a very bad man," he said; "but somehow i'm sorry that he met his end that way. they had to shoot him from the rear. not one of them dared pull on him face to face." frank received a brief letter from mrs. arlington, thanking him for what he had done for her daughter. not one word did she say of her own malevolence toward him, not one word of the manner in which she had wronged him. and the doctor, who brought the letter, told merry that she was in such a precarious condition that she could not write more, nor could she be seen by any one but june. frank smiled grimly, disdainfully, over the letter, then deliberately tore it into shreds. but he had proved his manhood, and june arlington, for all of her mother, found time to see him a few moments before he left town. after that brief time with june he rode light-heartedly away, his friends galloping at his side and listening to the cowboy song that came from his lips. * * * * * transcriber's note: this text file version is encoded in latin-1 format to preserve all original accents. because of extensive use of dialect, all apparent errors within dialogue have been assumed intentional and retained. page 5, "merriell's" changed to "merriwell's" (frank merriwell's rough deal) page 24, changed erroneous period to comma ("i have no desire or intention of irking you up, sir," he said.) page 27, "referrring" changed to "referring" (certain papers referring to the queen mystery and san pablo mines, which i own.) page 93, added missing opening quote ("i think i'll finish you!") page 213, "cimaroon" changed to "cimarron" (cimarron bill watched his tool depart, smiling darkly and muttering to himself) page 216, removed extraneous quote after "hurriedly" ("oh, velly good, velly good!" answered the celestial hurriedly, backing off a little, his face yellowish white.) page 217, "cant" changed to "can't" ("i can't beat him at his own game.") page 300, changed single quote to double quote at end of sentence ("in the first place," frank distinctly heard dodge say, "ben file is dead.") page 318, "merriwel" changed to "merriwell" (he stood and stared at the girl in a sort of blank stupor, failing to observe that just behind frank merriwell, who still wore the clothes taken from the intoxicated mexican, there was the officer newly appointed to fill the place left vacant by the death of ben file.) frank merriwell's triumph or the disappearance of felicia by burt l. standish author of _the world-renowned "merriwell stories"_ published exclusively in paper-covered edition in the new medal library street & smith, publishers 79-89 seventh ave., new york city copyright, 1904 by street & smith frank merriwell's triumph all rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the scandinavian. publisher's note very few of our readers have any idea of the task that the growing popularity of the s. & s. novel imposes upon us. we don't refer to the mere manual labor of manufacturing, but to the vast expenditure of time, money and energy necessary to keep the quality of our lines up to the high standard that we have educated our readers to demand. in order that the s. & s. novel may continue to be all that we claim for it, we have invaded cloth-book fields and have made arrangements with several well-known publishers to print exclusive editions of books by famous authors--books about whose great merit there is not a single doubt. the s. & s. novel has prospered mightily and for that reason we can well afford to give our readers that literature that is acceptable to every man and woman who seeks mental relaxation after a hard day's work at the office, store or factory. the s. & s. novels are great popular educators, reaching, as they do, every city and hamlet in this vast country of ours, instilling a desire to read in thousands of persons who would have cared nothing for literature if they had not become aware of the wholesome, unalloyed pleasure that the s. & s. novels afford. please send for our complete catalogue showing the s. & s. 2700. street & smith, publishers new york "alger" what a pleasant sound the name of horatio alger, jr., has to boys who read clean, wholesome stories of adventure! his name on a book means that it is a "good one"; that the money invested in it is well invested. street & smith publish the most complete list of his works in their famous s. & s. novels--it contains nearly all of them. if you want your boys to read helpful books, buy the "algers" in the medal and new medal libraries. price, 10c. and 15c. per copy at all newsdealers if sent by mail, add four cents per copy to cover postage. complete catalogue upon request. street & smith, publishers, new york contents i. a compact of rascals. 5 ii. days of retribution. 12 iii. the map vanishes. 24 iv. the night watch. 34 v. wiley's disappearance. 54 vi. wiley meets miss fortune. 70 vii. a startling telegram. 79 viii. felipe dulzura. 90 ix. what the monk told them. 104 x. three in a trap. 112 xi. ruffians at odds. 122 xii. a lively fistic bout. 136 xiii. macklyn morgan appears. 148 xiv. the messenger. 157 xv. a desperate situation. 172 xvi. crowfoot makes medicine. 184 xvii. how the medicine worked. 190 xviii. a bunch of prisoners. 195 xix. the valley of desolation. 206 xx. the finding of the babes. 220 xxi. the lottery of death. 227 xxii. an act of treachery. 244 xxiii. new riches promised. 259 xxiv. what happened to dick. 272 xxv. how was it done? 286 xxvi. forced to write. 296 xxvii. complete triumph. 303 frank merriwell's triumph. chapter i. a compact of rascals. they were dangerous-looking men, thirty of them in all, armed to the teeth. they looked like unscrupulous fellows who would hesitate at no desperate deed. some of them had bad records, and yet they had served frank merriwell faithfully in guarding his mine, the queen mystery, against those who tried to wrest it from him by force and fraud. frank had called these men together, and he now stood on his doorstep in mystery valley, arizona, looking them over. bart hodge, frank's college chum and companion in many adventures, was behind him in the doorway. little abe, a hunchback boy whom merriwell had rescued from ruffians at a mining camp and befriended for some time, peered from the cabin. merry smiled pleasantly as he surveyed the men. "well, boys," he said, "the time has come when i shall need your services no longer." some of them stirred restlessly and looked regretful. "to tell you the truth," frank went on, "i am genuinely sorry to part with you. you have served me well. but i need you no more. my enemies have been defeated, and the courts have recognized my rightful claim to this property. you fought for me when it was necessary. you risked your lives for me." "that's what we is paid for, mr. merriwell," said tombstone phil, the leader. "we tries to earn our money." "you have earned it, every one of you. i remember the day we stood off a hundred painted ruffians in the desert; i remember the hunting of jim rednight; and i don't forget that when hodge and i stood beneath a tree near phoenix, with ropes about our necks, that you charged to the rescue and saved us. have i paid you in a satisfactory manner?" "sure thing!" "you bet!" "that's whatever!" "you don't hear us kick any!" "we're satisfied!" these exclamations were uttered by various men in the gathering. "i am glad to know, boys," declared frank, "that you are all satisfied. if you must leave me, i like to have you leave feeling that you have been treated on the square." "mr. merriwell," said mexican bob, a wizened little man, "i ken chew up the galoot what says you ain't plumb on the level. thar's nary a critter in the bunch whatever makes a murmur about you." "you can see, boys," frank went on, "that i have no further use for you as a guard to my property. if any of you wish to remain, however, i shall try to find employment for you. there's work enough to be done here, although it may not be the sort of work you care to touch. i need more men in the mine. you know the wages paid. it's hard work and may not be satisfactory to any of you." the men were silent. "as we are parting," merry added, "i wish to show my appreciation of you in a manner that will be satisfactory to you all. for that purpose i have something to distribute among you. hand them out, hodge." bart stepped back and reappeared some moments later loaded down with a lot of small canvas pouches. "come up one at a time, boys," invited merry, as he began taking these from bart. "here you are, phil." he dropped the first pouch into tombstone phil's hand, and it gave forth a musical, clinking sound that made the eyes of the men sparkle. one by one they filed past the doorstep, and into each outstretched hand was dropped a clinking canvas pouch, each one of which was heavy enough to make its recipient smile. when the last man had received his present, they gathered again in front of the door, and suddenly tombstone phil roared: "give up a youp, boys, for the whitest man on two legs, frank merriwell!" they swung their hats in the air and uttered a yell that awoke the echoes of the valley. "thanks, men," said merry quietly. "i appreciate that. as long as you desire to remain in mystery valley you are at liberty to do so; when you wish to depart you can do so, also. so-long, boys. good luck to you." he waved his hand, and they answered with another sharp yell. then they turned and moved away, declaring over and over among themselves that he was the "whitest man." one of those who repeated this assertion a number of times was a leathery, bowlegged, bewhiskered individual in greasy garments known as hull shawmut. if anything, shawmut seemed more pleased and satisfied than his companions. the only one who said nothing at all was kip henry, known as "the roper," on account of his skill in throwing the lariat. henry was thin, supple, with a small black mustache, and in his appearance was somewhat dandified, taking great satisfaction in bright colors and in fanciful mexican garments. he wore a peaked mexican hat, and his trousers were slit at the bottom, mexican style. several times shawmut glanced at henry, noting his lack of enthusiasm. when the thirty retired to their camp down the valley and lingered there, henry sat apart by himself, rolling and smoking a cigarette and frowning at the ground. "what's the matter, pard?" asked shawmut, clapping him on the shoulder. "didn't yer git yer little present?" "yes, i got it," nodded the roper. "then what's eating of yer?" "well, shawmut, i am a whole lot sorry this yere job is ended. that's what's the matter. it certain was a snap." "that's right," agreed kip, sitting down near the other. "we gits good pay for our time, and we works none to speak of. it certain was a snap. howsomever, such snaps can't last always, partner. do you opine we've got any kick coming?" "the only thing i was a-thinking of," answered kip, "is that here we fights to keep this yere mine for him, we takes chances o' being called outlaws, and--now the job is done--we gits dropped. you knows and i knows that this yere mine is a mighty rich one. why don't we have the luck to locate a mine like that? why should luck always come to other galoots?" "i ain't explaining that none," confessed shawmut, as he filled his pipe. "luck is a heap singular. one night i bucks jimmy clerg's bank down in tucson. i never has much luck hitting the tiger, nohow. this night things run just the same. i peddles and peddles till i gits down to my last yeller boy. if i loses that i am broke. i has a good hoss and outfit, and so i says, 'here goes.' well, she does go. jim's dealer he rakes her in. i sets thar busted wide. when i goes into that place i has eight hundred in my clothes. in less than an hour i has nothing. "clerg he comes ambling along a-looking the tables over. i sees him, and i says: 'jim, how much you let me have on my hoss and outfit?' 'what's it wurth?' says he. 'three hundred, cold,' says i. 'that goes,' says he. and he lets me have the coin. then i tackles the bank again, and i keeps right on peddling. yes, sir, i gits down once more to my last coin. this is where i walks out of the saloon on my uppers. all the same, i bets the last red. i wins. right there, kip, my luck turns. arter that it didn't seem i could lose nohow. pretty soon i has all the chips stacked up in front of me. i cashes in once or twice and keeps right on pushing her. i knows luck is with me, and i takes all kinds o' long chances. well, pard, when i ambles out of the place at daylight the bank is busted and i has all the ready coin of the joint. that's the way luck works. you gits it in the neck a long time; but bimeby, when she turns, she just pours in on yer." "but it don't seem any to me that my luck is going to turn," muttered the roper. "mebbe you takes a little walk with me," said shawmut significantly. "mebbe i tells you something some interesting." they arose and walked away from the others, so that their talk might not be heard. "did you ever hear of benson clark?" asked shawmut. "clark? clark? why, i dunno. seems ter me i hears o' him." "i knows him well once. he was a grubstaker. but his is hard luck and a-plenty of it. all the same, he keeps right on thinking sure that luck changes for him. something like two years ago i loses track of him. i never sees him any since. but old bense he hits it rich at last. somewhere in the mazatzals he located a claim what opens rich as mud. some indians off their reservation finds him there, and he has to run for it. he gits out of the mountains, but they cuts him off and shoots him up. his luck don't do him no good, for he croaks. but right here is where another lucky gent comes in. this other gent he happens along and finds old bense, and bense he tells him about the mine and gives him a map. now, this other lucky gent he proposes to go and locate that mine. he proposes to do this, though right now he owns two of the best mines in the whole country. mebbe you guesses who i'm talking about." "why," exclaimed henry, "you don't mean mr. merriwell, do yer?" "mebbe i does," answered shawmut, glancing at his companion slantwise. "now, what do yer think of that?" "what do i think of it?" muttered the roper. "well, i will tell yer. i think it's rotten that all the luck is to come to one gent. i think mr. merriwell has a-plenty and he can do without another mine." "just what i thinks," agreed shawmut. "i figgers it out that way myself. but he has a map, and that shows him where to find old bense's claim." "see here," said kip, stopping short, "how do you happen to know so much about this?" "well, mebbe i listens around some; mebbe i harks a little; mebbe i finds it out that way." "i see," said henry, in surprise; "but i never thinks it o' you. you seem so satisfied-like i reckons you don't bother any." "mebbe i plays my cards slick and proper," chuckled shawmut. "you sees i don't care to be suspected now." "what do you propose to do?" "well, partner, if i tells you, does you opine you're ready to stick by me?" "share even and i am ready for anything," was the assurance. "mr. merriwell he proposes hiking out soon to locate that thar claim o' benson clark's. i am none in a hurry about getting away from here, so i lingers. when he hikes i follers. when he locates the claim mebbe he has to leave it; mebbe i jump it; mebbe i gits it recorded first. if he don't suspect me any, if he don't know i'm arter it, he don't hurry any about having it recorded. that gives me time to get ahead of him. if you're with me in this, we goes even on the claim. it's a heap resky, for this yere merriwell is dangerous to deal with. is it settled?" "yere's my hand," said kip henry. shawmut clasped the proffered hand, and the compact was made. chapter ii. days of retribution. when merry had dismissed the men, he turned back into the cabin and sat down near the table. "well, that's the end of that business, bart," he said. "yes," nodded hodge, sitting opposite. "i congratulate you on the way you handled those men, merry. no one else could have done it as well. if ever i saw a collection of land pirates, it was that bunch." frank smiled. "they were a pretty tough set," he confessed; "but they were just the men i needed to match the ruffians sukes set against me." milton sukes was the chief conspirator against frank in the schemes to deprive him of the queen mystery mine. "sukes will hire no more ruffians," said hodge. "i should say not. he has perpetrated his last piece of villainy. he has gone before the judgment bar on high." "and the last poor wretch he deluded is an imbecile." "poor worthington!" said merry. "i fear he will never be right again. it was his bullet that destroyed sukes, yet no man can prove it. what he suffered after that during his flight into the desert, where he nearly perished for water, completely turned his brain." "you want to look out for him, frank. i think he is dangerous." merry laughed. "ridiculous, hodge! he is as harmless as a child. when i let him, he follows me about like a dog." even as frank said this, a crouching figure came creeping to the door and peered in. it was a man with unshaven, haggard face and eyes from which the light of reason had fled. "there he is!" exclaimed this man. "there is my ghost! do you want me, ghost?" "come in, worthington!" called frank. the man entered hesitatingly and stood near the table, never taking his eyes from merry's face for a moment. "what you command, ghost, i must obey," he said. "you own me, body and soul. ha! ha! body and soul! but i have no soul! i bartered it with a wretch who deceived me! i was an honest man before that! perhaps you don't believe me, but i swear i was. you must believe me! it's a terrible thing to be owned by a ghost who has no confidence in you. but why should my ghost have confidence! didn't i deceive him? didn't i kill him? i see it now. i see the fire! it is burning--it is burning there! he has found me as i am setting it. he springs upon me! he is strong--so strong! ha! his feet slip! down he goes! his head strikes! he is unconscious!" the wretch seemed living over the terrible experiences through which he had passed on a certain night in denver, when he set fire to merriwell's office and tried to burn frank to death. he thought he had accomplished his purpose, and the appearance of his intended victim alive had turned his brain. as he listened hodge shivered a little. "never mind, worthington," said frank. "he is all right. he will escape from the fire." "no, no, no!" gasped the man, wringing his hands. "see him lying there! see the fire flashing on his face! see the smoke! it is coming thick. i must go! i must leave him. it is a fearful thing to do! but if he escapes he will destroy me. he will send me to prison, and i must leave him to die!" he covered his eyes with his hands, as if to shut out a terrible spectacle. "no one sees me!" he whispered. "here are the stairs! it is all dark--all dark! i must get out quick, before the fire is discovered. i have done it! i am on the street! i mustn't run! if i run they will suspect me. i will walk fast--walk fast!" merry glanced at hodge and sadly shook his head. "now the engines are coming!" exclaimed the deranged man. "hear them as they clang and roar along the streets! see the people run! see the horses galloping! they are coming to try to put out the fire. what if they do it in time to save him! then he will tell them of my treachery! then he will send me to prison! i must see--i must know! i must go back there!" "he shall not send you to prison, worthington," asserted merry soothingly. "he shall be merciful to you." "why should he? here is the burning building. here are the engines, panting and throbbing. see! they pour streams of water on the building. no use! it is too late; you cannot save him. he is dead long before this. who shall say i was to blame? what if they do find his charred body? no man can prove i had a hand in it. i defy you to prove it!" shaking his trembling hands in the air, the wretch almost shrieked these words. "this," muttered bart hodge, "is retribution." "i must go away," whispered worthington. "i must hide where they can't see me. look how every one stares at me! they seem to know i have done it! these infernal lights betray me! i must hide in the darkness. some one is following me everywhere. i am afraid of the darkness! i will always be afraid of the darkness! in the darkness or in the light, there is no rest for me--no rest! did you hear that voice? do you hear? it accuses me of murder! i am haunted! my god! haunted, haunted!" with this heartbroken cry he sank on his knees and crept toward frank. "you're the ghost that haunts me!" he exclaimed. "it is my punishment! i must always be near you, and you must haunt me forever!" merry touched him gently. "get up, worthington," he said regretfully. "your punishment has been too much. look at me. look me straight in the eyes, worthington. i am not dead. you didn't kill me." "no use to tell me that; i know better." "it is hopeless now, hodge," said merry, in a low tone. "the only chance for him is that time will restore his reason. you may go, worthington." "i must stay near by, mustn't i?" "you may stay outside." with bowed head and unsteady steps the man left the cabin and disappeared. little abe had remained speechless and frightened in a corner. now he picked up his fiddle, and suddenly from it came a weird melody. it was a crazy tune, filled with wild fancies and ghostly phantoms. "he is playing the music of that deranged soul," murmured frank. the sound of the fiddle died in a wail, and the boy sat shivering and silent in the corner. "this is a little too much of a ghostly thing!" exclaimed merry as he arose and shook himself. "let's talk of something else, hodge. to-morrow we start for the mazatzals, and i have everything ready. if we can locate that mine, one-half of it is yours." he took from his pocket a leather case and removed from it a torn and soiled map, which he spread on the table. together he and bart examined the map once more, as they had done many times before. "there," said frank, "is clear creek, running down into the rio verde. somewhere to the northwest of hawley peak, as this fellow indicated here on the map, in the valley shown by this cross, is benson clark's claim." "the location is vaguely marked," said bart. "we may search for it a year without discovering it." "that's true; but we know approximately somewhere near where it is." "well," said hodge, "we will do our best. that's all any one can do. it is your fortune, frank, to be lucky; and for that reason we may be successful." "something tells me we shall be," nodded merriwell. the start was made next day, and the journey continued until one afternoon merry and bart hodge stood looking down into a deep, oblong valley in the heart of the northern mazatzals. with them was cap'n walter wiley, a former seafaring man, who had been frank's friend in many thrilling adventures in the west. little abe had come with them from mystery valley, as had worthington, but they were at the camp merry had established some distance behind. "i believe this valley is the one," merry declared; "but how are we going to get into it? that's the question that bothers me." "there must be an inlet or outlet or something to the old valley," said hodge. "it cannot be just a sink hole dropped down here like a huge oval basin in the mountains. there is a stream running through it, too. it is wooded and watered, and there is plenty of grass for grazing." "i am almost positive this valley is the one benson clark told me of. i am almost positive it is the one marked on my map. clark was shot and dying when i found him. he didn't have time to tell me how to get into the valley." "we seem to have struck something that impedes navigation and investigation and causes agitation," put in cap'n wiley. "i would truly love to have the wings of a dove that i could fly from these heights above. poetry just bubbles from me occasionally. i must set my colossal intellect at work on this perplexing problem and demonstrate my astounding ability to solve entangling enigmas. (webster's dictionary does contain the loveliest words!) let me think a thought. let all nature stand hushed and silent while i thunk a think." his companions paid little heed to him; but he continued to discuss the problem of descending into the valley. "i have visited the northern end and the southern end," said frank, "and i have explored this side and surveyed the other side through my field glasses. there seems no break in these perpendicular walls. this valley seems like one of those southwestern mesas inverted. they rise sheer from the plains, and it is impossible to reach the top of many of them. this drops straight down here, and it seems impossible to reach its bottom." "the more difficult it is," said bart, "the greater becomes my desire to get down there." "same here," smiled frank. "the difficulty makes it something of a mystery. scientific expeditions have spent thousands of dollars in reaching the top of the mesa encantada, in new mexico. by americans it is called the enchanted mesa. now, the mere fact that we can't seem to get down into this valley throws an atmosphere of mystery over it, and to me it is an enchanted valley." "hush!" whispered wiley, with one finger pressed against his forehead. "a mighty thought is throbbing and seething in my cohesive brain. if i only had my gravity destroyer here! ha! then i could simply jump down into the valley and look around, and, when i got ready, jump back up here. by the way, mates, did you ever know why it was that santos-dumont retired from this country in confusion and dismay? you know he came over here with his old flying machine, and was going to do stunts to amaze the gaping multitudes. you know he suddenly packed his kenebecca and took passage to foreign shores. the secret of his sudden departure has never been told. if you will promise to whisper no word of it to the world, i will reveal the truth to you. "just before santy arrived in the united states i succeeded in perfecting my great gravity destroyer. as i have on other occasions explained to you, it was about the size of an ordinary watch, and i carried it about in my pocket. by pressing a certain spring i immediately destroyed the force of gravity so that, by giving an easy, gentle sort of a jump into the air, i could sail right up to the top of a church steeple. when i got ready to come down, i just let go and sailed down lightly as a feather. when i heard that santy was going to amaze this country with his dinky old flying machine, i resolved to have a little harmless amusement with him. "with this object in view, i had a flying machine of my own invented. it was made of canvas stretched over a light wooden frame, and along the bottom, to keep it upright, i had a keel of lead. my means of expulsion was a huge paddle wheel that i could work with my feet. that was the only thing about the machine that i didn't like. there was some work connected with it. to the rear end of the arrangement i attached a huge fanlike rudder that i could operate with ropes running to the cross pieces, like on ordinary rowboats. "mates, there never was a truer word spoken from the chest than that the prophet is not without honor save in his own country. i had this flying machine of mine constructed in cap'n bean's shipyard, down in camden, maine, my home. the villagers turned out in swarms, and stood around, and nudged each other in the ribs, and stared at my contrivance, and tried to josh me. even billy murphy gave me a loud and gleeful ha-ha! they seemed to think i had gone daffy, but i kept right on about my business, and one day the _snowbird_, as i called her, was finished. she was a beauty, mates, as she lay there, looking so light and airy and fragile. "by that time i had become decidedly hot under the collar on account of so much chaffing from the rustic populace. says i to myself, says i: 'cap'n, these rubes don't deserve to see you fly. if you let them see you fly you will be giving every mother's son of them two dollars' worth of entertainment free of charge.' now, it isn't my custom to give anything free of charge. therefore i advertised in the _herald_ that on a certain day i would sail the aã«rial atmosphere. i stated that before doing so i would pass around the hat, and i expected every person present to drop two dollars into it. i thought this was a clever idea of mine. "on the day and date the people came from near and far. they journeyed even from hogansville, south hope, and stickney's corner. when i saw them massed in one great multitude in and around that shipyard and on the steamboat wharf, i made merry cachinnation. "but alas! when i passed through that crowd with my hat and counted up the collection, i found i had a lead nickel, a trousers button, and a peppermint lozenger. that was all those measly, close-fisted people donated for the pleasure of seeing me navigate the ambient air. although i am not inclined to be over-sensitive, i felt hurt, and pained, and disappointed. i then made a little speech to them, and informed them that over in searsmont there was a man so mean that he used a wart on the back of his neck for a collar button to save the expense of buying one, but i considered him the soul of generosity beside them. i further informed them that i had postponed sailing. i minded it not that they guffawed and heaped derision upon me. i was resolute and unbending, and they were forced to leave without seeing me hoist anchor that day. "in the soft and stilly hours of the night which followed i seated myself in the _snowbird_, applied my feet to the mechanism, pressed the spring of the gravity destroyer, and away i scooted over penobscot bay. when the sun rose the following morning it found cap'n bean's shipyard empty and little walter and his flying machine gone. "i was on hand when santos-dumont arrived in new york. i sought an interview with him, and i told him i proposed making him look like a plugged quarter when he gave his exhibition. i challenged him to sail against me and told him i would show him up. santy didn't seem to like this, and he made remarks which would not look well in the _sabbath school herald_. indeed, he became violent, and, though i tried to soothe him, i discovered myself, when the interview ended, sitting on the sidewalk outside of the building and feeling of my person for bumps and sore spots. "you can imagine with what dignity i arose to my feet and strode haughtily away. more than ever was i determined to make old santy look like an amateur in the flying business. however, he took particular pains while in new york to scoot around in his machine when he knew i was not informed that such was his intention. with a great deal of craft and skill he avoided coming in competition with me. one day some part of his jigger got out of gear and he had it removed into the country to fix it. i located him and followed him up. i have forgotten the name of the village where i found him; but the people were getting much excited, for he had stated that at a certain time he would show them what he could do. "he had gathered scientific men from oshkosh, skowhegan, chicago, and other centres of culture and refinement. among them was professor deusenberry, of the squedunk elementary college of fine fatheads. i succeeded in getting at professor deusenberry's ear. he had a generous ear, and there was not much trouble in getting at it. i told him all about my _snowbird_, and informed him that i had her concealed near at hand and proposed to show up santos when he broke loose and sailed. i took him around to see my craft; but when he looked her over he shook his head and announced that she'd never rise clear of the skids on which i had her elevated above the ground. "well, mates, the great day came around, and promptly at the hour set santos rose like a bird in the air. i was watching for him, and when i saw him gliding about over the village i promptly started the _snowbird_ going. the moment i shut off the power of gravitation i scooted upward like a wild swan. i made straight for dumont's old machine, and there before the wildly cheering people, whose shouts rose faint and sweet to my ear, i proceeded to do a few stunts. i circled around santos when he was at his best speed. i sailed over him and under him, and i certain gave him an attack of nervous prostration. in his excitement he did something wrong and knocked his machine out of kilter, so that he suddenly took a collapse and fell into the top of a tree, where his old craft was badly damaged. i gently lowered myself to the ground, and as i stepped out of the _snowbird_ professor deusenberry clasped me to his throbbing bosom and wept on my breast. "'professor wiley!' he cried, 'beyond question you have solved the problem of aã«rial navigation. professor wiley----' 'excuse me, professor deusenberry' said i, 'but i am simply plain cap'n wiley, a salty old tar of modesty and few pretensions. i have no rightful claim to the title of professor.' "'but you shall have--you shall have!' he earnestly declared. 'i will see that you're made professor of atmospheric nullity at the squedunk elementary college of fine fatheads. your name shall go ringing down through the corridor of the ages. your name shall stand side by side in history with those of columbus, pizarro, and richard croker.' "that night i was wined, and dined, and toasted in that town, while santos-dumont stood outside and shivered in the cold. the scientific men and professors and men of boodle gazed on me in awe and wonderment and bowed down before me. professor deusenberry was seized with a determination to own the _snowbird_. he was fearful lest some one else should obtain her, and so he hastened to get me to set a price upon her. i was modest. i told him that i was modest. i told him that in the cause of science i was ready to part with her for the paltry sum of five thousand dollars. in less than ten minutes he had gathered some of the moneyed fatheads of his college and bought my flying machine. "i suggested to them that the proper way to start her was to get her onto some eminence and have some one push her off. the following morning they raised her to the flat roof of a building, and, with no small amount of agitation, i saw that professor deusenberry himself contemplated making a trip in her. when they pushed her off he started the paddle wheels going, but without the effect of my little gravity destroyer to keep her from falling. she dropped straight down to the ground. when they picked the professor up, several of his lateral ribs, together with his dispendarium, were fractured. i thought his confidence in me was also broken. at any rate, i hastened to shake the dust of that town from my feet and make for the tall timber. "nevertheless, mates, my little experience with santos-dumont so disgusted and discouraged him that he immediately left this country, which explains something that has been puzzling the people for a long time. they wondered why he didn't remain and do the stunts he had promised to do. even now i fancy that santy often dreams in terror of cap'n wiley and his _snowbird_." chapter iii. the map vanishes. while cap'n wiley had been relating this yarn merriwell seemed utterly unconscious of his presence. having produced his field glasses from the case at his side, he was surveying the impregnable valley. suddenly he started slightly and touched bart's arm. "look yonder, hodge," he said, in a low tone. "away up at the far end of the valley where the timber is, i can see smoke rising there." "so can i!" exclaimed hodge. "what does it mean?" "there is but one thing it can mean, and that is----" "there's some one in the valley." "sure, sure," agreed cap'n wiley. "somebody has found a passage into that harbor." "do you suppose," asked hodge, in consternation, "that there are other parties searching for that mine?" "it's not unlikely." "but you were the only one told of its existence by benson clark." "still, it's likely others knew he was prospecting in this vicinity." "it will be hard luck, merry, if we find that some one has relocated that claim ahead of us." "that's right," nodded frank. "the fact that there is smoke rising from that part of the valley proves it is not impossible to get down there. it's too late to-day to make any further effort in that direction. we will return to the camp and wait for morning." "and if you find other men on the claim, what will you do?" "i haven't decided." "but it belongs to you!" exclaimed hodge earnestly. "clark located it, and when he died he gave you the right to it." "nevertheless, if some one else has found it and has registered his claim, he can hold it." "not if you can prove clark staked it off and posted notices. not if you can prove he gave it to you." "but i can't prove that. clark is dead. he left no will. all he left was quartz in his saddlebags and some dust he had washed from the placer, together with this map i have in my pocket. you see, i would find it impossible to prove my right to the mine if i discovered other parties in possession of it." bart's look of disappointment increased. "i suppose that's right, merry," he confessed; "but it doesn't seem right to me. the consolidated mining association of america tried to take your queen mystery mine from you on a shabbier claim than you have on this mine here." "but i defeated them, bart. you must not forget that." "i haven't forgotten it," hodge declared, nodding his head. "all the same, you had hard work to defeat them, and, later, milton sukes made it still harder for you." "but i triumphed in both cases. right is right, bart; it makes no difference whether it is on my side or the other fellow's." "that's so," hodge confessed. "but it would be an almighty shame to find some one else squatting on that claim. i'd like to get down into that valley now!" "it can't be done before nightfall, so we will go back to camp." they set out, and an hour later they reached their camp in a small valley. there they had pitched a tent near a spring, and close at hand their horses grazed. as they approached the tent, little abe came hobbling up to them. "i am glad you're back," he declared. "that man has been going on just awful." "who? worthington?" questioned merry. "yes; he said over and over that he knew his ghost would be lost. he declared his ghost was in danger. he said he could feel the danger near." "more of his wild fancies," said hodge. "mates," observed cap'n wiley, "if there's anything that upsets my zebro spinal column it is a crazy gentleman like that. i am prone to confess that he worries me. i don't trust him. i am afraid that some morning i will wake up and find a hatchet sticking in my head. i should hate to do that." "i am positive he is harmless," declared merry. "where is he, abe?" "i don't know now. a while ago he just rushed off, calling and calling, and he's not come back." frank looked alarmed. "he promised me he would stay near the camp. he gave me his word, and this is the first time he has failed to obey me implicitly in everything." "he said he'd have to go to save you." "it was a mistake bringing him here, frank," asserted hodge. "but what could i do with him? he wouldn't remain behind, and i knew the danger of leaving him there. any day he might escape from the valley and lose himself in the desert to perish there." "perhaps that is what will happen to him now." merry was sorely troubled. he made preparations to go in search of worthington without delay. but even as he was doing so the deranged man came running back into the camp and fell panting at his feet. "i have found you again, my ghost!" he cried. "they are after you! you must beware! you must guard yourself constantly!" "get up, worthington!" said merry. "i am in no danger. no one can hurt a ghost, you know." "ah! you don't know them--you don't know them!" excitedly shouted the lunatic. "they are wicked and dangerous. i saw them peering over those rocks. i saw their evil eyes. abe was asleep. i had been walking up and down, waiting for you to return. when i saw them i stood still as a stone and made them believe i was dead. they watched and watched and whispered. they had weapons in their hands! you must be on your guard every minute!" "i have heard about crazy bedbugs," muttered wiley; "but i never saw one quite as bad as this. every time i hear him go on that way i feel the need of a drink. i could even partake of a portion of easy street firewater with relish." worthington seized frank's arm. "you must come and see where they were--you must come and see," he urged. "never mind that now," said merry. "i will look later." "no! no! come, now!" "be still!" commanded merry sharply. "i can't waste the time." but the maniac continued to plead and beg until, in order to appease him, merry gave in. worthington led him to a mass of bowlders at a distance, and, pointing at them, he declared in a whisper: "there's where they were hiding. look and see. there is where they were, i tell you!" more to pacify the poor fellow than anything else, frank looked around amid the rocks. suddenly he made a discovery that caused him to change countenance and kneel upon the ground. bart, who had sauntered down, found him thus. "what is it, frank?" he asked. "see here, hodge," said merry. "there has been some one here amid these rocks. here's a track. here's a mark where the nails of a man's boot heel scratched on the rocks." hodge stood looking down, but shook his head. "you have sharper eyes than i, frank," he confessed. "perhaps worthington has been here himself." "no! no!" denied the deranged man. "i was afraid to come! i tell you i saw them! i tell you i saw their wicked eyes. this is the first time i have been here!" "if he tells the truth," said frank, "then it is certain some one else has been here." behind worthington's back bart shook his head and made signals expressive of his belief that whatever signs frank had discovered there had been made by worthington. "now, you see," persisted the madman; "now you know they were here! now you know you must be on your guard!" "yes, yes," nodded merry impatiently. "don't worry about that, worthington. i will be on my guard. they will not take me by surprise." this seemed to satisfy the poor fellow for the time being, and they returned to the tent. there a fire was again started and supper was prepared. shadows gathered in the valley and night came on. overhead the bright stars were shining with a clear light peculiar to that southwestern land. after supper they lay about on the ground, talking of the enchanted valley, as merry had named it, and of the mysterious smoke seen rising from it. later, when little abe and cap'n wiley were sleeping and worthington had sunk into troubled slumber, through which he muttered and moaned, frank and bart sat in the tent and examined the map by the light of a small lantern. "beyond question, merry, the mine is near here. there is not a doubt of it. here to the east is hawley peak, to the south lies clear creek. here you see marked the stream which must flow through that valley, and here is the cross made by clark, which indicates the location of his claim." they bent over the map with their heads together, sitting near the end of the tent. suddenly a hand and arm was thrust in through the perpendicular slit in the tent flap. that arm reached over frank's shoulder, and that hand seized the map from his fingers. it was done in a twinkling, and in a twinkling it was gone. with shouts of astonishment and dismay, both frank and bart sprang up and plunged from the tent. they heard the sounds of feet running swiftly down the valley. "halt!" cried merry, producing a pistol and starting in pursuit. in the darkness he caught a glimpse of the fleeing figure. "stop, or i fire!" he cried again. there was no answer. flinging up his hand, he began shooting into the gloom. he did not stop until he had emptied the weapon. having run on some distance, he paused and listened, stopping bart with an outstretched hand. silence lay over the valley. "did you hit him?" asked bart. "i don't know," confessed frank. "i can hear nothing of him." "nor i." "you may have dropped him here." "if not----" "if not, my map is gone." as he was talking, frank threw open his pistol and the empty shells were ejected. he deftly refilled the cylinder. "by george, merry!" whispered bart, "worthington may have been right when he told you he saw some one beyond those bowlders." "he was." "then we have been followed! we have been spied upon!" "no question about it." "who did it?" "that's for us to find out." together they searched for the man at whom frank had fired in the darkness. they found nothing of him. from the tent little abe began calling to them. then worthington came hurrying and panting through the darkness seeking them. "they have gone!" declared the man wildly. "they were here! in my sleep i felt them! in my sleep i saw them!" "we must have a light, hodge," said frank. "bring the lantern." bart rushed back to the tent and brought the lantern. with it frank began examining the ground. "poor show of discovering any sign here," he muttered. after a time, however, he uttered an exclamation and bent over. "what have you found?" questioned hodge excitedly. "see here," said frank, pointing on the ground before him. on a rock at their feet they saw fresh drops of blood. "by jove, you did hit him!" burst from bart's lips. "if we can follow that trail----" "we will find the man who has that map," said merry grimly. "i wonder how badly he is wounded." "blood!" moaned worthington. "there is blood on the ground! there is blood in the air! there is death here! wherever i go there is death!" "keep still!" said frank sharply. "look out for abe, bart." then he began seeking to follow the sanguine trail with the aid of the lighted lantern. it was slow work, but still he made some progress. "we're taking big chances, merry," said bart, who had a pistol in his hand. "it's the only way we can follow him." "beware!" warned worthington, in a hollow whisper. "i tell you there is death in the air!" they had not proceeded far when suddenly a shot rang out and the bullet smashed the lantern globe, extinguishing the light. hodge had been expecting something of the sort, and he fired almost instantly in return, aiming at the flash he had vaguely seen. "are you hurt, merry?" he asked. "no; the lantern was the only thing struck. did you see where the shot came from?" "i caught a glimpse of the flash." then a hoarse voice hailed them from the darkness farther down the valley. "you gents, there!" it called. they did not answer. "oh, frank merriwell!" again came the call. "it's somebody who knows you," whispered hodge. "what is it?" called merry, in response. "you holds up where you are!" returned the voice, "or you eats lead a-plenty." "who are you?" "that's what you finds out if you come. if you wants to know so bad, mebbe you ambles nearer and takes your chances o' getting shot up." "it's sure death to try it," warned hodge, in a whisper. "death and destruction!" worthington screamed. "it is here! come away! come away!" he seized merry and attempted to drag him back. frank was forced to break the man's hold upon him. "i must save you!" the deranged man panted. "i knew it would come! once i left you to perish in the flames; now i must save you!" he again flung himself on frank, and during the struggle that followed both hodge and wiley were compelled to render assistance. not until the madman had been tripped and was held helpless on the ground did he become quiet. "it's no use!" he groaned; "i can't do it! it is not my fault!" merry bent close and stared through the gloom at the eyes of the unfortunate man. "you must obey me," he said, in that singular, commanding tone of his. "you have to obey me! go back to the tent!" then he motioned for hodge to let worthington up, and bart did so. without further resistance or struggling, the man turned and walked slowly back to the tent. "go with him, wiley, and take abe with you." although wiley protested against this, frank was firm, and the sailor yielded. then, seeking such shelter as they could find amid the rocks and the darkness, bart and frank crept slowly toward the point from which that warning voice had seemed to come. a long time was spent in this manner, and when they reached the spot they sought they were rewarded by finding nothing. "he has gone, frank," muttered hodge. "while we were struggling with worthington, he improved the opportunity to escape." "i fear you are right," said merriwell. further investigation proved this was true. in vain they searched the valley. the mysterious unknown who had snatched the map and who had been wounded in his flight by frank had made good his escape. chapter iv. the night watch. they were finally compelled to give up the search, although they did so with the greatest reluctance. "unless it aids the other fellow to locate the claim first," said bart, "the loss of the map cannot be much of a disadvantage to you, merry. it could give us no further assistance in finding the claim." "that's true," muttered frank. "but the fact that mysterious men have been prowling around here and one of them has secured the map seems to indicate there are others who are searching for benson clark's lost claim. if they locate it first----" "it's rightfully yours!" growled hodge. "no one else has a real claim to it. clark gave it to you." "but he made no will." "all the same, you know he gave it to you." "we have discussed all that, hodge," said merry as they returned to the tent. "if other parties find the claim first and begin work on it, they can hold it." wiley was teetering up and down in front of the tent, apparently in an uneasy state of mind. "i have faced perils by sea and land!" he exclaimed, as they approached. "it doesn't behoove any one to shunt me off onto a lunatic and a cripple when there is danger in the air. my fighting blood is stirred, and i long to look death in the mouth and examine his teeth." neither merry nor bart paid much attention to the spluttering sailor. they consulted about the wisdom of changing their camping place for the night. "i don't think it is necessary," said frank. "whoever it was, the prowler secured the map, and i fancy it will satisfy him for the present. something assures me that was what he was after, and we have nothing more of interest to him now." after a time they decided to remain where they were and to take turns in guarding the camp. the first watch fell on bart, while frank was to take the middle hours of the night, and wiley's turn came toward morning. it was found somewhat difficult to quiet worthington, who remained intensely wrought up over what had happened; but in time merry induced him to lie down in the tent. little abe crept close to frank and lay there, shivering somewhat. "you have so many enemies, frank," he whispered. "who are these new enemies you have found here?" "i don't know at present, abe; but i will find out in time." "why must you always have enemies?" "i think it is the fortune of every man who succeeds to make enemies. other men become jealous. only idiots and spineless, nerve-lacking individuals make no enemies at all." "but sometime your enemies will hurt you," muttered the boy fearfully. "you can't always escape when they are prowling about and striking at your back." "of course, there is a chance that some of them may get me," confessed frank; "but i am not worrying over that now." "worthington frightens me, too," confessed the boy. "he is so strange! but, really and truly, he seems to know when danger is near. he seems to discover it, somehow." "which is a faculty possessed by some people with disordered brains. i fancied the fellow was dreaming when he declared he saw some one hiding behind those rocks to-day; but now i know he actually saw what he claimed to see." "oh, i hope they don't get that mine away from you! you have taken so much trouble to find it!" "don't worry," half laughed merry. "if they should locate the mine ahead of me, i can stand it. i have two mines now, which are owned jointly by myself and my brother." "your brother!" exclaimed abe, in surprise. "why, have you a brother?" "yes; a half-brother." "where is he?" "he is attending school far, far away in the east. i received some letters from him while you were in denver." "is he like you?" "well, i don't know. in some things he seems to be like me; in others he is different." "he is younger?" "yes, several years younger." "oh, i'd like to see him!" breathed abe. "i know i'd like him. what's his name?" "dick." "perhaps i'll see him some day." "yes, abe, i think you will. by and by we will go east, and i will take you to see him at fardale. that's where he is attending school." "it must be just the finest thing to go to school. i never went to school any. what do they do there, frank?" "oh, they do many things, abe. they study books which prepare them for successful careers, and they play baseball and football and take part in other sports. they have a fine gymnasium, where they exercise to develop their bodies, which need developing, as well as their brains. in some schools, abe, the development of the body is neglected. scholars are compelled to study in close rooms, regardless of their health and of their individual weaknesses. and many times their constitutions are wrecked so that they are unfitted to become successful men and women through the fact that they have not the energy and stamina in the battle of life, at which successes must be won. "i don't know that you understand all this, abe, but many parents make sad mistakes in seeking to force too much education into the heads of their children in a brief space of time. it is not always the boy or girl who is the smartest as a boy or girl who makes the smartest and most successful man or woman. some of the brightest and most brilliant scholars fail after leaving school. although at school they were wonders in their classes, in after life others who were not so brilliant and promising often rise far above them." "i don't know nothing about those things, frank," said the boy. "you seem to know all about everything. but i want you to tell me more about the school and the games they play and the things they do there." "not to-night, abe," said merry. "go to sleep now. sometime i will tell you all about it." long after merry's regular breathing indicated that he was slumbering, little abe lay trying to picture to himself that wonderful school, where so many boys studied, and lived, and prepared themselves for careers. it was a strange school his fancy pictured. at last he slept also, and he dreamed that he was in the school with other boys, that he was straight, and strong, and handsome, and that dick merriwell was his friend and companion. he dreamed that he took part in the sports and games, and was successful and admired like other lads. it was a joyful dream, and in his sleep he smiled and laughed a little. but for the poor little cripple it was a dream that could never come true. in the night frank was aroused by bart, who lay down, while merry took his place on guard outside the tent. the night was far spent when frank awakened wiley to take a turn at watching over the camp. "port your helm!" muttered the sailor thickly, as merry shook him. "breakers ahead! she's going on the rocks!" "turn out here," said frank. "it's your watch on deck!" "what's that?" mumbled the sailor. "who says so? i am cap'n of this ship. i give off orders here." merry seized him by the shoulders and sat him upright. "in this instance," declared frank, "you're simply the man before the mast. i am captain this voyage." "i deny the allegation and defy the alligator," spluttered wiley, waving his arms in the dark. "i never sailed before the mast." frank was finally compelled to drag him bodily out of the tent, where at length wiley became aware of his surroundings and stood yawning and rubbing his eyes. "this is a new turn for me, mate," he said. "it has been my custom in the past to lay in my royal bunk and listen to the slosh of bilge water and the plunging of my good ship through the billows, while others did the real work. i always put in my hardest work at resting. i can work harder at resting than any man i know of. i have a natural-born talent for it. nevertheless, cap'n merriwell, i now assume my new duties. you may go below and turn in with the perfect assurance that little walter will guard you faithfully from all harm. though a thousand foes should menace you, i will be on hand to repel them." "that's right, wiley; keep your eyes open. there may be no danger, but you know what happened early this night." "say no more," assured wiley. "i am the embodied spirit of active alertness. permit rosy slumber to softly close your dewy eyes and dream sweet dreams of bliss. talk about real poetry; there's a sample of it for you." smiling a little at the eccentricities of the sailor, frank slipped into the tent and again rolled himself in his blanket. rosy dawn was smiling over the eastern peaks when frank opened his eyes. the others were still fast asleep, and merry wondered if wiley had already started a fire preparatory for breakfast. it seemed singular that the sailor had not aroused them before this. stealing softly from the tent, merry looked around for the captain. at first he saw nothing of him, but after some minutes he discovered wiley seated on the ground, with his back against a bowlder and with his head bowed. approaching nearer, frank saw the sailor was fast asleep, with a revolver clutched in his hand. "sleeping at your post, are you?" muttered frank, annoyed. "had there been enemies near, they might have crept on us while you were sleeping and murdered the whole party. you deserve to be taught a lesson." making no noise, he drew nearer, keeping somewhat to one side and behind the sailor, then bent over and uttered a piercing yell in wiley's ear. the result was astonishing. with an answering yell, the sailor bounded into the air like a jack-in-the-box popping up. as he made that first wild, electrifying leap he began shooting. when his feet struck the ground he started to run, but continued shooting in all directions. "repel boarders!" he yelled. "give it to them!" frank dropped down behind the bowlder to make sure that he was protected from the bullets so recklessly discharged from the cap'n's revolver. peering over it, he saw wiley bound frantically down the slope toward the spring, catch his toe, spin over in the air, and plunge headlong. by a singular chance, he had tripped just before reaching the spring, and he dived into it, splashing the water in all directions. this termination of the affair was so surprising and ludicrous that merry was convulsed with laughter. he ran quickly out, seized the sailor by the heels, and dragged him out. wiley sat up, spluttering and gurgling and spouting water, very stupefied and very much bewildered. this sudden commotion had brought hodge leaping from the tent, a weapon in hand, while abe and worthington crawled forth in alarm. merry's hearty laughter awoke the echoes of the valley. "why do you disturb the placid peacefulness of this pellucid morning with the ponderous pyrotechnics of your palpitating pleasure?" inquired wiley. "did it amuse you so much to see me take my regular morning plunge? why, i always do that. i believe in a cold bath in the morning. it's a great thing. it's a regular thing for me. i do it once a year whether i need it or not. this was my morning for plunging, so i plunged. but what was that elongated, ear-splitting vibration that pierced the tympanum of my tingling ear? somehow i fancy i heard a slight disturbance. i was dreaming just at that moment of my fearful encounter with chinese pirates in the indian ocean some several years agone. being thus suddenly awakened, i did my best to repel boarders, and i fancy i shot a number of holes in the ambient atmosphere around here." "you did all of that," smiled merry. "i found it necessary to get under cover in order to be safe. cap'n, you certainly cut a queer caper. it was better than a circus to see you jump and go scooting down the slope; and when you plunged into the spring i surely thought you were going right through to china." "well," said the sailor, wiping his face and hands on the tail of his coat, "that saves me the trouble of washing this morning. but i still fail to understand just how it happened." "you were sleeping at your post." "what? me?" "yes, you." "impossible; i never sleep. i may occasionally lapse a little, but i never sleep." "you were snoring." wiley arose, looking sad and offended. "if i did not love you even as a brother i should feel hurt by your cruel words," he muttered, picking up an empty pistol that had fallen near the spring. "but i know you're joking." "you just said you were dreaming, wiley," reminded frank. "is this the way you are to be trusted? what if our enemies had crept upon us while you were supposed to be guarding the camp?" "don't speak of it!" entreated the marine marvel. "it hurts me. in case i closed my eyes by accident for a moment, i hope you will forgive me the oversight. be sure i shall never forgive myself. oh, but that was a lovely dream! there were seventeen pirates coming over the rail, with cutlasses, and dirks, and muskets, and cannon in their teeth, and i was just wading into them in earnest when you disturbed the engagement. "in that dream i was simply living over again that terrible contest with the chinese pirates in which i engaged while commanding my good ship, the _sour dog_. that was my first cruise in eastern waters. the _sour dog_ was a merchantman of nine billion tons burthen. we were loaded with indigo, and spice, and everything nice. we had started on a return voyage, and were bound southward to round the cape of good hope. i had warned my faithful followers of the dangers we might encounter in the indian ocean, which was just literally boiling over with pirates of various kinds. "one thing that had troubled us greatly was the fact that our good ship was overrun with rats. i set my nimble wits to work to devise a scheme of ridding us of those rats. i manufactured a number of very crafty traps, and set them where i believed they would be the most efficacious. you should have seen the way i gathered in those rats. every morning i had thirty or forty rats in those traps, and soon i was struck with a new scheme. knowing the value of rats in china, i decided to gather up those on board, put about, and deliver them as a special cargo at hongkong. with this object in view, i had a huge cage manufactured on the jigger deck. in this cage i confined all the rats captured, and soon i had several hundred of them. these rats, mr. merriwell, saved our lives, remarkable though it may seem to you. bear with me just a moment and i will elucidate. "we had put about and set our course for the sunda islands when an unfortunate calm befell us. now, a calm in those waters is the real thing. when it gets calm there it is so still that you can hear a man think a mile away. the tropical sun blazed down on the blazing ocean, and our sails hung as still and silent as willie bryan's tongue after the last presidential election. the heat was so intense that the tar in the caulking of the vessel bubbled and sizzled, and the deck of the _sour dog_ was hot as a pancake griddle. suddenly the watch aloft sent down a cry, 'ship, ho!' we sighted her heaving up over the horizon and bearing straight down on us." "but i thought you said there was no wind," interrupted merry. "how could a ship come bearing down upon you with no wind to sail by?" "it was not exactly a ship, mr. merriwell; we soon saw it was a chinese junk. she was manned with a great crew of rowers, who were propelling her with long oars. we could see their oar blades flashing in the sun as they rose and fell with machine-like regularity. i seized my marine glasses and mounted aloft. through them i surveyed the approaching craft. i confess to you, sir, that the appearance of that vessel agitated my equilibrium. i didn't like her looks. something told me she was a pirate. "unfortunately for us, we were not prepared for such an emergency. had there been a good breeze blowing, we could have sailed away and laughed at her. as there was no breeze, we were helpless to escape. it was an awful moment. when i told my crew that she was a pirate they fell on their knees and wept and prayed. that worried me exceedingly, for up to that time they had been the most profane, unreligious set of lubbers it was ever my fortune to command. i told them in choice language just about what i thought of them; but it didn't seem to have any effect on them. i told them that our only chance for life was to repel those pirates in some manner. i warned them to arm themselves with such weapons as they could find and to fight to the last. we didn't have a gun on board. one fellow had a good keen knife, but even with the aid of that we seemed in a precarious predicament. "the pirate vessel came straight on. when she was near enough, i hailed her through my speaking trumpet and asked her what she wanted. she made no answer. soon we could see those yellow-skinned, pigtailed wretches, and every man of them was armed with deadly weapons. having heard the fearful tales of butcheries committed by those monsters, i knew the fate in store for us unless we could repulse them somehow. again i appealed to my men, and again i saw it was useless. "the pirate swung alongside and fastened to us. then those yellow fiends came swarming over the rail with their weapons in their teeth, intent on carving us up. the whole crew boarded us as one man. just as they were about to begin their horrid work a brilliant thought flashed through my brain. i opened the rat cage and let those rats loose upon the deck. as the chinamen saw hundreds of rats running around over the deck they uttered yells of joy and started in pursuit of them. "when they yelled they dropped their cutlasses and knives from their teeth, and the clang of steel upon the deck was almost deafening. it was a surprising sight to see the chinks diving here and there after the rats and trying to capture them. to them those rats were far more valuable than anything they had expected to find on board. for the time being they had wholly forgotten their real object in boarding us. "seeing the opening offered, at the precise psychological moment i seized a cutlass and fell upon them. with my first blow i severed a pirate's head from his body. at the same time i shouted to my crew to follow my example. they caught up the weapons the pirates had dropped, and in less time than it takes to tell it that deck ran knee-deep in chinese gore. even after we had attacked them in that manner they seemed so excited over those rats that they continued to chase the fleeing rodents and paid little attention to us. "if was not more than ten minutes before i finished the last wretch of them and stood looking around at that horrible spectacle. with my own hand i had slain forty-one of those pirates. we had wiped out the entire crew. of course, i felt disappointed in having to lose the rats in that manner, but i decided that it should not be a loss, and straightway i began shaving the pigtails from the chinamen's heads. we cut them off and piled them up, after which we cast the bodies overboard and washed the deck clean. "when i arrived in new york i made a deal with a manufacturer of hair mattresses and sold out that lot of pigtails for a handsome sum. it was one of the most successful voyages of my life. when congress heard of the wonderful things i had done in destroying the pirates, it voted me a leather medal of honor. that's the whole story, mr. merriwell. i was dreaming of that frightful encounter when you aroused me. perhaps you may doubt the veracity of my narrative; but it is as true as anything i ever told you." "i haven't a doubt of it," laughed frank. "it seems to me that the most of your wonderful adventures are things of dreams, cap'n. according to your tell, you should have been a rich man to-day. you have had chances enough." "that's right," nodded the sailor. "but my bountiful generosity has kept me poor. in order to get ahead in this world a fellow has to hustle. he can't become a rockefeller or a morgan if he's whole-souled and generous like me. i never did have any sympathy with chaps who complain that they had no chance. i fully agree with my friend, sam foss, who wrote some touching little lines which it would delight me to recite to you. sam is the real thing when it comes to turning out poetry. he can oil up his machine and grind it out by the yard. listen, and i will recite to you the touching stanzas in question." in his own inimitable manner wiley began to recite, and this was the poem he delivered: "joe beall 'ud set upon a keg, down to the groc'ry store, an' throw one leg right over t'other leg, an' swear he'd never had a show. 'o, no,' said joe, 'hain't hed no show;' then shift his quid to t'other jaw, an' chaw, an' chaw, an' chaw, an' chaw. "he said he got no start in life, didn't get no money from his dad the washing took in by his wife earned all the funds he ever had. 'o, no,' said joe, 'hain't hed no show;' an' then he'd look up at the clock, an' talk, an' talk, an' talk, an' talk. "'i've waited twenty year--let's see--- yes, twenty-four, an' never struck, altho' i've sot roun' patiently, the fust tarnation streak er luck. 'o, no,' said joe, 'hain't hed no show;' then stuck like mucilage to the spot, an' sot, an' sot, an' sot, an' sot. "'i've come down regeler every day for twenty years to piper's store; i've sot here in a patient way, say, hain't i, piper?' piper swore. 'i tell yer, joe, yer hain't no show; yer too dern patient'----ther hull raft just laffed, an' laffed, an' laffed, an' laffed." "that will about do for this morning," laughed frank. "we will have breakfast now." that day frank set about a systematic search for some method of getting into the enchanted valley, as he had called it. having broken camp and packed everything, with the entire party he set about circling the valley. it was slow and difficult work, for at points it became necessary that one or two of them should take the horses around by a dã©tour, while the others followed the rim of the valley. midday had passed when at last merry discovered a hidden cleft or fissure, like a huge crack in the rocky wall, which ran downward and seemed a possible means of reaching the valley. he had the horses brought to the head of this fissure before exploring it. "at best, it is going to be a mighty difficult thing to get the horses down there," said bart. "we may not be able to do it," acknowledged merry; "but i am greatly in hopes that we can get into the valley ourselves at last." when they had descended some distance, frank found indications which convinced him that other parties had lately traversed that fissure. these signs were not very plain to bart, but he relied on merry's judgment. they finally reached a point from where they could see the bottom and look out into the valley. "we can get down here ourselves, all right," said hodge. "what do you think about the horses?" "it will be a ticklish job to bring them down," acknowledged merry; "but i am in for trying it." "if one of the beasts should lose his footing and take a tumble----" "we'd be out a horse, that's all. we must look out that, in case such a thing happens, no one of us is carried down with the animal." they returned to the place where wiley, worthington, and little abe were waiting. when frank announced that they could get into the valley that way, the deranged man suddenly cried: "there's doom down there! those who enter never return!" "that fellow is a real cheerful chap!" said the sailor. "he has been making it pleasant for us while you were gone, with his joyful predictions of death and disaster." they gave little heed to worthington. making sure the packs were secure on the backs of the animals, they fully arranged their plans of descent and entered the fissure. more than an hour later they reached the valley below, having descended without the slightest mishap. "well, here we are," smiled merry. "we have found our way into the enchanted valley at last." "never to return! never to return!" croaked worthington. "it's too late to do much exploring to-night, merry," said hodge. "it's too late to do anything but find a good spot and pitch our tent." "where had we better camp?" after looking around, merriwell suggested that they proceed toward the northern end of the valley, where there was timber. "it's up that way we saw smoke, frank," said hodge. "i know it." as they advanced toward the timber they came to a narrow gorge that cut for a short distance into the side of a mighty mountain. the stream which ran through the valley flowed from this gorge, and further investigation showed that it came from an opening in the mountainside itself. beside this stream they found the dead embers of a camp fire. "who built it, frank?" asked bart, as merry looked the ground over. "was it indians, do you think?" merriwell shook his head. "no; it was built by white men." hodge frowned. "it makes little difference," he said. "one is likely to be as dangerous as the other." "we will camp here ourselves," decided merry. the animals were relieved of their packs, and they busied themselves in erecting a tent and making ready for the night. little abe was set to gathering wood with which to build a fire. darkness came on ere they had completed their tasks, but they finished by the light of the fire, which crackled and gleamed beside the flowing stream. wiley had shown himself to be something of a cook, and on him fell the task of preparing supper. he soon had the coffeepot steaming on a bed of coals, and the aroma made them all ravenous. he made up a batter of corn meal and cooked it in a pan over the fire. this, together with the coffee and their dried beef, satisfied their hunger, and all partook heartily. "now," said wiley, as he stretched himself on the ground, "if some one had a perfecto which he could lend me, i would be supinely content. as it is, i shall have to be satisfied with a soothing pipe." he filled his pipe, lighted it, and lay puffing contentedly. bart and merry were talking of what the morrow might bring forth, when suddenly worthington uttered a sharp hiss and held up his hand. then, to the surprise of all, from some unknown point, seemingly above them, a voice burst forth in song. it was the voice of a man, and the narrow gorge echoed with the weird melody. not one of them could tell whence the singing came. "where dead men roam the dark the world is cold and chill; you hear their voices--hark! they cry o'er vale and hill: 'beware! take care! for death is cold and still.'" these were the words of the song as given by that mysterious singer. they were ominous and full of warning. "that certainly is a soulful little ditty," observed wiley. "it is so hilariously funny and laughable, don't you know." frank kicked aside the blazing brands of the fire with his foot and stamped them out, plunging the place into darkness. "that's right," muttered hodge. "they might pick us off any time by the firelight." a hollow, blood-chilling groan sounded near at hand, and wiley nearly collapsed from sudden fright. the groan, however, came from the lips of worthington, who was standing straight and silent as a tree, his arms stretched above his head in a singular manner. "the stars are going to fall!" he declared, in a sibilant whisper that was strangely piercing. "save yourselves! hold them off! hold them off! if they strike you, you will be destroyed!" "say, worth, old bughouse!" exclaimed wiley, slapping the deranged man on the shoulder; "don't ever let out another geezly groan like that! why, my heart rose up and kicked my hair just about a foot into the air. i thought all the ghosts, and spooks, and things of the unseen world had broken loose at one break. you ought to take something for that. you need a tonic. i would recommend lizzie pinkham's vegetable compound." "keep still, can't you!" exclaimed hodge, in a low tone. "if we hear that voice again, i'd like to locate the point from whence it comes." "oh, i will keep still if you will guarantee to muzzle worth here," assured the sailor. the deranged man was silent now, and they all seemed to be listening with eager intentness. "why doesn't he sing some more, merry?" whispered bart. after some moments, the mysterious voice was heard again. it seemed to come from the air above them, and they distinctly heard it call a name: "frank!" merry stood perfectly still, but, in spite of himself, bart hodge gave a start of astonishment. "frank merriwell!" again the voice called. "great cã¦sar's ghost!" panted hodge in merry's ear. "whoever it is, he knows you! he is calling your name. what do you think of that?" "that's not so very strange, bart." "why not?" "since we came into the valley, either you, or wiley, or abe have spoken my name so this unknown party overheard it." "frank merriwell!" distinctly spoke the mysterious voice; "come to me! you must come! you can't escape! you buried me in the shadow of chaves pass! my bones lie there still; but my spirit is here calling to you!" "booh!" said wiley. "i've had more or less dealings with spirits in my time, but never with just this kind. now, ardent spirits and _spritis fermenti_ are congenial things; but a spooky spirit is not in my line." "i tell you to keep still," whispered hodge once more. "i am dumb as a clam," asserted the sailor. "do you hear me, frank merriwell?" again called the mysterious voice. "i am the ghost of benson clark. i have returned here to guard my mine. human hands shall never desecrate it. if you seek farther for it, you are doomed--doomed!" at this point worthington broke into a shriek of maniacal laughter. "go back to your grave!" he yelled. "no plotting there! no violence--nothing but rest!" "now, i tell you what, mates," broke in cap'n wiley protestingly; "between spook voices and this maniac, i am on the verge of nervous prostration. if i had a bottle of doctor brown's nervura, i'd drink the whole thing at one gulp." having shouted the words quoted, worthington crouched on the ground and covered his face with his hands. "what do you think about it now?" whispered bart in frank's ear. "whoever it is, he knows about benson clark and his claim. he knows you buried clark. how do you explain that?" "i can see only one explanation," answered frank, in a low tone. "this man has been near enough at some time when we were speaking of clark to overhear our words." "this man," muttered wiley. "why, jigger it all! it claims to be an ethereal and vapid spook." "don't be a fool, wiley!" growled hodge. "you know as well as we do that it is not a spook." "you relieve me greatly by your assurance," said the sailor. "i have never seen a spook, but once, after a protracted visit on easy street, i saw other things just as bad. i don't think my nerves have gained their equilibrium." "what will we do about this business, merry?" asked hodge. "i don't propose to be driven away from here by any such childish trick," answered frank grimly. "we will not build another fire to-night, for i don't care to take the chances of being picked off by any one shooting at us from the dark. however, we will stay right here and show this party that he cannot frighten us in such a silly manner." "that's the talk!" nodded hodge. "i am with you." "don't forget me," interjected the sailor. "you!" exclaimed frank sharply. "how can we depend on a fellow who sleeps at his post when on guard?" "it's ever thus my little failings have counted against me!" sighed wiley. "those things have caused me to be vastly misunderstood. well, it can't be helped. if i am not permitted to take my turn of standing guard to-night, i must suffer and sleep in silence." having said this in an injured and doleful manner, he retreated to the tent and flung himself on the ground. frank and bart sat down near the tent, and listened and waited a long time, thinking it possible they might hear that voice once more. the silence remained undisturbed, however, save for the gurgle of the little brook which ran near at hand. chapter v. wiley's disappearance. night passed without anything further to disturb or annoy them. the morning came bright and peaceful, and the sun shone pleasantly into the enchanted valley. wiley turned out at an early hour, built the fire, and prepared the breakfast. "seems like i had an unpleasant dream last eve," he remarked. "these measly dreams are coming thick and fast. night before last it was pirates; last night it was spooks. it seems to be getting worse and worse. if this thing keeps up, i will be in poor condition when the baseball season opens in the spring." "then you intend to play baseball again, do you, cap'n?" asked merry. "intend to play it! why, mate, i cannot help it! as long as my good right arm retains its cunning i shall continue to project the sphere through the atmosphere. to me it is a pleasure to behold a batter wildly swat the empty air as one of my marvelous curves serenely dodges his willow wand. i have thought many times that i would get a divorce from baseball and return to it no more. but each spring, as the little birds joyfully hie themselves northward from their winter pilgrimage in the sunny south, the old-time feeling gets into my veins, and i amble forth upon the turf and disport myself upon the chalk-marked diamond. yes, i expect to be in the game again, and when little walter gets into the game he gets into it for keeps." "what if some one should offer you a prominent position at a salary of ten thousand a year where you would be unable to play baseball?" inquired merry, with a sly twinkle in his eye. "you'd have to give it up then." "not on your tintype!" was the prompt retort. "what would you do?" "i'd give up the position." frank laughed heartily. "cap'n, you're a confirmed baseball crank. but if you live your natural life, there'll come a time when your joints will stiffen, when rheumatism may come into your good arm, when your keen eye will lose its brightness, when your skill to hit a pitched ball will vanish--then what will you do?" the sailor heaved a deep sigh. "don't," he sadly said, wiping his eye. "talk to me of dreadful things--funerals, and deaths, and all that; but don't ever suggest to me that the day will dawn when little walter will recognize the fact that he is a has-been. it fills my soul with such unutterable sadness that words fail me. however, ere that day appears i propose to daze and bewilder the staring world. why, even with my wonderful record as a ball player, it was only last year that i failed to obtain a show on the measly little dried-up old new england league. i knew i was a hundred times better than the players given a show. i even confessed it to the managers of the different teams. still, i didn't happen to have the proper pull, and they took on the cheap slobs who were chumps enough to play for nothing in order to get a chance to play at all. "i knew my value, and i refused to play unless i could feel the coin of the realm tickling my palm. i rather think i opened the eyes of some of those dinky old managers. but even though selee, mcgraw, and others of the big leagues have been imploring me on their knees to play with them, i have haughtily declined. what i really desire is to get into the new england league, where i will be a star of the first magnitude. i had much rather be a big toad in a little puddle than a medium-sized toad in a big puddle. the manager who signs me for his team in the new england league will draw a glittering prize. if i could have my old-time chum, peckie prescott, with me, we'd show those new england leaguers some stunts that would curl their hair. "speaking of peckie, mr. merriwell, reminds me that there is a boy lost to professional baseball who would be worth millions of dollars to any manager who got hold of him and gave him a show. play ball! why, peckie was born to play ball! he just can't help it. he has an arm of iron, and he can throw from the plate to second base on a dead line and as quick as a bullet from a rifle. as a backstop he is a wizard. and when it comes to hitting--oh, la! la! he can average his two base hits a game off any pitcher in the new england league. to be sure, the boy is a little new and needs some coaching; but give him a show and he will be in the national or american inside of three seasons." "are you serious about this fellow, cap'n?" asked frank. "i am aware that you know a real baseball player when you see him, but you have a little way of exaggerating that sometimes leads people to doubt your statements." "mr. merriwell, i was never more serious in all my life. i give you my word that everything i have said of prescott is true; but i fear, like some sweet, fragile wild-woods flower, he was born to blush unseen. i fear he will never get the show he deserves. while these dunkhead managers are scrabbling around over the country to rake up players, he remains in the modest seclusion of his home, and they fail to stumble on him. he is a retiring sort of chap, and this has prevented him from pushing himself forward." "you should be able to push him a little yourself, cap'n." "what! when i am turned down by the blind and deluded managers, how am i to help another? alas! 'tis impossible! coffee is served, mr. merriwell. let's proceed to surround our breakfast and forget our misfortunes." after breakfast frank and bart discussed the programme for the day. they decided to make an immediate and vigorous search for the lost mine. it was considered necessary, however, that one of the party should remain at the camp and guard their outfit. neither abe nor worthington was suitable for this, and, as both frank and bart wished to take part in the search, wiley seemed the only one left for the task. "very well," said the sailor, "i will remain. leave me with a winchester in my hands, and i will guarantee to protect things here with the last drop of my heroic blood." in this manner it was settled. the sailor remained to guard the camp and the two pack horses, while the others mounted and rode away into the valley. late in the afternoon they returned, bringing with them a mountain goat which merry had shot. as they came in sight of the spot where the tent had stood they were astonished to see that it was no longer there. "look, frank!" cried bart, pointing. "the tent is gone!" "sure enough," nodded merriwell grimly. "it's not where we left it." "what do you suppose has happened?" "we will soon find out." not only had the tent and camping outfit disappeared, but the two pack horses were missing. nor was wiley to be found. hodge looked at merry in blank inquiry. "where is this fellow we left to guard our property?" he finally exclaimed. "you know as well as i," confessed frank. "as a guard over anything, he seems to be a failure." "we can't tell what has happened to him." "what has happened to him!" cried bart. "why, he has taken french leave, that's what has happened! he has stolen our horses and piked out of the valley." merry shook his head. "i don't believe that, hodge," he said. "i don't think wiley would do such a thing." "then, why isn't he here?" "he may have been attacked by enemies." "if that had been the case, we would see some signs of the struggle. you can see for yourself that no struggle has taken place here." "it's true," confessed merry, "that there seem to be no indications of a struggle." "do you know, frank, that i never have fully trusted that chap." "i know, bart, you made a serious mistake on one occasion by mistrusting him. you must remember that yourself." "i do," confessed hodge, reproved by merry's words. "all the same, this disappearance is hard to explain. our tent and outfit are gone. we're left here without provisions and without anything. in this condition it is possible we may starve." "the condition is serious," frank acknowledged. "at the same time, i think it possible wiley decided this location was dangerous and transferred the camp to some other place. that's a reasonable explanation of his disappearance." "a reasonable one perhaps; but if that had happened! he should be here on the watch for our return." "perhaps we have returned sooner than he expected." "well, what's to be done, merry?" "we will sit here a while and see if he doesn't turn up. at least, we can make some sort of a meal off this mountain goat." "a mighty poor meal it will be!" muttered hodge disgustedly. a fire was built, however, and the mountain goat served to appease their hunger somewhat, although without salt it was far from palatable. there was plenty of feed and drink for the horses, therefore the animals did not suffer. in vain they waited for wiley to return. afternoon faded into nightfall and the sailor came not. "do you propose to remain here all night, merry?" inquired bart. frank shook his head. "i don't think it advisable. we will find another spot." with the gloom of night upon them, they set out, frank in the lead. he had taken notice of a clump of thick timber in another part of the valley, and toward this he rode. in the timber they ensconced themselves and prepared to pass the night there. worthington was strangely silent, but seemed as docile and as harmless as a child. when all preparations to spend the night in that spot were made, frank announced to bart that he proposed to go in search of their missing companion. "what can you do in the night?" questioned hodge. "you can't find him." "perhaps not," said merry; "but i am going to try." "i hate to have you do it alone." "you must remain here to look out for abe and worthington." when this was settled, merry set out on foot. during their exploration of the valley he had observed a deep, narrow fissure near the southern extremity, into which the stream plunged before disappearing into the underground channel. to him on discovering this it had seemed a possible hiding place for any one seeking to escape observation. something caused him to set his course toward this spot. an hour later, from a place of concealment high up on a steep bank, frank was peering into the fissure. what he discovered there surprised and puzzled him not a little. on a little level spot close by the stream a tent had been pitched. before the tent a small fire was burning, and squatted around this fire were three persons who seemed to be enjoying themselves in fancied security. the moment merry's eyes fell on two of them he recognized them as having been members of the terrible thirty. they were the ruffians hank shawmut and kip henry. the third person, who seemed perfectly at his ease as he reclined on the ground and puffed at a corn-cob pipe, was cap'n wiley! was wiley a traitor? this question, which flashed through frank's mind, seemed answered in the affirmative by the behavior of the sailor, who was chatting on intimate terms with his new associates. of course frank had decided at once that shawmut and henry had somehow learned of his expedition in search of benson clark's lost mine and had followed him. henry's left hand was swathed in a blood-stained bandage, the sight of which convinced the watching youth that it was this fellow who had snatched the map and who afterward had been winged in the pursuit. in spite of appearances, frank did not like to believe that cap'n wiley had played him false. from his position he was able to hear the conversation of the trio, and so he lay still and listened. "we sartain is all right here fer ter-night," observed shawmut. "we will never be disturbed any afore morning." "perchance you are right, mate," said the sailor; "but in the morning we must seek the seclusion of some still more secure retreat. my late associate, the only and original frank merriwell, will be considerable aroused over what has happened. i am positive it will agitate his equipoise to a protracted extent. my vivid imagination pictures a look of supine astonishment on his intellectual countenance when he returns and finds his whole outfit and little walter vanished into thin, pellucid air." shawmut laughed hoarsely. "i certain opine he was knocked silly," he said. "but he is a bad man," put in henry. "to-morrow he rakes this valley with a fine-toothed comb. and he is a heap keerless with his shooting irons. look at this yere paw of mine. he done that, and some time i'll settle with him." the fellow snarled the final words as he held up his bandaged hand. "yes," nodded the sailor, "he has a way of shooting in a most obstreperous manner. the only thing that is disturbing my mental placitude is that he may take to the war path in search of my lovely scalp." "confound you!" thought frank, in great anger. "so you are a traitor, after all! hodge was right about you. you're due for a very unpleasant settlement with me, cap'n wiley." "what binds me to you with links of steel, mates," said the sailor, "is the fact that you are well supplied with that necessary article of exuberancy known to the vulgar and unpoetical as tanglefoot. seems to me it's a long time between drinks." "you certain must have a big thirst," observed shawmut, as he produced a cold bottle and held it toward the sailor, who immediately arose and clutched it with both hands. "mates, it has been so long since i have looked a drink in the face that it seems like a total stranger to me. excuse me while i absorb a small portion of mountain dew." his pipe was dropped, and he wiped the mouth of the bottle with his hand after drawing the cork. he then placed the bottle to his lips and turned its bottom skyward. "so it is for that stuff you sell your friends, is it?" thought frank. having remained with his eyes closed and the bottle upturned for some moments, the sailor finally lowered it and heaved a sigh of mingled satisfaction and regret. "my only sorrow," he said, "is that i haven't a neck as long as a giraffe's. if the giraffe should take to drink, what delight he would enjoy in feeling the ardent trickle down his oozle! have something on me, boys." he then returned the bottle, and the ruffians drank from it. "there," said wiley, picking up his pipe, "my interior anatomy glows with golden rapture. i am once more myself. oh, booze, thou art the comforter of mankind! you cause the poor man to forget his sorrows and his misfortunes. for him you build bright castles and paint glorious pictures. for him you remove far away the cares and troubles of life. you make him a king, even while you make him still more of a pauper. you give him at first all the joys of the world and at last the delirium tremens. "next to women, you are the best thing and the worst thing in this whole wide world. mates, you see i am both a poet and a philosopher. it's no disparagement to me, for i was born that way, and i can't help it. ever since my joyful boyhood days on negro island i have looked with a loving eye on the beauties of nature and on the extracted fluid of the corn. but what of this world's riches has my mighty intellect and my poetic soul brought me? i am still a poor man." "but you won't be long arter we diskeevers this mine," said shawmut. "if you sticks by us, we gives you a third share." "your generosity overwhelms me. but it must not be forgotten that we yet have frank merriwell to dispose of. it is vain for you to try to frighten him away from this valley. last night you attempted it with your spook trick, but it didn't work." "what's that?" exclaimed henry. "what are you talking about?" "oh," said the sailor, "you can't deceive little walter. we heard you doing that spook turn. but it was time wasted." henry and shawmut exchanged puzzled looks. "you certain will have to explain what you are driving at," growled shawmut. "don't you know?" "none whatever." "i fear you are still seeking to deceive me." "not a bit of it," averred henry. "whatever was yer talking about, wiley?" "why, last eve, after we had partaken of our repast and were disporting ourselves in comfort on the bosom of mother earth, there came through the atmosphere above us a singing voice which sang a sweet song all about dead men and such things. afterward the voice warned us to hoist anchor, set sail, and get out of this port. it claimed to be the voice of benson clark, the man who first found the mine here, and who was afterward shot full of holes by some amusement-seeking redskins. i surely fancied you were concerned in that little joke, mates." both the ruffians shook their heads. "we has nothing to do with it," denied shawmut. "well, now it is indeed a deep, dark mystery," observed the sailor. "do you suppose, mates, that the spook of benson clark is lingering in this vicinity?" "we takes no stock in spooks," asserted henry. "and thus you show your deep logical sense," slowly nodded the sailor. "i congratulate you; but the mystery of that voice is unsolved, and it continues to perplex me." the listening man high up on the embankment was also perplexed. if shawmut and henry knew nothing of the mysterious warning voice, the enigma was still unsolved. as he thought of this matter, merry soon decided that these ruffians had spoken the truth in denying all knowledge of the affair. these men talked in the rough dialect of their kind. the unseen singer had not used that dialect; and, therefore, the mystery of the valley remained a mystery still. frank continued to watch and listen. "it's no spook we're worried about," declared henry. "if we dispose of this yere merriwell, we will be all right. with you ter help us, wiley, we oughter do the trick." "sure, sure," agreed the sailor. "thar is three of us," said shawmut, "and that certain makes us more than a match for them. the kid and the crazy galoot don't count. we has only merriwell and hodge to buck against." "they are quite enough, mates--quite enough," put in the sailor. "we will have to get up early in the morning to get ahead of them." "this yere merriwell certain is no tenderfoot," agreed shawmut. wiley arose and slapped the speaker on the shoulder in a friendly, familiar manner. "now you're talking," he nodded. "he is a bad man with a record longer than your arm. i have dealt with hundreds of them, however; and i think my colossal brain will be more than a match for him. did you ever hear how i got the best of bat masterson? it's a thrilling tale. listen and i will unfold it to you. you know bat was the real thing. beyond question, he was the worst bad man that ever perambulated the border. yet i humbled him to his knees and made him beg for mercy. that was some several years ago. at that time--" wiley was fairly launched on one of his yarns, but at that moment frank merriwell heard a slight movement and attempted to turn quickly, when he was given a thrust by a powerful pair of hands, which hurled him forward from the embankment and sent him whirling down toward the tent below. frank struck on the tent, which served to break his fall somewhat, but he was temporarily stunned. when he recovered, he found himself bound hand and foot and his three captors surveying him by the light of the fire. "well, wouldn't it jar you!" exclaimed the sailor. "it was almost too easy. why, mates, he must 'a' been up there listening to our innocent conversation, and somehow he lost his hold and took a tumble." shawmut laughed hoarsely. "it was a mighty bad tumble for him," he said. "he falls right into our paws, and we has him foul. now we're all right. talk about luck; this is it!" kip henry shook his wounded and bandaged hand before frank's eyes. "you did that, hang you!" he snarled. "now you gits paid fer it!" as the ruffian uttered these words he placed a hand on his revolver and seemed on the point of shooting the helpless captive. "wait a minute, mate," urged wiley. "let's not be too hasty. there are three of us here, and i have a sagacious opinion that any one of us will take morbid pleasure in putting mr. merriwell out of his misery. i propose that we draw lots to see who will do the little job." "you seem mighty anxious to take a hand at it!" growled henry. "i wish to prove my readiness to stand by you through thick and thin," asserted the sailor. "in this way i shall win your absolute confidence. should it fall on me to do this unpleasant task, you will see the job most scientifically done." as he made this assertion wiley laughed in a manner that seemed wholly heartless and brutal. "i didn't think it of you, cap'n!" exclaimed frank. "that's all right," returned the sailor brazenly. "i'm a solicitor of fortune; i am out for the dust. these gents here have assured me that i shall have a third interest in the mine when it is located. every bird feathers its own nest. i have a chance to feather mine, and i don't propose to lose the opportunity. if the task devolves upon me to transport you to the shining shore, rest easy in the assurance that i'll do a scientific job. i will provide you in short order with a pair of wings." "that's the talk!" chuckled shawmut. "how does we settle who does it?" "have you a pack of cards?" inquired wiley. "sartin," said shawmut, fishing in his pocket and producing a greasy pack. "we has 'em." "then i propose that we cut. the one who gets the lowest does the trick." that was agreed to, and a moment later the cards had been shuffled and placed on a flat stone near the fire. henry cut first and exposed a king. "that lets you out," said the sailor. "i can beat that. come ahead, mate shawmut." shawmut cut and turned up a trey. "i reckon i'm the one," he said. then wiley cut the cards and held up in the firelight a deuce! both henry and shawmut uttered exclamations. "well, you has your wish," said the latter. "now it's up to you to go ahead with the business." wiley actually smiled. "let me take your popgun, mate," he said, extending his hand toward henry. "mine is a little too small to do the trick properly." henry handed over his pistol. wiley examined it critically, finally shaking his head. "it's a mighty poor gun for a man of your standing to carry, mate," he asserted. "perhaps you have a better one, shawmut? let me see." shawmut also gave up his pistol. having a revolver in each hand, cap'n wiley cocked them both. "they seem to be in good working order," he said. "i should fancy either of them would kill a man quicker than he could wink his eye." "you bet your boots!" said henry. "that being the case," observed wiley, "i will now proceed to business." then, to the surprise of the two ruffians, he leveled the pistols straight at them. "now, you double-and-twisted yeller dogs!" he cried, "if you so much as wiggle your little finger, i will perforate both of you! i have the pleasure to inform you that i am a fancy pistol shot, and i think i can soak you with about six bullets each before you can say skat." the astounded ruffians were taken completely by surprise. "what in blazes does you mean?" snarled shawmut. "i mean business," declared the sailor. "did you low-born whelps think that cap'n wiley would go back on his old side pard, frank merriwell? if you fancied such a thing for the fraction of a momentous moment, you deceived yourselves most erroneously. now you keep still where you are, for i give you my sworn statement that i will shoot at the first move either of you make." as wiley said this he stepped close to frank, beside whom he knelt, at the same time keeping the ruffians covered. he placed one of the revolvers on the ground and drew his hunting knife. with remarkable swiftness he severed the cords which held frank helpless. "pick up that shooting iron, merry," he directed. "i rather think we have these fine chaps just where we want them." frank lost no time in obeying, and the tables were completely turned on shawmut and henry. "stand up, you thugs!" ordered merry. "stand close together, and be careful what you do." infuriated beyond measure, they obeyed, for they were in mortal terror of their lives. "take those ropes, wiley, and tie their hands behind their backs," directed frank. "with the greatest pleasure," laughed the sailor. and he proceeded to do so. when the ruffians were thus bound merry turned to wiley, whose hand he grasped. "cap'n, forgive me!" he cried. "i was mistaken in you. i couldn't believe it possible; still, everything was against you. how did it happen?" "a few words will clear up my seeming unworthiness," said the sailor. "when you departed to-day i found everything calm, and peaceful, and serene about the camp, and, after smoking my pipe a while, i fell asleep beside the tent. when i awoke these fine gentlemen had me. they proceeded to tie me up to the queen's taste. seeing my predicament, i made no resistance. i permitted them to do just as they liked. i depended on my tongue, which has never failed me, to get me out of the predicament, i saw them gather up the outfit, pack it on the horses and prepare to remove it. during this i craftily assured them that i would gleefully embrace the opportunity to join issues with them. "it's needless to enter into details, but they decided that it was best to let me linger yet a while on this mundane sphere while thinking my proposition over. so i was brought thither, along with the goods and chattels, and i further succeeded in satisfying them that they could trust me. it was my object, when i found they were well supplied with corn juice, to get them both helplessly intoxicated, after which i hoped to capture them alone and unaided. your sudden tumble into this little nest upset my plans in that direction, but everything has worked out handsomely." chapter vi. wiley meets miss fortune. when they returned with their captives and the stolen horses and outfit to the timber in which frank had left hodge and the others it was learned that worthington had disappeared. in vain they searched for him. he had slipped away without attracting hodge's attention, and he failed to answer their calls. in the morning the search was continued. they returned to their former camping place at the head of the valley where the mysterious voice had been heard, and there frank finally discovered some rude steps in the face of the cliff, by which he mounted to an opening which proved to be the mouth of a cave. there were evidences that this cave had been occupied by some person. merry saw at once that this unknown person might have been in the mouth of the cave at the time the mysterious voice was heard, and that beyond question he was the singer and the one who had warned them. it was midday when worthington was found. they discovered him in a thicket, locked fast in the arms of another man, whose clothes were ragged and torn, and who looked like a hermit or a wild man. the thicket in that vicinity was smashed and broken, and betrayed evidences of a fierce struggle. worthington's hands were fastened on the stranger's throat, and both men were stone-dead. "i know that man!" cried merry, in astonishment. "i met him in holbrook last spring. i told him of benson clark's death. he was once clark's partner. since that time he must have searched for clark's mine and made his way to this valley. this explains the mystery. this explains how he knew me and knew of benson clark." "yes, that explains it," nodded hodge. "but now, frank--what are we to do?" "we will give these poor fellows decent burial, and after that----" "after that--what?" "shawmut and henry must be turned over to the law. we must dispose of them as soon as possible. then there will be plenty of time to return here and locate benson clark's lost mine." and that plan was carried out. in a few days frank merriwell, bart hodge, cap'n wiley and little abe rode into prescott, arizona, escorting their captives, whom they turned over to the officers of the law. merry was ready to make a serious charge against the men, but, after listening to his story, the city official said: "better not trouble yourself about it, mr. merriwell. those chaps are old offenders! they have been wanted for some time for stage robbing, horse stealing, and for the malicious murder of a man in crown king and another in cherry. did you ever hear of spike riley?" "seems to me," said frank, "i have heard of him as a bad man who was associated with the kid grafton gang." "well, sir, this chap you call shawmut is spike riley. since then little has been heard from him. i am glad to get my hands on him." "then i'll leave him to your gentle care," said frank, with a smile. "you will relieve me of further bother on his part. as for henry----" "henry!" laughed the official. "why, he's got a record pretty nearly as bad as that of riley. he is known down in northern mexico as one lobo, and he has been concerned with juan colorado in some few raids. i think there is a reward offered for both of these men. in that case i presume you will claim it, sir." cap'n wiley, who had listened with his head cocked on one side and a peculiar look in his eyes, now coughed suggestively. frank glanced at the sailor and smiled. "in case there is a reward, sir," he said, "it belongs to this gentleman." as he rested a hand on wiley's shoulder the latter threw out his chest and swelled up like a toad taking in air. "thanks, mate," he said. "my modesty would have prevented me from mentioning such a trifling matter." "oh, i will give you all the credit that's your due, cap'n," assured merry. "you pulled me out of a bad pickle and tricked those ruffians very handsomely." "that will do, that will do," said the sailor. "let it go at that, frank, old side partner. it is as natural for me to do such things as for the sweet flowers to open in the blooming spring. i never think anything about them after i do them. i never mention them to a soul. why, if i were to relate half of the astounding things that have happened to me some people might suspect me of telling what is not strictly true. that's what binds my tongue to silence. that's why i never speak of myself. some day my history will be written up, and i shall get great glory even though i do not collect a royalty." "this is a pretty good thing, merry," said hodge. "it relieves you of all responsibility in regard to those ruffians, and you can now go about your business." in this manner it was settled, and frank left the two ruffians to be locked up in the prescott jail. rooms were obtained at the best hotel in the place, and both frank and bart proceeded without delay to "spruce up." having bathed, and shaved, and obtained clean clothes, they felt decidedly better. it was useless for cap'n wiley to indulge in such needless trouble, as he regarded it. "this is not my month to bathe," he murmured, as he sat with his feet on the sill of frank's window and puffed leisurely at a cigar. "besides, i am resting now. i find myself on the verge of nervous prostration, and therefore i need rest. later i may blossom forth and take the town by surprise." later he did. although he had jocosely stated that it was not his month to bathe, he indulged in such a luxury before nightfall, was shaved at a barber's shop and purchased a complete outfit of clothes at a clothing store. he even contemplated buying a silk hat, but finally gave this up when he found that silk hats of the latest style were decidedly scarce in prescott. when he swaggered into frank's room, where merry and hodge were holding a consultation, they both surveyed him in surprise. "i am the real thing now," he declared. "what has brought about this sudden change on your part?" questioned frank. "hush!" said the sailor. "breathe it softly. when i sat by yonder window musing on my variegated career i beheld passing on the street a charming maiden. i had not fancied there could be such a fair creature in this town. when i beheld her my being glowed. i decided that it was up to me to shed my coat of dust and grime and adorn myself. i have resolved to make my ontray into the midst of society here." "but aren't you going back with us to the mazatzals?" questioned merry. "when do you contemplate such a thing?" "we expect to leave to-morrow." "why this agitated haste?" "you know we've not definitely located benson clark's lost claim, although we feel certain it must be in the enchanted valley or in that vicinity. we're going back to prospect for that mine. if you return with us and we discover it, of course you will have an interest in it." "thanks for your thoughtful consideration, mate. at the same time, it seems to me that i have had about enough prospecting to do me for a while." "do you mean that you're not going with us?" exclaimed hodge, in surprise. "why, if we discover that mine it may make you rich!" "well, i will think the matter over with all due seriousness," said wiley easily. "i know you will miss my charming society if i don't go." "it may be the chance of your lifetime," said merry. "i'm not worrying about that. wherever i go, dame fortune is bound to smile upon me. i have a mash on that old girl. she seems to like my style." "i think you will make a mistake, wiley, if you don't go," asserted frank. "possibly so; but i've made so many mistakes in the brief span of my legitimate life that one or two more will hardly ruffle me. if i have to confess the truth to you, that valley is to me a ghastly and turgid memory. when i think of it i seem to hear ghostly voices, and i remember worthington raving and ranting about death and destruction, and i picture him as we discovered him in the thicket, dead in the clutch of another dead man. these things are grewsome to me, and i fain would forget them." "all right, cap'n," said frank; "you are at liberty to do as you like." then he and bart continued arranging their plans. that evening wiley disappeared. frank and bart left little abe at the hotel and went out to "see the sights." in the biggest gambling place of the town they found the sailor playing roulette. wiley had a streak of luck, and he was hitting the bank hard. around him had gathered a crowd to watch his plunging, and the coolness with which he won large sums of money commanded their admiration. "it's nothing, mates," he declared--"merely nothing. when i was at monte carlo i won eleventeen thousand pesoses, or whatever they call them, at one turn of the wheel. such a streak of luck caused the croupier to die of apoplexy, broke the bank, and put the prince of monte carlo out of business for twenty-four hours. the next day the prince came to me and besought me to leave the island. he declared that if i played again he feared he would die in the poorhouse. as it was, he found it necessary to mortgage the casino in order to raise skads to continue in business. to-night i am merely amusing myself. five thousand on the red." "well, what do you think of that?" asked hodge in frank's ear. "i think," said frank, "that it is about time for cap'n wiley to cash in and stop playing." he pushed his way through the throng and reached the sailor. "now is the time for you to stop," said frank in wiley's ear, speaking in a low tone, in order not to attract attention, for he knew such advice would not be relished by the proprietor and might get him into trouble. "never fear about me, mate," returned the sailor serenely. "ere morning dawns i shall own this place. talk about your gold mines! why, this beats them all!" "it's a wise man who knows when to stop," said frank. "it's a wise man who knows how to work a streak clean through to the finish," was the retort. "i have my luck with me to-night, and the world is mine. in the morning i shall build a fence around it." "red wins," quietly announced the croupier. "you observe how easy it is, i presume," said wiley, smiling. "i can't help it. it's as natural as breathing." frank saw that it was useless to argue with the sailor, and so he and hodge left him still playing, while they strolled through the place. there was a dance hall connected, which provided amusement for them a while, although neither danced. barely half an hour passed before frank, who was somewhat anxious about wiley, returned to note how wiley was getting along. luck had turned, and wiley was losing steadily. still he continued to bet with the same harebrained carelessness, apparently perfectly confident that his bad luck could not keep up. "he will go broke within twenty minutes if he sticks to it, frank," said hodge. merry nodded. "that's right," he agreed; "but he won't listen to advice. if we attempt to get him away, we will simply kick up a disturbance and find ourselves in a peck of trouble. even if he should cash in now and quit ahead of the game, he'd come back to it and lose all he's won. therefore we may as well let him alone." they did so, and bart's prophecy came true. the sailor's reckless betting lowered his pile so that it seemed to melt like dew before the sun. finally he seemed to resolve on a grand stroke, and he bet everything before him on the red. the little ball clicked and whirred in the whirling wheel. the spectators seemed breathless as they watched for the result of that plunge. slower and slower grew the revolutions of the wheel. the ball spun around on its rim like a cork on the water. at length it dropped. "he wins!" panted an excited man. "no--see!" exclaimed another. the ball had bobbed out of its pocket and spun on again. "lost!" was the cry, as it finally settled and rested securely in a pocket. wiley swallowed down a lump in his throat as the man behind the table raked in the wager. "excuse me," said the sailor, rising. "i hope you will pardon me while i go drown myself. can any one direct me to a tub of tanglefoot?" as he left the table, knowing now that it would cause no disturbance, frank grasped his arm and again advised him to leave the place. "i admit to you," said wiley, "that i was mistaken when i stated that i had a mash on dame fortune. i have discovered that it was her daughter, miss fortune. leave me--leave me to my fate! i shall now attempt to lap up all the liquids in the place, and in the morning i'll have a large aching head." frank insisted, however, and his command led wiley reluctantly to permit them to escort him from the place. "i might read you a lecture on the evils of gambling, cap'n," said merry; "but i shall not do so to-night. it strikes me that you have learned your lesson." "it is only one of many such lessons," sighed the sailor. "by this time i should have them by heart, but somehow i seem to forget them. i wish to tell you a secret that i have held buried in my bosom these many years. it is this: "somewhere about my machinery there is a screw loose. in vain i have sought to find it. i know it is there just as well as i know that i am cap'n wiley. now, you are a perfect piece of machinery, with everything tight, and firm, and well oiled, and polished. as an example you are the real thing. perhaps to-morrow i may conclude to follow in your footsteps. just tuck me in my little bed and leave me to dreamy slumber." after being left in his room, however, wiley did not remain long in bed. knowing they would not suspect such a thing of him, he arose, and dressed, and returned to the gambling house. when morning came he was not only broke, but he had pawned everything of value in his possession and was practically destitute. "well," said merry, having discovered the cap'n's condition, "i presume now you will return with us to the mazatzals?" "no use," was the answer; "i shall stay here in prescott. i have my eye on a good thing. don't worry about me." it was useless to urge him, for he persisted in his determination to stay there. and so before leaving frank made some final arrangements with him. "i have wired for my mail to be forwarded here, wiley," he said. "if anything of importance comes, anything marked to be delivered in haste, i wish you would see that it reaches me. cannot you do so?" "depend upon me, frank," assured the sailor. "i will not fail you in this. but before departing it seems to me that you should make arrangements that any such message be delivered into my hands." "i will do so," said merry. "now, see here, cap'n, i don't like to leave you strapped in this town. at the same time, i don't care to let you have money of mine to gamble with. if i provide you with some loose change, will you give me your word not to use it in gambling?" "your generosity is almost ignoble!" exclaimed wiley. "however, i accept it in the same manner that it is tendered. i give you my word." "well, that goes with me," nodded merry. "before leaving i shall see that you are fixed with ready money." chapter vii. a startling telegram. sunset in the enchanted valley. below the little waterfall which plunged down into the fissure at the southern end of the valley frank and bart had toiled hard all through the day. their sleeves were rolled up and their clothes mud-bespattered. there they had worked in the sandy soil near the stream, and there they had found the shining stuff for which they sought. every panful was carefully washed in the stream, showing dull yellow grains in the bottom when the last particles remained. not far away, on the level of the valley above them, set near the stream, was their tent. in front of it little abe was building a fire and was seeking to prepare supper for them, knowing they would be ravenously hungry when they quit work for the night. at intervals the cripple hobbled to the brink of the fissure and looked down at them as they toiled. no one had troubled them since their return to the valley. no longer did the place seem enchanted or mysterious. all the mysteries were solved, and it lay sleeping and silent amid that vast mountainous solitude. "well, bart," said frank, as he dropped his spade, "it seems to me that the thing is done to our satisfaction. at the northern end of the valley we have found clark's quartz claim, and the specimens we have taken from it seem decidedly promising. here we have located this placer, and we know from what we have washed out that it is rich and will prove extremely valuable while it lasts. now it's up to us to register our claims and open them for operation in the proper manner. we ought to be satisfied." "satisfied!" exclaimed bart. "you bet i am satisfied! what if i had remained in boston, merry? why, i would be plugging away to-day on a poor paying job, with decidedly poor prospects ahead of me. it was a most fortunate thing for me when i decided to stick by you and come west." frank smiled. "it was lucky, hodge," he agreed. "but i don't forget that you came without a selfish thought on your part. you came to help me in my fight against milton sukes. i am far better pleased for your sake than for my own that we have had this streak of luck. let's knock off for the night, old man. there's no reason why we should stick to it longer." as they were climbing from the fissure by the narrow and difficult path, little abe came rushing excitedly to the brink above and called to them. "come quick! come quick!" he cried. "what's the matter, abe?" asked frank, alarmed by the boy's manner. "somebody's coming," said the hunchback; "a man on a horse. he is coming right this way. he has seen the tent!" "we may have some trouble after all, merry," said hodge. ere they could reach the head of the path near the waterfall they plainly heard the thudding hoofs of the horse coming rapidly in that direction. when they had reached the level ground above they beheld the horseman approaching. it seemed that he observed them at the same time, for he suddenly waved his hat in the air and gave a yell. "by jove!" exclaimed merry, "i know him! it is wiley!" "right you are!" agreed hodge. "what the dickens could have brought him here at this time?" "perhaps he has some message for me. you know i made arrangements with him to bring any message of importance." the sailor drew up his horse as he approached. "ahoy there, mates!" he cried. "at last i have struck port, although i'd begun to wonder if i'd ever find it. this confounded old valley has moved since i was here last. i thought i knew just where it was, but i have spent two whole days cruising around in search of it." "hello, cap'n!" said frank. "you're just in time for supper." "supper!" exclaimed the sailor. "say it again! supper! why, i have been living on condensed air for the last twenty-four hours. look at me! i am so thin and emaciated that i can't cast a shadow. hungry! mates, a bootleg stew would be a culinary luxury to me. i will introduce ravage and devastation among your provisions. this morning i found an empty tomato can and another that once contained deviled ham, and i lunched off them. they were rather hard to digest, but they were better than nothing." he sprang down from his horse, which betrayed evidence of hard usage. "how did you happen to come?" asked merry. wiley fumbled in his pocket and brought forth a telegram. "i believe i made arrangements to deliver anything of importance directed to you," he said. "this dispatch arrived in prescott, and i lost no time in starting to fulfill my compact." merry took the telegram and quickly tore it open. there was a look of anxiety on his face when he had read its contents. "anything serious the matter?" asked hodge. "it's a message from my brother, dick," answered frank. "you know i wired him to address his letters to prescott. he didn't stop to send a letter. instead he sent this telegram. you know felicia delores, dick's cousin, with whom he was brought up? the climate of the east did not agree with her, therefore i provided a home for her in san diego, california, where she could attend school. dick has learned that she is ill and in trouble. he wants me to go to her at once." "what will you do?" asked hodge. "i must go," said frank quietly. * * * * * frank mounted the steps of a modern residence, standing on a palm-lined street in san diego, and rang the bell. he was compelled to ring twice more before the door was opened by a sleepy-looking mongolian. "i wish to see mr. staples at once," said merry. "is he home?" "mistal staple not home," was the serene answer, as the chinaman moved to close the door. frank promptly blocked this movement with a foot and leg. "don't be so hasty," he said sharply. "if mr. staples is not home, where can i find him?" "no tellee. velly solly." "then i must see mrs. staples," persisted merry. "she velly sick. velly solly. she can't slee anyblody." "well, you take her my card," directed merry, as he took out a card-case and tendered his card to the yellow-skinned servant. "no take cald. she tellee me no bothal her. go 'way. come bimeby--to-mollow." "now, look here, you son of the flowery kingdom," exclaimed merry, "i am going to see mrs. staples immediately, if she's in condition to see anyone. if you don't take her my card, you will simply compel me to intrude without being announced." "bold, blad man!" chattered the chinaman, with growing fear. "i callee police; have you 'lested." "you're too thick-headed for the position you hold!" exasperatedly declared merry. "take my card to mrs. staples instantly, and she will see me as soon as she reads my name, frank merriwell, upon it." "flank mellowell!" almost shouted the celestial. "you flank mellowell? clome light in, quickee! mladam, she expectee you." the door was flung open now, and frank entered. "well, you have come to your senses at last!" he said. "you no undelstand. blad men velly thick. blad men make velly glate tloubal. little glil she glone; mladam she cly velly much, velly much!" "hustle yourself!" ordered frank. "don't stand there chattering like a monkey. hurry up!" "hully velly flast," was the assurance, as the mongolian turned and toddled away at a snail's pace, leaving frank in the reception room. a few moments later there was a rustle of skirts, and a middle-aged woman, whose face was pale and eyes red and who carried a handkerchief in her hand, came down the stairs and found him waiting. "oh, mr. merriwell!" she exclaimed, the moment she saw him. "so it's really you! so you have come! we didn't know where to reach you, and so we wired your brother. he wired back that he had dispatched you and that he thought you would come without delay." her agitation and distress were apparent. "felicia," questioned frank huskily; "what of her?" "oh, i can't tell you--i can't tell you!" choked the woman, placing the handkerchief to her eyes. "it's so dreadful!" "tell me, mrs. staples, at once," said frank, immediately cool and self-controlled. "don't waste time, please. what has happened to felicia? where is she?" "she's gone!" came in a muffled voice from behind the handkerchief. "gone--where?" the agitated woman shook her head. "no one knows. no one can tell! oh, it's a terrible thing, mr. merriwell!" "where is mr. staples?" questioned frank, thinking he might succeed far better in obtaining the facts from the woman's husband. "that i don't know. he is searching for her. he, too, has been gone several days. i heard from him once. he was then in warner, away up in the mountains." merry saw that he must learn the truth from the woman. "mrs. staples," he said, "please tell me everything in connection with this singular affair. it's the only way that you can be of immediate assistance. you know i am quite in the dark, save for such information as i received from my brother's telegram. it informed me that felicia was in trouble and in danger. what sort of trouble or what sort of danger threatens her, i was not told. in order for me to do anything i must know the facts immediately." "it was nearly a month ago," said mrs. staples, "that we first discovered anything was wrong. felicia had not been very well for some time. she's so frail and delicate! it has been my custom each night before retiring to look in upon her to see if she was comfortable and all right. one night, as i entered her room, light in hand, i was nearly frightened out of my senses to see a man standing near her bed. he saw me or heard me even before i saw him. like a flash he whirled and sprang out of the window to the veranda roof, from which he easily escaped to the ground. "i obtained barely a glimpse of him, and i was so frightened at the time that i could not tell how he looked. felicia seemed to be sleeping soundly at the time, and didn't awake until i gave a cry that aroused her and the whole house as well. i never had a thought then that the man meant her harm. she was so innocent and helpless it seemed no one would dream of harming her. i took him for a burglar who had entered the house by the way of her window. after that we took pains to have her window opened only a short space, and tightly locked in that position, so that it could not be opened further from the outside without smashing it and alarming some one. i was thankful we had escaped so easily, and my husband felt sure there would be no further cause for worry. he said that, having been frightened off in such a manner, the burglar was not liable to return. "somehow it seemed to me that felicia was still more nervous and pale after that. she seemed worried about something, but whenever i questioned her she protested she was not. the doctor came to see her several times, but he could give her nothing that benefited her. i continued my practice of looking in at her each night before retiring. one night, a week later, after going to bed, something--i don't know what--led me to rise again and go to her room. outside her door i paused in astonishment, for i distinctly heard her voice, and she seemed to be in conversation with some one. i almost fancied i heard another voice, but was not certain about that. i pushed open the door and entered. felicia was kneeling by her partly opened window, and she gave a great start when i came in so quickly. a moment later i fancied i heard a sound as of some one or something dropping from the roof upon the ground. "i was so astonished that i scarcely knew what to say. 'felicia!' i exclaimed. 'what were you doing at that window?' "'oh, i was getting a breath of the cool night air,' she answered. 'with my window partly closed it is almost stuffy in here. sometimes i can't seem to breathe.' "'but i heard you talking, child,' i declared. 'who were you talking to?' "'i talk to myself sometimes, auntie, you know,' she said, in her innocent way. she always called me auntie. i confess, mr. merriwell, that i was completely deceived. this came all the more natural because felicia was such a frank, open-hearted little thing, and i'd never known her to deceive me in the slightest. i decided that my imagination had led me to believe i heard another voice than her own, and also had caused me to fancy that some one had dropped from the roof of the veranda. after that, however, i was uneasy. and my uneasiness was increased by the fact that the child seemed to grow steadily worse instead of better. "often i dreamed of her and of the man i had seen in her room. one night i dreamed that a terrible black shadow was hanging over her and had reached out huge clawlike hands to clutch her. that dream awoke me in the middle of the night, and i could not shake off the impression that some danger menaced her. with this feeling on me i slipped out of bed, lighted a candle, and again proceeded to her room. this time i was astonished once more to hear her talking as if in conversation with some one. but now i knew that, unless i was dreaming or bewitched, i also heard another voice than her own--that of a man. my bewilderment was so great that i forgot caution and flung her door wide open. the light of the candle showed her sitting up in bed, while leaning on the footboard was a dark-faced man with a black-pointed mustache. i screamed, and, in my excitement, dropped the candle, which was extinguished. i think i fainted, for mr. staples found me in a dazed condition just outside felicia's door. she was bending over me, but when i told her of the man i had seen and when she was questioned, she behaved in a most singular manner. not a word would she answer. had she denied everything i might have fancied it all a grewsome dream. i might have fancied i'd walked in my sleep and dreamed of seeing a man there, for he was gone when my husband reached the spot. "she would deny nothing, however, and what convinced us beyond question that some one had been in her room was the fact that the window was standing wide open. after that we changed her room to another part of the house and watched her closely. although we persisted in urging her to tell everything, not a word could we get from her. then it was that mr. staples wired richard, your brother. "three days later felicia disappeared. she vanished in the daytime, when every one supposed her to be safe in the house. no one saw her go out. she must have slipped out without being observed. of course we notified the police as soon as we were sure she was gone, and the city was searched for her. oh! it is a terrible thing, mr. merriwell; but she has not been found! mr. staples believes he has found traces of her, and that's why he is now away from home. that's all i can tell you. i hope you will not think we were careless or neglected her. she was the last child in the world to do such a thing. i can't understand it. i think she must have been bewitched." frank had listened quietly to this story, drinking in every word, the expression on his face failing to show how much it affected him. "i am sure it was no fault of yours, mrs. staples," he said. "but what do you think has happened to her? she was too young to be led into an intrigue with a man. still, i----" "you mustn't suspect her of that, mrs. staples!" exclaimed merry. "whatever has happened, i believe it was not the child's fault. when i placed her in your hands, you remember, i hinted to you of the fact that there was a mystery connected with her father's life, and that he was an outcast nobleman of spain. where he is now i cannot say. i last saw him in fardale. he was then hunted by enemies, and he disappeared and has never been heard from since. i believe it was his intention to seek some spot where he would be safe from annoyance and could lead his enemies to believe he was dead. i believe this mystery which hung like a shadow over him has fallen at last on little felicia. i would that i had known something of this before, that i might have arrived here sooner. i think felicia would have trusted me--i am sure of it!" "but now--now?" "now," said frank grimly, shaking his head, "now i must find her. you say you heard from your husband, who was then in a place called warner?" "yes." "then he may have tracked her thus far. it's a start on the trail." mrs. staples placed a trembling hand on frank's sleeve. "if you find her--the moment you find her," she pleaded, "let me know. remember i shall be in constant suspense until i hear from you." "depend upon me to let you know," assured frank. a moment later he was descending the steps. he walked swiftly along the palm-lined streets, revolving in his mind the perplexing problem with which he was confronted. seemingly he was buried in deep thought and quite oblivious of his surroundings. as he passed around a corner into another street he glanced back without turning his head. already he had noted that another man was walking rapidly in the same direction, and this sidelong glance gave him a glimpse of the man. three corners he turned, coming at length to the main street of the city. there he turned about a moment later and was face to face with the man who had been following him. this chap would have passed on, but frank promptly stepped out and confronted him. he saw a small, wiry, dark-skinned individual, on whose right cheek there was a triangular scar. "i beg your pardon," said merry. "_si, seã±or_," returned the man with the scar, lifting his eyebrows in apparent surprise. "you seem very interested in me," said merry quietly. "but i wish to tell you something for your own benefit. it is dangerous for you to follow me, and you had better quit it. that's all. _adios!_" "_carramba!_" muttered the man, glaring at frank's back as merriwell again strode away. chapter viii. felipe dulzura. frank did not find rufus staples at warner. he had been there, however, and gone; but no one seemed to know where. the afternoon of a sunny day found merry mounted on a fine horse, emerging from the mountains into a black valley that was shut in on either side by savage peaks. through this valley lay a faint trail winding over the sand and through the forests of hideous cactus and yucca trees. he had not journeyed many miles along this trail ere he drew up. turning his horse about, he took a powerful pair of field glasses from a case and adjusted them over his eyes. with their aid he surveyed the trail behind him as far as it could be seen. "i thought i was not mistaken," he muttered, as his glasses showed him a mounted man coming steadily along from the foothills of the mountains. "i wonder if he is the gentleman with the scarred cheek. i think i will wait and see." he dismounted and waited beside the trail for the horseman to approach. the man came on steadily and unhesitatingly and finally discovered frank lingering there. like merry, the stranger was well mounted, and his appearance seemed to indicate that there was spanish blood in his veins. he had a dark, carefully trimmed van dyke beard and was carelessly rolling a cigarette when he appeared in plain view. his clothing was plain and serviceable. merry stood beside his horse and watched the stranger draw near. frank's hand rested lightly on his hip close to the butt of his holstered revolver, but the unknown made no offensive move. instead of that he called, in a pleasant, musical voice: "good-day, sir. i have overtaken you at last. i saw you in advance, and i hastened somewhat." "did you, indeed?" retorted merry, with a faint smile. "i fancied you were coming after me in a most leisurely manner. but, then, i suppose that's what you call hurrying in this country." "oh, we never rush and exhaust ourselves after the manner of the east," was the smiling declaration, as the handsome stranger struck a match and lighted the cigarette. although frank was confident the man was a spaniard, he spoke with scarcely a hint of an accent. in his speech, if not in his manner, he was more like an american. "seems rather singular," questioned frank, "that you should be traveling alone through this desolate region." "the same question in reference to you has been troubling me, sir," retorted the stranger, puffing lightly at his cigarette. "to me it seems altogether remarkable to find you here." "in that case, we are something of a mystery to each other." "very true. as far as i am concerned, the mystery is easily solved. my name is felipe dulzura. i am from santa barbara. i own some vineyards there." having made this apparently frank explanation, the man paused and looked inquiringly at merry, as if expecting at least as much in return. frank did not hesitate. "my name is frank merriwell," he said, "and i am a miner." "a miner?" "yes, sir." "you can't have any mines in this vicinity." "possibly i am looking the country over for an investment." "it's possible," nodded dulzura. "but from your intelligent appearance, i should fancy it hardly probable." "thanks for the compliment. in regard to you, being a planter, it seems quite unlikely that you should be surveying this region in search of a vineyard. it seems to me that i have been fully as frank, sir, as you have." felipe dulzura lifted an objecting hand. "i have not finished," he protested. "i didn't mean to give you the impression that i was seeking vineyards here. far from it. on the contrary, having a little leisure, i am visiting the old missions in this part of the country. they interest me greatly. there was a time, long ago, you know, when this land belonged to my ancestors. my grandfather owned a vast tract of it. that was before gold was discovered and the great rush of 'forty-nine occurred. "i presume it is needless to state that my grandfather's title to his lands was regarded as worthless after that and he lost everything. he died a poor man. my father was always very bitter about it, and he retired to old mexico where he spent his last days. i am happy to say that he did not transfer his bitterness toward the people of this country to me, and i have found it to my advantage to return here and engage in my present occupation. you should see my vineyard, mr. merriwell. i think i have one of the finest in the state." the manner in which this statement was made seemed frankly open and aboveboard. to all appearances, felipe dulzura had nothing to conceal and was unhesitating in telling his business. "i, too," declared merry, "am interested in the old spanish missions. they remind me of the days of romance, which seem so far removed." "ah!" cried dulzura, "then it may happen that we can journey a while in company. that will be agreeable to me. i confess that the trail has been lonely." the planter was most agreeable and friendly in his manner, and his smile was exceedingly pleasant. in every way he seemed a most harmless individual, but experience had taught merry the danger of always trusting to outward appearances. "company of the right sort will not be disagreeable to me," assured frank. "good!" laughed dulzura. "i am sick of talking to myself, to my horse, or to the landscape. i am a sociable chap, and i like some one to whom i can talk. do you smoke, mr. merriwell? i have tobacco and papers." "thank you; i don't smoke." "ah, you miss one of the soothing friends of life. when i have no other company, my cigarette serves as one. this beastly valley is hot enough! the mountains shut it in and cut off all the cool breezes. however, ere nightfall we should get safely out of it and come to san monica mission. it lies yonder near the old indian reservation. i have heard my father tell of it, and it has long been my object to see it." for some little time they chatted, dulzura seeming to be in the most communicative mood, but finally they prepared to go on together. when they were ready frank suggested that his companion lead the way, as it was far more likely that he knew the trail better. "no, no, mr. merriwell," was the protest. "there is but one trail here. like you, i have never passed over it. you were in advance; it would scarcely be polite for me to take the lead." frank, however, had no thought of placing himself with his back turned on the self-styled planter, and, therefore, he insisted that dulzura should proceed in advance, to which the latter acquiesced. as they rode on through the somewhat stifling heat of the valley, the spaniard continued to talk profusely, now and then turning his head and smiling back at merry. "next year," he said, "i mean to visit spain. i have never been there, you know. years and years ago my ancestors lived there. i trust you will pardon the seeming egotism, mr. merriwell, if i say it's not poor blood that runs in my veins. my ancestors far back were grandees. did you ever hear of the costolas? it's likely not. there were three branches of the family. i am a descendant of one branch." "costola?" murmured frank. "the name seems familiar to me, but i presume there are many who bear it." "quite true. as for our family, however, an old feud has nearly wiped it out. it started in politics, and it divided the costolas against themselves. a divided house, you know, cannot stand. my grandmother was a costola. she was compelled to leave spain. at that time another branch of the family was in power. since then things have changed. since then that powerful branch of the family has declined and fallen. it was not so many years ago that the sole surviving member was compelled, like my grandmother, to escape secretly from spain. he came to this country and here lived under another name, taking that of his mother's family. i don't even remember the name he assumed after reaching america; but i did know that the surviving costolas hunted him persistently, although he managed to evade and avoid them. what has become of him now is likewise a mystery. perhaps he is dead." the speaker suddenly turned so that he could look fairly into frank's face, smiling a little, and said: "it's not likely this interests you, sir." "on the contrary," merry smiled back, "i find it quite interesting. to me spain is a land of romance. being a plain american, the tales of those deadly feuds are fascinating to me. i presume the costolas must have possessed large estates in spain?" "once they did." "and the one you speak of--the one who was compelled to flee from the country--was he wealthy?" "i believe he was reckoned so at one time." "and now," said frank, "if this feud were ended, if any offense of his were pardoned, could he not claim his property?" "that i don't know," declared dulzura, shaking his head. "well, then, if he has any descendants, surely they must be the rightful heirs to his estate." "i doubt, sir, if they could ever possess it. it must eventually be divided among his living relatives." "ah!" cried merry. "i understand, mr. dulzura, why you must have a particular interest in visiting spain. it seems probable that you, being distantly related to this exiled nobleman, may finally come into possession of a portion of his property." "it's not impossible," was the confession, as the man in advance rolled a fresh cigarette. "but i am not counting on such uncertainties. although my grandfather and my father both died poor, i am not a pauper myself. to be sure, i am not immensely rich, but my vineyards support me well. i have lived in this country and in mexico all my life. in fact, i feel that i am more american than anything else. my father could not understand the democracy of the americans. he could not understand their disregard of title and royalty." frank laughed. "had he lived in these days," he said, "and associated with a certain class of degenerate americans, he would have discovered that they are the greatest worshipers of titles and royal blood in the whole world." "i think that may be true," agreed the spaniard, puffing at his cigarette. "i have seen some of it. i know that many of your rich american girls sell themselves for the sake of titles to broken-down and rakish noblemen of other countries. i think most americans are ashamed of this." "indeed they are," seriously agreed merry. "it makes them blush when a rich american girl is led to the altar by some broken-down old _rouã©_ with a title, who has spent his manhood and wrecked his constitution in dissipation and licentiousness. almost every week we read in the papers of some titled foreigner who is coming to america in search of a rich wife. we don't hear of the scores and scores of american girls with wealthy parents who go abroad in search of titles. but we have forgotten the costolas. can you tell me anything more of them?" "you seem strangely interested in them," said dulzura, again glancing back. "it almost seems as if you had heard of them before." "and it almost seems so to me," confessed frank. "i think i must have heard of them before. sometime i shall remember when it was and what i have heard." but, although they continued to talk, the spaniard told merry nothing more of interest in that line. finally they relapsed into silence and rode on thus. frank's thoughts were busy when his tongue became silent. he remembered well that the most malignant and persistent enemy of little felicia's father was a man who called himself felipe costola. this man had made repeated efforts to get possession of felicia, but had been baffled by delores and had finally lost his life in fardale. beyond question, felipe costola was dead, and what had become of juan delores no man seemed to know. putting two and two together, frank began to wonder if delores might not be a costola who had assumed the name of his mother's family while living in spain, thus arousing the everlasting enmity of all the costolas, and who had finally been compelled to flee to america. in many respects the history of this man agreed with that told by juan delores himself. he had once told frank the name and title by which he was known in spain, but never had he explained the fierce enmity of felipe costola. now merry was speculating over the possibility that delores must have once been a costola. if this was true, then little felicia was, by the statement of dulzura, the rightful heir to the estate in spain. meditating on this possibility, frank fancied he obtained a peep behind the curtain which hid the mystery of felicia's disappearance. with the child out of the way, a false heir might be substituted, and the schemers behind the plot would reap their reward. the shadows of evening were thickening in the mountain when merry and his companion passed from the valley and reached the abrupt foothills. here the trail was more clearly defined, and soon they were startled to see standing beside it an aged indian, who regarded them with the stony gaze of the sphinx. dulzura drew up and asked the indian in spanish if the san monica mission was near. the reply was that it was less than half a mile in advance. they came to it, sitting on a little plateau, silent and sad in the purple twilight. it was worn and battered by the storms of years. on its ancient tower the cross stood tremblingly. a great crack showed in its wall, running from base to apex. in the dark opening of the tower a huge bell hung, silent and soundless. merry drew up and sat regarding the ancient pile in almost speechless awe and reverence. it was a monument of other days in that sunny land. here, long before the coming of the gold seekers, the spanish priest had taught the indian to bow his knee to the one true god. here they had lived their calm and peaceful lives, which were devoted to the holy cause. "come," urged dulzura, "let's get a peep within ere it becomes quite dark. there must be an indian village somewhere near, and there, after looking into the mission, we may find accommodations." frank did not say that he was doubtful if such accommodations as they might find in an indian village could satisfy him; but he followed his companion to the stone gate of the old mission, where dulzura hastily dismounted. even as frank sprang from his horse he saw a dark figure slowly and sedately approaching the gate. it proved to be a bare-headed old monk in brown robes, who supported his trembling limbs with a short, stout staff. dulzura saluted the aged guardian of the mission in a manner of mingled worship and respect. "what do ye here, my son?" asked the father, in a voice no less unsteady than his aged limbs. "we have come, father, to see the mission," answered the spaniard. "we have journeyed for that purpose." "it's now too late, my son, to see it to-night. on the morrow i will take you through it." "you live here alone, father?" "all alone since the passing of father junipero," was the sad answer, as the aged monk made the sign of the cross. frank was deeply touched by the melancholy in the old man's voice and in the lonely life he led there in the ruined mission. "what is the mission's income?" questioned merry. "our lands are gone. we have very little," was the reply. "still father perez has promised to join me, and i have been looking for him. when i heard your horse approaching i thought it might be he. it was but another disappointment. still, it matters not." "let us take a peep inside," urged dulzura. "just one peep to-night, father." "you can see nothing but shadows, my son; but you shall look, if you wish." he turned and moved slowly along the path, aided by the staff. they followed him through the gate and into the long stone corridor, where even then the twilight was thick with shadows. in the yard the foliage grew luxuriantly, but in sad neglect and much need of trimming and attention. at the mission door they paused. "let's go in," urged dulzura. "to-morrow will be time enough," answered frank, a sudden sensation of uneasiness and apprehension upon him. at this refusal dulzura uttered a sudden low exclamation and took a swift step as if to pass merry. frank instantly turned in such a manner that he placed his back against the wall, with the door on his left and the old monk close at hand at his right. suddenly, from beyond the shadows of the foliage in the yard, dark forms sprang up and came bounding into the corridor. out from the door rushed another figure. dulzura uttered a cry in spanish and pointed at frank. they leaped toward him. merry's hand dropped toward the holster on his hip, but with a gasp he discovered that it was empty. instead of grasping the butt of his pistol, he found no weapon there with which to defend himself. for all of the shadows he saw the glint of steel in the hands of those men as they leaped toward him, and he knew his life was in frightful peril. how his pistol had escaped from the holster, whether it had slipped out by accident, or had in some inexplicable manner been removed by human hands, frank could not say. it was gone, however, and he seemed defenseless against his murderous assailants. in times of danger frank's brain moved swiftly, and on this occasion it did not fail him. with one sudden side-step, he snatched from the old monk's hand the heavy staff. with a swift blow from this he was barely in time to send the nearest assailant reeling backward. the others did not pause, and during the next few moments frank was given the liveliest battle of his career. "cut him down! cut him down!" cried dulzura, in spanish. they responded by making every effort to sink their knives in frank. they were wiry, catlike little men, and in the gloom their eyes seemed to gleam fiercely, while their lips curled back from their white teeth. merriwell's skill as a swordsman stood him in good stead now. he took care not to be driven against the wall. he whirled, and cut, and struck in every direction, seeking ample room for evolutions. he knew full well that to be pressed close against the wall would put him at a disadvantage, for then he would not have room for his leaps, and swings, and thrusts, and jabs. the fighting american bewildered and astounded them. he seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. when one leaped at him from behind to sink a knife between his shoulders frank suddenly whirled like lightning and smote the fellow across the wrist, sending the steel flying from his fingers to clang upon the stones. the old monk lifted his trembling hands in prayer and tottered away. what had happened seemed to him most astounding and appalling. "come on, you dogs!" rang frank's clear voice. "come on yourself, felipe dulzura, you treacherous cur! why do you keep out of reach and urge your little beasts on?" the spaniard uttered an oath in his own language. "close in! close in!" he directed. "press him from all sides! don't let one man beat you off like that!" "you seem to be taking good care of your own precious hide," half laughed frank. then, as the opportunity presented, he made a sudden rush and reached dulzura with a crack of the staff that caused the fellow to howl and stagger. it did not seem, however, that, armed only with that stick, merry could long contend against such odds. soon something must happen. soon one of those little wretches would find the opportunity to come in and strike swift and sure with a glittering knife. the racket and uproar of the conflict startled the echoes of the mission building, and in that peaceful, dreamy spot such sounds seemed most appalling. frank knew the end must come. had he possessed a pistol he might have triumphed over them all in spite of the odds. suddenly in the distance, from far down the trail toward the valley, came the sound of singing. as it reached merry's ears he started in the utmost amazement, for he knew that tune. many a time had he joined in singing it in the old days. although the words were not distinguishable at first, he could follow them by the sound of the tune. this is the stanza the unseen singers voiced: "deep in our hearts we hold the love of one dear spot by vale and hill; we'll not forget while life may last where first we learned the soldier's skill; the green, the field, the barracks grim, the years that come shall not avail to blot from us the mem'ry dear of fardale--fair fardale." "fair fardale!"--that was the song. how often frank had joined in singing it when a boy at fardale military academy. no wonder frank knew it well! by the time the stanza was finished the singers were much nearer, and their words could be plainly distinguished. dulzura and his tools were astounded, but the man urged them still more fiercely to accomplish their task before the singers could arrive. the singing of that song, however, seemed to redouble merry's wonderful strength and skill. he was now like a flashing phantom as he leaped, and dodged, and swung, and thrust with the heavy staff. his heart was beating high, and he felt that he could not be defeated then. finally the baffled and wondering assailants seemed to pause and draw back. frank retreated toward the wall and stood waiting, his stick poised. the musical voices of the unseen singers broke into the chorus, and involuntarily frank joined them, his own clear voice floating through the evening air: "then sing of fardale, fair fardale! your voices raise in joyous praise of fardale--fair fardale! forevermore 'twixt hill and shore, oh, may she stand with open hand to welcome those who come to her- our fardale--fair fardale!" it was plain that, for some reason, dulzura and his band of assassins had not wished to use firearms in their dreadful work. now, however, the leader seemed to feel that there was but one course left for him. merry saw him reach into a pocket and felt certain the scoundrel was in search of a pistol. he was right. even as dulzura brought the weapon forth, frank made two pantherish bounds, knocking the others aside, and smote the chief rascal a terrible blow over the ear. dulzura was sent whirling out between two of the heavy pillars to crash down into the shrubbery of the yard. that blow seemed to settle everything, for with the fall of their master the wretches who had been urged on by him took flight. like frightened deer they scudded, disappearing silently. merry stood there unharmed, left alone with the old monk, who was still breathing his agitated prayers. from beyond the gate came a call, and the sound of that voice made frank laugh softly with satisfaction. he leaped down from the corridor and ran along the path to the gate, outside which, in the shadows, were two young horsemen. "dick--my brother!" exclaimed merry. "frank!" was the cry, as one of the two leaped from the horse and sprang to meet him. chapter ix. what the monk told them. "by all that's wonderful!" exclaimed merry, as he beheld his brother. "i thought i must be dreaming when i heard you singing. dick, how did you come here?" "i heard nothing from you, frank," was the reply. "i didn't know for sure that you had received my message. i did know that felicia was in trouble and in danger, and so i resolved to hasten to her at once. when i reached san diego i found she was gone and that you had been there ahead of me. i have been seeking to overtake you ever since. this afternoon we saw you far away in the valley, although we could not be certain it was you. you had a companion. we thought it might be bart hodge." dick had made this explanation hastily, after the affectionate meeting between the brothers. "it was not hodge," said frank; "far from it! it was a man i fell in with on the trail, and a most treacherous individual he proved to be." then he told of the encounter with dulzura's ruffianly crew, upon hearing which dick's companion of the trail uttered a cry. "whoop!" he shouted. "that certain was a hot old scrimmage. great tarantulas! why didn't we come up in time to get into the fracas! howling tomcats! but that certain would have been the real stuff! and you beat the whole bunch off, did you, mr. merriwell? that's the kind of timber the merriwells are made of! you hear me gently warble!" "hello, buckhart!" exclaimed frank, as the chap swung down from the saddle. brad buckhart and dick merriwell were chums at the fardale military academy, and frank knew him for one of the pluckiest young fellows he had ever met. buckhart was a texan through and through. "put her there, mr. merriwell," said brad, as he extended his hand--"put her there for ninety days! it does my optics a heap of good to rest them on your phiz. but i'll never get over our late arrival on the scene of action." "we knew you were here somewhere, frank, when we heard you join in 'fair fardale,'" said dick. "and by that sound the greasers knew i had friends coming," added merry. "it stopped them and sent them scurrying off in a hurry." "where are they now?" asked brad. "why don't they sail right out here and light into us? oh, great horn spoon! i haven't taken in a red-hot fight for so long that i am all rusty in the joints." "where is felicia, frank?" anxiously asked dick. merry shook his head. "i can't answer that question yet," he confessed. "i have followed her thus far; of that i am satisfied, for otherwise i don't believe these men would have attacked me." through the shadows a dark figure came slowly toward them from the direction of the mission building. "whoever is this yere?" exclaimed buckhart. "it's the old priest," said merry, as he saw the cloaked and hooded figure. the old man was once more leaning on his crooked staff, which merry had dropped as he hastened to meet his brother. even in the gathering darkness there was about him an air of agitation and excitement. "my son," he said, in a trembling voice, still speaking in spanish, "i hope you are not harmed." "whatever is this he is shooting at you?" inquired buckhart. "is it choctaw or chinese?" paying no attention to brad, merry questioned the monk, also speaking in spanish. "father," he said, "who were those men, and how came they to be here?" "my son, i knew not that there were so many of them. two came to me to pray in the mission. the others, who were hidden outside, i saw not until they appeared. why did they attack you?" "because they are wicked men, father, who have stolen from her home a little girl. i am seeking her, hoping to restore her to her friends." "this is a strange story you tell me, my son. who is the child, and why did they take her from her home?" "there's much mystery about it, father. she's the daughter of a spanish gentleman, who became an exile from his own country. there are reasons to suppose she may be an heiress. indeed, that seems the only explanation of her singular abduction. i have traced her hither, father. can you tell me anything to assist in my search?" the old man shook his hooded head, his face hidden by deep shadows. "nothing, my son--nothing," he declared, drawing a little nearer, as if to lay his hand upon frank. "i would i could aid you." suddenly, to the astonishment of both dick and brad, merry flung himself upon the monk, grasping his wrist and dropping him in a twinkling. he hurled the agitated recluse flat upon his back and knelt upon his chest. "frank! frank!" palpitated dick. "what are you doing? don't hurt him!" "strike a match, one of you," commanded merry. "give us a look at his face." the man struggled violently, but frank's strength was too much for him, and he was pinned fast. dick quickly struck a match and bent over, shading it with his hands, flinging the light downward upon the face of the man merry held. "just as i thought!" merry exclaimed, in satisfaction, as the light showed him, not the features of the old monk, but those of a much younger man, with dark complexion and a prominent triangular scar on his right cheek. "this is not the holy father. he couldn't deceive me with his attempt to imitate the father's voice. i have seen this gentleman on a previous occasion. he dogged my steps in san diego after i left rufus staples' house." it was, in truth, the same man merry had warned on the street corner in san diego. the little wretch swore savagely in spanish and glared at his captors. "spare your breath, my fine fellow," said frank. "profanity will not help you." "well, whatever was the varmint trying to do?" cried buckhart. "i certain thought he was going to bless you." "he would have blessed me with a knife between my ribs had i been deceived by him," asserted merriwell. "in my saddlebags you will find some stout cord. give it to me." a few moments later, in spite of his occasional struggles, the captured rascal was securely bound. "there," said merry, "i think that will hold you for a while. now, boys, i am going to see what has become of the holy father. this is his cloak." "you're not going back there alone," protested dick, at once. "not on your life!" agreed buckhart. "we are with you, frank." they followed him into the yard, where the darkness was now deep, and came together to the entrance of the mission, but without discovering anything of the aged monk. standing in the corridor, they peered in at the yawning door, but could see or hear nothing. frank called to the monk, but only echoes answered him from the black interior of the mission. "here's where you may get all the fight you want, buckhart," he said grimly. "be ready for anything, boys." "i am a heap ready, you bet your boots!" answered the texan, who had a pistol in his hand. "same here," said dick. frank struck a match on the cemented wall. a cold wind from the interior of the building came rushing through the open door and blew it out. it was like the breath of some dangerous, unseen monster hidden within the mission. merry promptly struck another match. this time he shaded it with his hands and protected it until it sprang into a strong glow. then, with his hands concaved behind it, he advanced through the doorway, throwing its light forward. almost immediately an exclamation escaped his lips, for a few feet within, lying on the cold floor, he discovered a human form. as he bent over the figure, he saw to his dismay it was the monk from whose body the brown cloak had been stripped. then the match went out. "is he dead, frank?" whispered dick. "i can't tell," answered merry. "i didn't get a fair look at him. we will know in a moment." he lighted another match and bent over the prostrate man. the light showed him the eyes of the monk fixed stonily on his face. it also showed him that a gag had been forced between the old man's teeth and fastened there. the father was bound securely with a lariat. "he is far from dead!" exclaimed merry, in satisfaction. "here, dick, cut this rope and set him free. get that gag out of his mouth, while i hold matches for you to do so." soon the rope was cut, the gag removed, and together they lifted the old man to his feet. frank then picked him up and carried him out into the open air. "you seem to have met with misfortune, father," he said. "i sincerely hope you are not harmed much." "my son," quavered the agitated monk, "it is not my body that is harmed; it is my spirit. against no living creature in all the world would i raise my hand. why should any one seize me and choke me in such a manner? much less, why should any who profess to be of the holy faith do such a thing?" "they were frauds, father--frauds and rascals of the blackest dye." "but two of them came here to pray," murmured the priest, as if he could not believe such a thing possible. "have we not suffered indignities enough? our lands have been taken from us and we have been stripped of everything." "they were infidels, father. you may be sure of that." "infidels and impostors!" exclaimed the old man, with a slight show of spirit. "but i couldn't think men who spoke the language of old spain and who prayed to heaven could be such base creatures." "what they certain deserve," growled buckhart, unable to repress his indignation longer, "is to be shot up a whole lot, and i'd sure like the job of doing it." "i don't understand it--i cannot understand it!" muttered the monk. "it's far beyond me to comprehend. why did they set upon me, my son?" he questioned, his unsteady hand touching frank's arm. "why did they seek to slay you?" "wait a minute, father, and i will explain," said merry. he then told briefly of the abduction of felicia and his pursuit of her captors. as he spoke, the aged listener betrayed some signs of excitement. "my son, is all this true?" he solemnly questioned. "you are not one of our faith, yet your words ring true." "i swear it, father." "then i have been twice deceived!" cried the old man, with surprising energy, shaking his hands in the empty air. "yesterday there came here two men and a sweet-faced child. they told me they were taking her home. i believed them. with her they knelt at the shrine to pray. i blessed them, and they went on their way." "at last!" burst from merry's lips. "now there's no question. now we know we're on the right trail! father, that little girl is a cousin of my half-brother here. he will tell you if i have spoken the truth." "every word of it is true," affirmed dick, who spoke spanish as fluently as frank. "if you can tell us whither they were taking her, father, you may aid us greatly in our search for her." "alas! it is not possible for me to tell you! i know that they were bound eastward. beyond these mountains are the great san bernardino plains, a mighty and trackless desert. where they could go in that direction i cannot say." "is it possible to cross the desert?" questioned dick. "it is a waste of burning sand. who tries to cross it on foot or mounted is almost certain to leave his bones somewhere in that desert." "then if they kept straight on----" "if they kept straight on," said the old monk, "i fear greatly you will never again behold the child you seek." "they are not fools!" exclaimed frank. "it is not likely they will try to cross the desert. the fact that they have taken so much trouble to endeavor to check pursuit here is proof they felt hard pushed. is there no town, no human habitation beyond these mountains?" "no town," declared the father. "straight over to the east you will come to the el diablo valley. it is deep and wild, and in it are some ruined buildings of stone and cement. tradition says they were built long ago by joaquin murietta, a californian outlaw, who waged war on all americans. he expected to retreat there some day and defend himself against all assailants. at least, so the legend runs, although i much doubt if he built the castle which is now called castle hidalgo. of late it has another occupant, who has taken the name of joaquin--black joaquin he is called." "well, this is somewhat interesting, too," declared merry. "is this new joaquin endeavoring to follow in the footsteps of his predecessor?" "i believe there is a price upon his head." merry turned to dick with sudden conviction. "our trail leads to castle hidalgo," he asserted. "i am satisfied of that. i am also satisfied that i have here encountered some of black joaquin's satellites." "and i will wager something," dick added, "that we have one of them this minute, bound hand and foot, a short distance away." "that's right," said frank, "and we may be able to squeeze a little information from him. father, the man who has your cloak is outside the gate. perhaps you may know him. come and look at him." together they left the yard and came to the spot where the man with the scar was supposed to be. on the ground lay the old monk's cloak, but the man was gone. undoubtedly he had been set free by some of his comrades. chapter x. three in a trap. the day was declining when frank, dick, and brad came down into el diablo valley. it was, indeed, a dark, wild place, and for some time it seemed almost impossible of access. no plain trail led into it. on an elevation in the valley they had seen a ruined pile that bore a strong resemblance to a crumbling castle. the very appearance of these buildings belied the tale that joaquin murietta had built them there. had they been so recently constructed their ruined condition was unaccountable. it seemed certain that at least a hundred years had passed since their erection. about the valley and the castle appeared hanging an air of mystery and romance. that any one should choose such a remote and desolate spot to rear those buildings was beyond comprehension to the three young americans who now beheld the ruins for the first time. somehow those crumbling stones reminded them of the march of cortez and his conquering treasure hunters. what spaniard of that day, left behind in mexico and supposed to be dead, had enriched himself with the treasures of the aztecs and had escaped northward, only to find himself imprisoned in the new land, and to finally use a part of his treasures to erect this castle? during the middle hours of the day alone did the southern sunshine fall soft and golden in el diablo valley. therefore, they descended into the shadows and approached the castle, which seemed to lie silent and deserted in the midst of the valley. "it's a whole lot strange we never heard of this place before," observed buckhart. "of course, others have seen it." there was a cloud on dick's face. "do you think, frank," he questioned, "that there is any hope of finding felicia here? since leaving the mission we have seen nothing to indicate that we were still on the right trail." "it's a good deal like hunting for a needle in a hay-stack," confessed merry. "maybe those galoots who have her doubled back on us," suggested brad. "maybe they turned on us there at the mission." "it's not impossible," was merry's regretful admission. "however, we are here, and we will find what there is to find." there were no echoes in the valley. it seemed a place of silence and gloom. as they approached the ruins they surveyed them with increasing wonder. there were old turrets and towers, crumbling and cracked, as if shaken by many earthquakes. the black windows glared at them like grim eyes. "i will bet my boots that there is no one around this yere ranch," muttered buckhart. "perhaps that old priest fooled us a whole lot." merry shook his head. "i am sure not," he said. they mounted the rise on which the castle was built and passed through a huge gate and dark passage, coming into a courtyard, with the crumbling ruins all around them. here they paused. suddenly at one of the narrow, upper windows of the old turret a face appeared. some one was there looking out at them. frank's keen eyes were the first to discover it. then to their ears came the cry of a voice electrifying them. the face at the window pressed nearer, and, together with the voice, it was recognized. dick gave a shout of joy. "felicia!" he exclaimed. "there she is, frank. can you see her in that window up there? felicia! felicia!" but even as he called to her thus she suddenly vanished. as they stared at the window, another face showed for a moment and another pair of eyes looked down at them. then these also disappeared. "waugh!" exploded brad buckhart. "here's where we get into action." "she's there," declared frank. "she's there--a captive!" "it's sure to be a red-hot scrimmage," said buckhart, looking at his revolver. "take care that your guns are ready for action." they leaped from their horses and swiftly approached the ruins, leaving the animals to wander where they might in the valley, well knowing they would not leave it. up the stone steps they bounded, coming to the deepset door, which by its own weight or by the working of time had fallen from its hinges. nothing barred them there, and they entered. as they dashed in, there was a sudden whirring sound, and they felt themselves struck and beaten upon as by phantom hands. this was startling enough, but frank immediately comprehended that they were bats and the creatures were fluttering wildly about them. from one dark room to another they wandered, seeking the stairs that should lead them up into the turret. "we need a light," said merry. "that certain is correct, pardner," agreed buckhart. "we are a heap likely to break our necks here in the dark." "but we have no light," panted dick, "and no time to secure a torch. if we waste time for that we may lose her." "where are those pesky stairs?" growled the texan. their search led them into a huge echoing room that seemed windowless. frank was exasperated by the aimlessness of their search. had they not seen felicia's face at the window and heard her voice, the silence and desolation of the place must have convinced them that it was in truth deserted. but now, of a sudden, there was a sound behind them. it was a creak on the rusty stairs. it was followed by a heavy thud and absolute silence. "what was that?" asked dick. "it sounded to me," muttered merry, "like the closing of a massive door." a moment later he struck a match, and by its light they looked around. holding it above his head, it served to illumine the chamber dimly. "wherever did we get into this hole?" asked brad. "i fail to see any door." the repeated lighting of matches seemed to show them only four bare walls. at last frank found the door, but he discovered it was closed. more than that, he discovered that it was immovable. "boys," he said grimly, as the match in his fingers fluttered out and fell into a little glowing, coal at his feet, "we are trapped. it's plain now that we did a foolish thing in rushing in here without a light. that glimpse of felicia lured us into the snare, and it will be no easy thing to escape." "let me get at that door!" growled buckhart. he flung himself against it with all his strength, but it stood immovable. they joined in using their united strength upon it, but still it did not stir. "well, this certain is a right bad scrape," admitted the texan. "i don't mind any a good hot fight with the odds on the other side, but i admit this staggers me." "what are we to do, frank?" whispered dick. "easier asked than answered," confessed merry. "it's up to us to find some means of escape, but how we can do so i am not ready to say." "pards," said the texan, "it seems to me that we are going to get a-plenty hungry before we leave this corral. we are some likely to starve here. the joke is on us." "hush!" cautioned merry. "listen!" as they stood still in the dense darkness of that chamber they heard a muffled voice speaking in english. it seemed to be calling to them derisively. "you're very courageous, frank merriwell," mocked the voice; "but see what your courage has brought you to. here you are trapped, and here you will die!" "hello!" muttered merry. "so my friend, felipe dulzura, is near at hand!" the situation was one to appall the stoutest heart, but frank merriwell was not the one to give up as long as there was the slightest gleam of hope. indeed, in that darkness there seemed no gleam. it is not wonderful that even stout-hearted brad buckhart began to feel that "the jig was up." in most times of danger, perplexity, or peril, dick relied solely on himself and his own resources; now, however, having frank at hand, he turned to him. "is there any chance for us to escape?" "boys," said merry, "we must not think of giving up until we have made every effort in our power. the first thing to be done is to sound the walls. you can help me in this. go around the walls, rapping on them and listening. see if you can find a hollow place. this is not the donjon, and it may have been originally intended for something different from a prison room." directed by him, they set about their task, sounding the walls. hopeless enough it seemed as they went knocking, knocking through the darkness. when the room had been circled once and no discovery made, buckhart seemed quite ready to give up the effort in that direction. frank was not satisfied, but continued feeling his way along the walls, rapping and listening as he went. finally he remained a long time in one place, which aroused the curiosity of his boy comrades. "have you discovered anything?" asked dick. before replying merry struck a match. "here, boys," he said, "you will see there is a crack in the wall. that may be the cause of the hollow sound i fancied it gave. but, look!" he added, holding the match high above his head, "see how the crack widens as it rises toward the ceiling. by jove, boys! it's almost wide enough up there for a cat to get through." then the match burned too short to be held longer, and he dropped it. several moments he stood in silence, paying no heed to the words of dick or brad. his mind was busy. finally he said: "get up here, boys, both of you. face this wall and stand close together. i want to climb on your shoulders. i am going to examine that crack. it may be our only hope of salvation." they followed instructions, and merry mounted to their shoulders, on which he stood. in this manner he was high enough to reach some distance into the crack in the wall. he found nothing but crumbling bits of cement and stone, which was a disappointment to him. "keep your heads down," he said. "i am going to see if i can loosen some of this outer coat of cement here. it may rattle down about your ears." he pulled away at the cement, cleaving it off easily and exposing the fact that the wall was somewhat shabbily built above a distance of eight feet from the floor. an earthquake or convulsion of nature, or whatever had caused the crack in the wall, had seriously affected it, and it seemed very shaky and unstable indeed. several times he shifted about on the boys' shoulders to give them rest, as his heavy boots were rather painful after remaining in one position a few moments. they were eager to know what progress he was making. "i can't tell what it amounts to, boys," he declared. "this crack may lead nowhere, even if i can make an opening large enough to enter." at length he was compelled to descend in order to give them a chance to rest. three times he mounted on their shoulders and worked at the cement and stones until the skin of his fingers was torn and his hands bleeding. he was making progress, nevertheless, and it seemed more and more apparent that, if given time enough, an opening might be made there at that height in the wall. in his final efforts he loosened a mass of the stuff, that suddenly gave way and went rattling and rumbling down into the wall somewhere. to his intense satisfaction, this left a hole large enough for a human being to creep into. "brace hard, boys," he whispered. "i am going to make a venture here. i am going to crawl into this place." "be careful, frank!" palpitated dick. "what if you get in there and the old wall crumbles on you! you will be buried alive! you will be smothered, and killed!" "better that than starvation in this wretched hole," he half laughed. "we will have to take chances if we ever escape at all. steady now." they stiffened their bodies, and he gave a little spring, diving into the opening as far as he could and slowly wiggling and dragging himself forward. in this manner he gradually crept into it, although it was no simple matter. there was barely room enough for him to accomplish this feat, and when it was done he lay still a few moments to rest. as he lay thus he heard some of the stones and cement rattling and falling beneath him, and felt the whole wall seem to settle. his heart leaped into his throat, for it seemed, indeed, that he was about to be smothered and crushed to death in that place. still he did not retreat. instead of that, he squirmed and crawled forward as fast as possible. suddenly a mass of the wall came down upon his back and shoulders, and he was pinned fast. trying to squirm forward still farther, he found himself held as if in the jaws of a vise, and never in his adventurous career had his position seemed more desperate and helpless. dust filled his eyes and nostrils, and he seemed smothered. summoning all his wonderful strength, merry made a mighty effort. suddenly, as he did so, the wall beneath him seemed to give way, and downward he fell, amid showers of stones and cement, which rained upon him. he had fallen into some sort of open space, and, although somewhat dazed and stunned, he quickly crept forward to escape the falling mass of stuff. in this he was successful, and, although the air of the place seemed dense and stifling, he was practically uninjured. as soon as possible, he sought to learn what kind of a place he had dropped into so unexpectedly. there were yet a few matches left in his match safe, and one of these he lighted. its light showed him a small, narrow passage, leading away he knew not where. behind him there was a mass of fallen debris where the top of the passage had caved in. even then still more was threatening to fall, and he quickly moved away. "i have heard of secret passages in old castles and mansions," frank muttered, "and this must be one of them. where will it lead me? it must take me somewhere, and this is better than remaining in the chamber where we were trapped." for a long time he felt his way cautiously onward along the passage. he came in time to its end. his hand could feel nothing but the bare stones, and it seemed that the passage terminated there. once more he struck a match, the light of which revealed to him nothing of an encouraging nature. "well," he said, "i seem to be in a trap still. it can't be possible this was simply a blind passage. why was it constructed? there must be some way of getting out of it." again at the end of the passage he fell to sounding the wall and listening. his hands roamed over it, feeling every protrusion or irregularity. finally he touched something that was loose. immediately he pressed it with considerable vigor, upon which there was a faint muffled click, and a heavy door that had been skillfully covered by cement swung slowly against his hands. frank's wonderful command of his nerves kept him from uttering an exclamation of satisfaction. he quickly seized the edge of the door and pulled it wide open. fresh air rushed in upon him, and he filled his lungs with a sensation of satisfaction and relief. he now thought of returning and seeking to assist dick and brad in following him, but after a few moments he decided to investigate still further. soon he found himself on a high terrace, which opened into an inclosed courtyard of the ruins. as he leaned there, looking down, the ring of ironshod hoofs came through the arched gate, reaching his ears. a moment later two horsemen rode into the courtyard, leading behind them three animals. the clank and clang of the horses' feet upon the flagstones echoed in the inclosure. merry drew back, watching and listening. "three fine beasts," said a voice in spanish. "and they are ours, comrade. the chief said we were to have them if we captured them." "why not?" sullenly returned the other man. "are we to have nothing? is the chief to get it all?" "hush, jimenez!" hastily warned the first speaker. "better not let him hear you utter such words." "at least one can think, monte," retorted jimenez. "we take all the risks, and what do we get? not even when we faced that young devil americano at the mission did the chief put himself in peril. he urged us on, but he took good care of his precious self, i noticed." "if you talk more in this manner, jimenez," exclaimed monte, "with you i will have nothing whatever to do!" "bah! you are a coward," snarled the other. "now, be not hasty in your movements, for i, too, am armed." "fly at it!" whispered frank, in satisfaction. "go at each other, and do your prettiest. cut each other's throats, and i will applaud you, you rascals!" but the two scoundrels did not engage in an encounter. after growling a little at each other, they proceeded with the horses to a part of the courtyard where the stables seemed to be, and there disappeared. merry did not have to watch long for their return. they again crossed the open space below and disappeared; but, listening where he stood, he heard their voices, and they seemed ascending stairs not far away. his curiosity now fully aroused, with a pistol in his hand, frank stole onward as swiftly as possible in an attempt to keep track of them. he left the terrace and came to the stairs by which they ascended. even as he stole like a panther up those stairs, he caught the hum of voices and the flash of a light. thus it was that the daring young man at last reached a dark nook, from which sheltered spot he could peer through an open door into a lighted room where several men were gathered. beyond doubt these were the members of black joaquin's band, several of whom had set upon him at san monica mission. chapter xi. ruffians at odds. some of the men were idly lounging about as they smoked, while others were playing cards. the card players were gambling, and money clinked on the table before them. a picturesque and desperate-looking group they were, yet merriwell felt and knew by experience that they were far more dangerous in appearance than in actual fact. he had met a number of them face to face, and succeeded in holding them in check with no more than the crooked staff of the old monk for his weapon of defense. they were the kind to strike at a man's back and cower before his face. the card players did not always get along amicably. at times they quarreled excitedly, over their game. finally one of them lost everything and flew into a passion, roundly berating his more lucky companions. they laughed at him as they puffed their cigarettes. "what matters it, pachuca?" cried one. "it is only a little. soon you will have more." "oh, yes, much more!" smiled another. "the chief has promised you plenty when he shall get the girl safely away." "i much prefer money to promises," solemnly retorted pachuca. "it's an honest game i play. why should i win with you?" "now, it's best that you have a care with your tongue," rather hotly returned one of the winners. "yesterday it was your luck to win; now it is mine." "is it luck you call it?" sneered pachuca. "ha! ha!" "yes, luck. what was it when you won?" "it was my skill," declared pachuca loftily. "but even skill is no match for some methods." at this the little fellow who had won the most sprang up and struck the table with his fist, glaring across at pachuca. "do you dare say to my face that i cheat?" he sharply cried. "speak it out, if you do!" merry was quite satisfied by the course events seemed to be taking, for he felt that it might be much to his advantage if a quarrel between these two men followed. pachuca, however, shrugged his shoulders and showed his teeth, as he rolled a cigarette. "you have won, ramon," he returned. "keep the money. my turn comes." "any time you like," was the defiant challenge. "when i lose it is not like a stuck pig that i squeal." then ramon sat down as if quite satisfied, and the game proceeded without pachuca participating further. merry was disappointed. still he saw there was bad blood among the men, and he felt that what he had heard in the courtyard and since indicated dissension and dissatisfaction. as the gamblers continued they again fell to speaking of "the girl." suddenly behind him, toward the stairs, merry heard a soft footfall. he pressed himself closer into the darkness of his niche and scarcely breathed as a man brushed past. this man halted in the door, hearing something of the words of the gamblers. suddenly he stepped forward. "what is this?" he demanded angrily. "again you are talking too much. i have warned you before. you are not to speak at all of the girl. you know she's here; let that be enough, and hold your tongues!" "hello, my fine friend!" whispered frank to himself, as the light fell on the face of the newcomer and he saw that there was a scar on the man's cheek. "so it's you?" sudden silence fell upon the men. the man with the the scar singled out ramon, at whom he pointed. "you are always talking too much," he declared. "when will you learn better?" as he stood behind the table, ramon's hand slipped down to his sash, where it touched the hilt of a knife, and the look on his face was far from pleasant. "it's me you always single out, carlos!" he exclaimed. "why do you never talk thus to the others?" "because it is you who make trouble. it is you i have been compelled to caution. what think you the chief would say should he hear you?" "the chief!" cried ramon. "where is he? it is easy to make promises, carlos. how know we that we are to receive all that is promised?" "have you not been satisfied in the past?" "not always," was the bold retort. "i am not the only one; there are others here who have not been satisfied. it is time to speak plainly. when all danger is over----" "it is already," was the assertion. "how so?" "you know the three dogs who followed the trail have been trapped. they are secure, and never from this place will they go forth." "but there may be others. there was another who followed us far." "what of him?" sneered carlos, snapping his fingers. "he has long lost the scent. it is only these three fellows who tracked us here, and better for them had they never come. here their bones will rot!" "if that is true, there is now nothing to prevent the chief from carrying the girl whither he likes. who is she? that you have not told us, carlos." "that is nothing to you. it is a matter to concern the chief alone." "ah! we know she must be of great value to him, else he would have never taken so many chances. why was she deceived with the tale that she was to be carried to her father?" "how know you so much?" grimly demanded carlos. then suddenly he wheeled on jimenez. "it's you who talk a great deal likewise!" he snarled. up to this point jimenez had been silent. now, like a flash, he sprang up and advanced to the side of ramon. "my tongue is my own," he harshly said. "on it no one has placed a lock. what harm has the child done that she should be deceived? we are the men who did the work; why should not we be trusted? answer that--if you can. i know that she was told that she should find her father here. i know, too, that he is a fugitive and has long hidden from his enemies. however, i know that she was led to believe that he had sent for her. where is this man?" "you fool!" burst from carlos. "i knew that it was a mistake when you were placed to guard her. i knew it was unsafe that she should tell you too much. wait until the chief learns of this." "let him pay us what he has promised," said ramon. "we will take it and be silent. he may then go where he pleases and carry the girl. carlos, we are not the only ones here who demand to see this money and to hear it clink in our hands. comrades, it is time we show our colors. let those who are with me stand forth." at this there was a stir. some of the men seemed to hesitate, but a moment later two more men came over to the side of ramon and jimenez. "this is not all," ramon declared. "there are still others who are not satisfied with bare promises. let the chief satisfy us. where is he?" merry had been so deeply interested that he failed to hear a step behind him, and had not he been cautiously pressed in the shadows of his nook he might have been observed. the approaching man, however, had heard sounds of a quarrel in that room, and he strode past frank and entered by the door. "who calls for me?" he demanded, in a clear, steady voice. "why all this uproar?" "joaquin!" muttered one, while others exclaimed, "the chief!" and frank recognized felipe dulzura! sudden silence fell upon them. dulzura, whom frank now knew to be black joaquin, stood boldly looking them over. despite the assertion made by one of the men that the chief was one who avoided danger, his bearing now seemed that of utter fearlessness and command. "speak!" he exclaimed. "what is the meaning of this?" "ask ramon," said carlos. "he will tell you--perhaps." ramon drew himself up. the time had come that he must face the matter unflinchingly. "it is this," he said; "we have been promised much and have received little. some of us are not satisfied." "indeed!" exclaimed black joaquin. "and you are one of the dissatisfied, i see." "i am," was the admission; "but i am not alone. you will find that there are many more. ask them. you will find nearly all are dissatisfied." the chief glanced them over, and what he saw in their faces convinced him that ramon spoke truly. suddenly he smiled on them in that pleasant manner of his, and his voice was soft and musical as he spoke again. "i would not have any of my faithful fellows dissatisfied," he declared. "if there is anything i can do in justice, let them name it." carlos seemed disappointed by this unexpected manner of their leader. "it is that you have promised us a great deal we have not received," said ramon. "and is it yet time?" was the placid question. "why not? you said the time would come when the girl was safely yours, with no danger of pursuit. to me it seems that time has come. the three americans who pursued you are captured and cannot escape. the girl is now yours to do with as you like. is it strange we suspect she is a prize of great value? if she were not, why should black joaquin put himself to so much trouble?" "you are right," smiled the man merry knew as dulzura. "but you are hasty. it is only lately the pursuers i most feared have fallen into my hands. had you waited a little it might have given me more satisfaction. you were always too hasty, ramon." the rebuke was of the mildest sort, and ramon accepted it without a show of anger. "however," continued the chief, "i can pardon you this once, but you shall be satisfied. i have not at hand all i have promised you, but it is where i can soon secure it. nevertheless, i have something here, and it shall be divided among you." as he said this, he drew forth a leather pouch, which he flung with a careless gesture upon the table. it struck with a heavy thud and a slight clanking sound. "i call upon you," he said, "to see that it is divided equally and fairly. the rest shall be paid you soon. carlos, i would speak with you." he then turned toward the door, and carlos followed him. outside, in the shadows, they halted not fifteen feet from frank. "carlos," said joaquin, "not one coin more will those dogs get. i have no further use for them. you and i must abandon them and get away before the coming of another day. it is no longer well for us to remain in this land. as black joaquin my work is done. can we reach spain in safety with the girl, our fortunes are made. but those snarling curs will object if they suspect we are contemplating leaving them behind. you i depend on. you know where the wine is kept. take this which i give you and with it drug the wine. when you have done so, bring it for them to drink. make merry with them, and encourage them to drink deeply. they will sleep soundly after that, and we shall have no trouble. i will get the girl ready. before those fools awaken i shall be far from here, and we can laugh at them." "good!" said carlos, having accepted from joaquin's hand the bottle proffered him. "it shall be done. leave it to me." the chief clapped his trusted comrade upon the shoulder. "faithful carlos!" he said. "with me you shall share the reward. lose no time, for time is precious now." "the americans," questioned carlos, "what of them?" "leave them where they are. let them starve there." little did they dream when they turned away that they were followed by frank merriwell, who observed the greatest possible caution. they separated, and it was black joaquin whose footsteps led frank through many winding ways and up long flights of stairs into one of the turrets. when joaquin unbarred the door and entered the little room up there frank was near at hand. merry stole forward and peered into that room, from which the light shone forth. "she's there!" he told himself, in deep satisfaction, as he beheld felicia. the captive girl had been weeping. when joaquin saw this he spoke to her in a voice that seemed full of tenderness and compassion. "my dear child," he said, "why do you shed these foolish tears?" "oh, sir!" exclaimed felicia, "where are the friends i saw from the window? why are they not permitted to come to me?" "they are near and you shall see them soon," was the treacherous promise. "how am i to believe you?" cried the girl. "you told me i should find my father here. you told me he was hiding here to escape his enemies. you told me he had sent for me to come to him, longing to see my face once more. i believed you. i trusted you. at your command i even deceived the good friends i knew in san diego. now i fear it was wrong and wicked for me to do so. now i know it was wrong! but what was i to do? you told me, over and over, that my father would be placed in awful peril if i breathed a word of the truth." "which clears up that part of the mystery," thought frank, as he listened outside. "i told you nothing but the truth," declared joaquin. "your father sent that message to you by me." "but he is not here--he is not here!" panted the distressed child. "you said i should find him here. if you deceive me in that, why not in everything?" "your father was here, but ere we could reach this place he found it necessary to depart. enemies were searching for him, and he was forced to flee; but he left a message for me, telling me whither he went and directing me to bring you. trust me, felicia, and you shall soon see him." frank quivered a little with rage as he listened to the lying wretch. felicia drew a little nearer and looked earnestly into the face of the man. "oh, i can't believe you are deceiving me!" she said. "you do not seem so terribly wicked." he laughed pleasantly. "i know it must seem suspicious to you, child; but trust me a little longer." "if you had only let my friends come to me!" "within two hours you shall be with them. some of my men, i regret to say, i cannot trust, and so i hastened to send your friends away. they are not far from here, and we will join them. are you ready to go, child?" "quite ready," she answered. "then give me your hand and trust me in everything." she placed her hand confidingly in his, and they turned toward the door. then black joaquin found himself face to face with a great surprise, for in that doorway stood frank merriwell, a cocked pistol leveled straight toward the scoundrel's heart. "up with your hands, joaquin!" commanded merry sharply. "one moment of hesitation on your part and i shall pull the trigger. i will send your black soul to the bar of judgment as true as my name is frank merriwell!" the villain paled and was utterly dumfounded by the marvelous appearance of the man he believed secure in the dungeon. "put up your hands!" palpitated frank, and in that second command there was something that caused black joaquin to quickly lift his hands above his head. "one cry, one sound, even a murmur from your lips, will cause me to shoot you on the spot," declared the young american. felicia had been spellbound, but now she started forward, uttering a cry. "be careful," warned frank, not taking his eyes off joaquin for an instant. "don't touch me! keep out of the way!" she paused and hastened to say: "you must not hurt him, frank. he is taking me to my father." "he has lied to you from start to finish, like the treacherous snake he is," asserted merry. "he doesn't mean to take you to your father." then he advanced two steps, and another command came from his lips. "face about, joaquin," he said, "and walk straight toward that wall. be quick about it, too." now, for all of the complaints of his followers that he seldom placed himself in danger, black joaquin was not a coward. nevertheless, in those terrible, gleaming eyes of the american youth he had seen something that robbed him of his usual nerve and convinced him beyond doubt that unless he obeyed to the letter he would be shot on the spot. this being the case, he turned as directed and advanced until his face was against the wall. "stand thus," said frank, "and don't move for your very life." one glance around showed him a blanket upon a couch. behind joaquin's back he quickly took out and opened a knife. "here, felicia, take this and cut that blanket into narrow strips. hasten as much as possible." she was, however, too trembling and excited to make the needed haste. seeing this, frank lost no time in searching joaquin's person and disarming him, removing every dangerous weapon he found upon the man. when this was done, he directed felicia to bring the blanket, and, holding his pistol ready in his left hand, he gave her directions and assistance in cutting and tearing it into strips. as soon as one good, strong strip had been removed from the blanket frank took it, seized joaquin's hands, twisting them downward and backward behind his back, and tied them thus. after this he was able to remove from the blanket further strips he needed, although as he worked his pistol was ready for instant use. all the while he kept joaquin with his face toward the wall, three times cautioning the man against turning his head in the slightest. with the strips removed from the blanket joaquin's ankles were securely tied. then frank unceremoniously kicked the fellow's feet from beneath him and lowered him to the floor upon his back. the rage, fury, and hatred in the conquered fellow's eyes was terrible to behold, but merriwell heeded it not in the least. deftly he rolled a wad of the blanket and forced it between joaquin's teeth. with another piece of the torn blanket he fastened it there, knotting a strip behind the man's head. he took pains to make this as secure as possible, so that it would require no simple effort to remove it. "now, black joaquin, otherwise known as felipe dulzura," said frank, standing over the man and looking down on him, "we will bid you good-night. you can rest easy here until your comrades recover on the morrow and release you. perhaps they will find you. i hope, for your sake, that you do not smother before they awaken and come here. you have my best wishes for a short life and a speedy hanging." with felicia he left the chamber, closing and barring the door behind them. thus far frank's success had been enough to astonish himself, but now he thought with dismay of dick and brad still confined in the chamber from which he had escaped. as with felicia he descended the stairs he paused, hearing in some distant portion of the ruins the sound of singing. "carlos is doing his work," he thought. "he has brought them the wine. thanks, carlos; you have given me great assistance." merry decided that it would be necessary to conceal felicia somewhere while he sought to return to dick and brad by means of the secret passage. he found his way back to the terrace from which he had first looked down into the courtyard after his escape. as they reached that place, merry heard beneath him some slight sound that caused him to again look downward. he was surprised to see a dark figure coming from the direction of the stables and leading three horses. his surprise increased when the feet of the horses gave forth no more than a faint, muffled sound on the courtyard flagging. "what's up now?" he asked himself. "that must be carlos preparing for flight. whoever it is, he has muffled the feet of those horses. more than that, i believe they are our horses." the human being and the horses crossed the courtyard and disappeared into the arched passage that led outward. "keep close behind me, felicia," whispered merry. "be courageous. i may have to leave you for a short time; but i will return as soon as possible." he had decided to conceal her in the secret passage while he endeavored to return to the prison chamber. the door of the passage he found to be slightly ajar. swinging it open, he entered, with felicia at his heels. barely had he advanced ten feet into the passage before he felt himself suddenly clutched by a pair of strong hands. "keep still, felicia!" called frank, knowing she would be greatly frightened by the struggle. instantly the hold of these hands slackened and a joyous voice exclaimed in his ear: "frank! frank! my brother, is it you?" "dick!" gasped frank; "how did you get here?" "we managed to pry open a hidden door which was disclosed when a part of the wall fell after you crept into that opening," said dick. "where is brad?" "that's what i'd like to know. we separated to search for you. he was to meet me here. we agreed on a signal. when you entered the passage without giving the signal i thought you must be an enemy." "it's up to us now," said merry, "to find brad and get away from here in a hurry. we have a fine chance to do so. i can't explain everything, but i will tell you later. here is felicia." "felicia!" gasped dick. she uttered a low cry of joy, and the cousins were clasped in each other's arms. "come," said merry. "moments are precious." "but brad----" "we will hope that luck may lead us to him." but it was something more than luck, for brad buckhart was returning to meet dick as he had promised when they encountered him. he heard them, and, thinking it might be dick, whistled the soft signal agreed upon. immediately dick answered, and when the texan found them all together, he came very near throwing up his hat and giving a cowboy yell. "oh, great jumping horned toads!" he whispered. "if this don't beat the record you can have my horse, saddle, and the whole blamed outfit! talk about your miracles! so help me davy crockett, this is the greatest on record. you hear me gurgle!" "there is yet danger in the air," said merry. "as we were seeking the passage i saw a man, leading three horses with muffled feet, crossing the courtyard below. it must have been carlos, black joaquin's lieutenant, for they planned a flight to-night, and joaquin's wretched gang has been drugged." "guess again," advised the texan, chuckling. "the gent you observed was yours truly, bradley buckhart." "you?" gasped frank, astonished. "precisely, pard--precisely. i was it. in my perambulations i discovered our horses, and it struck me as being something a whole lot proper to get them outside and have them where we could straddle them in a hurry when we took to our heels. i muffled their feet with the aid of blankets, and i can lead the way straight to them." "brad, you're a dandy!" laughed frank softly. "watch out for carlos and lead on, you son of the lone star state." they had come down into the courtyard when somewhere above, amid the ruins, there was a sudden sound of high-pitched voices, followed by a single pistol shot. then came silence. "if fortune is still with us," said merry, "the bullet from that pistol lodged in the carcass of carlos. evidently he has kicked up some sort of trouble, and i fancy a little chap by the name of ramon fired that shot." outside the ruins they came upon the horses where buckhart had concealed them. they were not long in mounting. frank took up felicia behind him, and away they rode into the night, with no hand raised to stay them. chapter xii. a lively fistic bout. three days later they arrived in san diego, where felicia was returned to the home of mr. and mrs. staples, the former having given up the search in despair. it was frank who led a party of americans to the castle hidalgo, in el diablo valley. the only human being found there was a man who had been shot and left where he fell in one of the chambers of the ruins. as merry looked at the body, he grimly said: "retribution, swift and terrible, overtook you, carlos, on that dark night. who can say the hand of providence was not in it? you were the only one who might have given us trouble, for your chief was bound and gagged, and your mates were drugged by your own hands. it is likely that black joaquin yet lives; but it is certain he must in time meet his just deserts." fearing that black joaquin would not give up his scheming to get possession of the girl, frank decided that it was unsafe to leave her in san diego. therefore, when he started on his return to arizona, accompanied by dick and brad, he took felicia along. the railroad journey to prescott was made without any incident worth recording. having arrived there, merry secured accommodations at the best hotel, for he expected to remain in the place a day or more before setting out for his new mines in the enchanted valley, where he had left wiley and hodge. little abe was found safe in prescott, where he had been left by merry. but for the fact that what she had passed through had shaken felicia's nerves and left her in a very excited frame of mind, the whole party would have been in high spirits. dick was anxious to visit the mines, and the prospect was also attractive to buckhart. imagine frank's surprise, on leaving the hotel an hour after his arrival, to encounter cap'n wiley on the street. the sailor looked somewhat battered and weather-worn, and there was an unnatural flush in his cheeks and a suspicious odor upon his breath. the moment his eyes fell on merry he stopped short and made a profound salute. "mate merriwell!" he cried, "it is with a sensation of the most profound satisfaction that my eyes again behold your unexpected reappearance." "cap'n," said frank soberly, shaking his head, "i fear you have been looking on the corn juice. there is something suspicious about your breath and your heightened color." "hush!" said the marine marvel. "the dreadful ordeal through which i have lately promulgated myself made it necessary for me to take something in the way of medicine. mr. merriwell, there have been riotous doings since you departed." "any trouble in regard to the new mine?" asked merry, somewhat anxiously. "oh, no; nothing of that sort. i have been tending strictly to business. at the suggestion of mate hodge, i gathered up in cottonwood, central butte, stoddard, bigbug, cherry and elsewhere a score of hale and hearty laborers and piloted them safely to the valley, where they now are. he then sent me hither for supplies and other needed articles. i have secured half a dozen more good men, who will journey with us to the valley." "now, wiley," said frank, "tell me about these men you say you have engaged. what sort of men are they?" "they are charming," assured the sailor. "you remember your terrible thirty." "yes." "well, they are men of the same class. they are the real thing." "but i am afraid such men are not just what we want, cap'n." the sailor looked surprised. "why not?" he questioned. "what we need are miners, not fighting men. it happened that i was able to control the thirty, and they proved valuable to me at that time. you remember that as miners i couldn't retain one of them. you say you have picked up some more men here?" "sure, sure." "i'd like to look them over, cap'n. where are they?" "if you will perambulate with me, i will present you to the bunch. i have them corralled not far away." "lead on," said frank. "i will look them over." wiley led the way straight to a saloon, which they entered. as they walked in, several men were drinking at the bar, and merry distinctly heard one of them, a huge, pockmarked fellow, say: "it sure is ten chances to one the gent loses his mine afore he ever sets eyes on it again." frank recognized the fellow at a glance. he was a desperado with a bad reputation, and was known as spotted dan. "there they are," said wiley. "those fine boys i have collected. you can see at a glance that they are the real thing." "altogether too real!" muttered frank. he was confident that the words of spotted dan referred to him, and in a twinkling his mind was made up. "mates," said wiley, calling the attention of the ruffians, "it gives me untold pleasure to introduce you to mr. merriwell, the owner of the mines i told you about." they turned and looked frank over. his youthful appearance seemed to surprise them, and it was evident that they regarded him as a tenderfoot. frank lost no time. "it's my duty to inform you, gentlemen," he said, "that cap'n wiley has made a slight mistake. i shall not need you." this seemed to astonish them. "what's that?" cried spotted dan hoarsely. "whatever is this you says, mister?" frank quietly repeated his words, upon which one of the ruffians swore. "i reckons you is the one mistaken," said spotted dan, stepping out. "i opines, sir, that you does need us." "then you opine wrong." "we has been engaged all fair and square, and we sticks by it. we proposes to see that you sticks by it, too." "cap'n wiley had no authority from me to engage anybody," declared merry. "that being the case, you can see at once that no agreement made with him counts for anything." "say you so?" sneered dan. "well, now, we thinks a heap different." "what you think is a matter of indifference to me," said merry, looking the ruffian straight in the eyes. "whatever does you take us fer?" snarled the pox-marked fellow. "we're no kids to be fooled with this yere way. you shakes us none whatever. if you tries it----" "what then?" asked merry, in a low tone. "what then? well, by the everlasting, i chaws you up! i flattens you out! there will be a funeral in prescott to-morrow!" "there may be," said frank; "but, if there is, you will be highly interested, and yet you will know nothing about it." spotted dan glared at merry in his fiercest manner. it seemed to astonish him that the smooth-faced young man was not in the least awed by this fierceness. "look a here, mr. merriwell," he said, "do yer know who yer dealing with in this yere piece of business?" "from all appearances, i should say that i am dealing with a thoroughbred ruffian," was the serene answer. "yer dealing with a bad man with a record, and don't yer forget it," snarled dan. "my record is as long as my arm. and whar i goes i leaves graves in my footsteps. i adds to the population of the cemeteries." "you're plainly a big bluffer and a blowhard," said frank. then, as spotted dan made a suspicious movement, quick as a flash of light a pistol appeared in merriwell's hand. "don't try to pull a gun on me, you big duffer!" exclaimed the youth. "if you do, i will run a couple of tunnels in you." "correct in the most minute particular," chipped in cap'n wiley. "he will do it scientifically and skillfully. when it comes to shooting, he is a shooter from shooterville. say, you oughter see him shoot out a pigeon's eye at four thousand yards! why, he can shoot with his feet better than any man in this bunch! at the same time i happen to be provided with a couple of large-bore fowling pieces, and i shall feel it my duty to shed real gore in case any of you other gents take a notion to chip in to this little circus." while speaking the sailor had produced a pair of colt's revolvers, which he now flourished with reckless abandon. "oh, that is the way yer does it, is it?" sneered spotted dan. "mebbe yer thinks this settles it. well, wait and see. you has the drop now; but our turn comes. it's a good thing fer you, young feller," he declared, still glaring at frank, "that i don't git my paws on yer. ef i'd ever hit yer a crack with my maul you would sprout wings instanter. sometimes i gits at yer, tenderfoot, and i hammers yer all up." "you think you will," retorted merry. "you might find yourself up against a snag." "waal, ef i can't knock you stiff in less than one minute, i'll take to my hole and stay thar for a year." "i presume you would consider this engagement ended in case you fail to put me down and out in short order?" said merry. "if you were the one whipped, you would call all dealings off?" "sartin sure. i'd be so ashamed of myself i'd never look a dog in the face again." "give your weapons to one of your pards there," directed merry. "i will pass mine to wiley, and i'll agree to take off my coat and give you a chance to do me up right here." "i think i smell smoke," murmured the sailor, sniffing the air. "i think i smell fire and brimstone. i think there will be doings around here directly." "whoop!" cried spotted dan. "it's a go! say, i makes you look like a piece of fresh beefsteak in just about two shakes." then he turned to one of his companions and handed over a pistol and knife. he wore no coat, and when he had cast his old hat on the floor and thrust back his sleeves, exposing his brawny, hairy arms, he declared he was ready. the barkeeper had remonstrated. merry was known in prescott, and to the man behind the bar he said: "whatever damage is done i will pay for. i will set 'em up for every one who comes in for the next hour besides." then he placed his revolver on the bar and coolly drew off his coat, which he lay beside the pistol. "keep your ellipticals parabolically peeled," warned cap'n wiley. "the gent with the dented countenance looks like a peruvian dog. i don't know as there is a peruvian dog, but i judge so, because i have heard of peruvian bark." merry said nothing. his face was calm and grim as he thrust back the sleeves of his woolen shirt. he had a handsome forearm, finely developed and finely moulded, with the flesh firm and hard and the supple muscles showing beneath the silken skin. "come on!" cried spotted dan eagerly. "step right out yere and git yer medicine." the ruffian's friends were chuckling and muttering among themselves. "dan paralyzes him the first time he hits him," declared one. "you bet your boots he does!" put in another. "i seen him break bill goddard's neck with a blow down in buckeye," said a third. frank removed his wide-brimmed hat and laid it on the bar, tossing back his head with a slight shaking motion to fling a lock of hair out of his eyes. then he suddenly advanced to meet his antagonist, his arms hanging straight at his sides and his hands open. it seemed as if he invited annihilation, and spotted dan improved the occasion by making a strong swinging blow with his huge fist, aiming straight at the face of the fearless youth. quick as a flash of light, merry ducked just the slightest and tipped his head to one side. dan's fist shot over frank's shoulder. with a quick movement of his foot, merriwell struck the ruffian's feet from beneath him, and the giant crashed to the floor so heavily that the glasses and bottles rattled on the shelves behind the bar. with a roar of surprise, spotted dan made a spring and landed on his feet. before him stood merriwell, still with his hands hanging at his sides, regarding him with just the faintest suggestion of an amused smile. that smile was enough to infuriate the bruiser beyond description. "dodges, does yer!" snarled the man. "well, dodge this if yer ken!" again he struck, and again merry escaped by simply tipping his head like a flash over upon his shoulder and crouching the least bit. he did not lift a hand to ward off the blow. like a panther he leaped to one side, and his outstretched toe caught his enemy's ankle as the force of that blow, wasted on the empty air, sent dan staggering forward. a second time the fellow went crashing to the floor. a second time he sprang up with amazing agility for one so huge and ponderous. "whatever kind of fighting does yer call this?" he shouted, in a rage. "why don't yer stand up like a man and fight? is that all yer can do? does yer know nothing else but jest ter dodge?" "you're too easy," declared frank. "i hate to hurt you--really i do. it seems a shame." "yah!" shouted the infuriated man. "you would hurt nobody if yer hit um." "i beg you to pause a moment, daniel," put in wiley. "have you made your will? if not, i entreat you to do so. if he ever hits you--oh, luddy, luddy! you'll think you've been kicked by a can of dynamite." the ruffian's companions had been astonished by the ease with which merriwell escaped dan's blows; but they, too, believed the fight would quickly end if merry stood up and met his enemy. spotted dan slyly edged around frank, seeking to force him into a corner. apparently without suspecting the fellow's object, merry permitted himself to be driven back just as dan seemed to desire. getting the young mine owner cornered, as he thought, the bruiser quickly advanced, seeking now to seize him with one hand, while the other hand was drawn back and clinched, ready for another terrible blow. with a snapping movement, frank clutched the wrist of dan's outstretched arm. there was a sudden twist and a whirl, and although the ruffian struck with all his force, he felt his shoulder wrenched in the socket and knew he had missed even as he delivered the blow. that twisting movement turned the fellow about and brought his arm up behind him on his back. then merry sent him forward with a well-directed and vigorous kick. "it is too easy!" sighed cap'n wiley, sadly shaking his head. "it isn't even interesting. i fancied possibly there might be some excitement in the affair, but i am growing sleepy, and i fear i shall miss the finish while i take a nap." spotted dan was astonished now. never had he encountered any one who fought in such a singular manner, and he could not understand it. just when he felt certain that he had the youth where he wanted him, merry would thwart his design and trip him, or, with the utmost ease, send him staggering. "dern yer! what makes yer fight with yer feet?" rasped the ruffian. "that ain't no way whatever ter fight. fight with yer fists on the squar, and i will annihilate yer." "i don't believe that anything was said about the style of fighting," retorted merry pleasantly. "however, if you don't like my methods i will agree not to use my feet any more." "that settles it!" roared dan. "i will fix yer in thirty seconds now." "dear, dear!" yawned wiley, leaning on the bar. "how sleepy i am! i think this bout should have been pulled off under marquis of deusenbury rules. i, too, am against the use of feet. cut it out, mates, and come down to real business." "very well," said frank. "you kick no more?" questioned the ruffian. "not to-day." "then i thumps the head off you right away." spotted dan sailed into it then, and for a few moments the fight was rather lively, although the ruffian was doing all the hitting. that is, he was trying to do all the hitting, but he was wasting his blows on the air, for frank parried them all or ducked and dodged and escaped by such cleverness as none of dan's comrades had ever before witnessed. still the bruiser was the aggressor, and they were confident he would soon weary the youth, when a single blow would bring about the finish of the encounter. indeed, one thing that led dan on and made him force the fight harder and harder was the fact that merry seemed to be panting heavily and betrayed signs of great exhaustion. the desperado was sure the youth was giving out, and so, although he was likewise somewhat winded, he continued to follow merry up. at length, quick as a flash, frank's manner changed. he no longer retreated. he no longer sought to escape his enemy. he made dan parry two heavy blows aimed at him. then he countered, and the big fellow was sent reeling. like a wolf frank followed the bruiser up, hitting him again and again until he went down. cap'n wiley roused up a little at this and observed: "that's somewhat better. now it grows slightly interesting. but he hasn't oiled his machinery and started in earnest yet. wait a few moments, gents, and see him cut parabolical circles through the diametrical space around daniel's dizzy cranium." spotted dan sat up, astonished beyond measure at what had happened. he saw frank standing at a little distance, with his hands on his hips, smiling down at him and showing not the least sign of exhaustion. the man who had seemed winded a few moments before and ready to drop was now as fresh and unwearied as if nothing had happened. through the bruiser's dull brain crept a suspicion that he had been deceived by this handsome, smooth-faced young man. he knew now that merriwell could fight in the most astounding manner. this, however, enraged him to such an extent that he banished reason and coolness and rose to charge on merry, with a roar like that of a mad bull. frank avoided the rush, but hit the ruffian a staggering blow on the ear as he went past. dan turned quickly and charged again. four times the big bruiser charged, and four times merry avoided him and sent him reeling. the fourth time frank followed him up. he gave spotted dan no chance to recover. blow after blow rained on the man's face and body. dan was driven back until he was close upon the card table that sat in the rear of the room. then, with a swinging upward blow, merriwell's fist hit the fellow on the point of the jaw, and the ruffian was actually lifted off his feet and hurled clean over the table against the wall. he fell to the floor and lay there in a huddled, senseless heap, literally knocked out. frank turned toward the bar, rolling down his sleeves. "watch his pards like a hawk, wiley," he said. "now is the time they may try treachery, if ever." "depend on me," nodded the sailor. frank quickly slipped on his coat and placed his hat upon his head. then he turned to the amazed ruffians, saying, quietly: "gents, you heard the agreement between us. if i whipped that fellow, the engagement which he claims to have made for himself and for you through cap'n wiley was off. i think you will acknowledge that he is whipped. that settles it." he backed toward the door of the saloon, followed by the sailor, also backing in the same manner and keeping his pistols ready. when the door was reached merry turned and disappeared, and wiley followed him. chapter xiii. macklyn morgan appears. "mate," said cap'n wiley, as they hurried along the street on their way back to the hotel, "you are in every minute particular the finest specimen of exuberant manhood that it has ever been my fortune to associate with. of course, i felt sure you would do up that fellow, but you came through the seething and turgid fray without so much as a scar. i don't believe he even touched you once." "yes, he did," said merry, "a couple of times. he hit me on the shoulder, but the blow was spent, and he caught me a fair one over the heart. i leaped away just in time to spoil the effectiveness of that." "but you are certainly the supreme fighter of this period of scrappers. if you chose to enter the ring, you might be champion of the world. it would delight my soul to be able to put up a real fight like that." "it disgusts me," returned merry. "wha-a-at?" gasped the sailor. "i think i fail to catch your meaning." "it disgusts me," repeated merry. "if there is anything that makes me feel degraded, it is being compelled to take part in a fight of that sort. i was practically forced into it on this occasion. i saw those fellows meant mischief, and i felt that the only way to settle the affair was to give that big duffer a thumping. it's about the only reasoning a man can use on men of his calibre. words and arguments fail to affect them, and a good thrashing moves them to respect." "but do you mean to tell me," said wiley, "that you are not an admirer of the manly art of self-defense? do you mean to tell me that you take no interest in the prize ring and the glorious heroes of it?" "if there is anything for which i have absolutely no use," said merry, "it is a professional prize fighter. to me prize fighting is the most degrading of all the so-called sports." "this is more than passing strange," said the sailor. "if such can be the case, will you elucidate to me how it happened that you ever learned to use your little dukes in such a marvelously scientific manner?" "i think it is the duty of every american youth to learn to defend himself with his fists. no matter how peacefully inclined he is, no matter how much of a gentleman he is, no matter how much forbearance he may have, there is bound to come a time in his life when he will be forced to fight or suffer insults or bodily injury. as a rule, i never fight if i can avoid it. in this instance i might have avoided it for the time being, but i was certain that if i did so the matter would culminate in something more serious than a fistic encounter. had i escaped from that saloon without meeting spotted dan, he and all his partners would have regarded me as afraid of them, and you know very well that they would have sought to force trouble on me at every opportunity. the easiest way to settle the whole matter was to fight then and there, and therefore i did so." "well, you oughter feel proud of the job you did!" "instead of that, i feel as if i had lowered and degraded myself. i'll not throw off the feeling for some time. to make the matter still worse, it was a saloon fight. however, i do not go there to drink. out in this country the man who does business with the men he finds here is sometimes compelled to enter a saloon." "that's true--quite true," sighed wiley. "i sometimes find it necessary to enter one myself." by this time they had reached the hotel, and as they entered the office merry suddenly paused in surprise, his eyes fastened on a man who stood before the desk. this man was tall and well dressed, with a somewhat ministerial face and flowing grayish side whiskers. he was speaking to the clerk. "i see here the name of mr. frank merriwell on the register," he was saying. "can you tell me where to find him?" "mr. merriwell!" called the clerk. "here is a gentleman inquiring for you." the man at the desk turned and faced frank. "is that so?" muttered frank. "it is macklyn morgan!" morgan, one of the money kings of the great consolidated mining association of america, looked merriwell over with a glance as cold as ice. "how do you do, sir?" he said, in a calm, low voice. "it seems that i have found you at last." "from your words," returned merry, "i should fancy you had been looking for me for some time?" "i have." "indeed?" "yes, i have looked for you in denver, in holbrook, and at your queen mystery mine." "it appears that i have given you considerable trouble?" "not a little; but i was determined to find you." "you have done so." "yes; you can't hide from me." "i have not the least desire in the world to hide from you, mr. morgan." "you say so," returned the man, with a cold sneer; "but i am certain you have taken pains to keep out of my way for the last two weeks." "you are utterly mistaken. i would not take pains to keep out of your way for two minutes. what do you want of me?" "i have a little matter to talk over with you--some private business." "i was not aware that there could be business dealings of any sort between us, macklyn morgan." "be careful!" warned morgan, lifting a thin finger. "you are putting on a very bold face." "and is there any reason why i should not? i know, mr. morgan, of your methods at the time of my affair with the c. m. a. of a." "i have not forgotten that." "nor i. nor do i regret that, although the c. m. a. of a. was compelled to give up its unlawful efforts to rob me, you entered into a combination with another moneyed rascal to accomplish the work." "be careful!" again warned morgan. "i am not the man to whom you can talk in such a manner." "like any other man, you are one to whom i can tell the truth. if the truth cuts, so much the worse for you, sir." "don't get on your high horse, young man; it will be better for you if you refrain. don't be so free with your accusations, for you will soon find that there is an accusation against you of a most serious nature." "what new game are you up to, mr. morgan? it seems to me that the failures of the past should teach you the folly of your plots and schemes." "i have told you that i wish to have a private talk with you, young man. perhaps you had better grant me the privilege." "as far as i am concerned, there is no necessity of doing so; but really i am curious to know just what you're up to. this being the case, i will not object. i have a room, and we may go there." "your record indicates that you are a desperate character, merriwell. i should hesitate to place myself alone with you in any room unless you were first disarmed. if you will leave your weapons here at the desk we will go to your room." "i am quite willing in case you leave your own revolver, sir." "i never carry a revolver, merriwell." "but you have one in your pocket now," declared frank positively. he seemed to know this to be a fact, and, after a moment's hesitation, morgan took out a small revolver, which he laid upon the desk. "i thought it best to provide myself with such an article while in this part of the country," he said. "there it is. i will leave it here." immediately frank walked to the desk and placed his own pistol upon it. "come," he said. "you may follow me to my room." in frank's room, with the door closed behind them, merry motioned to a chair. "sit down, mr. morgan," he said, "and make whatever statement you choose. i will listen." morgan took the chair. "first," observed morgan, "i wish to speak of milton sukes." "i thought likely." "you know the interests of mr. sukes and myself were closely allied." frank laughed. "yes; although sukes was at the head of the concern, i know that you conspired with him to defraud me." "have a care!" again warned morgan. "you are now dealing with a man of power and influence." "i have dealt with such men before. as a bugaboo, the mere fact that you have money does not frighten me in the least, mr. morgan. if, like sukes, you fancy that money gives you power to commit any fraud, like sukes, you are to learn your mistake." "i know all about your scandalous attack on mr. sukes in denver. i know of your attempted blackmailing of him, merriwell. you did try to blackmail him, and you can't deny it." "you lie, morgan!" retorted frank, with perfect control of himself. "then what was the meaning of your threat to expose his mining operations?" "morgan, milton sukes pitted himself against me and attempted to rob me of my mine. when he did so he aroused my fighting blood. he was defeated in every effort he made against me, and the decision against him in the courts of the territory was the final blow that upset his plans. in the meantime i had learned that his great northwest territory mining company was a swindle of the most outrageous sort. i had threatened to expose him, and, when he found himself whipped to a standstill, he sought to enter into a compact with me, by which i was to remain silent and let him go on with his dishonest work. "he sent one of his tools to me with a contract for me to sign. i tore it up. as i say, my blood had been aroused, and i warned him then that neither cajolery nor money could silence me. i warned him that i would expose and disgrace him, so that every honest man in the country would regard him with scorn and aversion. had it been mere blackmail, sukes could have silenced me with money. he sought to do so, but found he was barking up the wrong tree. he threatened libel suits and all that; but i kept on at my work. as a last desperate resort he paid an employee of mine to fire my office in denver, and the result of that affair was that the treacherous fellow who betrayed me fancied i had perished in the fire. it drove him insane. he pursued sukes relentlessly, and it is certain that sukes was finally killed by that man's hand." "so you say, merriwell; but i hold quite a different opinion--quite a different opinion." "whatever your opinion may be, morgan, it is a matter of absolute indifference to me." macklyn morgan showed his teeth. "you may think so just now, young man, but you will change your mind. i have been investigating this matter thoroughly. i have followed it up faithfully. i know how and where sukes was shot. i have taken pains to secure all the evidence possible. you were present at the time. you were there in disguise. why did you pursue and hunt him in disguise? it looks black for you, mr. merriwell--it looks black. these things will count against you at the day of reckoning, which is surely coming. how will you explain your behavior to the satisfaction of the law?" "that's no matter to worry you, macklyn morgan," calmly returned merriwell. "if there is anything of explanation, i shall have the explaining to do. don't trouble yourself over it." "you have a great deal of nerve just now, young man; but it will weaken--it will weaken. wait until you are arrested on the charge of murder. had you killed an ordinary man it might have been different; but milton sukes was a man of money, a man of power, a man of influence. all his money, if necessary, will be used to convict you. you cannot escape. just as true as this case is put into the hands of the law you will eventually be hanged." in his cold, calm, accusing way, morgan was doing everything in his power to unsettle frank's nerves. as he spoke, he watched the youth as a hawk watches its prey. "i fail to see your object in coming to me with this," said merry. "it seems most remarkable. if you intend to push such a charge against me, why don't you go ahead and do it? why do you tell me what you contemplate doing? the proper method is to secure every scrap of evidence and then have me arrested without warning and thrown into jail." "i have all the evidence i need," asserted the money king. "merriwell, i have men who will swear that you fired that shot." "did they see me do it?" "they did." "most amazing, morgan! are you aware of the fact that sukes was shot in the dark? are you aware that every light in the place had first been extinguished by other shots? will you explain to me how any one could have seen me shoot him under such circumstances?" "one of the men was standing within two feet of you. he saw the flash of your weapon, as did the other man, who was a little farther away." frank smiled derisively. "wonderful evidence!" he said. "i doubt a great deal if a jury anywhere in this country would convict a man on such proof. at the time, as i think you will acknowledge, there was another man who did some shooting. i deny that i fired the shot. but even had i done so, who could say that it was not i who shot out the lights and the other man who killed milton sukes?" "did you know that you left a pistol with your name upon it in a hotel where you stopped in snowflake?" "i did nothing of the sort." "you did, merriwell! the bullet that killed sukes is in my possession. it is a bullet such as would have been fired from that pistol. the pistol is in my possession, merriwell! i have the evidence against you, and you can't escape!" "although you are lying in every particular, morgan, i am curious to know what your game may be. what is behind this singular procedure of yours?" macklyn morgan seemed to hesitate for a few moments, and then, leaning forward on the edge of his chair and holding up one finger, he suddenly exclaimed: "there is only one escape for you!" "and that is----" "if i abandon the case you may escape. if i drop it there will be no one to push it." "and you will drop it?" questioned merry, with pretended anxiety. "on what inducements?" "now you're coming to your senses," nodded the man. "now i fancy you comprehend just where you are. you possess several mines, and they are of considerable value. i have spent some money to get possession of one of those mines, having, as both milton sukes and i believed, a good claim to it. i speak of the queen mystery. frank merriwell, the day you deed over to me the queen mystery and give me possession of it i will abandon my determination to prosecute you for murder. i will even place such proofs as i have in your hands and you may destroy them. of course there will remain the two men who are ready to swear they saw you fire the shot, but they may be easily silenced. that's my proposition. and it is by that method alone you can save your neck. now give me your answer." "i will!" exclaimed merriwell suddenly. and then, with a spring, he seized macklyn morgan by the collar. immediately he ran the man to the door, which he hurled open. "that is my answer!" he cried, as he kicked morgan out of the room. chapter xiv. the messenger. as morgan was hurled headlong from merry's room he collided with a man outside, who was very nearly upset. this young man caught a glimpse of frank in the act of violently ejecting the man of money, and what immediately happened to morgan was the result of this discovery. "what's the meaning of this great agitation by which you seek to overthrow my corporosity?" savagely demanded cap'n wiley, for it was he. "this insult to my indignity is several degrees beyond my comprehension, and without waste of verbosity or the expenditure of violent language, i feel called upon to precipitate your corporosity on its journey." saying which, he sprang, catlike, on the millionaire, seized him, ran him swiftly along the corridor and flung him head over heels down the stairs. as morgan crashed to the bottom, wiley stood at the head of the stairs, his arms akimbo, nodding with satisfaction, and remarked: "possibly that jarred you some." morgan was not seriously hurt, but he arose in a terrible fury. "i will land you both where you belong for this outrage!" he declared, white to the lips. "i will place you both behind iron bars!" then he limped away. merriwell had followed, and his hand fell on the sailor's shoulder. "why do you mix up in this, wiley?" he demanded sternly. "it was not your quarrel." "if i have offended by my impulsive and impetuous demeanor, i entreat pardon," said the sailor. "when the gent bumped me and i saw that he had been scientifically ejected by you, i couldn't resist the temptation to give him another gentle boost." "and by doing so you may find yourself in a peck of trouble," said frank. "that man has power and influence, and he will try to make good his threat, which you heard. he is a money king." "what is money?" loftily returned wiley. "i scorn the filthy stuff. but, regardless of his money, it seems to me that you unhesitatingly elevated his anatomy with the toe of your boot." "it was my quarrel, wiley; and there is no reason why you should pitch in." "my dear comrade, i ever feel it my duty to stand by my friends, and your quarrel in some degree must be mine. i inferred that in some manner he offended you most copiously." "he did arouse my ire," admitted merry, as he walked back to his room, followed by the sailor. "but he is the sort of a man who will seek to make good his threat and place us behind bars." "it will not be the first time your humble servant has lingered in endurance vile. in connection with that, i might mention another little nannygoat. on the last occasion when i indulged too freely in western jag juice i was living in regal splendor in one of those hotels where they have lots of furniture and little to eat. i started out to put a red stripe on the city, and somewhere during my cruise i lost my bearings. i didn't seem to remember much of anything after that until i awoke with my throat feeling as dry as the desert of sahara and my head splitting. "just where i was i couldn't tell. i had some vague remembrance of whooping things up in glorious style, and knew i had been hitting the redeye. in a somewhat dormant condition i stretched my hands above my head, and, to my horror, they encountered iron bars. this aroused me slightly, and i looked in that direction and beheld before me, to my unutterable dismay, the bars i had touched. 'cap'n,' says i, 'you have again collided with the blue-coated guardians of the peace, and you are pinched.' "i noted, however, that these iron bars seemed somewhat frail and slender, and it struck me that my colossal strength might be able to bend them. with the thought of escape, i wrenched the bars apart and thrust my head between them. by vigorous pushing i injected my shoulders, but there i stuck. in spite of all my desperate efforts, i could not crawl through, and i finally discovered that i couldn't get back. i floundered and kicked a while and then gave it up and yelled for help. my cries finally brought some one, who entered the place and dragged me from the trap, at the same time nearly shaving off my left ear with one of the bars. my rescuer proved to be a hotel attendant, who asked me, in no small astonishment, what i was trying to do. then, to my inexpressible relief, on sitting up and looking round, i found that i was in my own room at the hotel, where i had somehow landed, and that my delusion had led me to endeavor to escape from limbo by crawling through the bars at the head of my iron bedstead. i gave the attendant who had dragged me out seven thousand dollars and pledged him to eternal silence. this is the first time my lips have ever betrayed the tale to mortal ears." in spite of the humor of the sailor's whimsical story, merry did not laugh. this convinced wiley that the affair with macklyn morgan was far more serious than he had at first apprehended. "cap'n," said frank, "i wish you would find dick and send him here. after that, if you can get track of morgan and keep watch of his movements it will be a good thing. i'd like to know just what he means to do." "depend upon me," nodded the sailor. "i will shadow him with all the skill of those heroes about whom i used to read in the yellow-backed literature." saying which, he hastily left the room. within ten minutes dick appeared and found merry walking up and down. "what's the matter, frank?" he asked. "from wiley's words i inferred there was trouble in the air." "there is," merry nodded; and he proceeded to tell his brother the whole story. dick's indignation burst forth. "the unmitigated scoundrel!" he cried. "tried to force you to give up the queen mystery, did he?" "that was his game." "well, you didn't give him half what he deserves. and he threatened to have you arrested for murder--you, frank, arrested for murder!" merry smiled grimly. "that was the threat he made." "but it was a bluff, frank--a bluff pure and simple. he will never try that game." "you can't tell what a man like morgan may try. sukes was desperate and dangerous, but i regard macklyn morgan as even more so. as a rule, he is quiet, cold, and calculating, and he lays his plans well. he would not have started in on this thing had he not been convinced that there was a good prospect of succeeding." "why, he can't succeed! it is impossible!" "i don't propose to let him succeed, but i feel certain i am going to have a hot time with him. i am ready for it; let it come." again frank's fighting blood was aroused, and dick saw it in the sternness of his handsome face and the gleam of his flashing eyes. "that's the talk, frank!" cried the boy, thrilled by the spirit of his brother. "they can't down you. they've tried it and failed too many times. but what are your plans now? you intend to start for the new mines early to-morrow?" "i may alter my plans. i may remain here for a while to face macklyn morgan. for all of his power and his money, i think i have a few friends and some influence in prescott. there is one, at least, whom i can depend upon, and that is frank mansfield. he is white to the bone, and he always stands by his friends." "but you cannot depend upon your friends alone in an emergency like this," said dick. "you will have to rely on yourself. of course, brad and i will stand by you, no matter what happens." while they were talking wiley came rushing in. "the gent who lately descended the stairs with such graceful impetuosity is now in consultation with the city marshal," he declared. "i traced him thither, and i have left one bradley buckhart to linger near and keep an eagle eye upon his movements." "by jove!" exclaimed dick; "i believe he does mean to have you arrested, frank." "his movement seems to indicate something of the sort," was frank's cool confession. "i suppose he will make a charge of personal assault, with the idea of putting me to inconvenience and detaining me until he can again try the effect of his threats of arrest on a more serious charge. were i sure things are all right at the enchanted valley, i would not mind. i am afraid you have made a mess of it, cap'n, in sending those men there." "it seems that i have a clever little way of putting my foot into it," retorted the sailor. "when i seek to do what i supremely consider to be for the best i make a bobble." "yet we will not worry over that now," said merry. "however, in case of emergency, dick, i wish you to have my horse constantly ready for me. if anything happens that i decide to get out in a hurry, you, and brad, and wiley are to take care of felicia and little abe." "all right," nodded dick. "i will see to it at once." ten minutes later frank was standing alone upon the steps of the hotel, when a man on horseback came riding furiously down the street. he was covered with dust, and his horse was so spent that it was only by the most savage urging that the beast was forced into a gallop. behind the man, at a distance, came two more horsemen, who were likewise spurring their mounts mercilessly. plainly they were in pursuit of the man in advance. as merry was wondering what it meant, the horse of the fugitive went down, as if shot, directly in front of the hotel, flinging the rider, who seemed stunned. with a great clatter of hoofs, the pursuers came up and stopped short, leaping from their saddles. as one of them dismounted, he whipped out a wicked-looking knife. both seemed to be desperadoes, and it was evident that their intention toward the fugitive was anything but friendly. now, it was not frank's nature to stand idly by and see two men jump on a third who was helpless and do him up. without a moment's hesitation, merry leaped from the steps and rushed upon those men. a heavy blow sent one of them to the ground. the other had stooped above the fallen man when frank's toe precipitated him headlong and caused him to roll over and over in the dust. at the same time merriwell drew a pistol. "get up and sneak, both of you!" he ordered. "if you linger, i will blow a window in each of you!" muttering oaths, the ruffians rose, but the look they saw in frank's face caused them to decide that the best thing they could do would be to obey. "it's none of your funeral!" cried one, as he grasped the bridle rein of his horse. "but it will be yours if you linger here ten seconds!" retorted merry. "git! if you value your skins, don't even turn to look back until you are out of shooting distance." as the baffled ruffians were retreating, the fugitive sat up, slowly recovering from his shock. "thank you, pard," he said. "it was mighty lucky for me you pitched in just as you did. but for you, they had me dead to rights, and i opine they would have finished me." "what is it all about?" questioned merry. "got a message," answered the man. "got to send it without fail. they meant to stop me. it has been a hot run. they headed me off from bigbug, and i had to strike for this town. they've wasted lots of lead on me; but they were riding too fast to shoot well. and i didn't hold up to give them an easy chance at me." as the man was speaking, merry assisted him to his feet. his horse had likewise risen, but stood with hanging head, completely pegged out. "poor devil!" said the man, sympathetically patting the creature's neck. "it's a wonder i didn't kill you. but even if i did, i was going to send the message to frank merriwell, if possible." "what's that?" shouted frank, in astonishment. "a message to frank merriwell! man, i am frank merriwell!" "you?" was the almost incredulous answer. "why, hodge told me to wire to san diego. he said it might reach you there." "i am just back from san diego. give me the message." the man fumbled in his pocket and brought forth a crumpled piece of paper, which he placed in merriwell's hand. opening the paper, this was what merry read: "if possible, come at once. trouble at the mines. plot to seize them. --hodge." "come into the hotel," said frank, turning to the man who had brought this message. "we will send some one to take charge of your horse." the man followed him. having asked that the horse be cared for, merry instructed his companion to follow, and he proceeded to his room. "what's your name?" he asked. "it's colvin--dash colvin." "well, colvin, you are from the enchanted valley?" "yes, sir." "you were one of the men engaged by wiley, i presume?" "yes, sir." "it seems that hodge trusts you?" "he did, sir." "what's the trouble there?" "those men are plotting a heap to take the mines, sir. hodge discovered it." "how did he make the discovery?" "that i don't know. he discovers it, somehow, and he sends me with this yere message. he picks me out and asks me could he trust me a whole lot. i tells him he could, and he chances it. i plans with him to git out in the night, and i does so." "but you were followed?" "yes. one of the crew sees me a-talking with mr. hodge, and they suspects me. arter that they watches me mighty close. that makes it plenty hard for me to git away. i don't opine i am much more than out of the valley afore they finds out i am gone. i didn't think they'd git on so quick, and so i fails to push as hard as i might at first. shortly after sun-up i sees two horsemen coming miles behind me. even then i'm not dead sure they're arter me. but they was, sir--they was. i had a hard run for it, but i have made good by getting the message to you." "and you shan't lose by it, colvin. be sure of that. did you know about this plot to seize the mines--before hodge discovered it?" "i knows there was something up, sir; but the rest of the gang they don't trust me complete, and so i don't find out just what was a-doing. i sees them whispering and acting queer, and i thinks there's trouble brewing before hodge speaks to me about it." "what sort of men are they?" "a right tough lot, mr. merriwell. they has liquor, too. somehow it's brought to them, but the head one of the bunch, texas bland, he don't ladle it out free at once. he seems to keep it for some occasion later." merry's face wore a serious expression. "how many men do you think there are in this plot?" "fifteen or twenty, sir." "all armed?" "every mother's son of them." "if i had my thirty!" muttered frank. but he was not prepared with an organized force to meet the plotting ruffians, and he felt that it would require precious time in order to get together a band of fighting men. "whatever do you propose to do, mr. merriwell?" asked colvin. "i see it is necessary for me to lose no time in reaching the mines." "but you don't go alone, i judge? you takes some good men with you?" "if possible." "better do it, sir. that gang is a heap tough, and it takes twice as many men to down 'em." "not twice as many of the right sort. i have two or three comrades i can depend upon." "but two or three are no good, mr. merriwell; you hears me." "perhaps not; but if i can get the move on those rascals it will count in my favor." "now, don't you reckon any on holding those mines with the aid of two or three backers," warned dash colvin. "you will never do it." at this juncture dick came in. "your horse is ready, frank," he said. "i have given orders to have it saddled and held prepared for you." "i may have to use it within an hour." dick immediately perceived that some new development had transpired, and he glanced from his brother to the stranger in the room. "what is now, frank?" he anxiously questioned. "read that," said merry, thrusting the message into his hand. "by jove!" exclaimed dick, "this is bad business, frank--bad business! how did you get this?" "it was brought by mr. colvin here. he was pursued and barely reached me with his life." "which i allows i would not have done but for mr. merriwell himself," said colvin. "my horse throws me unexpected, and the two galoots arter me has me down and is about to silence me some when mr. merriwell takes a hand." "are you sure this is straight goods?" questioned dick. "that's bart's writing," declared merry. "i'd know it anywhere." "then there can be no mistake." "certainly not. colvin tells me that there are fifteen or more ruffians in this plot." "do you believe, frank, that it is their scheme?" "i can't say." "perhaps this macklyn morgan is behind it." "he may be." "i believe he is!" cried dick. "somehow i am confident of it, frank. if he detains you here in prescott, you will lose those mines. you must get out of this place without delay." "it certainly looks that way. i shall do so, dick." "but we must go with you." "have you thought of felicia? she is here. some one must remain to look after her." "but, good gracious, frank! i can't stay here, knowing that you are in such difficulties. it is impossible!" "it may seem impossible to you, dick, but you know the peril through which felicia has lately passed. you also know that black joaquin is at liberty and may find her again." "but can't we take her?" "do you think she is prepared to endure the hardships she would be compelled to face? no, dick, it can't be done. you will have to stay with her." "i will be crazy, frank. when i think of you pitting yourself against such odds i will literally explode." dick's cheeks were flushed and he was panting with excitement. it seemed that even then the scent of battle was in his nostrils and he longed for the fray. "don't let your hot blood run away with your judgment, boy," half smiled merriwell. "colvin, do you know anybody in prescott?" "i reckons not, sir." "you don't know a man you can depend upon--a good fighter who will stick by us if paid well?" "nary a one, sir." "then that's not to be reckoned on." merriwell frowned as he walked the floor. of a sudden there came a sound of heavy feet outside and the door burst open. into the room strode brad buckhart, color in his cheeks and fire in his eyes. "waugh!" he cried. "get out your artillery and prepare for action!" "what's up now, brad?" demanded frank. "i certain judge they're after you in earnest," said the texan. "cap'n wiley left me to watch a fine gent named morgan. i did the trick, and i'll bet my shooting irons that morgan has a warrant sworn out for you this minute, and he is on his way here with officers. they mean to jug you, pard, sure as shooting. you hear me gently murmur!" "then," said frank calmly, "it's about time for me to make myself scarce in prescott." "if you're going, you want to get a move on," declared brad. "i am not a whole lot ahead of old morgan and the officers." even as he spoke there reached their ears the sound of many feet outside. "here they come!" said dick. with a leap, the texan reached the door and pressed himself against it. a hand fell on the knob of the door, but the powerful shoulder of buckhart prevented any one from entering. immediately there was a heavy knock. "open this door!" commanded a voice. "who is there? and what do you want?" demanded buckhart. "we want frank merriwell. open this door!" "perhaps you will wait some," retorted brad. then another voice was heard outside, and it was that of morgan himself. "break down the door!" he commanded. "merriwell is in there! break it down!" "remember my instructions, dick," said frank, as he coolly turned and opened a window. "just hold this window a moment." on the door there fell a crashing blow. "that's right!" growled buckhart, who remained immovable. "i hope you don't damage yourself in doing it." frank balanced himself on the window ledge, glancing downward. "remember, dick," he said again. crash, crash! fell the blows upon the door. it could not withstand such shocks, and the hinges began to break clear. "i am good for four seconds more!" grated brad, maintaining his position. frank made a light spring outward and dropped. it was more than fifteen feet to the ground, but he landed like a cat upon his feet, turned to wave his hand to dick, and disappeared round the corner. dick quietly lowered the window. "let them in, brad," he said. the texan sprang away from the door and two men came plunging into the room as it fell. behind them was a third, and behind him was macklyn morgan. dick faced them, his eyes flashing. "what is the meaning of this?" he demanded. "where is frank merriwell?" questioned one of the officers. "he is here! he is here!" asserted morgan, in the doorway. "i know he is here!" "you're a whole lot wise," sneered buckhart. "you certain could have given old solomon a few points! i admire you a great deal--not!" "he is hiding somewhere in this room," asserted morgan, paying no attention to the texan. "if that is so, he may as well come out," said the leading officer. "we will have him in a minute." "go ahead," said dick, beginning to laugh. "pull him out." dick's laughter was tantalizing, and one of the officers became enraged and threatened him. "why, you're real amusing!" said dick. "ha! ha! ha! oh! ha! ha! ha! some one has a door to pay for. there is a joke on somebody here." "who are you?" demanded morgan. dick took a step nearer, his dark eyes fixing on the man's face. "who am i? i will tell you who i am. i am frank merriwell's brother." "his brother? i have heard of you." "not for the last time, macklyn morgan; nor have you heard of frank for the last time. your plot will fizzle. your infamous schemes will fail. you know what the plotting of your partner, milton sukes, brought him to. look out, mr. morgan--look out for yourself!" "don't you dare threaten me, you impudent young whelp!" raged morgan. "you will find, sir, that i dare tell you just what you are. your money and your power do not alarm me in the least. you're an unscrupulous scoundrel! you have trumped up a charge against my brother. he will fool you, and he will show you up, just as he did milton sukes. where is sukes now? look out, macklyn morgan!" although usually able to command his passions and appear cold as ice, the words of this fearless, dark-eyed lad were too much for morgan, and he lifted his clinched fist. quick as thought, his wrist was seized by buckhart, who growled in his ear: "if you ever hit my pard, you will take a trip instanter to join milton sukes down below!" then he thrust morgan aside. in the meantime the officers had been searching the room. they opened the closet, looked under the bed, and inspected every place where a person could hide. "you're mistaken," said one of them. "your man is not here." "he must be!" asserted morgan. "i know it!" "you can see for yourself he is not here." "then where is he?" as this question fell from morgan's lips there was a clatter of hoofs outside. morgan himself glanced from the window and quickly uttered a cry of baffled rage. "there he is now!" he shouted. "there he goes on a horse! he is getting away! after him!" "and may the old nick give you the luck you deserve!" laughed dick. chapter xv. a desperate situation. morning in the enchanted valley. bart hodge was standing in front of a newly constructed cabin. his ear was turned to listen for sounds of labor from the lower end of the valley, where a crew of men was supposed to be at work building other cabins. the valley was strangely still. "they're not working," muttered hodge, a dark frown on his face. "they have quit. what will this day bring? oh, if frank were only here!" finally, as he stood there, to his ears from far down the valley came a faint sound of hoarse voices singing. "i know the meaning of that!" he declared. "they're drinking. at last bland has given them the liquor. they're getting ready for their work." he turned back into the cabin, the door of which stood open. from a peg on the wall he took down a winchester rifle and carefully examined it, making sure the magazine was filled and the weapon in perfect working order. he also looked over a brace of revolvers, which he carried ready for use. tossing the rifle in the hollow of his left arm, he left the cabin and turned toward the end of the valley where the men were engaged. he observed some caution in approaching that portion of the valley. at last he reached a point amid some bowlders from which he could look down into a slight hollow, where stood some half-constructed cabins upon which the men had been working. not one of them was at work now. they were lying around carelessly, or sitting in such shade as they could find, smoking and drinking. several bottles were being passed from hand to hand. already two or three of them seemed much under the influence of liquor, and one bowlegged fellow greatly amused the others by an irregular, unsteady dance, during which he kicked out first with one foot and then with the other, like a skirt dancer. at intervals some of them sang a melancholy sort of song. "the miserable dogs!" grated bart. "they're ready to defy me now and carry out their treacherous plans." a tall man, with a black mustache and imperial, stepped among the others, saying a word now and then and seeming to be their leader. "you're the one, texas bland!" whispered hodge. "you have led them into this!" as he thought of this his fingers suddenly gripped the rifle, and he longed to lean over the bowlder before him, steady his aim, and send a bullet through texas bland. bart was unaware that two men were approaching until they were close upon him. this compelled him, if he wished to escape observation, to draw back somewhat, and he did so. he did not crouch or make any great effort at hiding, for such a thing he disdained to do. he was not observed, however, although the men stopped within a short distance. "well, what do yer think o' this game, dug?" said one of them, who was squat and sandy. "i reckons the boss has it all his own way, bight," retorted the other, a leathery-faced chap with tobacco-stained beard. "the boss!" exclaimed bight. "mebbe you tells me who is the boss?" "why, bland, of course," said dug. "he is the boss." "mebbe he is, and then--mebbe again," returned the sandy one. "well, we takes our orders from him." "sartin; but i reckons he takes his orders from some one else." bight pulled out a bottle. "now," he said, "he furnished plenty o' this. my neck is getting dry. how is yourn, dug?" "ready to squeak," returned dug, grasping the bottle his comrade extended. when they had lowered its contents until very little was left, bight observed: "i s'pose bland he's going to chaw up this yere chap, hodge?" "sure thing," nodded dug. "pretty soon he calls hodge down yere on a pretense o' business or something, and then he kicks up a fuss with him. he has it all fixed for several of the boys to plug him as soon as the fuss starts. that settles his hash." the eyes of bart hodge gleamed savagely. "i wonder how he gits onter it that anything's up?" questioned dug. "mebbe that sneak, colvin, tells him." "mebbe so," nodded bight. "anyhow, nobody trusts colvin none, and i opines he'd been polished off here ef he'd stayed." "and he'll sartin never git very fur," declared dug. "them boys arter him will sure run him down and make buzzard bait o' him." hearing this, hodge knew for the first time that there were men in pursuit of colvin, his messenger, who had slipped out of the valley the previous night. colvin had sworn, if he lived, to carry the message for frank to the nearest telegraph station and send it. but he was pursued by ruffians who meant to slay him. it was doubtful if he reached a telegraph office. if he failed, of course merriwell would remain uninformed as to the situation in the enchanted valley and would not hurry about returning there. even if colvin succeeded, it might be too late. bart believed it probable that merry was in san diego or that vicinity, and therefore it would take him some time to reach prescott and travel by horse from prescott to the valley. long before he could make such a journey the mutineers would be able to accomplish their evil design. "who do you s'pose is back of this yere business, dug?" said bight. "you thinks bland is not behind it, does yer?" "dead sartin. bland he never does this fer hisself. he wouldn't dare. it wouldn't do him no good." "why not?" "because he can't hold this yere mine and work it. somebody locates him, and he has to evaporate, for his record counts agin' him. howsomever, he can jump the mine for some other gent and git paid fer doing the trick, arter which he ambles into the distance and gently disappears. this is his little game, and i will bet on it." "i wonders some who the gent is behind it." "that's nothing much ter us as long as we gits our coin." "does we git it sure?" "you bet i gits mine. ef i don't, there'll be blazes a-roaring around yere." "why, you don't buck up agin' bland none?" half laughed the other. "you knows better than ter do that." "i don't do it by my lonesome; but if i raises a holler there is others does the same thing. but i will git my dust, all right. don't you worry about that." at this point several of the men in the vicinity of the unfinished cabins set up a wild yell of laughter. one of their number had attempted to imitate the awkward motions of the former dancer and had fallen sprawling on his stomach. immediately after this burst of laughter the men began to sing again. "that oughter bring this yere hodge over this way," said dug, with a hoarse laugh. "ordinarily he comes a-whooping to see what is up, and he raises thunder. he sets himself up as a boss what is to be obeyed, and i reckons so far he has had the boys jumping when he gives orders." "if he comes over now," observed bight, "he gits his medicine in a hurry. i don't care any about shooting him up, so i am for staying away from the rest of the bunch." "oh! what ails yer?" growled dug. "it's murder!" said bight. "well, i opines you has cooked yer man afore this?" "ef i ever has," retorted bight, "it certain was in self-defense." "i reckon you're something of a squealer, pard," sneered dug. "you wants to git your share o' the dust without taking no part in the danger. you tells how you raises a roar if you don't git your coin, but what does yer do to earn it?" "well, i fights some when i has to," returned bight, rather savagely. "mebbe you talks too much to me, dug, and you gits yourself into some trouble." bight was ugly now, and his companion involuntarily retreated a step, for the squat chap had a reputation as a fighter. "go slow, pard!" exclaimed dug. "i am not a-picking trouble with you." "all right, all right," nodded bight, "only just be a little keerful--a little keerful. don't think just because a gent don't keer about shooting another gent down promiscuous-like that he is soft and easy. there's texas bland out yander. he has a reputation as a bad man. well, partner, i picks no quarrels with him, but if he stomps on my tail he gets my claws." "what's that?" exclaimed dug, in astonishment. "you ain't a-giving it ter me that you bucks up agin' bland, are yer?" "i am a-giving it ter yer that i does in case i has to. i don't propose any ter have ter do it. i jines in with this yer move because it seems popular with the gang, and i am none anxious ter work myself. this yere is a nice bunch o' miners, now, ain't it? why, the gent what hires this outfit and brings it yere had a whole lot better stick to his sailoring business! he may know how to pick out seamen, but it's right certain he makes a mess of it when it comes to engaging miners." "that's right," agreed dug. "and he certain is the biggest liar it ever were my pleasure to harken unto. the way he can tell things to make a galoot's eyes bug out is a whole lot remarkable. whither he gits his lively imagination i cannot surmise. let's see, whatever was his name?" "wiley--cap'n wiley he calls himself." "well, however does he happen to be hiring men for this yere mine? i don't judge any that he is interested in it." "not a whole lot. the mine is owned by a gent named merriwell, and by this yere hodge. them two locates it." "relocates it, you mean. i onderstand it were located original by another gent what is dead now. and i reckons some that it is through this other gent's action that the man that is back o' this yere jumping movement is going to stake his claim to the mine. i hears one o' the boys say that if bland ain't back o' the game, it sartin is a gent with heaps o' money--one o' them yere money kings we hears about." this conversation was of no simple interest to hodge, for, although it did not reveal the instigator of the movement, it satisfied him that the plot did not originate among the men themselves. some enemy of frank merriwell must be behind it all. as sukes was dead, it was not easy for bart to conjecture who this new enemy was. after a few moments more the two ruffians finished the contents of the bottle and moved slowly away. this gave hodge an opportunity to turn back toward his cabin, and he hastened to get away from that dangerous locality. "it's well for me that i suspected what was up," he muttered, as he hurried along. "under ordinary circumstances, failing to hear the men at work and hearing their singing and shouts, i should have hastened over and demanded to know the meaning of it. as a result they would have finished me in short order. now i am prepared for them. but what can i do? what can i do alone?" the situation seemed desperate and hopeless. another fellow in bart's position, and realizing his desperate peril, might have lost no time in getting out of the valley. even though he happened to be a courageous person, his judgment might have led him to pursue such a course, for certainly it seemed a wild and hopeless plan to think of remaining there alone and contending against those ruffians. bart, however, was an obstinate chap and one in whom fear was an emotion seldom experienced. not that he had always been fearless, for as a boy he had sometimes felt the thrill of terror; but his iron will had conquered, and time after time he had refused to submit to the approach of the slightest timidity, until at last fear seemed banished from his heart. now, as he hastened back to the cabin, he revolved in his mind certain thoughts in regard to the situation; but not once did he entertain the idea of leaving the valley and abandoning it to those desperadoes. "i will stay," he muttered. "i will stay as long as i am able to shoot. while i live they will never gain full possession of the valley. merry left me here to guard this property, and i will do it with my life. but for wiley's carelessness----" he stopped, suddenly struck by a startling suspicion. "was it carelessness?" he asked himself. an instant later he was ashamed of the suspicion, for he remembered how on other occasions he had suspected wiley, and each time had found himself wrong. "no, no," murmured hodge; "it was simply a blunder, on wiley's part. he remembered merriwell's thirty, and thought he was doing the right thing in engaging men of similar calibre. the cap'n is on the level." still troubled and perplexed by his thoughts, he grew, if possible, more fixed in his determination to defend the mines single-handed. he approached the cabin, the door of which was still standing open as he left it. hurrying in, he stopped, suddenly turned to stone as he saw sitting on the floor, with his back against the wall, a human being, who was calmly smoking a long pipe. a moment later the muzzle of bart's revolver covered this figure, which, however, did not stir or lift a hand. coming, as he did, from the bright light outside into the shadows within the cabin, hodge failed at first to note more than that the smoker who sat thus was wrapped in an old blanket. after a moment or two, however, he finally saw that he was face to face with an aged, wrinkled, leathery-skinned indian. the little sharp eyes of the old savage were fixed steadily on bart's face, and he betrayed not a symptom of alarm as hodge brought the rifle to bear upon him. with stoical calmness he deliberately pulled at his pipe. "what in thunder are you doing here?" demanded hodge, in astonishment. "ugh!" was the only reply vouchsafed. somehow that grunt seemed familiar. bart had heard it before, but it simply increased his amazement. lowering the rifle, he stared wonderingly. "great scott!" he breathed. "is it possible? are you old joe?" "heap same," was the curt answer. in a twinkling bart dropped the rifle on the table and strode forward to shake the hand of an old friend. "old joe crowfoot!" he shouted. "where under the stars did you drop from?" "joe he come visit. how, how!" "why, you amazing old nomad!" cried bart, in delight. "you're always turning up just when you're wanted the most, and if ever you were wanted it is now." "frank him not here?" "no." "joe he want see frank." "if that's the case, you will have to wait a while." "strong heart he better be here," declared the aged redskin. "heap lot o' trouble pretty soon." "that's right, joe. but how do you know anything about it?" "joe he know. him no fool. him find out." bart had extended his hand, and now he assisted the old man to his feet. although old joe tried to conceal the fact, he seemed rather stiff in his joints just then. "what's the matter, crowfoot?" questioned bart. "rheumatism troubles you again?" "debble got old joe in his bones," indignantly returned the savage. "old joe him no good any more. make old joe mad when him think he no good." under other circumstances the indignation of the redskin over his infirmities might have been somewhat amusing. "but tell me--tell me how you came to be here at this time," questioned hodge. "we last saw you away up in wyoming. you said then that you'd never travel south again." "heap think so then. when winter he come joe have debble ache in his bones plenty bad. sabe?" "and so the rheumatism and cold weather drove you south, eh?" "one time," said the redskin, drawing his blanket about his shoulders with an air of dignity, "joe him face cold and never feel um. one time him no care how cold. one time he laugh at snow and ice. then all him bones be good. then old joe a heap strong to hunt. now it ain't the same. once joe him hunt the grizzly bear for game; now he hunt poker." in spite of himself, bart was forced to smile. he knew something of the skill of old joe at the white man's game of poker, and the thought of the old indian who had once tracked the grizzly now turned to gambling was both amusing and remarkable. "so that is what brought you south. you turned this way to escape the cold and to find at the same time the kind of game you were after?" "heap so," nodded crowfoot, as he produced from beneath his blanket a greasy pack of cards. "i came to play some. mebbe i find um good players here." "i don't know where, joe," said hodge. "mebbe over yon," suggested the indian, waving his hand toward the southern end of the valley. "see here, joe," said bart, "those men down there are my enemies. they have betrayed me. there are valuable mines in this valley, and they belong to frank merriwell and myself. these ruffians mean to seize them. even now they are ready to shoot me on sight, and intend to drop frank when he appears." "heap bad," observed joe, without betraying the slightest emotion. "bad!" cried hodge. "i should say so!" "too many for you, black eyes," asserted the redskin. "mebbe you pull up stake and lope?" "not by a blamed sight!" grated hodge. "i will stay here and defend these mines as long as i am able to lift a weapon." the indian shook his head. "heap young, heap young," he declared, as if speaking to himself. "blood hot. joe him know. once him blood hot." "well, you don't suppose i'd let them drive me out, do you?" indignantly demanded hodge. "you don't think i'd betray frank like that! he left me here in charge of the property, and here i will remain. i want you to stick by me, joe." "ugh!" grunted the old fellow noncommittally. "mebbe not much difference to old joe. i may croak pretty soon now. mebbe only make it some quicker." "perhaps that's right," said hodge slowly. "i have no right to ask you to lose your life in helping me fight against overwhelming odds. it's not your quarrel, joe. you can do as you please." "joe him think it over," said the indian. "no like to see frank lose um mines, but him have plenty more." bart turned away, not without a feeling of disappointment. as he did so, through the still open door he caught a glimpse of a man who was advancing toward the cabin. instantly he strode toward the door, and his eyes rested on texas bland, who was several rods away. "oh, mr. hodge!" bland called at once. "i want yer ter come over yon. the men has quit work, and they refuse to strike another stroke." trying to repress and conceal his indignation, bart asked, as if wholly unsuspicious of the real situation: "what's the matter, bland?" "i dunno," lied the scoundrel. "i can't make 'em work; perhaps you can, sir." suddenly, almost without being aware of what was happening, bart permitted his hot indignation to get the best of his judgment. instantly, as he stepped out of the cabin, he blazed: "you're lying, bland, and i know it! i am on to the whole dastardly game! you're at the bottom of it, too! you have incited the men to mutiny. i know your plot, you treacherous whelp! i know you meant to get me over there for the purpose of assassinating me. the end of this business will be a rope for you, bland. go back and tell your dogs i am onto their game. go back and bring them here. they will meet a hot reception!" texas bland had been astonished, but now, quick as a flash, he whipped out a revolver for the purpose of taking a shot at hodge, whose hands were empty. rapid though he was in his movements, he was not quick enough, for within the cabin sounded the loud report of a rifle, and the bullet knocked bland's pistol from his hand, smashing two of his fingers. chapter xvi. crowfoot makes medicine. although taken by surprise, the man looked at his benumbed and bleeding hand a moment, then pulled from his neck a handkerchief tied there and wrapped it around the mutilated member. by this time hodge had his own pistol out, and bland was covered. "you're lucky to get off with your life, you treacherous cur!" he cried. "now make tracks, and hurry about it, too." "all right," said the leader of the ruffians, still with amazing coolness. "but you pays dear for this hand--you and the gent inside who fires the shot." with that he turned his back and hastily strode away, the handkerchief already dripping with blood and leaving a red trail behind him. hodge watched until the hurrying man disappeared down the valley. reentering the cabin, he found old joe standing near the table on which still lay bart's winchester. the indian had refilled his pipe and was smoking again in his most imperturbable manner. "crowfoot," said hodge, with sincere gratitude, "i owe you my life. it's lucky for me you fired just when you did. an instant more and bland would have shot me down. how did you happen to be so quick with the shot?" "look um rifle over," grunted the old man. "pick um rifle up. when black eyes him go out, joe think mebbe white man act crooked. joe watch him white man. when white man tries to shoot, joe him shoot." "you're a jewel, crowfoot!" declared bart; "but this thing will bring trouble to the cabin in a hurry. as soon as bland can have his hand cared for, he will lead those ruffians over here to wipe us out. now is your chance to get away." "oh, no great hurry," returned crowfoot. "plenty time, plenty time." "on the contrary, there may be very little time. if you're going, you had better go at once." "plenty time," persisted the old man placidly. "joe too old to hurry. they no come right away. mebbe joe him look around a little." as the old fellow was leaving the cabin, bart called: "here's your own rifle, joe, standing in the corner. don't you want to take it?" "leave him there now," returned the redskin. "take him bimeby." outside the door, leaning against the wall, were a pick and spade. to bart's surprise, the old man picked these implements up and shouldered them; after which he found bland's revolver where it had fallen on being knocked from the man's hand by the bullet, and took that along. crowfoot turned northward toward a tangled wild thicket, into which bart saw him disappear. "well, of all peculiar things for him to do!" muttered hodge, completely puzzled. "what the dickens is he up to?" this question bothered bart not a little, and, after a time, having made sure none of the ruffians were yet approaching from the south, bart caught up his rifle and ran swiftly toward the thicket. on entering the tangled underbrush, he soon came in sight of crowfoot, who, although he must have heard the other approaching, paid no attention whatever. the defender of the mines paused in amazement as he noted the indian's occupation, for old joe was busily at work, engaged with pick and shovel, digging in the ground. "what in the name of all mysteries are you doing, crowfoot?" asked hodge, as he approached and stood nearer. "dig a little," returned the old man, with something like a joking twinkle in his keen black eyes. "mebbe get some exercise. strong heart him great on exercise. crowfoot hear strong heart tell exercise much big thing." now, hodge knew well enough that the aged redskin was not expending so much energy and labor in mere exercise, and he lingered to watch a while longer. pretty soon old joe unearthed a long root that ran beneath the ground, which he immediately seized and dragged forth with considerable grunting. hodge noted then that he had one or two similar roots lying near. "mebbe him be 'nuf," observed crowfoot, as he severed the last root unearthed and placed it with the others. "think him be. joe he get plenty exercise for to-day." then, abandoning the pick and shovel where he had dropped them, the old man gathered up the roots and started to retrace his steps to the cabin. still wondering at crowfoot's strange actions, hodge followed. the sunshine lay warm on the valley, which seemed deserted save for themselves. "man git hand hurt, him no hurry back much," observed crowfoot. "not yet," said hodge. "but he will come and bring his dogs with him soon enough." when the cabin was reached crowfoot stood some moments looking at a little pile of wood lying in a corner near the open fireplace. "you build a fire, black eyes," he said. "joe him cold--him cold." "well, your blood must be getting thin," declared hodge. "you can bake out in the sun to-day if you want to." "no like sun bake," was the retort. "too slow; not right kind. want fire bake." "oh, all right," said bart, ready to humor the old man. "i will have a fire directly." to his surprise, while he was starting the fire, old joe brought in more wood that had been gathered in a little pile outside and threw it down in the corner. several times he came with an armful of wood, but finally, seemed satisfied. "there's a good hot fire for you, joe," said hodge. "now toast yourself, if you want to." "ugh!" grunted the indian. "you keep watch. keep eye open wide. mebbe bad palefaces come soon." bart knew this was a good suggestion, and he proceeded to watch for the possible approach of the enemy. at the same time, he occasionally turned from the open doorway to observe what crowfoot was about. the old indian did not seem very anxious to warm himself at the fire. instead of that, he took the roots he had dug and held them toward the fireplace, turning them over and over and warming them thoroughly, after which he beat off the particles of dirt that clung to them. while he was beating one of the roots by holding it toward the fire, he had the others arranged on the flat stones of the hearth quite near the blaze, where they also would receive warmth from the flames. at last, his curiosity reaching a point where he could repress it no longer, hodge again asked old joe what he was doing. for some minutes the indian did not reply. once or twice he grunted to himself, but finally said: "joe him make medicine. sometime him big medicine maker." "oh, so that's it," said hodge. "you are making medicine for your rheumatism?" "ugh!" was the answer to this. bart was surprised and almost annoyed as the day dragged on and the ruffians failed to appear. it seemed remarkable that they should delay the attack so long; still, he was confident that it must come sooner or later. all through the day after securing his roots old joe worked over them patiently by the fire. he dried them and turned them over and over. and, while he was handling one of them and turning it before the heat like a thing he was toasting, the others remained in a long mound of hot ashes. the patience of the indian over such a trifling task was something to wonder at. as night came on crowfoot paused to say: "now, black eyes, keep sharp watch. bad white men come to-night. mebbe they try to ketch um sleeping." the first half of the night, however, passed without alarm. during these hours the old redskin continued to putter with his roots, which he carefully scraped with a keen knife. at midnight he buried them in the ashes, on which hot coals were heaped, and then directed bart to lie down and sleep. "joe him watch now," said the old fellow. trusting everything to the redskin, hodge rolled himself in a blanket and slept soundly for two hours. he was awakened by joe, who stirred him with a moccasin foot. "get up, black eyes," said the old fellow, in a whisper. "pretty soon we fight." "those ruffians?" questioned bart, as he leaped to his feet. "they coming," declared crowfoot. he was right. bland and his desperadoes were creeping on the cabin, hoping to take its defenders by surprise. crowfoot pointed them out, and when they were near enough, hodge called from the window for them to halt. realizing they were discovered, they sprang up and charged. instantly bart and the redskin opened fire on them, hodge working his repeater swiftly and accurately, while the clear spang of crowfoot's rifle was heard at irregular intervals. the ruffians were unprepared for such a defense, and, as they saw several of their number fall and others were wounded, they halted, wavered, then turned and fled. looking from the window, the starlight showed the defenders a few wounded men dragging themselves away. "pretty good," said joe. "no more bother to-night." with which he turned from the window, uncovered his roots, and replanted them in a fresh pile of hot ashes. chapter xvii. how the medicine worked. having left their horses picketed in a secluded spot, four men came stealing down the steep and narrow fissure that was the one entrance into the enchanted valley. three days had passed since dash colvin stole out of that valley in his desperate attempt to carry the message to frank. the third night had fallen. frank had arrived, and with him were pete curry, of cottonwood, an officer who knew him well and liked him, and two deputies whom curry had called into service. frank had picked these men up at cottonwood after his flight from prescott. the promise of a liberal reward under any circumstances, and possibly of a big capture, had led them to accompany him. before seeking to descend into the valley they had seen from the heights above, far away to the southern end, the glow of two or three bright fires, and had heard at intervals something like singing. frank feared the entrance to the valley might be in the hands of the enemy and guarded. he was relieved on discovering that this was not so, and his satisfaction was great when, with his companions, he found himself in the valley with no one to block the way. "what next, mr. merriwell?" asked curry, in a low tone. "i am for finding out what is going on down there to the south," said frank. "all right, sir. lead on. we're with you." in time they approached near enough to look down upon that portion of the valley where the unfinished cabins were, and saw two or three fires burning there. men were lying around on the ground in the light of these fires. others were staggering about in a peculiar manner. now and then one of them would utter a wild yell and dance about like a crazy man, sometimes keeping it up until, apparently exhausted, he ended by flinging himself on the ground and seemed immediately to fall asleep. as frank and his companions watched these singular movements they saw three men join hands and execute a singular dance in the firelight. "cã¦sar's ghost!" muttered merry, "am i dreaming?" "what's the matter, pard?" asked curry. "look at those three men--look at them closely. one of them is an indian." "sure thing," said curry. "and i know him!" palpitated merry. "if my eyes don't fail me, it is old joe crowfoot." "who is old joe crowfoot?" "a redskin i have believed to be my friend." "waugh!" ejaculated curry, in disgust. "there never was a red whelp as could be trusted." "but you don't know crowfoot." "i know 'em all. here is this yere crowfoot a-whooping her up with your enemies, mr. merriwell. what do you think of that?" "it's mighty singular," confessed merry. "look! look! they are drinking!" it was true. the dance had stopped and one of the three had flung himself on the ground. crowfoot bent over this fellow and offered him a bottle, which he eagerly seized. the indian snatched it from the man's lips, refusing to let him drink all he seemed to desire. it was then given to the other men, and afterward the old redskin passed from one to another of the reclining men, rousing those he could and offering them the bottle. some drank, but others seemed too nerveless to hold the bottle in their hands. "well, this yere is lucky for us," declared curry. "the whole bunch is paralyzed drunk. we oughter be able to scoop 'em in without any great trouble." "i wonder where hodge is," speculated merry. "i wonder if they have killed him." this possibility so aroused frank that he was determined to seek bart without delay. curry was opposed to this; but frank had his way, and they stole off leaving crowfoot and his newly chosen companions to continue their carousal. as they approached bart's cabin, there came from the window a sharp command for them to halt. merry recognized the voice and uttered a cry of satisfaction. "hodge!" he called. "it is i--frank." from within the cabin there was another cry of joy, and a moment later the door flew open and hodge came running toward them. "merry, thank heaven you're here!" he exclaimed, "thank heaven you're still alive!" returned frank. "i was afraid i might arrive too late. tell me what has happened. how have you managed to stand those ruffians off?" "they attacked the cabin twice," said hodge; "but we were ready for them both times." "we? but aren't you alone?" "i am now; but old joe crowfoot----" "crowfoot--what of him?" "he was with me. i don't know what has become of the old man now. he left to-night as soon as darkness fell, saying he was going to take a look at the ruffians down yonder. the old man is pretty well used up; he is nearly dead with rheumatism. he spent the greater part of the time after coming here in digging roots and making them into medicine by drying them at the fire, scraping them, then grinding them into powder between stones, finally preparing a decoction with water and the powder of the roots." frank then told bart what he had lately seen, and hodge was greatly astonished. "old joe down there with those men?" he muttered. "why, i don't see----" "ugh!" grunted a voice near at hand, and out of the shadows slipped another shadow that unhesitatingly approached. it was crowfoot himself, as they immediately perceived. "how, how, strong heart!" said the old man, extending his hand to frank. "heap glad to see um." "why, you old wretch!" cried merry. "we saw you a short time ago down there with that bunch of claim jumpers drinking and whooping things up. what do you mean by such conduct?" "old joe him got very bad rheumatism," returned the redskin. "him make medicine. him think mebbe um white men down there got bad rheumatism, too. he give um white men some medicine. he find um white man drinking a heap. joe he mix um medicine with drink. they like medicine pretty good. one white man, who lead um, him get shot up a great lot. him in no shape to lead um some more. so white men they wait for more men to come. now they very much tired. they sleep a lot. come down see um sleep. you like it." of a sudden the truth dawned on frank. "why, you clever old rascal!" he laughed. "hanged if i don't believe you've drugged them some way!" "joe he give um medicine, that all," protested the redskin. "sometimes medicine make um sleep. come see." "come on," said frank, "we will follow this slick old rascal and find out how hard they are sleeping." as they approached the cabins at the lower end of the valley they saw the fires were dying down, while from that locality no longer came shouts and singing, and, in truth, all the ruffians seemed fast asleep on the ground, where they had fallen or flung themselves. unhesitatingly crowfoot led them amid the mass of drugged men, and the sinking firelight revealed on his leathery face a ghost of a shriveled smile. "medicine heap good sometimes," he observed. "strong heart find him enemies sleeping. mebbe he takes hatchet and chop um up? joe he get many scalps." "you're a dandy, crowfoot!" laughed frank. "here they are, curry, the whole bunch. you can gather them and escort them to cottonwood, or anywhere you please." "and a great haul it is, pard," nodded curry. "i sees three gents now what has rewards offered for them. it's my opinion that they hangs. get to work, boys, and we will tie up the whole bunch so they can't wiggle when they awake." old joe looked on in apparent dissatisfaction and dismay. "you no chop um up some?" he questioned. "you no kill um a heap. then what joe him get? he no have a scalp." "what do you get, joe?" exclaimed merry. "you have saved my mines for me. you get anything you want--anything but scalps." chapter xviii. a bunch of prisoners. pete curry and his two deputies set off the next morning with their prisoners--thirteen in all. they were taking the ruffians direct to the nearest point where they could be confined and afterward delivered for trial into the hands of certain officers, who would take several of them to different parts of arizona where they had committed crimes. at noon the second day they reached a point in a barren valley where the sun beat fiercely. scorched mountains rose to the east and west. they came to a halt. in the party of sixteen there were only three horses, ridden by the officers. the prisoners had been compelled to tramp over the desert, the mountains, and valleys. the wrists of each captive were bound behind his back. a tough-looking, desperate lot they were, taken all together. there were mexicans and men with indian blood in their veins among them. they had weather-beaten, leathery, bearded faces. many of them had a hangdog expression. their eyes were shiftless and full of treachery. it was a most important capture for curry, as there were among those men desperate characters for whose apprehension rewards had been offered. in short, it was a round-up of criminals that would make curry's name known as that of a wonderfully successful officer of the law. he was proud of his accomplishment, although he regretfully admitted to himself that he deserved very little credit for it. he and his two companions had already been well paid by frank merriwell. now, with his weapons ready, curry was watching the prisoners, while his two companions sought for water in the bed of the creek. "how are you hitting her, bill?" he called. "she's moist, pete," answered one of the diggers. "there's water here." "it takes a right good while for her to gather in the hole," said the other digger. "if we makes a hole big enough, we will have some in an hour or so." curry took a look at the sky, the mountains, and the westering sun. "well, i opines we stops here a while," he said. "we may as well." a big, burly fellow among the captives carelessly stalked toward curry, who watched him with a keen eye. "i say, pete," said the prisoner familiarly, "mebbe you tells me just how this yere thing happens. i am a whole lot bothered over it." "why, bland, i has you--i has you foul," retorted curry, with a grim smile. "that i certain admits," nodded the other; "but how it was did is what puzzles me a-plenty." "you has some bad habits, bland," returned the captor. "you monkeys with firewater, and, for a man like you, with a price on him, it's a keerless thing to do." "no firewater ever lays me out," proudly retorted he of the drooping black mustache. "i knows my capacity when it come to the real stuff. but what i gits against this yere time is different a whole lot." the deputy sheriff smiled again. "mebbe you're right, bland," he admitted. "you thinks yourself a heap clever, but this time you is fooled right slick." texas bland frowned. "i confess, pete, that it cuts me deep to realize it, but it certain is a fact that i gits tripped up. however, how it happened is what i wants ter know. there sure was dope in that booze." "likely you're correct," nodded curry. "how does it git there?" "have you noticed a certain old injun in this bunch sence we started out?" asked the officer. "no," said bland, shaking his head. "i looks fer him some, but he is not yere. does yer mean to insinuate that the old varmint loaded this bunch with dope?" "well, how does it look to you?" "why, ding his old pelt!" exclaimed the captive indignantly. "some of the boys knowed him. some o' them had seen him afore. one or two had seen him to their sorrer. they say to me that he plays poker somewhat slick. when he comes ambling into our camp, seeming a whole lot jagged hisself, i was a bit suspicious; but the boys what knowed him says he is all right, and so i takes a drink with him. arter that i gits a heap sleepy and snoozes. next i knows you is there, pete, and you has us nailed solid." "that's about the way of it," nodded curry. "and the old whelp dopes us, does he!" growled texas bland. "whatever does he do that fer?" "why, bland, that yere old redskin is a friend of mr. merriwell. he gives you the dope to help merriwell. when we comes down into the valley there and finds you all sleeping sweetly, the old injun proposes to scalp you up some. to be course, we objects, and then he seems mighty disappointed-like. he seems to think he is cheated. he seems to reckon that, having done the job so slick, your scalps belong to him." bland listened with a strange look on his face and a vengeful glare in his deepset eyes. "so that's however it is!" he growled. "well, i am some glad i finds it out." "mebbe it relieves your mind some of worry," returned the captor; "but it does you little good." "don't you think it!" returned bland harshly. "i settles with that old injun, you bet your boots!" "first you settles with the law, bland. you roams free a long time with a good price on your head. i am sorry fer you, but i reckons you are due to stretch hemp." texas bland actually laughed. "pete," he said, "the rope ain't made yet what hangs me." "your nerve is good, but i opine you're wrong this yere time. i has you, bland, and i keeps you. i deliver you to them what wants you bad." "that's all right, pete," was the cool retort. "no hard feelings on my account, you understand. i takes my medicine when i has to, and so i swallows this all pleasant and smiling. just the same, you mark what i tells you, the rope ain't made what hangs texas bland. i goes back a-looking for that red skunk later, and i pots him. when i gits a chance, i starts a lead mine in his carcass. the idea of being fooled by a redskin galls me up a heap. but you don't tell me any how it happens you drops down thar and gathers us in just then." "i am some acquainted with frank merriwell. i has done business for him before. when he comes sailing into cottonwood and locates me, he says: 'curry, i am up against it some, and i needs assistance.' 'i am yours to order,' says i. 'whatever is a-doing?' "then he up and tells me that a gent with a whole lot of coin, what calls himself a money king, is trying to get possession of some new mines he has located. this gent, he says, has faked up a false charge against him and gives him a heap o' trouble. this gent's partner once tried mighty hard to get his paws on another mine belonging to merriwell, and in the end he runs up against a bullet and lays down peaceful and calm. this gent's name were sukes. the one what is a-bothering merriwell now is macklyn morgan." "you interest me a-plenty," nodded bland. "now, there were some gent behind this yere deal what says it pays us well if we seizes those mines. just who it were that puts up the coin fer the job i didn't know for sure. all i knows is that it comes straight through a gent what i depends on, and the coin is in sight the minute we delivers the mines over. i reckons, pete, the gent you speak of is the one what lays the job out fer us." curry nodded. "likely that's all correct, bland. but he makes a big mistake if he thinks this yere merriwell is easy. merriwell is a fighter from 'way back." "he is a whole lot young." "in experience he is a whole lot old. mebbe he don't grow whiskers much, but he gets there just the same. whiskers don't always make the man, bland. with all his money, this yere sukes don't get ahead of merriwell any. when morgan he tackles the job he finds it just as hard or harder. it does him no good to fake a charge that merriwell shoots up sukes." "where did this yere shooting happen, pete?" "over yon in snowflake." bland shook his head. "then it's ten to one he gits disturbed none fer it. if he proves conclusive this yere sukes bothers him, why, supposing he did do the shooting, it convicts him of nothing but self-defense down in this yere country!" "sukes was a whole lot wealthy, you understand." "all the same, i reckons it is pretty hard to put murder on a gent yereabouts in case he is defending his rights." "that's so," nodded curry, at the same time lifting his eyes and watching with interest several horsemen who now appeared far up the valley, riding toward them through the heat haze. bland noticed curry's look and turned in the same direction. "who does you allow is coming?" he questioned, with repressed eagerness. instead of answering, curry called to the men who were laboring in the bed of the creek. "oh, bill! oh, abe! come up yere right away." the inflection of his voice indicated that something was wrong, and the two men hastened to join him. curry motioned toward the approaching horsemen. "mebbe we is troubled some," he observed. "we needs to be ready." the horsemen came on rapidly. there were seven of them in all. like curry and his two companions, the captives watched the approaching men with no small amount of anxiety. as the horsemen drew near, having told bill and abe to watch the prisoners closely, curry rode forward. "howdy, gents!" he called. "howdy!" returned one of the men. "is that you, curry?" "surest thing you know," said the deputy sheriff. "somehow i don't seem to recall you any." "that's none strange," said the spokesman of the party. "i am gad hackett. no particular reason why you should know me." "whatever are you doing yere?" inquired the officer suspiciously. "just making a short cut, leaving all trails, from fulton to oxboro." "say you so? seems ter me you're hitting in the wrong direction." "i reckon i know my course," returned hackett. "i have traveled this section a-plenty. there seems to be a good bunch of you gents. whatever are you a-doing?" "we're holding up for water now," answered curry evasively. "mebbe you hurries right along? mebbe you has no great time to waste?" "we look some for water ourselves," returned the other man. "well, you has to look mighty sharp yereabouts. we digs our own water hole, and unfortunately we can't share it any. if you goes down the valley a mile or two, mebbe you finds a locality where water is easier to reach." "seems ter me you're some anxious to hurry us on," laughed hackett. "we're slightly tired, and i reckons we holds up for rest, water or no water." "that being the case," said curry, "let me give you some advice. yander i has a few gents what are wanted for various little doings in different parts, and i am takin' pains careful-like to deliver them over. they're lawbreakers to the last galoot of the bunch. mebbe you bothers them none. i does my duty." "oh--ho!" retorted hackett, "so that's how the wind blows! why, certain, curry, we interferes none whatever with your business. instead o' that, we helps you any we can in running in your bunch of bad men." "thanks," returned the deputy sheriff coolly. "so long as i am not bothered with, i needs no help." hackett laughed again. "i see, pard," he said, "you counts on gathering in the reward money yourself, and proposes to divide it none. all right; you're welcome." then, with his companions, he again rode forward. curry looked them over critically. in his eyes, with one or two exceptions, they appeared little different from the collection of ruffians who were his prisoners. with them he recognized one man, at least, who had an unenviable reputation--a tall, pockmarked individual--no less a person than spotted dan. there was in the party a man who seemed strangely out of place there. his every appearance was that of a tenderfoot, while his face, with his shaven lips and iron-gray beard, looked like that of a stern old church deacon. somehow this person interested curry more than all the others. he wondered not a little at the appearance of such a man in such a party. "who is the parsonish gentleman?" asked the deputy sheriff, as hackett came up with him. he spoke in a low tone and jerked his hand slightly toward the tenderfoot. "that?" said hackett loudly. "why, that is mr. felton cleveland, a gentleman what is looking around some for mining property, and it is him we escorts to oxboro. he engages us to see that he gets there all safe-like, and he is in a hurry." the man indicated did not betray that these words had reached his ears, although he had not missed the statement. "he looks more like a missionary than a mining man," declared curry. as the new arrivals reached the captives and their guards, felton cleveland was soon looking the captives over with an expression of interest, not to say of sympathy. he turned to the deputy sheriff and observed: "it seems hardly possible, sir, that so many men could be lawbreakers; still, their faces indicate that they are desperate characters." "i reckon you're some unfamiliar with this part of the country," returned the officer. "we tries to keep our towns clean, but down along the mexican border there are a few bad men. sometimes they go in bunches." "but it is remarkable that you should capture so many of them at one time. do you mind telling how it happened?" "i am not feeling a whole lot like talking just now," returned the deputy sheriff. "i opines you takes my word for it that they are just what i says." "oh, certainly, sir--certainly," nodded cleveland. "i don't dispute you in the least. i assure you it is not mere idle curiosity on my part, for i have interests in this part of the country, and i wish to be well informed about it and its inhabitants. however, if you don't care to tell me what these men have been doing, we will let it drop." "well, i don't mind saying that they was caught redhanded trying to jump a claim. mebbe that is the charge made agin' a few o' them, but i reckons the most of the bunch is to face things a heap more serious." "trying to jump a claim?" said cleveland. "where was this, if you don't mind giving that much information?" "over yon," answered pete indefinitely, with a wave of his hand. "well, it's truly remarkable that you should be able to capture so many of them. they outnumber you, it appears. if they are such desperate men, it surely is a strange thing that you could take them all." "we has a way of doing things sometimes, mister. let me advise you to keep your own eyes open. mebbe some o' that bunch you has is not to be trusted too far." "there is no reason why they should betray me," was the assertion. "i have nothing on my person that could tempt them. they will be paid well when we reach our destination. that should be enough to guarantee their faithfulness to me." "you're some wise in leaving your valuables behind," nodded curry. some of the captives attempted to converse with the newcomers, but curry's companions promptly put a stop to that. between spotted dan and one or two of them passed significant looks. the horsemen dismounted, as if to take a brief rest and give their animals a breathing spell. gad hackett lighted his pipe and engaged one of curry's comrades in conversation. seeing this, curry approached them and quietly said: "you talks a little, bill--a very little." bill nodded. "i knows my business, pete," he assured. hackett laughed. "why does he seem so mighty suspicious?" he asked. "we don't bother him none." after talking with bill a few moments, however, he turned to abe and engaged him in conversation. he seemed careless and indifferent in his manner, and occasionally a few low words passed between them. after a time, abe examined the water hole and announced that water was rising in it. bill joined him, and they were on their knees beside the hole when a startling thing happened. curry suddenly felt something thrust against the back of his head and heard a harsh voice commanding him to stand still or be shot in his tracks. the voice was that of spotted dan, who held the muzzle of a revolver touching the deputy sheriff's head. curry knew on the instant that he was in for it. he knew better than to attempt the drawing of a weapon, although one hung ready in the holster at his side. hackett, a pistol in his hand, appeared before the officer. "we don't care to shoot you up, curry," he said; "but we has to do it if you gits foolish. put up your hands." "whatever is this game?" exclaimed the startled man. "you arrays yourself agin' the law. you gits yourself into a heap o' trouble." "put up your hands," repeated hackett sharply. "if you delays any, the gent behind you blows off the top of your head." knowing the folly of refusing to obey, curry lifted his empty hands. hackett then removed the revolver from the officer's holster. instinctively curry turned his eyes toward the water hole to see what was happening to his assistants there. he found them on their feet, but covered by drawn weapons of several men. he saw them also disarmed. then one of the newcomers went among the captives and rapidly cut their bonds and set them free. texas bland turned to curry and laughed in his face. "pete," he said, "i tells you a while ago that the rope is not made that hangs me." chapter xix. the valley of desolation. six persons, all mounted, sat on their horses and gazed down the valley. from that elevation they were able to see its full length. the six were dick merriwell, brad buckhart, cap'n wiley, dash colvin, little abe, and felicia delores. being aware that macklyn morgan had started with a number of desperate men in pursuit of frank, in spite of frank's admonition to stay in prescott and care for felicia, dick found it impossible to remain quiet. he knew his brother was in deadly danger, and he longed to be with him when the tug of war came. feeling certain likewise that the men employed by cap'n wiley and taken to the enchanted valley as miners were desperate characters, it did not seem possible to dick that frank and bart unaided could cope with so many and overcome them. dick had not worried long over the matter. calling brad, he said: "buckhart, i am going to follow frank and the men who are in pursuit of him." the eyes of the texan gleamed. "pard," he said, "i observed that you were notified to stay hereabouts and guard your cousin. frank told you to do that. do you let on that you're going to disobey orders?" "i can't stay here, brad. i feel certain frank needs me. his enemies are very powerful and desperate. what would i think of myself if anything serious happened to my brother? i should hate myself forever afterward." the rancher's son nodded. "i allow that's dead right, partner," he agreed. "i am feeling some that way myself. i certain smell smoke in the air, and i have an itching to be in the midst of the fray. but whatever are you going to do with felicia?" "why, i did think of leaving her here with you. i thought of leaving you in charge of her." "what, me?" squealed the texan. "leave me behind when there's a ruction brewing? do you mean, pard, that you propose to cut me out of this yere scrimmage? oh, say, dick, you'd never treat me that low down! i came west to stick by you a heap close, and i am going to do it. why don't you leave your cousin in the care of cap'n wiley?" "i wouldn't dare," answered dick. "wiley is square enough; but he is careless. besides that, how can i find my way to the enchanted valley unless guided by wiley himself?" "that's so. i never thought of that. you've got to take wiley along--unless you can get hold of that man colvin, who brought the message to merry." dick frowned a little, seeming deep in serious thought. "then there's the hunchback boy," he finally muttered. "possibly he might know the trail, but i doubt it." "you can't depend on him none whatever," put in buckhart. "he looks like a good wind would blow him away." dick rose to his feet. "brad," he said, "we will find wiley and talk this matter over." the sailor was found, and he turned an attentive ear to dick's words. "my young mate," he observed, resting a hand on dick's shoulder, "i have been seriously meditating on the problematical problem of hoisting anchor and setting my course for the enchanted valley all by my lonesome. in my mouth danger leaves a sweet and pleasant taste. i love it with all my yearning heart. if you are bound to set sail for the enchanted valley, i am ready to ship with you as pilot. it may be well for me to do so. if i linger here i may dally with the delusive jag-juice. when there is no temptation i can be the most virtuous man in the world. yes, my boy, we will pull out of prescott and cut away toward the valley in question. you may depend on me." "then let's lose no time!" impatiently exclaimed dick, feeling a powerful desire to hasten to his brother's side. "let's make preparations without the least delay." this was done. dick found felicia and little abe together, for the two had become fast friends in a short time. felicia settled the question in regard to herself by immediately declaring that she was ready to accompany them. "it will do me good," she said. "the doctor in san diego told me that what i most needed was more open-air exercise. i am feeling much better now. oh, you will take me with you, won't you, dick? please take me!" "me, too," urged little abe. "you can't leave me behind." it was found necessary to take them both, and when the time for starting came cap'n wiley appeared in company with dash colvin, the messenger. colvin likewise was anxious to return to the enchanted valley, for he declared that there were two of his late companions in the valley with whom he had a score to settle. although they had pursued him into the very heart of prescott, on recovering from the effects of that desperate race he had sought them in vain. he learned, however, that they had joined macklyn morgan's party in the pursuit of frank. thus it may be seen how it happened that dick and his friends were watching to see what transpired in the barren valley amid the mountains at the time when morgan's party released texas bland and his ruffians from the custody of pete curry, of cottonwood. wiley had pressed forward with such restless determination that they were close on the heels of morgan and his men when this valley was reached, although this fact was not known by any of the men in advance. provided with a powerful pair of field glasses, dick watched what transpired, and saw curry and his assistants held up while the captured desperadoes were set free. although he had only his eyes to observe what was taking place, buckhart grew greatly excited and eagerly proposed a dash into the valley for the purpose of aiding curry. "steady, brad, old man!" warned dick. "we're too far away for that. by the time we got there the whole thing would be over. the best we can do is to keep quiet and take care that we are not seen." "who do you suppose those men are?" asked buckhart. "it doesn't seem possible!" dash colvin was muttering to himself. "what is it that doesn't seem possible?" questioned dick. "let me take your glass a moment," requested colvin. dick handed it over. the man took a hasty look through it. "well, of all things wonderful, this is the most remarkable!" he exclaimed. "what is it?" questioned dick impatiently. "yes, whatever is it you're driving at?" demanded buckhart. "speak up, you, and keep us no longer in suspenders!" cried wiley. "those men--those men who have been released----" "what of them?" demanded dick. colvin passed the glass quickly to wiley. "take a look yourself, cap'n," he directed. "you oughter to know some of them." after one glance, the sailor ejaculated: "dash my toplights! shiver my timbers! may i be keelhauled if they ain't that sweet little aggregation i gathered for the purpose of operating the new mines! why, there's texas bland! i recognize his sable mustache and flowing hair." "that's it," nodded colvin--"that's it exactly. they are the very men. what air they doin' here?" "a short time ago they seemed to be in endurance vile. if i mistake not, three gentlemen in that party were escorting them as captives of war to some unknown port. mates, i will stake my life there have been voluminous doings in the enchanted valley. something of a critical nature surely happened there." "but frank is not in that party," said dick. "where can he be?" "at this precise moment," confessed wiley, "i am in no calm and placid frame of mind, therefore i am unable to answer the riddle. one thing, at least, is certain: those gay boys have not seized your brother's property. that should relieve your agitated mental equilibrium to a conclusive susceptibility." "we take chances of being seen here," said dick. "let's retire." they did so, but from a point of partial concealment continued to watch everything that occurred in the valley. within an hour morgan's men, accompanied by the rescued ruffians, turned toward the south, which action assured the watchers that once more they were headed for the enchanted valley. they appropriated the horses of curry and his two assistants, taking also the weapons of the three men, who were left a-foot and unarmed in that desolate region. the trio was warned not to follow and were further advised to make straight for cottonwood or the nearest camp. apparently curry and his assistants decided this was the only course to pursue, for they turned to the north and hurried up the valley. morgan and his men soon disappeared far away to the south. burning with eagerness to know the truth, dick rode forward into the valley the moment the ruffians were beyond view. he was followed closely by buckhart and colvin. cap'n wiley remained long enough to caution abe and felicia to remain where they were, for, knowing nothing of curry and his companions, wiley fancied it possible there might be trouble of some sort. "i will look out for felicia," declared little abe, whose violin was hung over his back by a cord. "i will take care of her." "all right, my noble tar," said the sailor. and then he also rode forward into the valley. curry and his assistants halted in some alarm when they saw four horsemen dashing swiftly toward them. as they were unarmed, they could not think of offering resistance in case the quartette proved to be enemies. being on foot, they could not escape, and, therefore, they did the only thing possible, which was to wait for the approaching riders. dick was the first to reach them. "we have been watching this whole affair," he said. "we don't understand it." "well, we do!" growled curry in disgust, while his companions growled likewise. "we understands that we have lost a bunch of valuable prisoners." "but how did you happen to have such prisoners in the first place?" questioned dick. "that's our business, yonker. why should we be for telling you any?" "because i am interested. because those men are my brother's enemies." "who is your brother, kid?" "frank merriwell." "what?" shouted curry. "whatever are you giving us?" "he is giving you the dead-level truth, stranger," put in brad, "that's right," agreed dash colvin, coming up. "look here, pete curry, you knows me and i knows you. this boy is frank merriwell's brother." "that being the case," said curry, "he wants to get a hustle on and join his brother some lively. that fine bunch you saw hiking down the valley is bound for frank merriwell's new mines, which they propose seizing a heap violent. we counts ourselves some in luck to get off with whole skins from such a measly outfit. all the same, if we had played our hand proper i reckon they'd never set that lot of mavericks loose. i am a-plenty ashamed of myself." "but tell me," urged dick, "how you came to have those men as prisoners?" curry then briefly related the whole story, to which dick and his friends listened with the greatest interest. "that's how it were," finished curry. "i allows to your brother i sure could take that gang to the nearest jail. he and his pard, hodge, stays to guard their mines, leaving the job of disposing of those tough gents to we three. we makes a fizzle of it, and now the whole outfit is bound back for the enchanted valley. they are frothing to get at your brother and do him up. at the same time, they counts on salivating the old injun what fools them a-plenty." "frank will fight to the last," said dick. "we must help him some way. we're all armed, and i think we can furnish you with weapons. are you with us, or are you ready to give up?" "pete curry, of cottonwood, gives up none at all," was the reply. "i counts on hiking somewhar to get weapons and horses and then hustling back for the purpose of doing whatever i can to help your brother." "if you try to do that, you will be too late to render any assistance," declared dick. "then give us some shooting irons and what goes in 'em and we're with yer," said curry. this arrangement was quickly settled on, after which dick rode back for felicia and little abe. when he reached the spot where they had been left, however, he was not a little surprised and alarmed to find they were no longer there. in vain he looked for them. he called their names, but his voice died in the silence of the desolate hollows. there was no answer, and dick's fears grew apace. * * * * * what had become of felicia and little abe? left to themselves, they fell to talking of the singular things which had happened. felicia's horse champed its bit and restlessly stamped the ground. "that horse acts awful queer," said the boy. "he has got a funny look in his eye, just the same as a horse i once saw that was locoed. you know what that is, don't you?" felicia laughed. "i was born in the west," she said. "of course i know what it means when an animal is locoed. they have been eating loco weed and it makes them crazy. but i don't think this horse has been doing that." "never can tell," said the hunchback. "why, it should have shown on him before." "not always. sometimes it breaks out awful unexpected. look how your horse rolls its eyes. say, i'm going to----" abe did not tell what he was going to do, for, starting his own horse forward, he reached for the bridle of felicia's animal. to the horse it seemed that the boy's hand was large as a grizzly bear. the animal started back with a snort of alarm, quivering with sudden terror. "whoa! whoa!" cried abe, hastening in his attempt to seize the creature's bit. these efforts simply served to add to the horse's fear, and suddenly he wheeled and went tearing away, felicia being unable to check its flight. immediately the hunchback pursued, his one thought being to overtake the girl and save her from danger, for he was now confident that something was the matter with the horse. if the creature was really locoed, abe knew it might do the most astonishing and crazy things. to a horse thus afflicted a little gully a foot wide sometimes seems a chasm a mile across, or a great ravine, yawning a hundred feet deep and as many in width, sometimes appears no more than a crack in the surface of the earth. deluded by this distorted view of things, horses and cattle frequently plunge to their death in gorges and ravines, or do other things equally crazy and unaccountable. felicia's horse fled madly, as if in fear of a thousand pursuing demons. the girl was a good rider, and she stuck to the animal's back with comparative ease, although unable to check its wild career. doing everything in his power to overtake the runaway, the hunchback boy continued the pursuit, regardless of the direction in which it took them. the flying horse turned hither and thither and kept on and on until it was in a lather of perspiration and was almost exhausted to the point of dropping. mile after mile was left behind them in this manner, abe finding it barely possible to keep the runaway in sight. at length they came from the hills into a broad plain, and there, in the very midst of the waste, the runaway halted with such suddenness that felicia barely saved herself from a serious fall. what had caused this sudden stopping of the horse was impossible to imagine, but the beast stood still with its fore feet braced, as if fearing to advance another inch. it quivered in every limb and shook all over. felicia heard the clatter of horses' hoofs and turned to see little abe coming with the greatest haste. the boy cried out to her, and she answered him. "oh, felicia!" he panted, as he came up on his winded horse; "i'm so glad you're safe! get down, quick--get down! he might run again!" she slipped from the saddle to the ground, and little abe also dismounted, but now neither of the horses showed the slightest inclination to run. both were in such an exhausted condition that they stood with hanging heads, their sides heaving. "i was afraid you'd be killed, felicia!" gasped the boy. then he saw her suddenly sink to the ground and cover her pale face with her hands. quickly he knelt beside her, seeking to soothe and reassure her. "it's all right--it's all right," he said. "don't you cry, felicia." "where are we, abe?" she whispered. "we're right here," was the answer, which seemed the only one he could give. "where is dick?" "he will come pretty soon. don't you worry." "we must find our way back. can you do that, abe?" "of course i can," he assured stoutly. "just you trust me." then once more he did his best to reassure her, and after a while succeeded in calming her somewhat. to his relief, she did not cry or become hysterical. over and over the boy assured her that he could find the way back without the least trouble, and after a while he must have convinced her this was true. "you're so brave, abe," she half smiled. "brave!" he exclaimed. "me! i reckon you don't know me! why, i ain't brave at all! i'm just the biggest coward that ever lived." she shook her head. "don't tell me that," she said. "i know better. you're just as brave as you can be." "well, i never knowed it before," he said wonderingly. "if i am brave, it is something i never found out about myself. my, but i was scared when i saw that horse run!" "what will dick think when he finds us gone?" "oh, he will foller us, he will foller us," nodded the boy. "don't you worry about that. we'll meet him coming." "but i will never dare mount that horse again." "course you won't. you will take my horse. i will ride that critter. just let him try to run with me!" he said this as if he really fancied he could control the animal in case it attempted to run away with him. the horses were submissive enough while the hunchback removed and changed their saddles. the animal that had lately seemed crazy and frantic with fear was now calm and docile. apparently the furious run had worked off the effect of the loco weed. after a while, abe did what he could to assist felicia to mount, and then managed to scramble and pull himself with no small difficulty to the back of the other horse. they turned their animals to retrace the course over which they had come. this, however, was to prove no small task, for the runaway had twisted and turned in a score of different directions during its flight; and, shortly after entering the hills, abe found himself quite bewildered as to the proper course they should pursue. this fact, however, he tried to conceal from felicia, knowing it would add to her alarm. so they rode on and on until finally they came to a tiny stream that lay in the little hollows of a broad watercourse. there they found water for themselves and horses. now, for the first time, felicia began to suspect that they were not retracing the course over which they had come. "i don't remember this place," she said. "of course you don't," put in abe quickly. "it's a wonder you remember anything. by jing! you must 'a' been awful scart when that horse was running so. course you didn't notice much of anything else." "but are you sure, abe--are you sure we're taking the right course?" "just you leave it to me," nodded the hunchback. "but what if we should miss dick? if we should not find him, what would become of us, abe? we might starve here, perish from thirst, or be killed by indians or something." abe did his best to laugh reassuringly. "don't you go to getting all fussed up that way. we're all right. let's hurry up now, for it is getting late." it was getting late. the sun hung low in the west and the afternoon was far spent. in the boy's heart there was a great fear that night would come upon them and find them alone in that wild region. when they sought to push on, the horses barely crept forward, having been badly used up by the mad flight and pursuit. lower and lower sank the great golden sun. "abe," said felicia, at last, her face pale and drawn, "we're lost. don't try to deceive me; i know it." "mebbe we are turned round some," he admitted. "but that ain't any reason why you should get frightened. there are lots of mining camps pretty near here. and even if we don't find dick--which we shall--we will be just sure to find a town." the girl's chin quivered, and it was with no small difficulty that she kept back her tears. finally, as the sun dropped behind the western ranges, the horses seemed to give out entirely, refusing to proceed farther. "no use, abe!" murmured felicia. "we may as well give up and stop right here to-night." "i am just awful sorry," murmured the boy; "but don't you be afraid. i will guard you. i will watch you all night long. there shan't anything touch you, i tell you that." they were in a long, shallow valley where there was some scanty herbage, and the horses were permitted to find such grazing as they could. the western sky glowed with glorious colors, which gradually faded and passed away, after the bright, silvery stars gleamed forth, and the heat of the day passed before the night was fairly on them. felicia lay down in the silence, gazing up at the millions of stars above them. abe sat near, wondering what he could do to reassure her. at length he thought of his fiddle and pulled it round from his back, where it hung. lifting the loop of the cord over his head, he held the fiddle to his bosom, softly patting and caressing it. after a time, he found his rosin and applied it to the bow. then he put the instrument in tune and began to play. the music was soft, and sweet, and soothing, like the lullaby of a mother over a sleeping child. with this sound throbbing in her ears, felicia finally slept. when he knew she was fast asleep, the boy slipped off his coat and spread it over her shoulders. the silence of the night was awesome, and he felt keenly the lonely desolation of their situation. so again he lifted the fiddle to his chin, and again it throbbed with such a soft, sweet melody that even the twinkling stars seemed bending to listen. chapter xx. the finding of the babes. "get up yere, pard," said one of the two men who were standing guard over macklyn morgan's bivouac. "i sure hears some queer sort of a wild critter a-yowling out yander." morgan himself had been eager to push forward through the night toward merriwell's valley, but the men lately released from the custody of pete curry were exhausted by their tramp and refused at nightfall to proceed farther. therefore, it had been necessary for the party to divide or to stop where they were and make camp. the latter course had been decided upon. not feeling positive that curry and his comrades would not follow them, morgan had given orders for two of the men to remain constantly on guard through the night. of course the guard was to be changed at intervals. now, shortly after nightfall, one of the original two appointed to watch over the camp called his comrade for the purpose of listening to certain strange sounds which came to his ears through the darkness. they advanced cautiously to the top of a ridge, where they halted and stood listening. the sounds could be faintly heard now and then. "whatever does yer make of it, partner?" asked the one who had first heard them. "mighty quar sounds for a wild critter to make," declared the other. "just what i thought. more like some sort o' music." "that's it. dinged if it ain't something like a fiddle!" "mebbe we'd better nose out that way and see if we can diskeever what it is." "we leaves the camp onprotected." "only for a short time. there won't anything happen, partner. this yere standing guard is all foolishness, anyhow." "i reckon you're right." "then come on." together they advanced in the direction from which the strange sounds seemed to proceed. as they made their way slowly and cautiously into the valley they were able to hear those sounds more and more distinctly, and before long both were satisfied that it was indeed a fiddle. "well, wouldn't that chaw yer up!" muttered one. "whoever does yer reckon is a-playing a fiddle out yere?" "you have got me." "well, we will certain find out. have your gun ready, pard, in case we runs into a muss." pretty soon they saw through the starlight two horses grazing unhobbled and unpicketed. "only two," whispered one of the men. "we are as many as they be." "whar are they?" the violin was silent now, and they remained crouching and awaiting until it began again. it led them straight to the spot where little abe sat playing beside the sleeping girl. so absorbed was he in his music, with his head bowed over the violin, that he failed to observe the approach of the men until they were right beside him and one of them stooped and took him by the shoulder. with a cry of terror, the boy sprang up. felicia awoke in great alarm and sat up, staring bewildered at abe and the two men. "oh, ho!" said one of the guards. "what is this we finds? it is a strange bird we diskeevers." "there's two," said the other. "and, by smoke, t'other one is a gal!" "don't you touch her!" shrilly screamed the boy. "don't you put a hand on her!" he endeavored to jerk himself from the grip of the man who had seized him, but the strong hand held him fast. "whatever is the use to jump around this yere way?" said the man. "we ain't a-hurting you none. don't git so excited-like. mebbe it's a right good thing we finds ye yere." "who are they, abe? who are they?" whispered felicia. "i dunno," confessed the boy, filled with regret and despair at his own carelessness in permitting the men to come upon them in such a manner while he was absorbed in his playing. "but they shan't hurt yer. i won't let um." "mebbe you tells us what you're doing yere, you two kids," suggested one of the men. "we're jest lost," said abe. "only that?" laughed the man. "well, that sure is nothing much. perhaps if we don't find yer you stays lost. where did yer get lost from?" "oh, i know you won't hurt us!" said felicia quickly. "why should you? we can't hurt any one. my horse was frightened and ran away. abe tried to catch him. that was how we got separated from dick and the others." "dick! who is this yere dick?" before abe could check her, felicia answered. "why, dick merriwell!" "hey?" ejaculated one of the men. "merriwell! why, i sure opines that name is a heap familiar. dick merriwell! mebbe you means frank merriwell?" "no! no! i mean dick merriwell, his brother." "his brother?" burst from both of the men. "yes," said felicia. "then he has a brother, has he? well, this is right interesting and no mistake." "you bet it is!" ejaculated the other. "where is this yere dick merriwell, hunchy?" it was the old hateful name which abe detested, and his soul revolted against it. "don't you call me hunchy!" he shrilly exclaimed. "i won't be called hunchy!" in his excitement he actually bristled at the ruffian. "ho! ho!" laughed the other man. "what do yer think of that, partner? why, he is going ter soak me one." "ho! ho!" came hoarsely. "that's what he is. don't let him hit yer hard, for he'll sure fix yer!" the one who had addressed abe as "hunchy" now removed his hat and made a profound bow. "i begs yer pardon, your royal highness," he said. "if i treads on the tail of yer coat any, i hopes you excuses me. i am not counting to rile you up any, for i reckon you might be a whole lot dangerous." abe knew this was said in derision, but he muttered: "i won't have anybody calling me hunchy no more. don't you forget that!" felicia was clinging to the cripple now, and he could feel her trembling. he put one of his long arms about her and sought to reassure her by a firm pressure. "if i hasn't offended your highness," said the man who had asked the question, "perhaps you tells me now where this dick merriwell is?" "don't tell him, abe!" whispered the girl. "they are bad men. i'm afraid of them." "i wist you could tell me," said the boy. "i'd like ter find him myself." "then he is somewhere yereabouts?" "don't tell!" breathed felicia again. "i dunno 'bout that," said abe. "mebbe he is two hundred miles away now. i dunno." "ef he is so fur, however is it you expects ter find him in a hurry?" barely a moment, did the boy hesitate, and then he declared: "why, he was a-going through to californy on the train. we live down on the rio verde. our dad, he's got a cattle ranch down there. yesterday we started out to go to flagstaff. they wouldn't let us go alone, so we runned away. we thought mebbe we could find the way there all right, but i guess we can't." the two men looked at each other in the starlight and shook their heads. "sounds fishy," said one, immediately detecting that this statement conflicted with the one made by felicia. "a whole lot," agreed the other. felicia had gasped when she heard abe fabricate so glibly. it was a surprise to her, and she was almost sorry she had cautioned him not to tell the facts to those men. "well, you certain is off the trail, kids, providing you're bound for flagstaff. it's right lucky we finds you. we takes you to the camp, and mebbe your dad what you speaks of pays us well if we returns you to him safe and sound. i opines he runs a pretty big ranch." "you bet," said the boy quickly. "he's got one of the biggest down that way. he has jest heaps of cattle and keeps lots of cowpunchers." "that being the case," chuckled the man who had grasped the boy's shoulder, "he certain pays liberal when he gits his children back. now you two come along with us." he marched them along, one on either side, while his companion set out to catch the grazing horses and bring them. felicia slipped from the man's hand and again sought abe's side, pressing close to him. in his ear she whispered: "i am afraid we're in awful trouble now, abe. you remember the bad men we saw in the valley before my horse ran. perhaps these are two of them." "better be ketched by bad men than starve," he returned, with an effort to reassure her. "i have seen heaps of bad men before this, and i am still alive." one of the horses was easily captured, but, to the surprise of the man, the other one charged viciously at him. when he sought to get at its head, the creature wheeled with a squeal and kicked wildly. the man swore. "what ails ye, drat yer?" he growled. then he released the docile animal and turned his attention to the other. to his astonishment, the creature was fierce as a raging lion. it charged on him repeatedly, and he escaped only by the utmost nimbleness. it squealed, and whirled, and kicked in all directions. apparently it fancied a thousand men were trying to capture it, and its wild gyrations were exceedingly surprising, to say the least. after a little, the man ran away when he found the opportunity and stood at a distance, with his hands on his hips, watching the cavorting creature. "the dinged hoss is sure crazy!" he declared. "why, its a-trying to chew itself up, or kick itself to pieces. never see but one critter act that way before." "it's locoed," said abe to the man with him. immediately this man called to his companion, saying: "let the beast alone. the kid says it's locoed, and ef that's so, i reckon it's no good to anybody." "never see no locoed horse feed nateral like this one was," returned the other. "i opines the critter is just ugly, that's all." but, suddenly uttering snorts and squeals, the horse went dashing off into the distance, as if pursued by some frightful thing. nor did it stop until it had disappeared far, far away. chapter xxi. the lottery of death. men were lying about on the ground, sleeping where they had dropped. picketed horses were grazing at a little distance. the most of the men slept heavily, but one or two routed up as the guards brought the boy and girl and the captured horse to the bivouac. "whatever has you there?" growlingly asked one of the men who had awakened. "some lost children we finds near yere," was the answer. macklyn morgan, wrapped in his blanket, had also awakened. his curiosity was aroused, and he flung off the blanket and got up. "children!" he said. "how does it happen that there are children in this wretched region?" one of the men explained how he had heard the sound of the fiddle, which had led them to the boy and girl. he also repeated abe's story, adding that it sounded "fishy." the interest of morgan was redoubled at once. he immediately turned his attention to the hunchback. "going to flagstaff to meet frank merriwell's brother, did you say?" he questioned, attempting a kindly manner. "seems to me that was rather a crazy undertaking, my lad. and what is frank merriwell's brother doing in flagstaff?" "he jest said he was going there on his way to californy," declared abe, trying to stick to his original story and make it seem consistent. "we hope to see him there." felicia was silent; but she felt that abe's yarn was not believed by the men. "how did you happen to know this dick merriwell?" questioned morgan. abe started to reply, but faltered and stammered a little, whereupon felicia quickly said: "i am his cousin." instantly the man's interest was redoubled. "his cousin, eh?" he exclaimed. "now we're getting at it. curtis, start a fire. i want to look these children over." while the man thus ordered was complying morgan continued to question the girl and boy, but now his interest seemed centred in felicia. "so you are also the cousin of frank merriwell?" he said. "tell me more about these two merriwells. i have heard of frank merriwell, and i consider him a most excellent young man. i admire him very much." he endeavored to make his words sound sincere, but little abe fancied there was a false ring in them. "you know dick is frank's half-brother, sir," said the girl. "he attends school in the east. i was at school in the same place once, but the climate didn't agree with me, and so frank sent me west for my health." "have you seen him lately?" "yes, sir." "when?" "in prescott, a few days ago. he was there, but some bad men made a lot of trouble for him and he left." "this boy is your brother?" asked morgan, indicating abe. "why, yes, sir!" broke in abe, quickly, seeing that felicia would soon be trapped. "i am a sort of brother; an adopted brother, you know." "oh, that's it?" said morgan. "but if you were living on a ranch down on the rio verde, how did you happen to be in prescott when frank merriwell was there?" "why, we jest went there. dad he took us there," hastily asserted the hunchback, seeking to maintain the original deception. "is that true?" asked morgan of felicia. she was silent. "of course it's true!" indignantly exclaimed the boy. "it seems to me that you are somewhat mixed, my child. now, i advise you to trust me. it will be the best thing you can do. i advise you to tell me the truth. at this time we're on our way to join frank merriwell and help him to defend his new mines. he has many enemies, you know. we might take you directly to him." "oh, splendid!" exclaimed the girl, all her suspicions disarmed. "frank will be so glad! we thought, perhaps, you might be his enemy; that's why we were afraid of you." macklyn morgan forced a laugh, which he tried to make very pleasant and reassuring. "you see how wrong you were," he said. "you see now that it's a mistake to try to deceive me. it's best to tell me the truth and nothing else. this story about living on a ranch--how about it?" "oh, abe told you that when he thought you must be frank's enemy," said felicia. "then it wasn't quite true?" "no, no." "and you were not on your way to flagstaff to meet dick merriwell there?" "no; we left prescott in company with dick and some friends, who were on their way to join frank." felicia hastened on and told the entire story. abe listened in doubt as to the wisdom of this, shaking his head a little, but remaining silent. "now we're getting at the facts," smiled morgan, as the fire was started and its light fell on his face. "it's much better for us all." he had assumed a free, benevolent, kindly expression, and to the girl it seemed that he could not be deceiving them. morgan continued to question her until at length he learned everything he desired. "now, my child," he said, "just you rest easy. we will soon join frank merriwell, and, of course, this brother of his with his friends will arrive all right in due time." morgan then stepped over to where one of the sleeping men lay and aroused him. "wake up, hackett," he said, in a low tone. "something mighty important has taken place." he then told the man what had happened, and hackett listened attentively. "it seems to me," he said, "that these yere kids are going to be an incumbrance on us." "that's where you're wrong," asserted morgan. "with the aid of these children we ought to be able to bring frank merriwell to some sort of terms." "i don't see how, sir." "why, it's plain he thinks a lot of this girl. we have her. if that doesn't trouble him some, i am greatly mistaken." "mebbe you're right," nodded hackett. "i reckon i begin to see your little game, mr. morgan. let me look these yere kids over some." he arose and proceeded to the fire, in company with morgan, who cautioned him, however, to say little to the boy and girl, fearing hackett might make some observation that would betray the truth. "she's some pretty, sir," said gad, admiring felicia; "though she's nothing but a kid. i reckon she makes a stunner when she gits older." "hush!" said morgan. "that's nothing to you." "oh, i has an eye for female beauty!" grinned hackett. "it's nateral with me." suddenly, to their surprise, without the least warning, a man seemed to rise from the ground a short distance away and walk straight toward the fire. hackett had his pistol out in a twinkling, but he stood with mouth agape as he saw the newcomer was an old indian, about whose shoulders a dirty red blanket was draped. it was felicia, however, who was the most surprised, and a cry left her lips, for she recognized old joe crowfoot. even as she uttered that cry the eyes of the old redskin shot her a warning look that somehow silenced her. without giving hackett as much as a glance, old joe walked up to the fire, before which he squatted, extending his hands to its warmth. "well, dern me, if that don't beat the deck!" growled hackett. "these yere red wards of the government are a-getting so they makes theirselves to home anywhere. and you never knows when they're around. now, this yere one he pops right out o' the ground like." then he turned savagely on joe. "what are you prowling around yere for, you old vagrant?" he demanded threateningly. "who are you?" crowfoot rolled his little beady eyes up at the man. "heap flying bird," he answered. "go through air; go everywhere. go through ground. white man did him see red snake with horse's head? injun ride on red snake like the wind." "what's this jargon?" muttered morgan. "hark!" warned the indian, lifting a hand. "you hear the flying lizard sing? see that big one up there. see um great green eyes." then he stared straight upward, as if beholding something in the air. involuntarily both men looked upward, but they saw nothing above them save the stars of the sky. felicia, who knew old joe very well, was more than astonished by his singular manner and remarkable words. her first impulse had been to spring up and greet him joyously, but the look from his black eyes had stopped her. now, as if she were a total stranger to him, he gave her no attention. suddenly he thumped himself on the breast with his clinched fist. "injun him all iron!" he declared. "him like pale-face iron horse. when sun he comes up again injun he go on white man's iron track. he blow smoke and fire and shriek same as iron horse." "well, bat me, if the old whelp ain't daffy!" exclaimed hackett. "he's plumb off his nut, sure as shooting." "when injun him lay down to sleep," said crowfoot, "many stars come and jump like antelope over him. no let him sleep. him try to scare um away, but star no scare. bimeby injun he get sick. he get up and run away. then star chase um injun." "you're right, hackett," said morgan, "he's loony, for a fact." at this point one of the guards came walking up to the fire. the moment his eyes fell on crowfoot he uttered a shout that instantly aroused every one of the sleeping men. "by the great horn toads!" he exploded savagely; "that's the old skunk what drugged the whole bunch of us when pete curry nabbed us! whatever is he doing here?" without even looking up, crowfoot began to chant a strange, doleful song in his own language. "the boys will certain salivate him," asserted the guard, as the men were rising and approaching the fire. old joe apparently heard nothing and saw nothing. that singular chant continued. "he is dead loony," said hackett. "then mebbe he's been taking some of his own dope," growled the guard. "the boys will knock some o' his looniness out o' him, you bet!" as the men gathered around, a number of them recognized the aged redskin, and immediately there was a great commotion. several drew their weapons, and it seemed that joe would be murdered on the spot. with a scream of terror, felicia flung herself before the old man, to whom she clung. "no! no! no!" she cried. "you shall not hurt him!" in the excitement old joe whispered in her ear: "keep still, night eyes. um bad men no hurt joe. him touched by great spirit. nobody hurt um man touched by great spirit." this, then, was the old fellow's scheme. this explained how it happened that he dared venture into the nest of desperadoes. among the indians of all tribes a deranged man is regarded with awe as one who has felt the touch of the great spirit. no redskin will harm a deranged person, believing the vengeance of the great father must fall on whoever does such a thing. shrewd as he was, crowfoot had not yet discovered that palefaces did not regard crazed people with such a feeling of awe. "take the girl away," roared several of the men. "let us settle with the old injun." if morgan thought of interfering, he was too late, for rude hands seized felicia and dragged her away, in spite of her struggles. she cried and pleaded, but all her efforts were useless. crowfoot paid no attention to her, nor did he heed the threatening weapons in the hands of the ruffians. rising to his feet, he did a solemn dance around the fire, at the same time continuing his doleful chant. "that yere certain is a death dance for him," muttered hackett, who realized that the men were aroused to a pitch at which they would insist on wiping the fellow out. "the black moon him soon come up," said joe, standing with one hand outstretched as he finished his dance. "then we see spirits of many dead warriors chase um buffalo over it." "you will have a chance to take a chase with the rest o' the bunch," snarled one of the men. "stand back, boys, and watch me cook him." "hold on!" cried another, catching the man's wrist. "i opine i am in this yere." immediately an argument arose as to which of them should have the satisfaction of killing the indian who had once fooled them so thoroughly. while this was taking place joe continued, apparently oblivious of his danger, talking of flying horses and a dozen other impossible creatures. he must have realized that his apparent madness was making no impression on these men, but he seemed determined to play the game through to the finish. at length, he squatted again beside the fire, resuming his doleful chant. by this time it had been settled that some one of the party should have the privilege of shooting the indian, for it was agreed that to waste a number of bullets on him was folly. there was some discussion as to the manner of choosing the slayer, but the desperadoes finally decided on drawing lots. hackett, who took no part in this demand for the indian's life, was chosen to prepare the lots, which he did. then the men eagerly pressed forward to draw. the one who drew the shortest piece was to be the "fortunate" individual. all the while crowfoot was guarded by men with drawn and ready weapons. had he made an effort to get away he would have been riddled immediately. finally the lots were compared, and a half-blood mexican, with leathery skin, drooping mustache, deep-furrowed face, and matted black hair, was the one who held the shortest piece. he laughed as he displayed it. "stand back!" he cried, flashing a pistol and striding forward to within four paces of the indian. "i will settle him with one piece of lead." then, as this wretch lifted his weapon, old joe realized at last that his game had failed utterly. there was no escape for him. his long life had led him at last to this, and he believed he stood at the gateway of the happy hunting grounds. had there been hope of escape he would have made the attempt. now, as he still crouched by the fire, he drew his red blanket over his head, and from beneath its muffling folds came the sad and doleful chant of the redman's death song. the executioner stood fair and full in the firelight. he brought his weapon to a level and a shot rang out. it was not he, however, who fired. from somewhere near at hand a report sounded, and the pistol flew from his hand as the bullet tore through his forearm. a yell of pain escaped his lips. instantly the ruffians were thrown into the utmost confusion. feeling that they were about to be attacked, they hastened to get away from the fire, the light of which must betray them to the enemy. in spite of his age, like a leaping panther, old joe shot to his feet. with one hand he seized little abe, whom he snatched clear of the ground. and the next instant the old savage was running for his life. two or three shots were fired, but in the excitement crowfoot was untouched. they were given no further time to turn their attention on him. from out of the shadows came a single horseman, bearing straight down upon them, his weapons flashing. the recklessness of this charge and the astounding suddenness with which it came was too much for the nerves of those men. felicia had been released by the man who was holding her as the first shot was fired. this man pulled a weapon and fired once at the shadowy horseman, after which he ran like a frightened antelope, for a screaming bullet had cut his ear. it seemed that the horseman meant to ride felicia down. in her fear she stood still, as if turned to stone, which was the best thing she could have done. as he swept past her, the rider swung low to one side in the saddle, and somehow one strong young hand grasped her and snatched her from the ground. she felt herself lifted with such suddenness that her breath seemed snapped away, and then she lay across the horse in front of the rider, who now bent low over her. bullets whined, and whistled, and sang about them, but some good fairy must have guarded them, for they were untouched. on they went. the sounds of irregular shooting fell farther and farther behind them. felicia had not fainted, although her senses swam and she seemed on the verge of losing consciousness. she could not understand just what had taken place. suddenly her rescuer began to laugh, and a strange, wild, boyish laugh it was. it thrilled her through and through. "dick!" she gasped. "oh, dick!" he straightened up and lifted her, holding her before him with one strong arm. "felicia!" he exclaimed, "are you hurt?" "oh, dick! dick!" she repeated, in wonder. "and is it you?" "you are not hurt?" he persisted in questioning. "no, dick--no." "thank goodness!" "but how was it? my head is swimming; i can't understand. i am dazed." "well, i fancy i dazed those fine gentlemen a little," said the boy. "felicia, i have been searching, searching everywhere for you. we followed your trail as well as we could. when night came we had not found you. i couldn't rest. what fate it was that led me to those ruffians i cannot say, but i believe the hand of heaven was in it. in their excitement over crowfoot none of them heard my approach. i was quite near when that brute lifted his weapon to shoot joe. i didn't want to kill him, and i fired at his arm. it was a lucky shot, for i hit him. he stood between me and the firelight, so that the light fell on the barrel of my pistol. crowfoot took his cue quickly enough, for i saw him scamper." "how brave you are! how brave you are!" murmured the girl, in untold admiration. "oh, dick, i can't believe it now." "it was not such a brave thing, after all," he said. "i suppose most people would call it folly. but i had to do it. why, old joe saved my life a dozen times when i used to hunt with him years ago. he loved me as a father might love a son. you see it was impossible for me to keep still and see him murdered. i had to do something to save him. he can hide like a gopher on the open plain." "but abe, dick--abe?" "i saw crowfoot snatch him up as he ran. we must leave abe to old joe." "listen, dick! are they pursuing us?" "we have the start on them, felicia, and i don't believe they will be able to overtake us if they try it." through the night they rode. at the first opportunity dick turned from his course and doubled in a manner intended to baffle the pursuers. "it will be a long pull back to bart and the others, felicia," he said; "but i think we can make it all right. for all of the time i have spent at school, i have not forgotten the lessons taught me by crowfoot when i was a mere kid. he taught me to set my course by the stars, the wind, the trees, by a score of things. to-night our guide shall be the stars." brad buckhart was worried and troubled greatly over dick's long absence, and was on guard where they had camped as night fell. the texan tramped restlessly up and down, now and then pausing to listen. the others slept. wiley snored lustily and muttered in his sleep. "avast, there!" he mumbled. "put her to port, you lubber!" then, after snoring again in the most peaceful manner, he broke out: "right over the corner of the pan, breck, old boy. let's see you make a home run off that bender!" brad moved still farther away that he might listen without being disturbed by the sailor. far in the night he seemed to hear a sound. kneeling, he leaned his ear close to the ground and listened attentively. "horseman coming," he decided. "it must be dick--it must be!" finally the hoofbeats of the approaching horse became more and more distinct. then through the still, clear night came a clear, faint whistle. "dick it is!" exclaimed the texan joyously. dick it was, and with him he brought felicia safely back to them. they did not arouse the others, but she was wrapped in blankets and left to sleep, if possible, through the remainder of the still, cool night. young merriwell's story filled the texan with unbounded astonishment and admiration. he seized dick's hand and shook it with almost savage delight. "talk about a howling terror on ten wheels!" he exclaimed. "why, you simply beat the universe. you hear me gurgle! now you just turn in, for i reckon you're a whole lot pegged out." "well, sleep won't hurt me if i can corral some of it," acknowledged dick. brad continued to stand guard, thinking that later he would arouse one of the others to take his place. his restlessness and worry had passed somewhat, and after a time he sat down, thinking over the startling things that had happened. it was thus that, exhausted more than he knew, he finally slid to the ground and also slept. the night passed without any of them being disturbed. but in the morning the first man to awaken was pete curry, who sat up, rubbing his eyes, and uttered a shout of astonishment. the remaining sleepers awoke and started up. what they saw astounded them no less than it had curry, for on the ground near at hand lay little abe, with joe crowfoot's dirty red blanket tucked about him, and within three feet sat the redskin, calmly and serenely smoking his pipe. dick flung off his blanket and was on his feet in a twinkling. "crowfoot!" he joyously cried, rushing forward with his arms outstretched. for one who complained of rheumatism and advancing age the redskin rose with remarkable quickness. usually stolid and indifferent in manner, the look that now came to his wrinkled, leathery face was one of such deep feeling and affection that it astounded every one but himself. the old man clasped dick in his arms as a father might a long-lost son. to curry and his companions this was a most singular spectacle. curry had seized a weapon on discovering crowfoot. he did not use it when the old fellow remained silent and indifferent after his shout of astonishment and alarm. that the boy should embrace the indian in such an affectionate manner seemed almost disgusting to curry and his assistants, all three of whom held indians in the utmost contempt. for a moment it seemed that the old man's heart was too full for speech. finally, with a strange tenderness and depth of feeling in his voice, he said: "injun heart, great spirit heap good to old joe! he let him live to see you some more. what him eyes see make him heart swell with heap big gladness. soon him go to happy hunting ground; now him go and make um no big kick 'bout it." "joe, i have longed to see you again," declared dick, his voice unsteady and a mist in his eyes. "sometimes my heart has yearned for the old days with you on the plains and amid the mountains. i have longed to be with you again, hunting the grizzly, or sleeping in the shade by a murmuring brook and beneath whispering trees. then you taught me the secrets of the wild animals and the birds. i have forgotten them now, joe. i can no longer call the birds and tiny animals of the forest to me. in that way i am changed, joe; but my heart remains the same toward you, and ever will." now the old redskin held dick off by both shoulders and surveyed him up and down with those beady eyes, which finally rested on the boy's handsome face with a look of inexpressible admiration. "heap fine! heap fine!" said the old man. "joe him know it. joe him sure you make great man. joe him no live to see you have whiskers on um face, but you sure make great man. joe him getting heap close to end of trail. rheumatism crook him and make um swear sometime." "don't talk about getting near the end of the trail, crowfoot," laughed dick, whose heart was full of delight over this meeting. "you old hypocrite! i saw you last night! i saw you when you took to your heels after i perforated the gentleman who contemplated cutting your thread of life short. rheumatism! why, you deceptive old rascal, you ran like a deer! if your rheumatism was very bad, you couldn't take to your heels in that fashion." crowfoot actually grinned. "injun him have to run," he asserted. "bullets come fast and thick. if injun him run slow mebbe he get ketched by bullet." little abe had risen on one elbow, the blanket falling from his shoulders, and watched the meeting between dick and the old savage. felicia also was awakened, and now she came hastening forward, her dark eyes aglow and a slight flush in her delicate cheeks. "joe! joe! have you forgotten me?" she asked. the redskin turned at once and held out his hands to her. "night eyes," he said, with such softness that all save dick and felicia were astonished, "little child of silent valley hid in mountains, next to injun heart, old joe him love you most. you good to old joe. long time 'go joe he come to valley hid in mountains and he sit by cabin there. he see you play with injun heart. warm sun shine in valley through long, long day. all joe do he smoked, and sat, and watched. bimeby when night eyes was very tired she come crawling close up side old joe and lean her head 'gainst joe, and sleep shut her eyes. then old joe him keep still. when injun heart he come near old joe, him say, 'sh-h!' he hold up his hand; he say, 'keep much still.' then mebbe night eyes she sleep and sleep, and sun he go down, and birds they sing last good-night song, and stars shine out, and old joe him sit still all the time. oh, he no forget--he no forget!" somehow the simple words of the old redskin brought back all the past, which seemed so very, very far away, and tears welled from felicia's eyes. "oh, those were happy days, joe--happy days!" she murmured. "i fear i shall never be so happy again--never, never!" "oh, must be happy!" declared the old fellow. "dick him make um night eyes happy. him look out for night eyes." "just the same," she declared, "i would give anything, anything, to be back in that valley now, just as i was long, long ago." with his head cocked on one side, cap'n wiley had been watching the meeting between the indian and his young friends. wiley now turned to buckhart and remarked: "i am learning extensively in this variegated world. as the years roll on my accumulation of knowledge increases with susceptible rapidity. up to the present occasion i have been inclined to think that about the only thing a real injun could be good for was for a target. it seems to my acute perception that in this immediate instance there is at least one exception to the rule. although yonder copper-hued individual looks somewhat scarred and weather-beaten, i observe that richard merriwell hesitates in no degree to embrace him. who is the old tike, mate?" "why, old joe crowfoot!" answered brad. "the only indian i ever saw of his kind." immediately wiley approached old joe, walking teeteringly on the balls of his feet, after his own peculiar fashion, made a salute, and exclaimed: "i salute you, joseph crowfoot, esquire, and may your shadow never grow less. may you take your medicine regularly and live to the ripe round age of one hundred years. perhaps you don't know me. perhaps you haven't heard of me. that is your misfortune. i am cap'n wiley, a rover of the briny deep and a corking first-class baseball player. ever play baseball, joe, old boy? it's a great game. you would enjoy it. in my mind's eye i see you swing the bat like a war club and swat the sphere hard enough to dent it. or perchance you are attempting to overhaul the base runner, and i see him fleeing wildly before you, as if he fancied you were reaching for his scalp locks." "ugh!" grunted old joe. "no know who um be; but know heap good name for um. joe he give you name. he call you wind-in-the-head." at this the others, with the exception of wiley himself, laughed outright. the sailor, however, did not seem at all pleased. "it's plain, joseph," he observed, "that you have a reckless little habit of getting gay occasionally. take my advice and check that habit before it leads you up against a colossal calamity." "wind-in-the-head he talk heap many big words," said the indian. "mebbe sometime he talk big words that choke him." "that's a choke, wiley," laughed dick. "and that certainly is the worst pun it has ever been my misfortune to hear," half sobbed the sailor. "one more like that would give me heart failure. did you ever hear of the time i had heart failure in that baseball game with the cleveland nationals? well, mates, it was----" "we can't stand one of them before breakfast, wiley," interrupted dick. "it may prove too much for us. after breakfast we will endeavor to listen while you relate one of your harrowing experiences." "but this thing is burning in my bosom. i long to disgorge it." "you have to let it burn, i think. we should be on the move by this time." thus wiley was repressed and prevented from relating one of his marvelous yarns, not a little to his disgust. chapter xxii. an act of treachery. it was past midday. guided by wiley, who seemed to know the way well, the party had pushed on into the mountains and followed a course that led them over ragged slopes and steep declivities. finally the sailor paused and turned. "there, mates," he said, stretching out his hand, "barely half a mile away lies the enchanted valley. i have a tickling fancy that we have reached it ahead of that delectable crew we sought to avoid." even as he said this, pete curry uttered an exclamation and pointed toward the mouth of a ragged ravine or fissure, from which at this moment several horsemen suddenly debouched. they were followed closely by a band of men on foot. "that's the whole bunch!" exclaimed curry. "and they're coming as fast as they can chase theirselves. they are heading to cut us off." "that's right!" burst from dick. "we've got to make a dash for it. lead the way, wiley, and be sure you make no mistake." a hot dash it was for the fissure that led into the enchanted valley. the enemy, yelling like a lot of savages, did their best to cut the party off. seeing they would fail at this, they opened fire, and a few bullets sang dangerously near the fugitives. "oh, bilge-water and brine!" muttered the sailor. "there'll certainly be doings when we attempt to scurry down that crack into the valley! it's going to be a very disagreeable piece of business for us." nearer and nearer they came to the fissure for which they were heading. straight toward the beginning of it they raced, wiley telling dick it would be necessary for several of them to halt there and try to stand off the enemy while the rest of the party descended. but as they reached the beginning of the fissure, from behind some bowlders two young men opened fire with repeating rifles on the pursuers. in a moment the hail of bullets sent into the ranks of the enemy threw them into confusion. a horse dropped in its tracks, and another, being wounded, began bucking and kicking. one man was hit in the shoulder. this unexpected occurrence threw the pursuers into consternation, so that they wheeled immediately and sought to get beyond rifle range. "avast there, my hearties!" cried wiley, as he caught sight of the youths who knelt behind the bowlders. "permit me to lay alongside and join you in the merry carnage." "hello, wiley!" called frank, who, aided by hodge, had checked the ruffians. "it seems that we happened up this way at just about the right time." "at the precise psychological moment," nodded the marine marvel. "this being just in time is getting habitual with you." while the enemy was still in confusion frank and bart hastened to join the new arrivals and greet them. of course they were surprised to see curry and his companions, and the story told by the deputy sheriff, who explained everything in a few words, made clear the cause of his unexpected reappearance at the valley. "a ministerial-looking gentleman who called himself felton cleveland, eh?" said frank. "he was with the gang that cut loose your prisoners, was he? well, i am dead sure felton cleveland is----" "macklyn morgan!" cried dick. "i saw him last night. he is the man." "and macklyn morgan is the instigator of this whole business," said frank. "wiley, get abe and felicia down into the valley without delay. we have got to stand this gang off right here. we can't afford to let them reach this entrance to the valley. we're in for a siege. you will find provisions down there at the cabin. bring supplies when you return. abe and felicia will be safe down there as long as we hold this passage." "ay, ay, sir!" said the sailor. "i am yours to command." fortunately near the mouth of the fissure there were heaped-up bowlders which seemed to form something of a natural fortress. behind these rocks the defenders concealed themselves, their horses being taken down into the valley one after another. for a long time the enemy made no offensive move. it seemed to frank and his friends that the ruffians had been dismayed by their warm reception, and they seemed disagreeing. "if they will only chew the rag and get into trouble among themselves, it will be greatly to our advantage," said hodge. "let them sail right into us if they are looking for a warm time!" exclaimed brad buckhart, who seemed thirsting for more trouble. "i opine we can give them all they want." wiley brought a supply of provisions from the valley, and the defenders satiated their hunger while ensconced behind the bowlders. "this is even better than salt horse," declared wiley, munching away. "one time when shipwrecked in the south atlantic, longitude unty-three, latitude oxty-one, i subsisted on raw salt horse for nineteen consecutive days. that was one of the most harrowing experiences of my long and sinuous career." "spare us! spare us!" exclaimed frank. "we have got to stand off those ruffians, so don't deprive us of our nerve and strength." "look here!" exclaimed the sailor, "this thing is getting somewhat monotonous! whenever i attempt to tell a little nannygoat somebody rises up and yells, 'stop it!' pretty soon i will get so i'll have to talk to myself. there was a man i knew once who kept a bowling alley and the doctor told him he mustn't talk; but he kept right on talking. he talked everybody deaf, and dumb, and black, and blue, and stone-blind, so at last there was nobody left for him to talk to but himself. then he went to talking to himself in his sleep, which disturbed him so that he always woke up and couldn't sleep. the result was that he became so utterly exhausted for the want of rest that it was necessary to take him to the hospital. but even in the hospital they couldn't keep him still until they gagged him. that was the only thing that saved his life. what a sad thing it would be if anything like that should happen to me!" late in the afternoon the enemy made a move. protected by rocks and such cover as they could find, they attempted to close in on the defenders of the valley. frank was keenly alert, and he discovered this move almost as soon as it began. immediately he posted his companions where they could watch, and they agreed on a dead line, across which they would not permit the ruffians to creep without firing on them. as the ruffians drew nearer the cover was less available, and when the dead line was crossed the defenders opened fire on them. within three minutes several of the enemy had been wounded, and the advance was not only checked, but the ruffians were filled with such dismay that the greater part of them took to their heels and fled. several of these might have been shot down, but frank would not permit it. "i opine that just about gives them all they want for a while," said brad buckhart. it seemed that he was right. the besiegers disappeared amid the rocks, and the afternoon crept on with no further effort in that direction to enter the valley by assault. some of the defenders were beginning to wonder if the enemy had not given up when, with the sun hanging low, a man appeared in the distance, waving a white handkerchief, attached like a flag to the end of a stick. "whatever's up now?" muttered pete curry. "it is a flag of truce," said merry. "look out, frank!" exclaimed bart. "it may be a trick." merry rose and stood on a mound of bowlders, drawing out his own handkerchief and waved it in return. "what are you going to do?" asked hodge. "i am going to find out what they are up to," was the answer. "i tell you it may be a trick." "we will see." the man in the distance with the flag of truce immediately advanced alone. barely had he walked out into full view when merry said: "it is macklyn morgan, or my eyes are no good!" "old joe he fix um," said the aged indian, carefully thrusting his rifle over the rocks and preparing to take aim. "stop him!" exclaimed merry. "don't let him fire on a man with a white flag!" the old savage seemed greatly surprised and disappointed when he was prevented from shooting. "when um morgan man he is killed that stop all trouble," said joe. "good chance to do it." "watch him close, dick," directed frank. "i am going out there to meet morgan." "let me go with you." "no; he's alone. i will go alone. he is taking his chances. if anything happens to me, if one of those ruffians should fire on me, morgan knows my friends here will shoot him down. still, there may be some trick about it, and i want every one of you to watch close and be on the alert." "depend on us, frank," said dick. "only i'm sorry you won't let me go with you." a few moments later merriwell strode out boldly from the rocks, with the white handkerchief still fluttering in his hand, advancing to meet morgan, who was slowly coming forward. they met in the centre of the open space near the little heap of bowlders. in grim silence, regarding his enemy with accusing eyes, merry waited for morgan to open the conversation. "this is a very unfortunate affair, young man," said the hypocritical money king. "i am sorry it has happened." "are you?" asked frank derisively. "i am, i am," nodded morgan. "it's very bad--very bad." "if you feel so bad about it, sir, it's the easiest thing in the world for you to bring it to an end." "but you are the one to terminate it, young man." "how do you make that out?" "you know how you can settle this affair without delay. you heard my proposition in prescott." "i believe i did. it was very interesting as the proposition of a thoroughly unscrupulous man." "don't get insulting, mr. merriwell. i am doing my duty. milton sukes was my partner. do you think i can conscientiously ignore the fact that he was murdered?" "i fail to understand what that has to do with me." "you know i have proofs," said morgan sternly. "you know they will convict you." "i know nothing of the sort. you have no proofs that are worth being called that." "everything points accusingly and decisively at you. you were mr. sukes' bitter enemy. it was to your advantage that he should be put out of the way. he annoyed you. he gave you great trouble." "and i fancy, macklyn morgan, that i annoyed him a little. but why do you pretend that it is on his account you are carrying out this lawless piece of business? you know its nature. you know in your heart that you are a hypocrite. you have even offered, if i turn over my property to you here, to make no proceeding against me. is that the way you obtain justice for your dead partner? is that the sort of justice you are looking for, morgan? don't talk to me of justice! i know the sort of man you are! i know you from the ground up!" "be careful! be careful! you are making a mistake, young man. mr. sukes annoyed you and harassed you because he believed you held property that he should possess--property that rightfully belonged to him. he obtained no satisfaction from you. if i am willing to settle with you by securing possession of this undeveloped mine here, which i now offer to do, you ought to think yourself getting off easy. it is not often that i enter into an affair of this sort. it is not often that i take hold of it personally. i allow my agents to carry such things through under my directions. in this case, however, i have considered it best to see the matter to an end myself. i confess that it seemed probable that you might be too slick for my agents." "no thanks whatever for the compliment. have you anything new to propose, mr. morgan?" "my proposition is this: that you and your companions retire at once from this vicinity, and if you do i give you my word that you will not be molested. it is an easy and simple way to settle this whole affair. if you comply, we will let the sukes matter drop where it is. you will escape prosecution for murder. think well of it--think well. it is the best thing you can do. you are trapped now. you are penned in here and you can't get out. if we see fit, we can lay siege to this place and keep you here until we starve you out. in the end you will be compelled to surrender. in the end you will lose everything. if you force me to such a course, not only will i obtain possession of this undeveloped mine, but i tell you now that i shall do my best to see you hanged for the murder of milton sukes." frank laughed in the man's face. "it's plain," he said, "that even now, macklyn morgan, you don't understand me. it's plain that you still fancy it possible to frighten me. you are wasting your time, sir. go ahead with your siege and see what comes of it." this seemed to enrage morgan, for suddenly he violently shook the flag at frank and cried: "then take the result of your obstinacy!" instantly there were several puffs of white smoke from beyond the distant rocks and frank pitched forward upon his face. at the same moment macklyn morgan made a spring and dropped behind a little pile of bowlders, where he was fully protected from the defenders of the valley. apparently frank had been treacherously shot down in cold blood while under the flag of truce. the watchers of the defense were horrified as they saw frank fall. dick uttered a savage cry and would have rushed out from behind the rocks had he not been seized by brad buckhart. "steady, pard--steady!" warned the texan, finding it difficult to detain young merriwell. "let go!" panted dick. "don't you see! my brother! the dastardly wretches have shot him!" "and do you propose to prance out there and let them shoot you up, too? do you propose to let these measly galoots wipe out the merriwell family in a bunch? cool down, pard, and have some sense." bart hodge had been no less excited than dick, and nothing could have prevented him from rushing forth to frank had he not suddenly made a discovery as he sprang up. his eyes were on his chum of school and college days, and he saw frank quickly roll over and over until he lay close against a bowlder, where he would be protected in case the enemy fired again. then, as he lay thus, merry lifted the hand that still clutched the white handkerchief and waved it in a signal to his friends. hodge was shaking in every limb. "he is not killed!" he exclaimed. "heap keep still," came from old joe. "no shot at all. him all right. him see gun flash, him drop quick, bullets go over um. him fool bad palefaces a heap." "what's that?" fluttered dick. "do you mean that he wasn't hurt, joe?" "no hurt him much," asserted the old savage, "strong heart he have keen eye. he watch all the time. he see gun flash. he see smoke. he drop quick." it was not easy to make dick believe his brother had not been hurt, but frank managed to convey to them by signals that he was all right. their relief was unbounded. indeed, dick's eyes filled with a mist of joy, although his anxiety was intense, for he feared that his brother might still be in a position where the enemy could get further shots at him. frank, however, hugged the rocks closely, and there was no more shooting. on the other side of the bowlders lay macklyn morgan, his evil heart filled with triumph, for he believed merriwell had been slain. his astonishment was unbounded when he heard frank's voice calling his name. "morgan," called merry, "can you hear me?" "yes, i hear you," answered the astounded villain. "so they didn't kill you outright, did they?" "hardly that," returned merry. "they didn't even touch me." "what did you say?" burst from morgan. "why, those men were the best shots in our party! they were carefully chosen for this piece of business." "a fine piece of business, macklyn morgan!" contemptuously retorted merry. "and you planned it, i presume! you are a smooth-faced, hypocritical man of wealth, known far and wide and greatly respected because of your riches. yet you have descended to a piece of business like this! sukes was bad enough, morgan; but you're a hundred times worse. you have failed in your most dastardly plot, just as you will fail in everything. lie still, macklyn morgan. keep close to those rocks where you are, for if you show yourself you will be riddled by my watching friends. from this time on your life will not be worth a pinch of snuff if they get a chance at you." so the two men, the fearless youth and the treacherous money king, lay each sheltered by the bowlders while the sun sank in the west and day slipped softly into night. when the shadows had deepened sufficiently, frank crept away on his stomach toward the valley, taking the utmost pains not to expose himself, and, through his skill in this, returned at last in safety to his friends, who welcomed him joyously. "heap well done!" grunted old joe. "but now strong heart him know more than to trust um bad men. no do it some more." dick was able to repress his emotion, although frank read in the few words his brother said the intense anxiety he had felt. "what will be their next move?" exclaimed hodge. "they will attempt to overpower us by some sudden move to-night," said frank. "we must remain on the alert every moment." the stars came out bright and clear, as they always do in that southwestern land, and, if possible, their light seemed more brilliant than usual. the night advanced, and still the enemy before them remained silent. it was curry who discovered something down in the valley that attracted his attention and interested him. he called the attention of frank, who saw down there a light waving to and fro and then in circles. "whatever does yer make of that, pard merriwell?" asked curry. "it's a signal," said frank--"a signal from abe and felicia. they are seeking to attract our attention. i must go down there at once." "there's trouble of some sort down there, frank," said dick, who had reached his brother's side. "let's go quickly." merry found bart and directed him to take charge of the defense at that point and be constantly on the alert. with dick close behind him, he hastened down the fissure leading into the valley. in the narrow place through which they descended the starlight was dim and uncertain, yet they hastened with reckless speed. reaching the valley, they made straight for the cabin, where the signal light was still waving. as they drew near, they saw the grotesque figure of little abe swinging a lighted torch over his head and then waving it round and round. the flaring torch revealed felicia, who stood near. "what's the matter, abe?" demanded frank, as he dashed up. "i am glad you saw it! i am glad you came!" said the boy. "frank, those men are trying to get into the valley another way." "where? how?" "felicia saw them first. some of them are on the other side." "but there is no entrance save the one we are defending." "they are planning to get in by descending the face of the precipice. we saw them creep down over the rocks, three or four of them, and it took them a long time. they have reached a precipice that is perpendicular." "that should stop them." "i watched them through your field glasses, which i found in the cabin. they were letting themselves down with the aid of ropes." "ropes?" exclaimed dick. "a new game," said frank. "can they descend that way?" questioned the boy. "it's possible," admitted frank. "show us where they are, abe. drop that torch and lose not a moment." the hunchback led the way, running on before them, and they followed him closely. as they came at length to the vicinity of the precipice, they saw through the pale starlight that abe had spoken truly, for already long lariats had been spliced together, and, by the aid of these, which now dangled from the top of the precipice to the bottom, one of the men had already begun to descend. they saw the shadowy figure of his companions waiting above, and it seemed that the men did not dare trust themselves more than one at a time upon the spliced rope. "we've got to stop that, frank!" panted dick. "we will stop it," said merry. "don't attract attention. let's get nearer." they stole forward still nearer, watching the man as he came down slowly and carefully. this man had descended almost half the distance when a sudden rifle shot broke the stillness of the valley. immediately, with a cry, the dark form of a man dropped like a stone. frank and his companions had been startled by the shot, but merry instantly recognized the peculiar spang of the rifle. "old joe!" whispered merry. as they stood there a silent figure came slipping toward them, and the old indian stopped close at hand. "bad men no come down that way," he said quietly. "joe him shoot pretty good--pretty good. joe him think mebbe he shoot four, five, six times, he might cut rope. joe him shoot once, him cut rope. joe him got rheumatism. him pretty old, but him shoot pretty good." "was that what you fired at?" asked merry, in astonishment. "you didn't shoot at the man on the rope?" "plenty time to shoot man when joe him find out he no cut rope," was the retort. "when rope him cut one man he come down pretty fast. him strike, bump! mebbe it jar him some." "the fall must have killed him instantly," said frank. "if you cut that rope, joe, you have spoiled their attack on this side of the valley. stay here. watch sharp, and make sure they don't resume the attempt. if they do, abe can signal again." "all right," said crowfoot. "me watch." with this assurance, frank felt safe to return again to the defenders above, and dick returned with him. when he told what had taken place in the valley cap'n wiley observed: "i had it in for joseph crowfoot, esquire, for calling me wind-in-the-head; but i will overlook the insult. evidently the old boy is a whole army in himself." as they lay waiting for the attack they fully expected must take place, there came to their ears from the direction in which the enemy was supposed to be the sounds of shots, followed immediately by hoarse yelling and more shooting. "well, what do you make of that, merry?" cried hodge. "there seems to be a ruction of some sort going on over there." frank listened a few moments. the sound of the shooting receded, and the yelling seemed dying out in the distance. "it may be a trick," he said; "but i am in hopes those ruffians have quarreled among themselves. if it is a trick, we will keep still and wait. time will tell what has happened." time did tell, but all through the rest of the night they waited in vain for the attack. when morning finally dawned the mountains lay silent in the flood of light which poured from the rising sun. nowhere was the enemy to be discovered. old joe came up to them from the valley and declared that the men on the other side had been driven away. the fate of their comrade seemed to dishearten them, and they had crept back like snails over the rocks and vanished during the night. it was the old indian who set out to find what had happened among the besiegers led by morgan. he slipped away among the rocks and brush and vanished like a phantom. he was gone an hour or more when he suddenly reappeared and beckoned to them. "come see," he invited. they knew it was safe to follow him, and they did so. where the enemy had been ensconced they found one man, sorely wounded and in a critical condition. that was all. the others, to the last rascal of them, had vanished. "where have they gone, joe?" exclaimed frank. "ask him," directed the indian, motioning toward the wounded man. "mebbe he tell." this man was questioned, and the story he told surprised and satisfied the defenders beyond measure. disgusted over their failure to get into the valley, the ruffians had plotted among themselves. a number of them had devised a plan which to them seemed likely to be profitable. knowing macklyn morgan was a very rich man, they had schemed to take him personally, carry him off, and hold him in captivity until he should pay them handsomely for his freedom. not all the ruffians had been taken into this plot, and when the schemers started to carry morgan off there was an outbreak and some shooting, but they got away successfully. with morgan and the leading spirits of the affair gone, the others quickly decided to give up the assault on the valley, and that was why they had departed in the night, leaving the wounded man behind to such mercy as merriwell and his friends might show. "well, what do you think of that?" exclaimed dick. "think?" said frank, with a laugh. "why, i think macklyn morgan has been caught in his own trap. now let him get out of it!" chapter xxiii. new riches promised. when a week had passed frank and his friends began to feel that all their troubles were over, for the time being, at least. old joe crowfoot, who had been scouting in the vicinity, reported that he found no signs of probable marauders and himself settled down contentedly to smoke and loaf in the warm sunshine of the valley. with dick and felicia near, where he could watch them occasionally or hear their voices, the peaceful happiness of the old fellow seemed complete. cap'n wiley likewise loafed to his heart's content and if ever a person could make a whole-souled and hearty success of loafing it was the cap'n. he became so friendly with crowfoot that old joe even permitted him sometimes to smoke his pipe. one beautiful morning the entire party was gathered in front of merriwell's cabin talking things over. "there seems nothing now, frank, to prevent us from securing miners and opening up this new claim," said hodge. "macklyn morgan seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth." "perhaps he has learned that it is dangerous for a man like him to attempt dealing with the ruffians of this part of the country," put in dick. "it seems certain now that he was actually carried into captivity by the very gang he employed to seize these mines." "but he will get free all right," declared frank. "he will turn up again sometime." "if they don't kill him any," said buckhart. "they won't do that," asserted merriwell. "they can make nothing out of him in that fashion; but they might make a good thing by forcing him to pay a large sum for his liberty." "well, now that everything seems all right here, frank," said dick, "i suppose brad and i will have to light out for the east and old fardale." "waugh! that certain is right!" exclaimed the texan. "we must be on hand, pard, when fardale gets into gear for baseball this spring." "baseball!" cried wiley, giving a great start. "why, that word thrills my palpitating bosom. baseball! why, i will be in great shape for the game this season! my arm is like iron. never had such a fine arm on me before. speed! why, i will put 'um over the plate like peas! curves! why, my curves will paralyze 'um this year!" "ugh!" grunted old joe. "wind-in-the-head blow a heap. him talk a lot with him jaw. mebbe him jaw git tired sometime." "look here, joseph," expostulated wiley, "i don't like sarcasm. if i didn't love you as a brother, i might resent it." "great horn spoon!" cried buckhart, scratching vigorously. "these fleas are the biggest and worst i ever saw. you hear me murmur!" "what, these?" squealed wiley, in derision. "why, these little creatures are nothing at all--nothing at all. they just tickle a fellow up a bit. fleas! say, mates, you should have seen the fleas i have beheld in my tempestuous career. you should have seen the fleas i met up with in the heart of darkest africa. those were the real thing. don't 'spose i ever told you about those fleas?" and he told them a long and wonderful story about african fleas. "ugh!" grunted the old indian, when wiley had finished. "wind-in-the-head biggest blame liar old joe ebber see." some days later, with the exception of hodge and crowfoot, frank and the rest of his party arrived in prescott. hodge and the aged redskin were left, together with one of pete curry's men, to guard the valley after a fashion. besides going to prescott for the purpose of seeing his brother and buckhart off, frank had several other objects in view. with him he brought considerable ore, taken from the quartz vein they had located in the valley, and also a small leather pouch that was nearly filled with dull yellow grains and particles washed from the placer mine. with these specimens frank proceeded direct to an assayer, who was instructed to make an assay and give a report. following this, frank set about picking up some genuine miners who knew their business and who could be relied on. it was his purpose to keep a few men at work on the claims while he completed the plans talked over by himself and hodge and arrange for the transportation to the valley of such machinery as they needed to work the mines. as far as the placer was concerned, this was not such a difficult problem. with the quartz mine, however, it was quite a serious matter, as the valley was far from any railroad and extremely difficult of access. frank knew very well that it would cost a big sum of money to begin practical operations on the quartz claim, and already, for a young man of his years, he had his hands pretty full. hodge, however, had been enthusiastic, and merry felt that bart would, with the greatest readiness and satisfaction, remain where he could oversee everything and carry all plans out successfully. merry felt that he was greatly indebted to wiley, and he saw that the sailor had one of the best rooms in the best hotel of prescott and was provided with every comfort the house could afford. this was not the only way in which frank intended to reward the captain. wiley himself was somewhat "sore" because he had declined to accompany frank and bart at the time they had returned to the valley and successfully located benson clark's lost mines. "'tis ever thus," he sighed wearily, when the matter was spoken of. "i will bet eleventeen thousand dollars that i have lost more than a barrel of good opportunities to become rotten with wealth during my sinuous career. not that i haven't felt the salubrious touch of real money to an extensive extent, for sometimes i have been so loaded down with it that it rattled out of my clothes every step i took. when i sauntered carelessly along the street in days past i have shed doubloons, and picaroons, and silver shekels at every step, and i have often been followed by a tumultuous throng, who fought among themselves over the coin that rained from my radiant person. still to-day here i am broke, busted, while the world jogs on just the same, and nobody seems to care a ripityrap. excuse these few lamentations and wails of woe. by and by i will take a little medicine for my nerves and feel a great deal better." "don't worry over it, wiley," said frank, laughing. "it will all come out in the wash. i don't think you will die in the poorhouse." "not on your tintype!" cried the sailor. "i propose to shuffle off this mortal coil in a palace." "wiley," cried frank, "i believe you would joke in the face of old death himself!" "why not? i regard life as a joke, and i don't propose to show the white feather when my time comes. i will have no mourning at my funeral. i propose to have my funeral the gayest one on record. everybody shall dress in their best, and the band shall play quicksteps and ragtime on the way to the silent tomb. and then i shall warn them in advance to be careful, if they want to finish the job, not to pass a baseball ground where a game is going on, for just as sure as such a thing happened i'll kick off the lid, rise up, and prance out onto the diamond and git into the game." "don't you worry about what will become of you, cap'n," advised merry. "for all that you failed to stick by us in relocating those claims, i fancy we shall be able to make some provisions for you." "that's charity!" shouted wiley. "i will have none of it! i want you to understand that little walter is well able to hustle for himself and reap his daily bread. not even my best friend can make me a pauper by giving me alms." "oh, all right, my obstinate young tar," smiled merry. "have your own way. go your own course." "of course, of course," nodded wiley. "i always have, and i always will. now leave me to my brooding thoughts, and i will evolve some sort of a scheme to make a few million dollars before sundown." wiley's schemes, however, did not seem to pan out, although his brain was full of them, and he had a new one every day, and sometimes a new one every hour of the day. knowing they were soon to be separated again, dick and felicia spent much of their time together. it was merriwell's plan, of which he had spoken, to take felicia to denver and find her a home there where she could attend school. the assay of the quartz merry had brought to prescott showed that the mine was marvelously rich. beyond question it would prove a good thing, for all of the great expense that must be entailed in working it. on the day following the report of the assayer, merry was writing letters in the little room of the hotel provided for such use when a man entered, approached him, and addressed him. "excuse me," said this man, who was middle-aged and looked like a business man from the ground up. "i suppose you are mr. frank merriwell?" "that's my name." "well, my name is kensington--thomas kensington. perhaps you have not heard of me?" "on the contrary, i have heard of you, mr. kensington. i believe you have a mine in this vicinity?" "yes, and another in colorado. i hear that you have lately located a promising quartz claim. i understand that the assay indicates it is a valuable find." "perhaps that's right," admitted merry; "but i am at a loss just how you acquired the information." "my eyes and ears are open for such things. i am in prescott to have a little assaying done myself, and i happened, by the merest chance, to hear mr. given, the assayist, speaking with an assistant about the result of his investigation of your specimens. you understand that it was barely a chance." "i presume so," said merry. "i don't suppose that given would talk of such matters publicly." "and he did not, sir--he did not. i assure you of that. i have also learned, mr. merriwell, that you have other mines?" "yes, sir." "and this new claim of yours is inconveniently located at a distance from any railway town?" "that is correct." "now, i am a man of business, mr. merriwell, and if you care to have me do so, i would like to investigate your property with the possibility of purchasing this new mine of yours." frank was somewhat surprised. "i am not at all certain, mr. kensington, that i wish to sell. besides that, i have a partner who would have to be consulted in the matter." "but we might talk it over, sir--we might talk it over. are you willing to do so?" "i have no objections to that." kensington then drew up a chair and sat down close by the desk at which merry had been writing. "if i were to make you an offer for your property, on being satisfied with it as something i want," he said, "would you consider it?" "it's not impossible. but you must remember that my partner is to be consulted in the matter." "of course, of course." "he might not care to sell. in that case i can do nothing." "you might use your influence." frank shook his head. "i wouldn't think of that, sir. i would leave the question entirely to hodge, and he could do as he pleased." "do you fancy that there is a possibility that he might be induced to sell in case the offer seemed an advantageous one?" "yes, i think it possible." "good!" nodded kensington. "that being the case, we can discuss the matter further. do you mind showing me the report of the assayer?" "not at all. here it is." merry took the paper from his pocket and handed it to kensington, who glanced over the figures and statements, lifted his eyebrows slightly, puckered his lips, and whistled softly. "do you mean to tell me, mr. merriwell, that this assay was made from an average lot of quartz from your mine, or was it from specially chosen specimens?" "mr. kensington, i had this assay made for myself, and not for the public. i had it made in order that i might find out just how valuable the mine is. that being the case, you can understand that i would not be foolish enough to pick what appeared to be the richest ore. on the contrary, sir, i took it as it came." again kensington whistled softly, his eyes once more surveying the figures. "how far is this mine from the nearest railroad point?" "just about one hundred miles." "and in a difficult country as to access?" "decidedly so," was merry's frank answer. "it will cost a huge sum to open this mine and operate it." "there is no question on that point." "still, this report shows it will be worth it, if the vein pans out to be one-half as promising as this assay of your specimens." merry laughed. "mr. kensington," he said, "it is my belief that we have not fully uncovered the vein. it is my conviction that it will prove twice as valuable as it now seems when we get into it in earnest." for some moments kensington continued to whistle softly to himself. it seemed to be a habit of his when thinking. "are your other mines valuable, mr. merriwell?" "yes, sir." "as valuable as this one?" "i believe they are." "and you have them in operation?" "i have one of them in operation." "that is the queen mystery, i believe?" "then you have heard of it, sir?" "there is not much going on in mining matters in arizona that i have not heard of. it's my business to keep posted. you have never thought of selling the queen mystery?" "mr. kensington, the mystery is opened and is in operation. i have not contemplated selling it, and i do not think i shall do so. if you wish to talk of this new mine, all right. i can listen. nothing whatever may come of it, but i see no harm in hearing whatever you have to say." "now we're getting at an understanding, mr. merriwell. of course, i wouldn't think of making you any sort of an offer for your mine unless thoroughly satisfied as to its value. i should insist on having it inspected by men of my own choice, who are experts. their report i can rely on, and from that i would figure." "that would be business-like," merry nodded. "and you would have no objections to that, of course?" "certainly not, sir. still, you must not forget that i have a partner who might object. it will be necessary to consult him before anything of the sort is done." "all right, all right. where is he?" "he is at the mine." kensington seemed somewhat disappointed. "i was in hopes he might be in prescott." "he is not." "another point, mr. merriwell. are you certain your title to this property is clear?" "absolutely certain, sir." "i am glad to hear that. of course, i should look into that matter likewise. unless the title was clear, i wouldn't care to become involved." "in that case," said a voice behind them, which caused them both to start slightly, "i advise you, mr. kensington, to let that property alone." merriwell turned quickly and found himself face to face with macklyn morgan! "morgan!" exclaimed frank. to the ministerial face of the money king there came a smile of grim satisfaction, for he knew he had startled frank. "yes, mr. kensington," he said, "you had better be careful about this piece of business. there are some doubts as to the validity of this young man's claim to that mine." kensington did not seem pleased, and immediately he demanded: "how do you happen to know so much about it, sir?" "because i am interested. my name is macklyn morgan. it is barely possible you have heard of me?" "macklyn morgan!" exclaimed thomas kensington. "why, not--why, not----" "exactly," nodded morgan. "i belong to the consolidated mining association of america. you may know something of that association; it's quite probable that you do." "i should say so!" exclaimed kensington, rather warmly. "i know that it's a trust and that it has been gobbling up some of the best mines in the country." "very well. you know, then, that the c. m. a. of a. makes few mistakes. as a member of that association i warn you now that you may involve yourself in difficulty if you negotiate with this young man for this mine which he claims." frank rose to his feet, his eyes flashing with indignation. "that will about do for you, morgan!" he exclaimed. "i think i have stood about as much from you as i am in the mood to stand. mr. kensington, this man does belong to the consolidated mining association. that association attempted to get possession of my queen mystery and san pablo mines. i fought the whole bunch of them to a standstill and made them back water. they have given up the fight. but after they did so this mr. morgan, in conjunction with another one of the trust, did his level best to wring the queen mystery from me. "the matter was finally settled right here in the courts. they were beaten. it was shown that their claims to my property were not worth a pinch of snuff. since then sukes, this man's partner, met his just deserts, being shot by one of his tools, a half-crazed fellow whom he led into an infamous piece of business. this morgan is persistent and vengeful. he has trumped up some silly charge against me and tried to frighten me into giving up to him my queen mystery or my new mine. it is a pure case of bluff on his part, and it has no further effect on me than to annoy me." both kensington and morgan had listened while frank was speaking, the latter with a hard smile on his face. "you can judge, mr. kensington," said morgan, "whether a man of my reputation would be the sort to take part in anything of that kind. when it comes to bluff, this young fellow here is the limit. i tell you once more that you will make a serious mistake if you have any dealings with him. any day he is likely to be arrested on the charge of murder, for there is evidence that he conspired in the assassination of my partner. it even seems possible that he fired the fatal shot. that's the kind of a chap he is." "mr. kensington," said frank, with grim calmness, "this man, morgan, has done his level best in trying to blackmail me out of one of my mines. this murder charge he talks about he has trumped up in hopes to frighten me; but i fancy he has found by this time that i am not so easily frightened. i can prove that he employed ruffians to jump my claim--to seize these new mines. we were forced to defend it with firearms. morgan himself tried to have me treacherously shot, but he was not the kind of a man to deal with the ruffians he had employed, and he fell into a trap, from which he has now somehow escaped. he was captured and carried off by those same ruffians of his, whose object it was to hold him until he should pay a handsome sum for his liberty. either he has managed to escape or he has paid the money demanded by those rascals." morgan laughed. "it is not possible, mr. kensington, that you will believe such a ridiculous story. i give you my word--the word of a gentleman and a man of business and honor--that the whole thing is a fabrication." "morgan," said frank, "i propose to make this statement public just as you have heard it from my lips. if it is not true, you can have me arrested immediately for criminal libel. i dare you to have me arrested! if you do, i shall prove every word of what i have just said and show you up as the black-hearted rascal you really are. instead of having me arrested, it is more than likely that you will employ some ruffian to shoot at my back. i'll guarantee you will never try it yourself. if i were to step out here now and make a similar charge against mr. kensington, what would be the result?" "by thunder!" burst from kensington, "i'd shoot you on sight!" "exactly," nodded frank. "and so would macklyn morgan if the statement were false and if he dared." morgan snapped his fingers. "i consider you of too little consequence to resort to any such method. i am not a man who shoots; i'm a man who crushes. frank merriwell, you may fancy you have the best of me, but i tell you now that i will crush you like an eggshell." as he said this his usually mild and benevolent face was transformed until it took on a fierce and vengeful look, which fully betrayed his true character. quickly lifting his hand, merry pointed an accusing finger straight at morgan's face. "look at him, mr. kensington!" he directed. "now you see him as he is beneath the surface. this is the real macklyn morgan. ordinarily he is a wolf in sheep's clothing, and it is only the clothing he reveals to those with whom he has dealings." instantly the look vanished from morgan's face, and in its place there returned the mild, hypocritical smile he sometimes wore. "i acknowledge that my indignation was aroused," he said. "and i know it was foolish of me. i have said all i care to. i think mr. kensington will have a care about making any negotiations with you, merriwell. good day, mr. kensington." bowing to frank's companion, morgan coolly walked away and left the room. chapter xxiv. what happened to dick. just at dusk a horse came galloping madly up toward the front of the hotel, bearing on its back an excited, frightened, pale-faced girl. it was felicia. brad buckhart happened to be leaving the hotel as the girl pulled up her sweaty horse. "oh, brad!" she cried, and her voice was filled with the greatest agitation and distress. the texan made a bound down the steps. "what is it, felicia?" he asked. "whatever is the matter? my pard--he went out to ride with you! where is he now?" "oh, where is he? oh, where is he?" cried felicia. "you don't know? is that what you mean? oh, say, felicia, don't tell me anything has happened to my pard!" "brad! brad!" she gasped, swaying in her saddle, "a strange thing has happened. i can't account for it." in a moment he lifted her down in his strong arms and supported her, as he tumultuously poured questions upon her. "what's this strange thing, felicia? what has happened? where is dick? tell me, quick!" "oh, i wish you could tell me!" she retorted. "he went out with you?" "yes, yes!" the texan made an effort to cool down. "look here, felicia," he said. "we're both so excited we don't hit any sort of a trail and stick to it for shucks. if anything whatever has happened to my pard, i want to know it right quick. keep cool and tell me all about it. what was it that happened?" "but i tell you i don't know--i don't know," came faintly from the girl. "we rode some miles to the south. it was splendid. we laughed, and chatted, and had such a fine time. then, when we turned to come back, i challenged dick to a race. my horse was just eager to let himself out, and we raced. i had the lead, but my horse was so hard-bitted that i couldn't look back. two or three times i called to dick, and he answered. i heard his horse right behind me, and felt sure he was near. once i thought he was trying to pass me, and i let my horse out more. "i don't know how far i went that way, but it was a long, long distance. after a while his horse seemed letting up. he didn't push him so hard. then i pulled up some and called back to him again, but he didn't answer. i had to fight my horse, for he had the bit in his teeth and was obstinate. after a while i managed to turn, and then i saw something that gave me an awful jump. dick's horse was a long distance away, and was going at a trot, but dick was not in the saddle. the saddle was empty, and dick was nowhere to be seen." "great tarantulas! great horned toads! great panhandle!" exploded buckhart. "you don't mean to tell me that my pard let any onery horse dump him out of the saddle? say, i won't believe it! say, i can't believe it! why, he can ride like a circus performer! he is a regular centaur, if i ever saw one! whatever is this joke you're putting up on me, felicia?" "no joke, no joke!" she hastily asserted. "it's the truth, brad--the terrible truth! dick was not on the horse. i don't know what happened to him, but he wasn't there. as soon as i could i rode back to find him. i rode and rode, looking for him everywhere. i thought something must have happened to him that caused him to fall from the saddle. i wondered that i had heard no cry from him--no sound." "and you didn't find him?" she shook her head. "i found nothing of him anywhere. i rode until i was where we started to race. after that i had called to him, and he had answered me more than once. i know that, at first, he was close behind me." "jumping jingoes!" spluttered brad. "this beats anything up to date! you hear me warble! you must have missed him, somehow." "it is not possible, brad. i stuck to the road and followed it all the way through the chaparral, beyond which we had started to race this way." "then you raced through a piece of woods, did you?" "yes, yes." "do you remember of hearing him answer any to your calls after you had passed through those woods?" "i don't remember." "oh, brad, what if he was thrown from his horse and some wild animal dragged him into the chaparral after he fell senseless on the road! you must find him! where is frank? tell frank at once!" "that's good sense," declared the texan. "but wherever is dick's horse?" "i don't know where the animal is now. i paid no further attention to it after i found dick was missing." by this time the texan had heard enough, and, lifting felicia clear off her feet, he strode into the hotel with her, as if carrying a feather. just inside the door he nearly collided with cap'n wiley. "port your helm!" exclaimed the sailor. "don't run me down, even if you are overloaded with the finest cargo i ever clapped my eyes on." "hold on, wiley!" commanded brad. "just you drop anchor where you are. i want you." "ay, ay, sir!" retorted the marine. "i will lay to instantly. ever hear the little story about the captain who ran out of provisions and, getting hard up, decided to have eggs for breakfast and made his ship lay two?" "cut your chestnuts out, now!" growled the texan. "where is frank?" "i last saw his royal nibs in close communion with a gentleman who is literally rotten with money." "not macklyn morgan?" "well, hardly. he is not chumming with old mack to any salubrious degree. it was thomas kensington." "do you know where frank is now? if you do, find him instantly and tell him something has happened to dick." "ay! ay!" again cried wiley. "just you bear off and on right where you are, and i will sight him directly and bring him round on this course." the sailor hurried away, leaving brad to question felicia still further about the road they had taken outside of prescott. fortunately frank was easily found, and wiley came hurrying back with him. "what is it, brad?" asked merry, controlling his nerves and betraying little alarm, for all that he saw by the appearance of felicia that some serious thing had occurred. "oh, frank--dick!" she panted. "you must find him--you must!" the texan quickly told merry what had happened as related by felicia. frank's face grew grim and paled a little--a very little. his jaw hardened, and his eyes took on a strange gleam. "i opine i know just the road they took," said buckhart. "she has told me all about it. i am dead certain i can go straight back over that trail." "wiley," said merry, still with that grim command of himself, "get a move on and have some horses saddled and made ready." "leave it to me," cried the sailor, immediately taking to his heels and dusting away. by this time others in the hotel knew what had happened, and a number of people had gathered around. unmindful of them, frank took felicia on his knee as he sat on a chair and questioned her. "oh, frank!" she suddenly sobbed, clasping him about the neck. "you will find dick, won't you?" "as sure as i am living, felicia," he asserted, with that same confident calmness. "don't you doubt it for a moment, dear. rest easy about that." "you don't think some wild animal has got him?" "i hardly fancy anything of that sort has happened to my brother." merry called for the housekeeper, who soon came and he turned felicia over to her, saying: "look out for her, mrs. jones. take care of her and don't let her worry more than can be helped." "lord love her sweet soul!" exclaimed the housekeeper, as she received the agitated girl from frank and patted and petted her. "i will look after her, mr. merriwell. don't you be afraid of that. there, there, dear," she said, softly stroking felicia's cheek. "don't you take on so. why, they will find your cousin all right." "you bet your boots!" muttered brad buckhart, who was examining a long-barreled revolver as he spoke. "we will hit the trail and find him in less than two shakes of a steer's hoof." wiley now came panting back into the room, struck an attitude, and made a salute. "our land-going craft are at the pier outside." frank paused only to kiss felicia and whisper a last word in her ear. as he turned to leave the room, he came face to face with macklyn morgan near the door. morgan looked at him in a singular manner and smiled. "excuse me, sir. you seem to be in a great hurry about something." merry stopped short and stood looking straight into the eyes of his enemy. "what is your next low trick, morgan?" he said. "let me tell you here and now, and don't forget it for an instant, if ever any harm comes to me or mine through you, you'll rue it to the last moment of your miserable life." with which he strode on out of the hotel. away out of prescott they clattered, and away into the gathering darkness of a soft spring night. the cool breeze rushed past their ears and fanned their hot cheeks. frank was in the lead, for wiley had taken pains to see that merriwell's own fine horse was made ready for him. "is this the road, buckhart?" the young mine owner called back. "this is the one felicia told us to take, isn't it?" "sure as shooting!" answered the texan. "we don't want to make any mistake in our course," put in the sailor. "that would be fatal to the aspirations of our agitated anatomy. at the same time we want to keep our optical vision clear for breakers ahead. we may be due to strike troubled waters before long." "that's what we're looking for!" growled buckhart, who seemed hot for trouble of some sort. onward they rode along the brown trail. beneath them the ground seemed speeding backward. the lights of the town twinkled far behind them. frank's keen eyes detected something that caused him to drop rein and swerve from the road. at a short distance from the trail a horse was grazing. this animal shied somewhat and moved away as merry approached, but frank's skill enabled him, after a little, to capture the creature, which proved to be saddled and bridled. "dick's horse," he said. "hold him, buckhart. i want to make an examination." brad took the creature by the head, and a moment later frank struck a match, which he protected in the hollow of his hand until it was in full blaze. he then examined the saddle and the creature's back. several matches were used for this purpose, while both buckhart and wiley waited anxiously for the result. "what behold you, mate?" inquired the sailor. "nothing," answered frank. and it seemed there was relief in his voice. "whatever did you expect to find?" questioned the texan. "i hoped to find nothing, just as i have," was the answer. "still, i thought it possible there might be blood stains on the horse. it is not likely there would be hostile savages in this vicinity. indeed, such a thing is almost improbable; yet it was my fancy that dick might have been silently shot from his saddle." "how silently?" asked brad. "shooting is pretty certain to be heard, i opine." "not if done with an arrow." "but the injun of this day and generation is generally provided with a different weapon." "that's true; but still some of them use the bow and arrow even to-day." "i don't reckon a whole lot on anything of that sort happening to my pard," asserted the texan. "nor i," admitted frank. "but i thought it best to investigate." the horse was again set at liberty. they had no time to bother with it then. once more they found the trail and rode on. before them loomed the dark chaparral, into which wound the road they followed. on either hand the tangled thicket was dark and grim. "a right nasty place for a hold-up!" muttered buckhart, whose hand was on his pistol. "if any one tries that little trick," observed cap'n wiley, "it's my sagacious opinion that they are due to receive a surprise that will disturb their mental condition and throw their quivering nerves into the utmost agitation. i am ready to keep the air full of bullets, for in that way something will surely be hit. reminds me of the time when i went gunning with johnny johnson. we came to a promising strip of forest, and he took one side and i took the other. pretty soon i heard him banging away, and he kept shooting and shooting until i grew black in the face with envy. i reckoned he was bagging all the game in that preserve. in my seething imagination i saw him with partridges, and woodcock, and other things piled up around him knee-deep. "for just about an hour he kept on shooting regular every few seconds. at last i came to him, for i didn't find a single measly thing to pop at. imagine my astonishment when i found him idly reclining in a comfortable position on the ground and firing at intervals into the air. 'john, old man,' says i, 'what are you doing?' 'wiley,' he answered, 'i am out for game. i haven't been able to find any, but i know where there is some in this vicinity. i arrived at the specific conclusion that if i could keep the air full of shot i'd hit something after a while, and so i am carrying my wise plan into execution.' oh, i tell you, john was a great hunter--a great hunter!" "better cut that out," said frank. "this is a first-class time for you to give your wagging jaw a rest, cap'n." "thanks, mate; your suggestion will be appropriated unto me." through the chaparral they went, their eyes searching the trail and noting every dark spot on the ground. at length they came to the farther border of the thicket, but without making any discovery. "here's where felicia said the race began," said brad. "we haven't found a thing, frank--not a thing." still merry led them on a little farther before halting and turning about. "what's to be done now?" anxiously inquired the texan. "we will follow the trail back through the chaparral," said frank. "we will call to dick. that's the only thing it seems possible for us to do." having decided on this, they rode slowly back; calling at intervals to the missing lad. the thick chaparral rang with their voices, but through it came no answer. the cold stars watched them in silence. by the time they had again debouched from the chaparral brad was in such a state of mind that reason seemed to have deserted him. he actually proposed plunging into the thicket and attempting to search through it. "you couldn't make your way through that tangle in broad daylight," declared merry. "don't lose your head, buckhart." "but, frank--my pard, we must find him!" "we will do everything we can. we may not find him to-night. but i will find him in time." "what has become of him?" groaned the texan. "it's my belief," said merry, "that he is in the hands of my enemies. this is a new blow at me. i saw something of it in the eyes of macklyn morgan when i faced him in the hotel just before we started. there was a look of triumph on his face." "whoop!" shouted brad. "then he's the galoot we want to git at! it's up to us to light on him all spraddled out and squeeze the truth out of him in a hurry. just let me get at him!" "and you would simply make the matter worse than it is. you must leave this thing to me, buckhart. you must hold yourself in check unless you want to injure dick. i will deal with macklyn morgan." "you," said wiley. "i fancy you have hit on the outrageous and egregious truth. i don't know just what egregious means, but it sounds well there. morgan has scooped richard and proposes to hold him hard and fast until he can bring you to terms." "i think very likely such is his plot," nodded merry. "he ought to be shot!" exploded brad. "it was a whole lot unfortunate that the ruffians who carried him off did not keep him." "how do you think the trick was done?" questioned wiley. "i haven't decided yet," admitted frank. "but i feel sure my brother is nowhere in this vicinity now. it's my object to see morgan again without delay." with this object in view merriwell lost no further time in riding straight toward prescott. when the town was reached he set out immediately to find morgan, having first told brad to see felicia and do his best to soothe her fears. felicia was waiting. she started up as the texan tapped on her door. "there, there, child!" exclaimed mrs. jones, who was still with her. "sit down and keep quiet. i will see who it is." when the door was opened and buckhart entered, felicia cried out to him: "dick--you have found him?" "well, not exactly that," said the texan; "but i opine frank will find him pretty quick now." the girl was greatly disappointed. "then you know what has become of him?" she asked. "i opine we do," nodded buckhart. "he is safe?" "you bet he is. he is all right, felicia. we know well enough that he isn't hurt a bit." she seized his hands. "tell me," she pleaded, "tell me all about it." brad was placed in an awkward position, and he felt that it was necessary to draw on his imagination. "why, there is not a great deal to tell," he said. "i reckon dick's horse must have stumbled and thrown him. it stunned him some, of course. then there were some gents what happened along and picked him up, and that's about all." she looked at him in doubt and bewilderment. "but i didn't see any one. why didn't i see them?" buckhart coughed behind his hand to get a little time for thought. "why, these yere gents i speak of," he said, "were afraid to be seen, for they have been up to some doings that were not just exactly on the level. that being the case, they took him up all quietlike and stepped into the chaparral with him, and doctored him, and fixed him o. k. of course, they will want to be paid for that little job, and that's why they are keeping him. you leave everything to frank. he will settle with them and bring dick back as sound as a nut. you hear me chirp?" having made this statement, the texan felt greatly relieved. he had managed to get through it some way, although it was a hard strain on him. still, felicia was not entirely satisfied, and her fears were not fully allayed. "if these men are bad men," she said, "won't they harm dick some way?" "ho! ho! ho!" laughed brad. "what a foolish notion to get into your head, felicia. whatever good would it do them to harm him? what could they make out of that? it's up to them to take the best care of him, so frank will feel like coughing up liberal when he settles. you can see that easy enough. so don't worry over it any more." "no, don't worry over it any more, child," put in mrs. jones. "just go to bed. the strain on you has been severe, and you must rest." "oh, i'm afraid i can't rest until i see dick! don't you think i may see him soon? don't you think frank will bring him here right away?" "oh, mebbe not," said brad. "it may take some time, for frank thought likely dick had been carried to goodwin, or bigbug, or some place. you see, we didn't find out just where they had taken him. all we found out was that he had been taken somewhere and was all right. you let mrs. jones tuck you in your little bed, and you just close your peepers and get to the sleeps. that's the best thing for you to do." fearing she might suspect that he had not stuck by the truth if she questioned him further, brad now made the excuse that he had to hurry away, and quickly left the room. in the meantime frank had been searching for morgan. he fully expected to find morgan without trouble, and in this he was not disappointed. the money king was talking with thomas kensington in the hotel bar. "i beg your pardon, mr. kensington," said merry. "if i'm not interrupting an important matter, i'd like a word or two with this man." morgan lifted a hand. "you will have to excuse me, sir," he said. "i am quite busy now." "on the other hand," said kensington, "we have finished our business. mr. morgan followed me here and wished to talk of mining matters. i am in no mood to discuss such matters to-night." he bowed to frank and turned away. morgan gave merriwell a defiant look. "i cannot waste my time on you, young man," he said. "it's altogether too valuable." "you have wasted considerable time on me in the past, and i have been compelled to waste some on you. this night has brought matters to a climax. i know your game; but it will fail, just as every trick you have tried has failed. i have a few words to say to you. my brother is missing." "what's that to me? i care nothing about your brother." "yet you attempted not so very long ago to hold him as a hostage. it was your scheme to force me into dealing with you by holding my brother a prisoner in the hands of your ruffians." "be careful, young man! don't accuse me of anything like that! if you do, i'll----" "you'll what?" demanded merry, grim as flint and cold as ice. "now, what will you do, macklyn morgan?" "i'll make you smart for it!" "it's about time you learned, sir, that your threats have no effect on me whatever. as i have said, my brother is missing. if he is not in prescott to-morrow morning, it will be the worse for you. do you know how i dealt with milton sukes? do you know that i investigated his business methods and found out about his crooked dealings, so that when i was ready to expose him he was driven desperate? macklyn morgan, are you immaculate? do you mean to tell me that your career as a maker of millions has been unspotted? do you mean to tell me that you never have been concerned in any crooked schemes? i know better, morgan. i know how a man like you makes his money. as i dealt with sukes, so i will deal with you! i will investigate. i will learn the truth, and then i will expose you. to-day you may be concerned in several questionable projects. if those schemes are rotten, the world shall know it. i shall take hold of this thing in earnest, and i'll do for you what i did for sukes." "that's a threat on my life!" cried morgan, turning to the others who were near. "gentlemen, i call on you to bear witness that this man has threatened my life." "you know better, sir, i have threatened nothing but your crooked business. your life is safe as far as i am concerned. but you will see that my brother is in prescott to-morrow, or i'll hold you up for the inspection of the whole country and show people what a thoroughbred scoundrel you are! that's all i have to say to you, sir. good night." frank turned his back on morgan and walked out of the room. chapter xxv. how was it done? what had happened to dick? intentionally he had permitted felicia to keep the lead in the race through the chaparral. it is possible he might have overtaken her had he tried. he had no thought of danger, and he was wholly unprepared when out from the shadows of the chaparral shot a twisting, writhing coil, the loop of which fell over his shoulders and jerked him like a flash from the saddle. the shock, as he struck the ground, drove the breath from his body and partly stunned him. before he could recover he was pounced upon by two men, who quickly dragged him into the edge of the thicket, where a third man--a half-blood mexican--was coiling the lariat with which the boy had been snatched from the horse's back. these men threatened dick with drawn weapons. "make a sound or a cry, kid," growled one of them, "and we sure cuts you up!" the boy's dark eyes looked fearlessly at them, and he coolly inquired: "what's your game? i have not enough money on me to pay you for your trouble." "ho, ho!" laughed one of the trio. "we gits our pay, all right, younker. don't worry about that. tie his elbows close behind him, mat. mebbe we best gags him some." "no, none of that," declared the one called mat. "if he utters a cheep, i'll stick him sure." but the other insisted that dick should be gagged, and this they finally and quickly did. with his arms bound behind him and a gag between his teeth, he was lifted to his feet and forced into the depth of the thicket. the mexican, who was called tony, seemed to know a path through the chaparral, although it was dim and indistinct, and this they followed. thus it happened that when felicia missed dick and turned back she found no trace of him. on through the thick chaparral they threaded their way, now and then crouching low to push through thorny branches, their progress necessarily being slow. for a long time they tramped on, coming finally to an opening. several horses were grazing there. no time was lost in placing the captive boy on the back of a horse and fastening his feet together beneath the animal's belly. already it was growing dusky, but those men knew the course they would pursue. the mexican and mat mounted one animal and followed dick, while the biggest man of the party, who had once been addressed as dillon, now took the lead. starry night came as they still pushed on, but they had left the chaparral behind and were on the trackless plain. finally it was decided that the captive should be blindfolded. by this time his jaws were aching, and he was greatly relieved when the gag was removed. they seemed to think there was little danger of his cries being heard should he venture to shout for help. dick did not shout; he felt the folly of it. long hours they rode, and the bandage over the boy's eyes prevented him from telling what course they followed. at last they halted. the cords about his ankles were released, and he was unceremoniously dragged from the saddle to the ground. following this, he was marched into some sort of a building. there at last the bandage was removed from his eyes, and even his arms were set free. dillon and mat were with him. the mexican had been left to care for the horses. "now, kid," said the big man, "you makes yourself comfortable as you can. don't worry none whatever; you're all safe here. nothing troubles you, and we looks out for you. oh, yes, we looks out for you." "why have you brought me here?" asked dick. "we lets you guess at that a while. it amuses you perhaps, and passes away the time." "if my brother finds out who did this----" "now, don't talk that way!" cried mat. "we don't bother with your brother any. we does our business with other parties." "so that's it--that's it!" exclaimed dick, "my brother's enemies have paid you for this piece of work." "that's one of the little things you has to guess about," hoarsely chuckled dillon. "thar's a bunk in the corner. i sure opines this place is stout enough to hold you, and all the while mat or i sits in the next room. if we hears you kick up restless-like, we comes to soothe you. we're great at soothing--eh, mat?" "great!" agreed mat. "if you has a good appetite," continued dillon, "in the morning we gives you a square feed. oh, we treats you fine, kid--we treats you fine. we has orders to be ca'm and gentle with you. we're jest as gentle as two playful kittens--eh, mat?" "jest so," agreed mat. "of course, you being young, it disturbs you some to be introduced to us so sudden-like. still, you seems to have a lot of nerve. you don't git trembly any, and you looks a heap courageous with them fine black eyes of yours. by smoke! i almost believes you has it in yer ter tackle us both, kid; but you'd better not--you'd better not. it does no good, and it ruffles our feelings, although we is so ca'm and gentle. when our feelings is ruffled we are a heap bad--eh, mat?" "sure," agreed mat. "that's about all," said dillon. "now we bids you a pleasant good night, and we hopes you sleeps sweet and dreams agreeable dreams--eh, mat?" "we does," nodded mat. then they backed out through the door behind them, which led into the front room of the building, leaving dick in darkness, as the door was closed and barred. dick knew there was very little chance for him to escape unaided from the clutches of those ruffians. still, he was not the sort of a boy to give up, and he resolved to keep his ears and eyes open for any opportunity that might present itself. left without a light, there was no hope of making a satisfactory examination of his prison room until the coming of another day. he flung himself down on the couch and meditated. but for the fact that he was in fine physical condition, his fall when jerked from the saddle might have injured him seriously. as it was, he had simply been somewhat shaken up. he felt a slight soreness, but regarded it as of no consequence. of course, he understood the game the ruffians were playing. beyond question he was to be held as a hostage in order that frank's enemies might force merry into some sort of a deal concerning the mines. his one satisfaction lay in the belief that felicia had escaped. as he lay there on the bunk, he could hear the mumbling voices of his captors in the next room. after a time his curiosity was aroused, and he felt a desire to hear what they were saying. silently he arose and stole over to the partition between the rooms. this partition was strangely thick and heavy for a building in that part of the country. seemingly it had been constructed for the purpose of safely imprisoning any one who should be thrust into that room. although he pressed his ear close to the partition, he was unable for some time to understand anything the men were saying. he moved softly about, seeking a place where he might hear better, and finally found it in a crack beneath the massive door, through which shone a dim light. lying flat on his back, with his ear near this crack, the boy listened. to his satisfaction, he was now able to hear much of the talk that passed between the men. plainly but two of them, mat and dillon, were in the outer room. "this piece of work certain pays us a good thing, mat," said dillon. "the gent what has it done is rotten with coin, and we makes him plank down a heap liberal." "what does yer know about him, pard?" inquired mat. "whoever is he, anyhow?" "why, sure, i hears his name is morgan, though i deals with him direct none at all myself." "well, partner, this is better and some easier than the railroad job." "all the same, dan gets a heap sore when he finds we has quit t'other job. and, as for this being less dangerous, i am none certain of that." "why not?" "well, this yere frank merriwell they say is a holy terror. dan hisself has had some dealings with him, you know. he knocks the packing out of dan down at prescott not so long ago." "down at prescott," thought the listening boy; "down at prescott. why, i supposed it was up at prescott. if it's down, prescott must be to the south. in that case these fellows doubled and turned north after scooping me in." this was interesting to him, for one thing he desired to know very much was just where he had been taken. as he was meditating on this, dick missed some of the talk between the men, for in order to understand what they were saying it was necessary for him to listen with the utmost intentness. "do you allow, dillon," he finally heard mat say, "that dan will stick to his little plan to hold up that train?" "i opine not. he won't be after trying it all by his lonesome. one man who holds up a train and goes through it has a heap big job on his hands." "so that's the kind of a railroad job they were talking about!" thought dick. "they surely are a tough lot." "mebbe he comes searching for us," suggested dillon. "mebbe so. ef he does, we has to deceive him." "he gits a whole lot hot, i judge." "you bet he does. and when he is hot we wants to keep our eyes peeled for a ruction." "that's whatever." although dick listened a long time after this, the conversation of the ruffians seemed of no particular importance. finally they ceased talking, and evidently one of them at least prepared to sleep. dick arose and returned to the bunk, where he lay trying to devise some possible method of escape. scores of wild plans flittered through his brain, but he realized that none of them were practical. "if i could get word to frank," he thought. "but how can it be done--how can it be done?" such a thing seemed impossible. at last he became drowsy and realized that he was sinking off to sleep, in spite of his unpleasant position. he was fully awakened at last by sudden sounds in the outer room. there came a heavy hammering at the door, followed by the voice of one of dick's captors demanding to know who was there. dick sat upright on the bunk, his nerves tingling as he thought of the possibility that the ruffians had been followed by a party of rescuers, who were now at hand. the one who was knocking seemed to satisfy the men within, for dick knew the door was flung open. he swiftly crossed the floor and lay again with his ear near the crack beneath the door. "well, you two are a fine bunch!" declared a hoarse voice that seemed full of anger. "you keeps your dates a heap well, don't yer! oh, yes, yer two nice birds, you are!" this was the voice of the newcomer. "howdy, dan?" said mat. "we thinks mebbe yer comes around this yere way." "oh, yer does, does yer?" snarled the one called dan. "why does yer think that so brightlike? why does yer reckon that when you agrees ter meet me at win'mill station i comes here to find you five miles away? that's what i'd like to know." "windmill station," dick said to himself. "five miles from windmill station, and windmill station is some twelve or fifteen miles north of prescott." "you seems excited, dan," said mat, in what was intended to be a soothing manner. "mebbe we has reasons why we didn't meet you any." "reasons! if you has, spit 'em out." "yes, we has reasons," quickly put in dillon. "dan, we finds we is watched a whole lot. we finds somebody suspects that little game we plans." "is that so?" demanded the newcomer, with a sneering doubt in his voice. "that's what it is," asserted mat. "we don't have a chance to move much without being watched, and so we reckons we does best to drop this little job for the time being." "is that so?" sneered dan. "didn't we say it was?" indignantly demanded dillon. "you hears us, i judge." "now, who is it what watches you so closelike?" questioned the dissatisfied man. "mebbe you tells me that." "we don't know just who it is, but we has been followed for the last two days. you know a hold-up down on the southern pacific gits people suspicious. mebbe they thinks we had a hand in that." "which we didn't have any at all," hastily put in mat. "so you two fine chaps takes water?" contemptuously cried dan. "you throws up a chance to make a good thing? why, it was a snap! we could 'a' stopped the train, gone through her, and then hiked it for mexico hot foot, and the old boy hisself wouldn't 'a' ketched us." "mebbe not," admitted one of the other men. "but we opines it would 'a' been a whole lot bad for us if the holding up had been expected. look here, dan, we thinks it right and proper to put this thing off some. we thinks mebbe in a week or so we is in fer it." "oh, that's how you figgers. why didn't you let me know about it any? that's what i'd like ter have yer explain. you leaves me a-waiting and a-watching fer yer while you bunks down yere all ca'm and serene-like. that's what sores me to the limit." "we thinks," said mat, "if we goes to meet you, mebbe we is seen, and that makes more suspicions. we thinks the best thing to do is to lay low. we're right sorry that we couldn't keep the app'intment, but it happens that way, and there is nothing else fer it." "well, it is evident ter me that you two are squealers. you both lack nerve, and i quits you cold. the whole business is off, understand that." "well, if you gits hot and quits us that way, we can't help it," said dillon. "well, i does quit. what i wants is my blanket i leaves in yar. i takes that an' gits out, and you two goes to blazes for all of me." evidently dan started for the back room at this moment, and the listening boy prepared to spring away from the door. at the same time dick was seized by a sudden determination to attempt a dash for freedom the moment the door was opened. he knew he might not succeed, but there was a slim chance of it, and he decided to take that chance. both the ruffians on guard, however, were startled when dan proposed getting his blanket from the back room. quickly dillon interposed. "hold on, dan!" he cried. "never mind that blanket. we fixes that all right with you. yere is mine. you take that." had dick been able to see them he would have beheld the newcomer, a huge, pockmarked individual, standing in the centre of the floor, staring at the men before him in no small surprise. "why, whatever is this?" asked dan. "i opine i takes my own blanket." "but mine is worth more than yours," hastily asserted dillon. "and you're a heap anxious ter give it up in place of mine, i sees. that's right queer. i don't just understand your generosity. it seems mighty curious." "it's all right, dan," declared mat. "take the blanket." "not by a blamed sight," roared the big man. "i takes my own blanket. i goes into that room. i sees what you has in there." as he said this, he suddenly whipped out a long revolver, with which he menaced the man who attempted to bar his progress. "get out of the way," he commanded, "or i furnishes funeral stock for the undertaker." "he's coming!" whispered dick. "they can't stop him!" the boy rose to his hands and knees, where he listened a moment more. he heard the men on guard protesting, but their protestations availed nothing, and a moment later a hand was on the door. dick sprang up. the bar that held the door fell, and it was flung open. with a spring, dick was out into the lighted room, bending low and striking the man with the revolver like a battering-ram full and fair in the pit of the stomach, bowling him over. as dan went down, his fingers contracted on the trigger of the pistol, and a shot rang out. chapter xxvi. forced to write. dick's daring and reckless break for liberty might have been successful but for the fact that the outer door had been closed and securely fastened after the entrance of spotted dan. dan went down with a shock that jarred the whole building, and the boy leaped toward the door. both dillon and mat uttered cries of astonishment and grabbed at him. he avoided their hands and reached the door, but as he was trying to unfasten it they fell on him. young merriwell's fighting blood was up, and for at least five minutes he gave the ruffians the hardest sort of a struggle. using hands and feet in unison, he made them howl as he repeatedly hit and kicked them. with all his force, he drove his knee into mat's stomach and doubled the fellow up like a jackknife. at this juncture the boy had nearly whipped both the men. dillon was panting and dazed, but he had drawn a pistol and reversed it in his hand, so that he gripped the barrel. with the butt of the weapon he struck a blinding blow at the fighting boy's head, and by chance the blow landed full and fair. down dick dropped and lay stunned on the floor. dillon stood looking down at the lad, muttering savagely, while mat gasped for breath and held both hands on his stomach. spotted dan had recovered from the first shock, and now stood, with his hands on his hips and his feet wide apart, watching what transpired. he had not even lifted a hand to take part in the struggle. "well, drat the kid!" snarled dillon. "he sure comes nigh slipping right through our fingers." "confound him!" panted mat, still gasping for breath. "he soaks his knee inter my solar plexus and pretty nigh puts me out." "haw! haw! haw!" laughed spotted dan, throwing back his head. "well, you two gents sure has a highly interesting time of it. so that was why yer didn't want me to go for my blanket! so that's what yer had in the back room yer didn't want me ter see! well, i reckons i has clapped my peepers on this yere youngster before. i opines i smells your little game. i rather jedge i understands why you drops the railroad job. you seems ter strike another job that interests you a heap more." without paying any attention to the pockmarked fellow, dillon bent over the motionless boy, muttering: "i wonder if i cracks his skull? that certain was a good rap i gave him." blood was trickling down from dick's hair, and on one side of his head was a cut. "i don't care ef you did finish him!" grated mat. "well, i does," asserted dillon. "we knocks ourselves out of a good thing ef that happens." "a good thing," laughed spotted dan. "well, gents, you counts me in on that good thing. you plays no game like this on me, none at all!" dick stirred and opened his eyes. "he is all right," said mat. the boy looked up at the two ruffians near him and then struggled to his elbow, his black eyes full of defiance. "give me a fair show and i'll try it again!" he weakly exclaimed. "if i'd a fair show then i wouldn't be here now. i was weaponless. you were three to one against me, and still you had to use a weapon to put me down and out." "haw! haw! haw!" again roared spotted dan. "these yere merriwells sure is fighters." mat turned on him hotly. "i reckon you found that out in prescott the first time you met frank merriwell," he said. dan suddenly stopped laughing and scowled blackly. "don't git so personal!" he cried. "mebbe i don't like it any!" dick lifted his hand to his head and saw blood on his fingers when he looked at them. then from his pocket he took a handkerchief, which he knotted about his head. "better put your bird back into the cage," advised dan. "ef yer don't, mebbe he flutters some more. when he flutters he is dangerous." "that's right," nodded dillon, laying hold of dick. "we will chuck him back there in a hurry." "take your hands off me, you brute!" panted the boy. "i will go back of my own accord. let me alone." dillon dragged him to his feet, but, with a wrench, he suddenly tore free. if the ruffians expected him to resume the effort, they soon found he had no such intention, for, with a remarkably steady step, he walked across the floor to the open door of his prison room. in the doorway he turned and faced them, the handkerchief about his head already showing a crimson stain on one side. his dark eyes flashed with unutterable scorn and contempt. "i know you all three!" he exclaimed. "wait till my brother finds out about this business. the whole southwest won't be large enough to hide you in safety." then he disappeared into the room, scornfully closing the door behind him. "gents," said spotted dan, "for real, genuine sand, give me a kid like that!" then the bar was once more slipped into its socket, and the door was made secure. with throbbing head and fiery pulse, dick lay on the bunk in that back room as the remainder of the night slipped away. with the coming of another day he heard the faint hoofbeats of a horse outside, and knew some one had ridden up. then the muttering of voices in the next room came to him, and his curiosity, in spite of his injury, caused him to again slip to the door and listen at the crack beneath it. he heard the voice of a strange man saying: "i am to take the letter back myself. the youngster must be forced to write it. leave it to me; i will make him do it." "partner," said the hoarse voice of spotted dan, "i opines you takes a mighty big contract when you tries to force that kid inter doing anything of the sort." "leave it ter me," urged the stranger. "let me in there, and i will turn the trick." a few minutes later dick hastily got away from the door and pretended to be sleeping on the bunk, his ears telling him the bar was being removed. a flood of light shone in, for there was no window to that dark room to admit daylight. the four men entered, one of them bringing a lighted lamp in his hand. the boy pretended to awaken and then sat up. he saw that the newcomer had a mask over his face, making it plain he feared recognition by the captive. "yere," said spotted dan, "is a gent what wants ter see you some, my young gamecock. he has a right important piece of business to transact with yer, and i reckons it pays yer ter do as he tells yer." the masked man came and stood looking at the boy. "kid," he said, in what seemed to be an assumed manner of fierceness, "you've got to write a letter to your brother, and you will write it just as i tells yer. understand that? if you refuse, we will stop bothering with you any by wringing your neck and throwing you out for buzzard bait. we can't afford to waste time fooling, and we mean business. time is mighty important to us." "what do you want me to write?" asked dick. "we wants you to write a letter telling your brother that you are in the hands of men who proposes to carve you up piecemeal unless he makes terms with a certain gent who wants to deal with him for some of his property. no need to mention this gent's name, mind that. don't put it into the letter. you tells your brother nothing whatever about us save that we has you all tight and fast. but you tells him that, onless he comes to terms immediate, we sends him to-morrow one of your thumbs. in case he delays a while longer, we sends him t'other thumb. then, if he remains foolish and won't deal any, we kindly sends him your right ear. if that don't bring him around a whole lot sudden, we presents him with your left ear. arter that we gits tired when we waits twenty-four hours, and we shoots you full of lead and lets it go at that. mat, pull over that yere box right close to the kid's bunk, where he can sit all comfortable-like and write on it." a box was dragged out of a corner and placed before young merriwell, who sat on the edge of the bunk. then a sheet of paper was produced and spread in front of the lad, while the stub of a lead pencil was thrust into his fingers. "now write," savagely ordered the masked man--"write just what i tells yer to a minute ago!" dick hesitated, but seemed to succumb. through his head a wild scheme had flashed. it bewildered him for a moment, but quickly his mind cleared and he began to write. he did so, however, with the utmost slowness, as if the task was a difficult and painful one. spotted dan was surprised to see the boy give in so quickly. he had fancied dick would have obstinately refused until compelled to obey. "don't put in a thing but just what i tells yer to," commanded the masked man. "if yer does, youngster, you has ter write another letter, for we won't deliver this one any at all. if you wants to get free, you has good sense and obeys all peaceful-like." "all right," muttered dick, as he slowly labored over the beginning of the message to frank. "why, seems ter me this yer boy's eddication has been a heap neglected," said dillon. "he finds it a whole lot hard to write." the masked man resumed his position where he could read what was being written. somehow it didn't seem to please him, for of a sudden he seized the sheet of paper and tore it up. "why for do you ramble around that yere way?" he demanded. "you puts it down plain and brief, with no preliminaries. understand that?" then he produced another sheet of paper and laid it upon the box. immediately dick flung down the pen and lay back on the bunk. "you go to halifax!" he exclaimed, his eyes flashing. "i will write it just as i want to, or i won't write it at all." the man instantly whipped out a long, wicked-looking knife. "then i slits your oozle!" he snarled. "slit away!" defiantly retorted the boy. spotted dan broke into a hoarse laughter. "what did i tell yer!" he cried. "i certain knowed how it would be." the masked man seized dick and held the knife menacingly before his eyes. "will you do as i tell you?" he hissed. "i will do as i choose," retorted the nervy lad. "i don't propose to write anything save what you order, but i will write it in my own way. if i can't, then i won't write at all." the man hesitated, then straightened up. "well, you sure has sand, or you're the biggest fool for a kid i ever saw," he declared. "go ahead and write her out, and then i'll examine her and see that she's all right." so once more dick took the pencil and began to write. he preserved the same deliberate slowness in constructing the early portion of the missive, but finally began to write faster and faster, and finished it with a rush, signing his name. "well, the kid's eddication seems to be all right, arter all," observed mat, as he admiringly watched the boy speedily scribble the last sentence. "mebbe he is out of practice some, to begin with, and so he writes slow till he gits his hand in." the masked man took the letter and carefully read it over. "why were you so particular to say, 'no house shelters me?'" he asked. "that yere is dead crooked. is you trying to fool your brother up some?" dick actually laughed. "i put that in just to help you out, gentlemen," he declared. "you have been so very kind to me i should hate to see anything happen to you." the masked man wondered vaguely if the boy was mocking them, but decided almost immediately that he had really frightened dick to such an extent that the young captive had put those words in to show his willingness to hold to the demands made upon him. "well, this will do," nodded the wearer of the mask, folding the paper and thrusting it into his pocket. "now, pards, just keep the boy all ca'm and quiet, and mebbe his brother comes to his senses and settles the deal, arter which we evaporates and leaves them to meet up with each other and rejoice." then he strode out of the room, and his three companions followed, closing the door and leaving dick once more to gloom and solitude. chapter xxvii. complete triumph. frank found the letter thrust under the door of his room at the hotel in prescott. he was reading it over and over when brad buckhart, wearing a long, doleful face, came into the room. "you don't find no trace whatever of my pard, do you, frank?" he asked. "i have a letter from him here," said frank. "what?" shouted the texan, electrified by merry's words. "a letter from him?" "yes." "why should he write a letter? why didn't he come himself, instead of doing that?" "well, from what he says in the letter, i fancy it is impossible for him to come," said merry. "here, buckhart, read it and see what you make of it." he handed the missive to brad, who read it through, his excitement growing every moment. this is what the texan read: "dear frank: i now am held fast in hands that care little for my life. no house shelters me. i am not near prescott. if you search, you will find wind and nothing more. have had a hot mill with my captors, but to no use whatever. s.tay here i must. brad will worry, so don't fail to show him this. "the men who have me swear to mutilate and finally kill me unless you come to terms immediately. you are to settle with the man who has demanded from you your mines and has threatened you with arrest for murder. as soon as you make terms with him, i am to be set free. if you refuse to make terms, this man swears to chop me up by inches. to-morrow you will receive one of my thumbs; next day the other thumb. then, if you still delay, an ear will follow, and its mate will be delivered to you twenty-four hours later. if you remain obstinate, i shall be killed. "your brother, dick." "great horn spoon!" shouted buckhart, flourishing the missive in the air. "great jumping tarantulas! this certain is a whole lot tough! why, frank, what are you going to do about it? you've got to rescue him, or else give in to old morgan, for they will chop him up if you don't." "how am i going to rescue him," said merry, "when i don't know where to find him?" brad now stood quite still, with his hands on his hips, a look of perplexity and distress on his face. "that's so, frank," he muttered, shaking his head. "i am afraid they've got you." "do you notice anything peculiar about that letter?" questioned merry. "peculiar? why, i dunno. somehow it don't sound just like dick, though i'll swear it's his writing. i know his writing." "yes, i am certain it is his writing; still, the first part of it sounds peculiar. i suppose that's because he was ordered to write certain things and had to take them down from dictation. but look here, brad," merry continued, taking the letter from the texan's hand. "notice that word, 'sta.y.' why do you suppose he dropped a period into the midst of it?" "accident," said brad. "must have been." frank shook his head. "somehow i don't think so," he declared. "somehow there seems to me there is a hidden meaning in this letter. i am half inclined to believe it is a cipher letter." "gee whilikins!" cried the texan. "mebbe that's so!" together they puzzled over it a long time, and the texan grew more and more excited. finally he shouted: "let me have it, frank--let me have it! that's why he wanted you to show it to me. see, he says for you to show it to me. he opined i'd tumble to the cipher and read it all right." the boy's hands were shaking as he held the letter. from head to feet he quivered with the excitement he could not control. "steady, buckhart," said merry, laying a calming hand on his shoulder. "then you believe there is a cipher in it, do you?" "sure as shooting! i know there is! you hear me shout! once on a time, at fardale, he studied out right before me a cipher letter that was written this same way by one of his enemies. he reckoned i would remember that. he reckoned i would tumble and read the cipher in this letter." although frank must have been excited also, he still restrained himself. "if that's the case," he said, "you should be able to read this with ease. go ahead and do so." "gimme a pencil," panted the texan. frank did so, and then brad began by underscoring the first word of the letter after frank's name, following with the second word, having skipped one, then he skipped two, and underscored the next word. then skipped three, underscoring the next, and so on through the greater part of the first paragraph. when this was finished, the words underscored read as follows: "i am in little house near windmill sta.y." "there she is!" brad almost yelled, waving it wildly around his head. "that's the message. i followed her up further, but it ends right there. after that he just writes what they tell him to." "'i am in little house near windmill sta.y,'" read frank, having taken the paper from the texan's hand. "are you certain that 'sta.y' comes into it?" "well, part of her comes into it," averred brad. "she comes into it up to the period, at least. i reckons that's why the period comes in there. 'sta.'--what does that stand for, frank?" "station," said merry at once. "he has written that he is in a little house near windmill station. that's it, brad, my boy. we know where to find him at last, thanks to you." "no, frank; thanks to that fine head of his. what are we going to do?" frank walked over to a corner of the room and picked up a winchester rifle, which he examined, a resolute grimness on his handsome face. "we're going to find that little house near windmill station," he said, in a calm, low voice. "and when we find it, buckhart, there will be something doing." * * * * * another night had fallen when a party of at least a dozen persons, all armed and ready for anything that might take place, surrounded and crept up to the little house where dick was held a prisoner near windmill station. frank led this party, and when the house was thoroughly surrounded, he advanced without hesitation to the door, buckhart at his side, carrying in his hand an axe. "give me the axe!" whispered merry, as he extended his rifle to brad. a moment later a crashing blow fell on the heavy door. when of a sudden frank swung the axe and made blow after blow at the door, it shook, and cracked, and splintered before the attack upon it. "lay on! lay on!" urged cap'n wiley, who was close at hand and ready for the encounter. "knock the everlasting jimblistered stuffing out of her!" within the hut there was no small commotion. dick had been waiting. he heard the first blow, and it brought him to his feet with a bound. he heard the ruffianly guards in the outer room uttering excited exclamations. then he shouted: "beat it down, frank--beat it down! here i am!" he could not be sure his words were heard above the sounds of the assault on the door, but at this moment, with a great splintering crash, the door fell. then came shouting, and shots, and sounds of a struggle. it was over quickly, and dick was waiting when the door of his prison room was flung wide and his brother sprang in. "hello, frank!" he cried laughingly. "you're on time. they haven't begun chopping me up yet." "where's my pard?" shouted buckhart, as he came tearing into the room. "here he is!" he whooped joyously, clasping dick in his arms. "say, pard, you're a dandy! but i don't believe i'd tumbled to it that there was a cipher message in that letter if frank hadn't suspected such a thing." at this moment cap'n wiley appeared at the door. "mate merriwell," he said, "there's a fine gent out here who has a shattered knee and says he's bleeding to death. perhaps you had better take a look at him." frank turned back, followed by dick and brad. in the outer room both mat and dillon were prisoners in the hands of merriwell's comrades, one of them having a bullet in his shoulder. but on the floor lay another man, who had been found there with them, having arrived a short time before the appearance of the rescuers. it was macklyn morgan, and his knee, as wiley had declared, was shattered by a bullet. "i am dying, merriwell!" said morgan, his face ghastly pale. "you have triumphed at last. i will bother you no more." frank quickly knelt and ripped open the man's trousers leg with a keen knife. then he called sharply for a rope, which he tied loosely about morgan's leg above the knee, thrusting through a loop in it a strong stick supplied him by wiley. with this stick he twisted the rope until it cut into the flesh and stopped the profuse bleeding. "now, morgan," said merry, "we will do our best to save your life by getting you to the nearest doctor in short order." "why should you do that?" whispered the money king wonderingly. "i don't care to see even my worst enemy die in such a manner," was the answer. macklyn morgan did not die, although he must have done so but for the prompt action of frank at that critical moment. he lost his leg, however, for it was found necessary to amputate the limb at the knee. it was some days after this operation that morgan called for frank, begging his attendant to bring merry to him. when merry stood beside the cot on which the wretched man lay, morgan looked up and said: "i have been thinking this thing over, mr. merriwell, and the more i think about it the greater grows my astonishment at your action. the doctor has told me that you saved my life. i can't do much to even up for that; but from this time on, frank merriwell, i shall never lift a hand against you." the end. frank merriwell's return to yale by burt l. standish author of "frank merriwell's schooldays," "frank merriwell's trip west," "frank merriwell's chums," "frank merriwell's foes," "frank merriwell down south," etc. philadelphia. david mckay, publisher, 604-8 south washington square. copyright, 1897 and 1904 by street & smith frank merriwell's return to yale [illustration: "the door opened and in walked frank merriwell."] frank merriwell's return to yale. chapter i. greetings on the campus. "ah, there, merriwell!" frank merriwell was crossing the campus at good old yale, and this cry, in a familiar voice, sounded from durfee hall. he turned his eyes toward the favorite dormitory, and seated at an open window on the ground floor he saw his classmate, jones, he of the famous nickname, "dismal." "hello, dismal," called frank, "aren't you going to come out and shake hands with a fellow?" "i would if it wasn't for the shower," responded jones, whose usually solemn face was graver than ever. "shower?" repeated frank, looking up in surprise at the perfectly clear sky. "i see that you've just arrived, so that you probably haven't noticed it," said dismal, coming out of his window to avoid going around through the hall. he came slowly across the grass plot that lay between him and frank and held out his hand, saying: "how are you, frank? i'm glad to see you." frank, who had just come from the railway station, had a gripsack in each hand. he set them down upon the grass and shook dismal's hand warmly. "there it goes!" exclaimed dismal, with something like animation, "the shower's begun again." frank's brows wrinkled in perplexity. "i don't see any signs of a shower," he said. "that's because you haven't been here all the morning," returned jones, solemnly. "i've been sitting there in my window for fully three hours watching it; it's been a perfect rain of gripsacks on the campus. every fellow that comes along stops to shake hands with everybody he meets, and every time he stops, down goes his gripsacks." frank laughed. "you're the same old cheerful joker, dismal," he said. "but you're beginning early. if you keep up this sort of thing you'll actually get caught laughing before the end of the junior year." there was a faint shadow of a smile on dismal's face as he responded: "well, anyhow, frank, i'm glad to see all the fellows come trooping back. are you glad to get here yourself?" "why, of course i am." "had a good time during the vacation?" "i always have a good time," said frank. "don't you?" "oh, yes, in my way. to tell the truth, i spent most of the summer dreading the day when i should have to come back to the confounded old books, and lectures and examinations; but i got here yesterday, and now i'm dreading the time i shall have to go away again." "then i see that you're sure to enjoy yourself during the junior year," said frank, stooping to pick up his gripsacks. "when i've got my room in order i'll come around and go to luncheon with you." "do!" replied dismal. "i'll go back to my window seat and watch the shower. hello! there comes browning, and he's loaded down with gripsacks, too. my, but there'll be a perfect torrent!" big bruce browning came up with friendly words of greeting, and as dismal had predicted, he set down his gripsacks in order to get his hands free. "it's getting worse and worse!" remarked dismal, as if worried about it, "for here comes rattleton and diamond from one direction and harold page from another." the last named students were on their way, just as frank had been, to their respective rooms, and each carried more or less baggage, except diamond, who, being something of an aristocrat, had sent all his traps to his room on a wagon. seeing frank standing near durfee, they all turned toward him, and in a moment there was a lively exchange of greetings and small talk. four of these students, merriwell himself, jack diamond, bruce browning and harry rattleton, had not been long separated, to be sure, but after a sporting trip which they had undertaken across the continent, it was like meeting after a long absence to find themselves together again at yale. it was the beginning of a new college year, and members of all classes were trooping back to begin their work. while these juniors were discussing all manner of things that interest students, such as the prospects of the football eleven, the make-up of next year's crew, and the coming elections into secret societies, members of other classes were scattered about the campus chatting in much the same way. among those who appeared upon the famous quadrangle were many who belonged to the incoming freshman class. it was easy to recognize them, for, as rattleton observed: "you can tell a freshman with the naked eye." they were either proceeding in a fearful hurry, as if they thought they were in danger of getting in late to an examination, or they were standing in awkward idleness looking at the strange buildings and evidently not knowing which way to turn and dreading to ask anybody a question. the juniors smiled indulgently as a group of three or four candidates for the freshman class passed them. the newcomers were discussing an examination from which they had just come, telling each other how they had answered certain questions and wondering if they would get marked high enough to pass. "i can sympathize with them," remarked diamond. "i know just the kind of shivers they're suffering from." "what jolly good subjects those fellows would be for a quiet hazing," remarked page. "you mustn't forget," said frank, "that we're juniors now, and therefore out of it so far as hazing is concerned." "that's right," added browning, "the freshies are nothing to us; they're far beneath us." "except in one sense," said frank. "the sophomores, you know, will get even for the hazing we gave them, by taking it out of the freshies, and so it becomes our duty, in a way, to take care of the freshmen and see that they get fair treatment." speaking of this it may be well to explain that in all colleges the juniors take this attitude toward the freshmen. as a rule the freshman receives the attention of a junior with a great deal of gratitude, but also as a rule he does not find that it amounts to very much. the junior is ever ready to give him a good deal of solid advice, and a great deal more ready to get the freshman to do errands for him, and all manner of odd jobs that the freshman is quite sure to do, until, as the boys say, he tumbles to the fact that after all the junior is really making game of him. "speaking of hazing, though," said page, suddenly, "i've got a new room." "have you? where is it?" asked rattleton. "it's up high street a way, in one of the oldest houses in new haven." "good room?" asked browning. "capital! i've got to do some grinding this year and the room will suit me exactly for that, but there'll be hours when the books can be forgotten, and then you fellows'll find that the room is a corker for cards or any sort of jollification." "i don't see what that's got to do with hazing," remarked merriwell. "you said that the hazing reminded you of it." "yes, i'll tell you why, or rather i'll show you. there's something about that room that would be perfectly immense if we were sophomores now. come down and see it, will you?" "better wait a week," said browning, picking up his bags, "i'm busy now." "how extraordinary!" remarked dismal jones. "if the faculty should hear that browning was busy they'd give him a warning!" browning frowned in mock anger and frank, putting on an expression quite as solemn as dismal's own, and laying his hand on dismal's shoulder, said: "the fact is, boys, jones has become ambitious. he knows that the election of class-day officers is only a little more than a year away, and he's getting himself into training for one of the positions." "oh, go on, it isn't so!" exclaimed dismal. "that's just his modesty," continued frank, "for of course he doesn't want to push himself forward, but he's quietly waiting for his friends to recognize his great ability, and as we're his friends we just want to boom him from now on, and i take this occasion of nominating dismal jones, esquire, as class wit." rattleton burst into guffaws of laughter, while the others smiled. "the idea is humorous enough to elect him!" said diamond. "well, if he's going to be a candidate," added browning, "we must put the campaign through in proper fashion. we must organize a dismal jones club and have an emblem. "i move that we all wear crape upon our left arm and mourning bands upon our hats until the election." "great scott!" howled rattleton, "the time for mourning will be after jones is elected." jones listened to this joking with stolid good humor; never a smile lingered on his face, but his solemn eyes showed no resentment. "it's all right," he remarked when they gave him a chance to speak, "you fellows think you've got me on a long string, but i'd like to bet that if i should run for a class office, i wouldn't be last in the race! "of course," he added, hastily, "i haven't really any insane notion of doing such a thing." the students laughed again, picked up their gripsacks and prepared to separate. "say!" called page, eagerly, "what about coming down to see my room?" "oh, we've got a whole year ahead of us," growled browning. "i'll run down in the course of an hour or two," said frank. "i don't think there's anything to do at my room, and i'll be glad to learn the way to yours. what's the number?" page told him, and frank exclaimed: "why! some of the professors live there, don't they?" "pretty much the whole house," responded page, "is let out to students and instructors; i believe prof. babbitt has his room there----" "babbitt!" interrupted rattleton; "he's the most unpardonable crank in the whole faculty." "well, i shall let him alone, and i've no doubt that he will let me alone," returned page. "he's a good deal of a hermit, i'm told, and i don't think that his being in the same house will make a particle of difference to me. anyhow, there's the room and i want you fellows to see it." "i'll be down in a little while," said frank, and the others also promised to come in the course of a day or two. chapter ii. imprisoned in a chimney. frank found that there was nothing whatever in his room to demand his attention, and so, after he had unpacked his grips and put away their contents, he went down high street to call on page. the house in which page had taken a room was made of stone. its walls were very thick, the ceilings low, and everything about it made it seem like a relic of the last century. this is indeed what it was. in former days it had been the residence of one of the wealthiest men in new haven, but that was long ago; for years it had been used wholly as a lodging house. page's room was on the second floor. it was very large and cheerful. three windows looked out on the street and in each of them was a broad seat provided with heavy cushions. on the opposite side of the room there were two old-fashioned benches built against the wall. between the ends of these benches and right in the middle of that side of the room was one of the ancient chimneys of the house. it came out three or four feet into the room and gave the place an antique and interesting appearance. page had hung a lot of ornaments in the way of fencing foils, boxing gloves, baseball bats, and other materials used by students, upon this chimney. after frank had taken a general look around the room he said: "it's a nice old den, page, and i think the chimney there is the best part of it. what a pity that there isn't a fireplace. there ought to be, and it strikes me that there was at one time." saying this, he knelt down before the chimney and examined the stones of which it was made. these had been painted white. frank thought he could see a line that indicated what had once been an opening. page watched him in silence. "there certainly was a fireplace here at one time," said frank, rising, "and if i were in your place i'd have the stones cut away so that you can use it again. an open wood fire there would look immense in winter." "that's a good scheme, frank," responded page, "and it was that chimney that led me to speak of the room. i didn't know it when i hired the place, but since i've got in i've discovered that--well, i'll show you." with this he stooped over by the chimney, put his hand upon what appeared to be a little projection from one of the stones, turned it, and opened a door. within the door there was revealed an old-fashioned fireplace, deep and high. all it needed was andirons and poker to make it complete. "well, that's funny!" exclaimed frank. "isn't it?" returned page. "i got on to the thing wholly by accident. when i was hanging up some of the things there i stumbled and caught hold of that little projection for support. "the thing turned in my hand, and the first thing i knew the door was open. it opened a little hard, showing that the thing hadn't been used for a long time." "didn't the owner of the house speak of it?" "i don't think he knows anything about it." "have you told him?" "not much!" "why not?" "well, because it just struck me that such a place as this was a kind of a secret worth keeping. you can see for yourself that it was the evident intention of the person who set up this door that it should be a secret. the hinges are perfectly concealed, and it has been fitted in and the edges painted in such a way that only the closest inspection would give a fellow a suspicion that there was any opening there." at this moment there was a knock, and browning came in. "i thought you were coming next week?" exclaimed page. "well, i found i'd nothing better to do than run down here. what's that you're looking at?" the boys explained the matter to him, and in his slow way he admitted that if they were sophomores it would be quite possible to utilize this secret door in the course of hazing freshmen. "as we're not in the hazing business now," he said, "i can't see any use for the place, page, except for you to hide in when your creditors call." "huh!" retorted page, "it's my habit to keep my bills paid." "it'll make you unpopular if the fellows know that." "i was telling page," said merriwell, "that if i had the room i'd take down that door entirely, get some andirons and burn a log of wood on a winter evening." "that's a good scheme," returned browning, "but if i should do anything of that kind i should never get a stroke of work done here; this room was never meant to study in, but it's an ideal loafing place." with this he threw himself upon one of the window seats and looked out. the others took places on the other windows and for a few minutes their conversation turned upon college topics. then browning, who was a little restless, as most students are immediately after a vacation, said he would have to be going. page urged him to wait, but he shook his head. "by the way," he said, with his hand upon the door, "i've got some news." "well?" said both the others together. "i regret to say it isn't pleasant news, but it may be important to you two; it certainly is to me." "spring it!" exclaimed page. "cut the preface!" said merriwell. "babbitt has announced an examination for juniors in mathematics." "what!" merriwell and page were so surprised that they sat down suddenly. browning remained standing by the door. "it's a fact," he said. "but what can that mean?" asked merriwell. "we had our regular examination last spring." "i know we did, but babbitt's going to have another just the same." "where did you learn it?" "on the bulletin board, of course. the notice was put up not more than an hour ago." "when is it to be?" "three days from now." page looked blankly at merriwell. "i never was any good at mathematics," he said, "and after a summer without a thought of it i don't believe i could do an ordinary sum in multiplication." "well," responded frank, doubtfully, "it can't be that the examination will have any serious consequences for us fellows if we passed last spring." "there's no telling how serious babbitt may make it," said browning. "the notice on the bulletin board, of course, doesn't give any explanation, but i met frost, the fellow who graduated a couple of years ago, you know, with high honors in mathematics, and who was made instructor in one of the lower departments of that course. "i knew frost quite well when he was a student, so i asked him if he knew anything about this." "what did he say?" "he smiled a little queerly and answered that professor babbitt had his own ideas." "in other words, frost wouldn't tell?" "oh, no, that's not it; frost is a member of the faculty now, you see, and of course he has to speak very respectfully of the older men. "i got a very distinct idea that frost regarded babbitt's examination as all nonsense, but he did explain to me what babbitt's idea about it is." "that's what we want to know." "it's just this way," said browning, sitting down. "it seems our class is enlarged by the addition of quite a number of men who have graduated from or studied at other colleges. "they have applied for admission into the junior class, and there's got to be an examination for them, of course; in fact, the examination for such candidates is going on now." "that's quite a usual thing," remarked merriwell. "yes, certainly, but babbitt has declared that the examination of last spring was very unsatisfactory. he says men can't go ahead in mathematics unless what they have done before is thoroughly learned, and he proposes to find out just what sort of talent there is in our class before he begins a year's work." "he'll find out what i can't do!" groaned page. "probably he knows that already," said merriwell. "that's the substance of it, anyway," added browning. "babbitt's idea is to strike an average as to what the class can do and proceed from that." "then i shouldn't think," said merriwell, "that the examination should have any terrors for us." "you'd think," exclaimed page, "that merriwell looked at an examination as he would a plunge in the surf, just a little dip for the fun of it, and it's all over. it won't be so with me." "don't worry," responded frank, "you've got three days in which to cram." "and that's just what i'll do, i'm thinking." page dropped his chin upon his hands and looked gloomily at the floor. "i'm sorry to give you unpleasant news," said browning, rising, "but i told you i thought it was important. so long." with this he went out. "oh, well," said page, after a moment, "i'm not going to be knocked out by that! i'll just go into the examination and do as well as i can and take chances; that's what the rest of us have got to do." "that's the best way to look at it," frank answered, "and i don't think i shall bother my head with cramming for it. "if i were you, page, i'd go down to some of those second-hand stores on the street and see if you can't pick up a pair of old-fashioned andirons. you don't want to get new ones, you know, for a place like this, they wouldn't seem appropriate." "that's so," page answered, with a queer smile, "i believe i'll adopt your suggestion at once. how would you place them?" "why, just as they are placed in every other fireplace," frank answered, "one on each side; that is, if the old chimney will draw." "perhaps it won't," said page. "i hadn't thought of that," continued frank. "it may be that the place was closed up because the chimney was defective. let's see if we can find out." so saying, he knelt and entered the fireplace. once inside it was easy to stand upright, for the chimney was broad, and as he looked up he could see that it ran with a slight incline clear to the roof. "there's nothing to prevent a fire from being built here," he said, with his eyes turned upward. "such a chimney as this would draw like a furnace." page made no response. "i declare," merriwell added, "it makes me wish that winter had come so that i could see a roaring old blaze of logs here. doesn't that strike you about right?" as page made no response, he turned to look at his classmate, and then discovered that the secret door to the fireplace had been closed. with his eyes turned upward and seeing the little patch of light at the top of the chimney he had not noticed that the light from the room had been shut off. "hello, there!" he called, feeling along the wall to find the door. "i'm no freshman." there was no sound from page's room. frank found a match in his pocket and struck it. from inside it was easy enough to distinguish the outlines of the secret door that concealed the fireplace. it was not possible, however, to discover any way by which it might be opened. the latch was the kind used on doors, but strong, and with no knob on the inside. frank pushed against the door with some force. it did not yield in the least degree. "seems to me," he thought, "that page has a queer idea of fun to lock me in like this. i've a good mind to kick the door down." he thought a moment before deciding to do this, and reflected that it would hardly be a good-natured way of treating the joke. if page meant to have some fun with him by making him a prisoner, the joke would be all the more successful if merriwell should get mad about it and break open the secret door. "i think," thought frank, "that i'll get even with page for this in a way that will surprise him." his match went out just then and he began to feel in the darkness of the stones that made the chimney. they were untrimmed stones, so that the interior surface was very irregular. just above his hand, but within reach, was an iron bar crossing the chimney; it was put there to bind the walls. frank drew himself upon this and then, being in the narrow part of the chimney, was able to work his way upward by clinging with hands and feet to the rough edges of the stones. it was slow progress, but not difficult, and sure. the only question would be whether the opening at the top of the chimney would be large enough to permit of his crawling through. he had got about halfway up when he halted in his journey. he had heard voices, and he recognized both of them. he knew that he was on the level of the room above page's, and he realized that the sounds of talking came to him distinctly because there was a fireplace there that connected with this same chimney. the voices he heard were those of prof. babbitt and instructor frost. "the fact is, frost," babbitt was saying, "i'm aiming this examination at certain men in the class, and i've no hesitation in saying so. there's that fellow, merriwell, for example; i'd like to force him to do more studying." chapter iii. turning the tables. "this is growing very interesting," thought frank, bracing his knees against the stones of the chimney so that he could hold his position easily. "why, i thought that merriwell ranked high, professor?" said frost. "he's no fool," growled babbitt, "and if he would study hard i presume he might lead the class in scholarship, but as it is, he spends most of his time in athletics and skylarking." "oh, not quite so bad as that!" "yes, it is. he's naturally bright, and by a very little attention to his lessons he's able to get marks that enable him to pass along with fair standing, while most of his time is given to anything but work. it isn't right that anybody should get through yale so easily; it's bad for the rest of the students." "i have an idea," said frost, quietly, "that merriwell's example isn't regarded as a bad one by other members of the faculty." "ah, you're just as bad as the students themselves in your fondness for that scamp!" exclaimed babbitt. "he seems to fascinate everybody he meets except me." "yes, i think you're an exception." "i believe you are trying to be sarcastic, frost, but it doesn't make any difference; my mind is set on making an example of merriwell so that the other fellows in his class who follow his lead will be frightened into studying harder." "do you then mean that this examination is aimed directly at merriwell?" "not quite so strong as that. there are others, of course, but he's a natural leader, and i don't at all fancy the easy way he takes things, and then bobs up at examinations with enough knowledge to work out his papers." "i should think," suggested frost, "that that was all the professors could require of a student." "that's because you're young!" snapped babbitt. "you ought to forget that you've been a student----" "excuse me, professor, but i think just the contrary. it seems to me that the more an instructor remembers of his student days the better he will be able to get along with his classes." "all right, then, you stick to your theory, and i'll stick to mine. meantime, look at this paper; that's what i asked you to call for." "is this the examination paper that you're going to set before merriwell's class?" "yes." there was then a silence of some minutes during which probably mr. frost was studying the examination paper. at last he remarked: "well, i've looked it through." "what do you think of it?" asked babbitt. "do you want my honest opinion?" "of course i do! why else should i get you up here?" after a slight pause mr. frost said: "it seems to me that the examination is very one-sided." "eh?" "why, it is all aimed at a certain line of work, and doesn't cover anything like all the work done in the course of the year." "well, i have my reason for that!" "i supposed so." "i know that fellow merriwell's weakness; i know just where he's likely to be faulty, and if he can pass that paper he'll do better than i think he can." "why, prof. babbitt," exclaimed frost in an indignant tone, "it looks as if you were purposely trying to trip merriwell so as to get him disciplined, or dropped!" "the faculty can do with him what it likes," remarked babbitt, crossly, "when i've handed in the marks on this paper." "i must say it doesn't seem to me to be fair," said frost. "i don't care for any opinion of that kind," retorted babbitt. "then i don't see why you asked me for any at all." "well, well," and babbitt seemed to be struggling with his temper, "you and i won't dispute about it. you've got your work and i've got mine. i asked you about this paper because i thought you'd sympathize with me in my design." "i can't sympathize with you in it, prof. babbitt, and i wish if you're going to give an examination that you would give one of the usual kind, including in the questions, problems that cover the entire year's work, and so get an idea----" "the idea i want to get will come from the answers to these questions, frost." "then i suppose i couldn't persuade you to make up another paper?" "no, sir; i'm going to take this to the printer at once, and by to-morrow morning the copies will all be here in my room, where i shall keep them until the hour for the examination." "i'm sorry you told me about it," said frost. "why?" "because i think well of merriwell and the others----" "i suppose you'd like to warn them of what's coming." "prof. babbitt!" frost spoke in a loud tone; he was evidently very angry. "oh, well," exclaimed babbitt, "don't fly in a rage at that suggestion; of course i know that you won't betray any secrets of the faculty. i simply said that i supposed you'd like to warn that rascal, merriwell." "you've no right to think even as much as that!" returned frost, "but you may be very sure that whatever i wish to do i shall not expose the questions on that paper. good-day, sir." "good-day," said babbitt, and immediately afterward there was a slamming of a door. then frank heard the professor grumbling to himself, but what he said could not be made out. a little later there was the sound of a door opening and closing again. prof. babbitt had doubtless started to the printer's with the examination paper. frank then resumed his trip up the chimney. he had heard no sound from page's room, and he was just as determined as before to turn the joke upon his classmate. as he passed the level of prof. babbitt's room he saw that the fireplace of the chimney had been closed in the same way as in page's room, but in this case the door was not a secret one, and at the moment it stood partly open. this was what enabled him to hear so plainly the conversation between the instructors. when he came to the chimney top he squeezed through without much difficulty, and dropped out upon the roof. the next question was as to getting down to the street, but to an athlete like frank, there was little difficulty in that problem. new haven is often called the city of elms. there were a number of these and other trees growing about, and one of them extended its branches toward the roof of this house in such a way that frank could grasp it. he took hold of it with the idea of climbing along to the trunk of the tree, and then shinning down, but the branch bent under his weight until his feet were not more than ten feet from the ground. accordingly frank let go and came down with nothing more than a bit of a jar. he had landed in the yard beside the house, from which he saw that an alley led between buildings to an adjoining street. his hands and clothes were grimy with soot. "if i should go through high street this way," he thought, "and should meet page, he'd have the laugh on me in earnest. i'll just skip out the other way, get into my room and clean up and then give him a surprise party." accordingly frank hastened through the alley and so to his room. he met nobody on the way with whom he was acquainted, and as soon as he was in his room he washed his hands and face thoroughly and changed his clothes. "so, then," he thought in the midst of this operation, "prof. babbitt wants to make an example of me, does he, and he knows my weak points, eh?" "luckily, i know my own weak points, too, so far as mathematics is concerned, and in the next three days it strikes me that i can do a bit of grinding that will enable me to give the professor a surprise party. if my guess is right as to the kind of examples that will be put on that paper, i shouldn't wonder if i could give the other fellows a lift, too." meantime, harold page, having made his friend a prisoner in the fireplace, had gone from his room for the purpose of finding some other fellow whom he might bring back to share in the fun of frank's discomfort. as his room was at some little distance from the campus, he did not expect to find anybody on the street near it, so he started on a run in the direction of the college, for it was not his intention to keep frank a prisoner more than a few minutes. he had not gone very far before he met a classmate, whose name was mortimer ford. ford was not a very popular fellow, although it could not be said that anybody had anything special against him. he was acquainted with frank and the particular crowd that chummed with him, and sometimes took part in their doings, but on the whole he was rather outside the circle in which frank had been a leader from the start. if page had had his wish, he would have met rattleton, or browning, or diamond, or some of the others more closely associated with merriwell, for he knew that they would enjoy the trick with better humor than anybody else. when he saw ford his first impulse was to go and look up somebody else, but ford called out to him: "hello, page, how long have you been back?" "oh, i came back a week ago," page answered, "and engaged a room, got it in order, and then went away again. i came back for good this morning." "glad to see you," and ford shook hands. "what are you hurrying for?" "oh, nothing much," responded page, awkwardly. "i didn't know but you were trying to run away from that examination that old babbitt has got up," said ford. "say! that is a nasty blow, isn't it?" "it will bother a good many of us, i reckon." they were standing on the sidewalk, and while they were talking page was keeping his eyes out for some other friend. there were no other students in sight, and he began to feel a little ashamed of the small trick he had played on frank. "i guess i'll go and let him out," he thought, "ford will do as well as anybody else to see the fun." so he said aloud: "come down to my room a minute, ford; i've got something to show you." "i wish it was a case of beer," remarked ford, falling in with him and walking along, "or perhaps it's something better than that?" "it's nothing to drink, but it's something better than that, just the same." "tell you what i wish it was." "what?" "babbitt's examination paper." "great scott! why don't you wish you owned the earth?" "i do." "you might as well wish that as to think of getting hold of babbitt's paper. there isn't a secret society in yale, you know, that is closer than an examination paper. there's hardly a case on record where one has been got in advance." "oh, i know it," said ford, in a mournful tone; "of course it's hopeless to think of getting hold of the paper, and i hadn't any idea of trying to, but that's the only thing that's worrying me just now, and so i spoke of it." "merriwell doesn't seem to think the thing's going to be very serious," said page. "he wouldn't think anything was serious," answered ford. just as they were entering the house where page had his room, prof. babbitt came out. they had seen instructor frost go out and turn in another direction a moment before. the students touched their hats to the professor, wished him good-morning, and passed in. prof. babbitt grumbled a surly reply, and turned away toward the college. page wondered as he went upstairs whether frank had kicked down the secret door to the chimney. "it would be just like him," he thought. "confound him! i wouldn't much blame him if he did!" the minute he came into the room he glanced at the chimney. "it's all right," he said to himself, and he felt a little triumphant. "it isn't often a fellow can catch merriwell, and although it's a small kind of a trick, it will be something to speak of hereafter." "well, this is a snug sort of place," remarked ford, looking around the room. "the ceiling is a little low, but the window seats are broad and you've got soft cushions. i don't see anything the matter with this; where's your bedroom?" "over there," responded page, pointing to a door. "what do you think of this?" and he pointed to the chimney. "it takes up some room," was ford's comment; "but you've got plenty of that to spare." "you know what it is, don't you?" asked page. "a chimney, i suppose?" "exactly, and it follows that it's hollow." "i suppose so, unless it's been filled up." "it hasn't been filled up," said page. "when they put modern heating into the house they closed up the fireplace that was here, and i had some notion of opening it again, but i've decided not to." he spoke now in a loud tone of voice, hoping that merriwell would hear him. "why not open the fireplace?" asked ford. "because i've got a pet that i want to keep there." "a pet?" "yes. it's just the place for it----" "what is it, a big dog?" "no, though it's big enough." "queer place to keep a pet," remarked ford. "how can you get him in there?" "why, he's in there already." "what! now?" "certainly." "i don't hear anything." page was on the broad grin, and ford crossed the room out of curiosity. he struck his hand smartly on the chimney, whereat page exclaimed: "i wouldn't do that, you might frighten him." "but what in the mischief have you got there?" "i'll show you in a minute. now, then, old boy, want to see the light? does you want to come out for a little time?" page spoke soothingly as if he were addressing a small cat. "shall i let him come out?" he went on, mockingly; "shall i let him have a little taste of fresh air and sunlight, poor thing?" he listened as he spoke for some sign of merriwell and it bothered him a little that he got no reply. ford looked on in wonder. "don't be so long about it!" he exclaimed. "open up the thing if there's any way to do it, and let's see what you've got." "all right, then; don't be frightened if he should run out suddenly," answered page. he put his hand on the knob of the secret door, and threw it open; then he stepped back, smiling broadly. "there isn't anything there!" exclaimed ford. "what!" and page got down on his knees and thrust his head into the fireplace. of course he realized in an instant what had happened. he knew that merriwell must have climbed out at the top. "great scott!" he thought, "if frank should know that i brought a fellow up here to see the foolishness, how he would turn the laugh on me." "has the thing, whatever it is, vanished?" asked ford. "gone completely!" answered page in a tone of disappointment. "he must have flown out of the top of the chimney." ford got down, too, and looked up. "why, yes," he said, "if it was a bird, of course it would get out that way. you ought to have known better than to put a bird in such a place. what was it, a parrot?" "no, not exactly," said page. "i guess i won't say what it was until i've made some search for it." at this moment there was a knock at the door. page, still on his hands and knees, answered "come in." the door opened and in walked frank merriwell. chapter iv. ready for the test. page got up looking very sheepish. he expected that frank would begin to turn the laugh on him. nothing of that kind happened, for the first moment ford and frank were speaking together. they had not met since the close of the last term, and they shook hands in a friendly way, and made polite inquiries about each other's vacations. "what have you got here?" asked frank, then, stepping toward the fireplace with a queer look at page. the latter had not the nerve to answer. "i suppose it used to be a fireplace," said ford. "it looked when i came into the room just as if there was no opening into the chimney at all, but this door fits very closely." "were you trying to use the chimney as a telescope when i came in?" asked frank. "i saw you were both on your knees, looking up." "no," replied ford, "page had something in there, he won't say what it was, some kind of a pet, i believe, and it has flown out." "no wonder," remarked frank, dryly; "it would be a pretty poor kind of a pet that wouldn't fly out of a place like that." "if it was an unusual kind of a bird," suggested ford, "why don't you give notice of it to the police? it sometimes happens that they recover missing pets." "oh, i guess i won't say anything about it," responded page, blushing furiously. frank could not control his laughter, so he threw himself into a window seat, and looked out, having his back to the other two. "what are you laughing at, anyway?" asked ford. "oh, at my thoughts!" chuckled frank. "i think page ought to offer a thousand dollars or so reward for his missing pet." "you hold your tongue, merriwell," said page, "and some time or other i'll make it right with you." "are you two fellows putting up some kind of a job on me?" exclaimed ford, suspiciously. "oh, no, on my honor!" exclaimed frank, quickly. "i was just thinking of a little joke that you don't know anything about." "aren't you going to spring the joke?" "no, i'm going to keep it to myself." page looked immensely relieved, while ford, after a doubtful glance at both of them, turned his attention again to the chimney. he pushed the secret door back into place and then opened it again. "mighty funny idea, isn't it?" he said, half to himself. "certainly, nobody would ever believe that that fireplace could be opened without a pickax." "i supposed it was solid," responded page, "and got at the secret entirely by accident." "opens easy, doesn't it?" ford kept opening and shutting the door. "if this was in the olden times," he said, "when men had to hide from enemies, what a racket it would be to shut one's self in here and then climb out through the chimney." frank turned his back again to conceal his chuckle, while page answered that he thought it would be a good scheme. then he added: "i think i'll take the door down and make a fireplace of it." "and not get your bird back?" "no. hang the bird!" "well, of course, that's for you to say. as for myself, i'm going to get over to my room and look up mathematics for a while." "i shouldn't think you'd need to," said frank. "oh, a man grows rusty after three months away from the books, you know," answered ford, "and an examination always makes me nervous, anyway. so long." with this he left the room. "say, merriwell," said page, the moment the door was closed, "i don't know whether to feel obliged to you, or be as mad as a hornet." "i don't see any reason for either feeling." "well, i am obliged to you for not turning the laugh on me when you had the chance to, and i ought to be mad for your getting out in the way you did." "what should you have shut me in there for," asked frank, "if you did not expect me to use my wits?" "i just did it on impulse," page answered, "and had no intention, anyway, of keeping you there more than a few minutes." "it's all right, page, i didn't mind it a little bit. i went straight out." "i see you did." "now, see here, page," said frank, seriously, "i want to ask a favor of you." "granted." "keep that door closed during the next few days." "what, the door to the fireplace?" "h'm! h'm!" "why, yes, i'll do that, but why? i shouldn't have it open more than a minute or two at a time to show the fellows." "don't do that." "not show it to the fellows?" "not to anybody." "i said i'd grant your favor and so i will, but what in the world is on your mind?" "i'll tell you," said frank, with a little pause, "after the examination." "babbitt's examination?" "yes." "all right i suppose you've got some first-class trick you want to tell, and you haven't got time to get it in shape until the examination is over, is that it?" "that's asking too much, page. i'll tell you all about it later; meantime, it is a fact that men like you and me have got to put in some pretty hard licks if we want to pass that examination." "oh, thunder and mars!" groaned page, "i've made up my mind not to think of it. it's impossible for me to cram up on a whole year's work in three days." "it might not be necessary to." "how else can a fellow stand a chance of passing?" "well, suppose we should study just one part of the subject, and let the rest of it go?" "and then there might not be a single question on that subject, frank." "yes, and again they might all be on that subject." "it isn't likely." "but it might be so, page." "do you mean to say, frank, that you'd recommend a fellow to take a kind of gambling chance like that on an examination paper?" "well, not as a general thing, but seriously i do think it would be a good scheme this time. you see, babbitt is springing this examination unexpectedly, and everybody knows that he's got queer ideas. now i think it would be quite like him to center the whole examination on one topic." "why should he do that?" "well," answered frank, slowly, "with the idea, perhaps, of catching the fellows by surprise." "he don't need to take all that pains for me," said page, dismally; "he could floor me if his examination was made on the simplest things. if i was like ford, now----" "oh, ford doesn't need to worry, of course. he led the class in mathematics last year, didn't he?" "yes, and the year before, too. the idea of his being worried about the examination is all nonsense." "i know it is," said frank, "except that he's got his ambition up to keep at the lead; that's a natural ambition and decent, and i suppose he'll do a lot of grinding to get ready for the exam." "i'd grind, too, if i thought there'd be any use in it." "i believe there will, page, and if you don't mind following my lead, i'll tell you what subject to grind on." "do you mean to say that you're going to cram up on just one part of it?" "exactly, and what's more, if you'll agree to it, i'll come over here with my books and we'll grind together. we'll get browning, rattleton and diamond, and one or two others in our crowd, and do the job together." "it's a bully idea!" exclaimed page, "if it would only work. gee! but wouldn't it be just great if we should happen to hit on the topic that old babbitt has chosen and every one of us write a perfect paper?" "i can't think of anything that would suit me better," frank answered. "then let's try for it. it's just a chance, but i'm with you, merriwell." "all right, then, and you'll remember you're to say nothing about that fireplace, and you're not to open it until after the examination!" "i'll remember, but you won't forget to tell me what it all means?" "i'll let you into the whole business after babbitt has examined the papers." it was not a very difficult matter for frank to persuade his closest friends to join him in preparing for the examination by studying hard on one particular topic. they were so in the habit of following his lead that although they all regarded the effort in the same way that page did, that is, a gamble, they were willing to take the chances if merriwell was. frank was almost perfectly certain that it was not a gambling chance, because he remembered well enough how he had been faulty in that topic at the spring examination, and if babbitt was going to try to trip him, that was the subject surely that he would select for his purpose. three days was none too long for the boys to refresh their memories on the subject and prepare themselves well on this one topic. they started in in the middle of the afternoon and worked together under frank's direction until dinner time. he proved to be as hard a task master as babbitt himself could have been. the boys were not exactly surprised at that, for it was natural for frank to do with all his might whatever he undertook, but they joked him a good deal while at dinner about turning professor. "that's all right," frank answered, "you can have your joke. if we come out on this as i expect to, you'll be glad enough that you adopted my plan." "i must say i rather enjoy it," said diamond, frankly. "studying by one's self is dull work, but when there are half a dozen or so grinding away, somehow the time passes more quickly." in the same way they worked until late that night, and began again early the next morning. diamond offered the use of his room as a meeting place, and puss parker, who had been let into the scheme, suggested that they come to his room, too. frank said no. "we began in page's room," was the way he put it, "and we might as well work it out there." "his room is so far out of the way!" grumbled browning. "a little walk won't hurt you any," responded frank. "i'd much rather keep at it there, for i'm used to the room." so it was agreed that the grinding should continue at page's, and it did until the day of the examination. they had other duties to perform, of course, during these days, but the regular work of the college had not entirely begun, so that most of their time could be put in to preparing for their examination. they allowed none of the other students to interrupt them, and for that matter, most members of the junior class were grinding in much the same fashion. they had only one caller during the entire period. this was ford, but he did not find them at work. they were just returning to the room from dinner on the evening before the examination, when they met ford leaving the house. "ah, page, i was just up to see you." "sorry i wasn't in," page responded. "what was it, something special?" "oh, no," answered ford, a little doubtfully, with a glance at the others in the party; "let it go until some other time." "if it isn't important, then," said page, "i wish you would, for we fellows are----" "sporting your oak, are you?" "that's it exactly. we're trying to get up on mathematics and so we don't admit any callers." "all right, then," said ford, "i'm doing much the same at my own room. good luck to you." frank did not keep the boys at work late that evening. they had pretty well covered all the ground that he had chosen, and he believed that they would be better able for the test the next morning, so at ten o'clock he ordered them to their rooms, and they obeyed as readily as if they were a crew training under their captain for a race. at nine o'clock the next morning all the junior class assembled in one of the big rooms of osborn hall. prof. babbitt was there ahead of them with a number of assistants to look out for keeping the students in order and to prevent any possible attempt at cheating. the students found their places by means of slips of paper on the top of each desk. merriwell was a little amused to notice that he was placed far from the friends with whom he usually associated. "i wonder if babbitt thinks i would cheat?" he thought. there was a bundle neatly done up in brown paper on the professor's desk at the head of the room. he stood near it until all the students were in their places, each with a pad of blank paper before him, and a number of sharpened pencils. then the professor broke the string with which the bundle was tied, and calling up his assistants, handed them several papers each to distribute. they were the papers from the printer containing the fatal questions. chapter v. one of the missing papers. three or four minutes passed while the assistants were distributing some papers. then one of them approached the professor and said: "i need two more for my section, sir." "well," said the professor, looking around the room, "if you're short two, somebody must have two to spare." nobody said anything. "which of you," asked the professor of his assistants, "has two more papers than necessary." no one answered. prof. babbitt looked very savage. "i counted that bundle of papers just as soon as it came from the printers," he said, sharply, "and there was just the number called for. the printers never make a mistake, and i'm sure they haven't this time." still there was silence in the room. "gentlemen," said the professor, this time addressing the students, "see if any of you have an extra paper accidentally stuck to the one on your desk; there must be two spare papers here somewhere in the room." every student took up his paper, felt of it, shook it, but without result; the room was certainly two papers short, and two students sat, therefore, with nothing to do. the professor frowned. "i'm certain," he exclaimed, "that i made no miscount. mr. jackson," turning to one of the assistants, "count the students here." mr. jackson counted and found that there were one hundred and forty-six. "that's it," said prof. babbitt, "and i had one hundred and forty-six papers. this is very extraordinary." he glared savagely about the room, his glance resting longest upon the desk where merriwell sat. frank was already busily engaged in working out the first problem. most of the other students had already gone to work, but some of them were idly watching to see what the professor was going to do, and hoping that he would postpone the whole examination. this may have been in his mind; but if so, he thought better of it. "we shall have to go on," he said, presently. "i will write out two papers for those who are short." he did so, and in the course of a few minutes all the students were at work. frank could not help but smile when, after a rapid glance at the problems on the paper, he saw that he had hit exactly the subject chosen by the professor to floor him. the questions were all confined to the one topic which he and his friends had been studying on. "now, unless they lose their heads," he thought, "they'll all write a perfect paper." he had previously warned them not to be in a hurry during the examination. according to the custom at yale a written examination of this kind lasts for three hours, that is, three hours is the longest time during which any student is allowed to work at the problems. if he has not finished in that time, he has to stop. if, however, he should get through the paper in less time, he has the right to withdraw from the room. "now boys," frank had said, "if you find that you can work all the problems take them slowly, so that you make sure that you get them right, and then, if you get through before the time is up, hang around a while. "it might cause the professor to think queer things if he should see us get up after an hour and a half or so and walk out; he would wonder how we did it, and of course we don't want to let him suspect that we crammed on one topic." the boys understood the wisdom of this advice, and frank's only anxiety now was lest rattleton or page should get excited at the ease of the paper and write too hurriedly. the others he knew would be cool. believing that the professor would watch him more narrowly than anybody else, he made a good deal of pretense at being puzzled over his problems, and worked each one out separately on a piece of paper before transferring the problem on the paper which was to be passed in as his examination. there was nothing very unusual in this method, for most of the other students did much the same thing. the only point about it is that it was unnecessary in this case for frank to do it at all, because the problems were so familiar that he could have worked each one out at the first trial. early in the examination ford, who had a seat in the back part of the room, raised his hand. prof. babbitt saw him and nodded. the raising of the hand implied that ford wanted to ask a question. he was a favorite with prof. babbitt naturally, and so the professor gave him leave to go up to the desk and make his inquiry. ford walked down the aisle with an examination paper in his hand, and as he passed frank's desk his hand struck a little pile of blank papers that happened to be lying on the very edge, and knocked it to the floor. he stooped quickly, saying: "excuse me," in a low voice, and replaced the papers. prof. babbitt, of course, was looking that way at the moment. "you would do your work just as well, merriwell," he exclaimed, sharply, "if you didn't spread it all over your desk. your examples won't work out any easier for taking up the whole room with them." frank colored; it was unusual and extremely unpleasant to be rebuked in this way before the entire class. he had not realized that he had left his blank papers so carelessly but even at that, he knew that the rebuke was not deserved. "the professor has just as good reason," he reflected angrily, "to scold ford for being careless." there was nothing to say about it, but it made frank bitter, and all the more determined to make his paper so correct that the professor could not help giving it a perfect mark. he pushed his loose papers together in a pile squarely in the middle of the desk and resumed his work. no one heard what ford asked the professor; it was some question concerning the paper, and when the professor answered it, it was in a tone of surprise. "i should hardly think that the question was necessary," he said, "though of course i don't blame you for wanting to be careful about it." ford muttered that he wanted to be sure that the problem was correctly printed on the paper, and when the professor told him that it was, he bowed and returned to his desk. few of the students paid any attention to this matter, and those who did promptly concluded that ford was so anxious to lead the class that he got nervous and had therefore asked some question that any child could have understood. the incident was soon forgotten, and for an hour or two the students worked away at their papers in silence. the only thing that troubled frank was that he could have completed the entire paper within an hour if he had tried. as it was, he had worked out every problem except the last on his loose sheets of paper, and transferred most of them to his regular examination paper by the end of two hours. he was greatly relieved to notice that none of his best friends had left the room. a few students had gone out, probably because they were utterly unable to answer the questions. for the sake of killing time, frank had already written out the last problem on loose paper twice, and he was now at the bottom of his pile with one sheet of blank paper left. he glanced at the clock; almost an hour to spare. he finished his regular paper up to the last problem, and then, drawing the one remaining blank sheet toward him, began again to work that out. again and again he had seen prof. babbitt looking sharply at him, and more than once the professor had walked by his desk in the course of his strolling around the room. twenty minutes passed, and frank believed that it could be of no use to waste time longer, so he crumpled up the loose sheet on which he had been working in his left hand, and started to work out the problem on his regular examination paper. just then prof. babbitt turned up from around the corner of another desk, brought his hand down upon frank's left hand, and held it there. "now, then, merriwell," he exclaimed in a thundering voice, "i've got you. this will mean your expulsion from yale, sir, and nothing short of it." frank had looked up with a start of surprise at first; now he drew back and looked the professor in the eye, defiantly. "don't you say anything to me, sir," exclaimed the professor, sharply. "i hadn't thought of saying anything," responded frank, in a dignified way. "keep quiet, sir! what have you got in your hand?" "my pencils." "you're impudent, sir; i mean, of course, your other hand." frank's face turned first pale, and then red, and then pale again; all the students and assistants in the room were looking at him. he knew that the professor suspected him of some low trick, and it cut him deep to think that he should be accused in this public way. "i've got a piece of blank paper there," he said, slowly, "on which i have been working out the last problem." "oh, indeed," returned the professor, sarcastically. "a piece of blank paper, eh? you're quite sure it was a piece of blank paper?" "it was until i began to figure on it." "oh, you're quite sure of that?" "i am, sir." "and i can tell you, and i'll make an example of you to the whole class in so doing, that when you thought to conceal that paper by crumpling it up in your hand, i caught sight of the under side of it." frank made no response. he had not the slightest idea what the professor was driving at. "i tell you, i saw what it was in an instant," added the professor. "very well, sir," said frank, rather sharply, "i've nothing to say." "oh, you haven't! very well, then, what's that?" the professor pointed to the printed examination paper which lay on the desk in plain sight. "i don't intend to be treated like a schoolboy, sir," exclaimed frank, starting to rise, and making an effort to draw his hand away from the professor's. "if you have any accusation to make against me, you can lay it before the faculty, but i will not sit here to be browbeaten and insulted in this fashion." he drew his hand away, but in so doing made no effort to keep his grip on the paper that he had used for figuring. the professor snatched the paper as it was falling, smoothed it out, and held it up before the entire class. "you see, young gentlemen," he cried, "merriwell has been doing his examples on the back of one of the stolen examination papers." frank fairly gasped when he saw that this was the fact. when the professor had announced that the two papers were missing, he had looked with the utmost care all through his desk to see whether one of the missing papers had somehow got laid down there, and was certain that only one had been given to him; yet here was one of the papers, and he had been unconsciously working out an example on the back of it. "we shall lay this matter before the faculty at once," said prof. babbitt, sternly; "and meantime, merriwell, you may leave the room." chapter vi. the professor's case. frank held his head high as he walked out of the room. there was a flush upon his face, but nothing there or in his manner to indicate his real feelings. they were in truth very much confused. he was simply bewildered at the discovery of one of the examination papers on his desk. how it got there he could not imagine. his heart burned with rage at the way in which prof. babbitt accused him in the presence of all the class, and he felt, too, how hopeless it would be to clear himself in the face of this damaging evidence. expulsion would follow, unless there could be some explanation of the matter. frank knew that he could explain nothing, and the thought of the disgrace that awaited him was very hard to bear. with it all, however, there was a consciousness of absolute innocence that gave him strength to leave the room much as if nothing had happened. "my best friends will know that i am not guilty of any such conduct," he reflected, "and the rest of them may think as they like." at the outside door of the hall, he paused, in doubt as to what he should do next. knowing that babbitt, already disliking him, would insist on his expulsion, frank was inclined to go straight to his room and pack up his belongings. the event had made everything about the college extremely distasteful to him, but it was only for a moment, and then he realized how sad he would feel at having to go away from good old yale forever. "it won't do," he said to himself, emphatically. "i must make some kind of effort to clear myself; there's no hope of persuading babbitt that i'm innocent, but there must be members of the faculty who would believe me, and it would not be right to go away without trying to show them that i've been straight in this. if i should leave without making the hardest kind of a defense, everybody would be justified in believing me guilty." with this thought in mind, frank debated for a moment whether it would not be well to go straight to the office of the dean and tell him all he could about it. "that won't do," he concluded, "because prof. babbitt will report the matter to the dean at once, and if i should go there first, it would look as if i were trying to get an advantage by assuming frankness. no, the only thing to do is to go over to the room and wait there until i'm summoned; that will come soon enough, but i wish the summons were here now." frank's wish was gratified. he had just come to a decision as to what he should do, and was going down the steps of the hall when one of the instructors who had acted as an assistant at the examination came hurrying after him. "merriwell, wait a moment," he said. frank turned and touched his hat. the instructor looked worried, and his voice trembled a little as, laying his hand on frank's shoulder, he said: "merriwell, prof. babbitt has sent me to tell you to report at the dean's office as soon as the examination is over." "very well," frank responded, "i'll be there." "i hope," added the instructor, hesitatingly, as he looked earnestly into frank's eyes "that there's an explanation of this thing, merriwell." "so do i," frank responded, "but what it is, is more than i can tell now." the instructor sighed and returned to the examining room. frank saw several students approaching whom he knew and, not caring to have any conversation with them, he started away at a rapid pace. there was a full half hour to pass before the examination would come to an end. he put it in by walking about the city at such a distance from the college buildings that he was not likely to meet any acquaintances. it was a dreary walk, for all the time he suffered the thought of disgrace as well as the maddening perplexity that accompanied the discovery of the examination paper on his desk. "one might almost think," he reflected, "that babbitt had put up this job on me for the sake of squeezing me out of college, but i don't think babbitt is mean enough for that. the paper probably got there by some confounded accident. i certainly cannot account for it on any other theory." just as the city clocks were striking noon, frank entered the campus and proceeded to the dean's office. the dean gave him an inquiring glance as he entered. "prof. babbitt told me to report here at this hour," said frank, quietly. "ah!" returned the dean, "prof. babbitt is conducting an examination, i believe, which should be over at this time; doubtless he will be here in a moment. sit down, merriwell." frank took a chair in a corner of the room, and waited, while the dean kept at work at his usual affairs. fully a quarter of an hour passed before prof. babbitt came in. when he did so, he had his arms full of examination papers, and he was accompanied by a man whose face was vaguely familiar to frank, but whom he did not know by name. it was a resident of new haven whom he had seen on the street from time to time during his college career. babbitt gave frank a scowling glance and remarked: "ah! i see that with your customary nerve you're here. we will settle this matter, therefore, without delay." the dean laid down his pen and looked up in surprise. "what is the matter, prof. babbitt?" he asked. "i am compelled, dean," returned the professor, "to accuse merriwell of cheating in an examination. i hardly need say that i should not make the charge unless i had ample proof to sustain it." the dean looked over his glasses at frank in a way that showed that he was not only shocked, but vastly surprised; then he gave an inquiring glance at the man who had come in with prof. babbitt. "excuse me, dean," said the professor, "this is mr. james harding. i thought that you were acquainted with him." "i have not met mr. harding before," responded the dean, "although his face is familiar." "i'm glad to make your acquaintance, sir," said harding. the dean rose and both shook hands. then the dean hesitated a moment and said: "won't it be as well, prof. babbitt, to postpone the inquiry as to merriwell until----" "no, excuse me," interrupted the professor, "i've brought mr. harding here for a purpose. he can tell you something that has a bearing upon merriwell's case." "oh, very well. step this way, merriwell." the dean sat down, and frank advanced to a place in front of his desk. babbitt's mouth was open to talk, but the dean ignoring him, turned to frank. "this is a very grave charge to be laid against a student, merriwell," he said, "and i can't tell you how it grieves me that you should be suspected. "we have all had a high opinion of your honor. i will add frankly that i hope you can clear yourself." "thank you," responded frank, huskily. "i'll try to, for i'm absolutely innocent, but i'm afraid there's nothing else that i can say in my defense." "that can hardly be possible," responded the dean. "what are the circumstances, professor?" "why, the case is as plain as day!" exclaimed babbitt, quickly. "this examination was set as a test for the class, a special test, i may say, and on the strength of it i expected to require certain students, like merriwell and his particular friends, to go over a portion of last year's work. "i knew from the examination of last spring just where they were weak, and i drew up this paper in such a way that the students themselves would be readily convinced of their weakness and so be the more willing to study." the dean nodded to show that he understood. "now, then," continued the professor, "i had the papers printed by the college printer in the usual way, with just enough copies to go around. "i counted the papers when they were delivered at my room by the printer, and found them to be one hundred and forty-six in all. i tied the papers up in a parcel and left them in my room until this morning, when i took the parcel to osborn hall. there i opened the bundle and when the papers were distributed, it proved that two were missing." prof. babbitt paused, as if expecting the dean to make some comment. he did not do so, but looked straight ahead, and so the professor went on. "i must say that i instantly had my suspicions of merriwell, for during the past three days he has been frequently at the house where i have my room. "i kept my eyes on him during the entire examination, and i could easily see that he was not conducting himself as usual. he used up a great deal of paper and was evidently nervous. "at length i took a position back of his desk, where i could watch what he was doing without being observed. presently i saw him work out the last problem on the examination paper, and work it out correctly, too. "then, as he crumpled up the paper on which he had been figuring, i caught a glimpse of the other side of it. i pounced upon his hand and discovered that he had been figuring upon the back of one of the missing question sheets." the professor's voice had a triumphant ring when he came to the end of his little speech. there was evidently no doubt in his mind that what he had discovered would be sufficient proof to the dean of frank's crookedness. the dean pursed up his lips and looked absently up at the ceiling for a moment, and then turned to frank. "if i understand the professor correctly," he said, slowly, "you had two of the question papers on your desk instead of one?" "yes, sir," frank responded. "how did the second one get there, merriwell?" "i don't know, sir." prof. babbitt snorted contemptuously. frank flushed and glanced at him angrily, but held his tongue. "didn't the professor make any inquiries when he discovered that two papers were missing?" asked the dean. "yes, i did----" "let merriwell answer, please." "he did," said frank, "and i examined my desk, as i thought, thoroughly, to see if an extra paper had been placed there by mistake. i found none and went to work without any further thought on the matter. i worked out the problem on the back of the question paper without knowing what it was until the professor pounced on me." "and is that all you can say about it?" "everything, sir." the dean turned to prof. babbitt and said: "i can't deny that the discovery of a paper under such circumstances is very suggestive, but i take it for granted that you have some explanation of your own to offer as to how merriwell got possession of it?" "indeed i have, and that is just why i brought mr. harding here," replied babbitt. "tell the dean what you saw, mr. harding." "i suppose," said harding, "that it was simply some harmless prank of students at first, for we who live in new haven are quite accustomed to such things, don't you know." "i don't think i do," replied the dean, sharply, "for i haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." "come right to the point, mr. harding!" added babbitt. "well, sir, i live in the house next to the one occupied by prof. babbitt and some of the students. "one day i was astonished, as i happened to be looking out of my window, to see a young man climb out of the big chimney at the top of prof. babbitt's house. "he went around on the roof for a moment, looking for some way to get down, and at last caught the limb of a tree which bent under his weight until he could drop safely to the ground. "then he hurried away through an alley that led to another street. there was no doubt that he was trying to escape observation." "had you ever seen this student before?" asked the dean. "many times, though i never knew his name until now----" "i was the student," interrupted frank, quietly. "the impudence of that confession," exclaimed prof. babbitt, hotly, "is enough to drive a man crazy! the great chimney in that house, dean, hasn't been used for many years, and the fireplaces have been boarded up, but an athlete like merriwell could go up and down easily and you can see how he could effect an entrance by going into the fireplace of the room under mine, which is occupied by one of his friends, and so climbing up through the chimney to my room----" "may i ask a question?" interposed frank. "certainly," responded the dean. "mr. harding," said frank, "what day was it when you saw me climb out of the chimney on the roof?" harding was silent a moment, and then said: "i hadn't given the matter any thought until a few moments ago, when prof. babbitt met me and remarked that he was in great trouble because a student had somehow entered his room and stolen a paper. "i then told him what i had seen and he asked me to come here and tell the same thing to you. i think that this thing occurred on tuesday." "are you quite sure?" asked frank. mr. harding took some envelopes from his pocket and looked them over. "yes," he said, "i had an important letter come a few minutes after that, and i see by the postmark here that it was delivered on tuesday. i am certain that it was tuesday." "i only wish to say," said frank, turning to the dean, "that it was on tuesday that prof. babbitt took his question paper to the printer. the printed examination papers could not have been delivered before wednesday at the earliest." chapter vii. a forced confession. there was a sarcastic smile on the dean's face as he turned to prof. babbitt and asked: "that doesn't seem to justify your charge, does it?" "why--why----" stammered the professor. "at first blush perhaps it doesn't, but, don't you see, it shows that he had found the way to my room, and the fact that he was idling away his time in page's room beneath ever since, is proof enough that he was waiting his chance to go up again. "i'm sure he got the paper, for i have taken a glance at the answers given by him and his particular crew of friends, and i find that every one of them passed perfect papers, and, without cheating, not more than one of them could have answered more than one problem." "you see, merriwell," said the dean, "the circumstances point very unhappily----" "i know they do, sir," said frank, "and i feel miserable about it, but there's an explanation of how i and my friends have passed perfect papers, that i'm perfectly willing to state." "do so, then." frank thereupon related page's joke just as it happened. he told all about the conversation he had overheard between babbitt and instructor frost, and then described how he had got his friends together and led them in studying up the subject. "it may be that you call that cheating," he concluded, "but you must understand that none of us knew what problems the professor was to put upon the paper. "we only knew the general subject which he had chosen for the examination, and we set to work to make ourselves solid on that subject, and it seems that we did so." "why, yes," responded the dean, with a queer smile. "i must say that if your story is correct, the professor has nothing to complain of. he wanted to compel you to work up on points that you were weak on, and it seems you did so. "of course it was a very unusual thing for you to get the warning as to what the subject of the examination was to be, but if the professor himself gave the warning----" "who would have dreamed," exclaimed babbitt, "that a rascally student was listening in the chimney!" "tut! tut!" exclaimed the dean, "don't use harsh language, professor. i don't think the situation justifies it. according to merriwell's story, he was in the chimney without any idea of listening to you, and i think any of us who can remember our student days will admit that if we had been in the same position we would have done substantially what he did." prof. babbitt bit his lip. it was not at all pleasant for him to find that frank had a friend in the dean, who, next to the president, is the highest official in the college. "all this," he muttered, "doesn't explain the fact that two examination papers were missing!" "true," answered the dean, "and we shall have to think that over. merriwell, will you step into the next room for a short time, please?" frank obeyed, and he felt certain that he read in the dean's eyes perfect belief in his story. "it'll come out right somehow," he thought, as he closed the door upon the dean, babbitt and mr. harding. he could hear their voices in earnest conversation for fully a quarter of an hour. they were doubtless discussing the discovery of the extra paper upon merriwell's desk, and frank wondered what conclusion they would come to about it. meantime, another event was taking place that led to a solution of the mystery. one by one the students finished their work on the examination papers and left the hall; few of them went away from the door; the most gathered there talking excitedly about the accusation against merriwell. there were some who professed to believe that merriwell had been up to a sharp trick, and had actually stolen the question paper, but the great majority indignantly denied it. there are many students who would have no scruples against cheating at an examination, but few would think of descending so low as to commit theft for the purpose. frank's friends were in the majority, and very loud in their assertions as to his honorable conduct. among the first to leave the room after frank's exit was dismal jones; he stood around with his hands in his pockets saying nothing, but looking from one to the other with a very worried expression upon his solemn face. among the last to leave was mortimer ford. he walked through the group with a jaunty air, as if confident that he had come out of the examination in good order, and started for his room. jones tried to speak to him, but ford simply said: "ah, there, dismal, i hope you didn't get plucked," and continued on. dismal scowled savagely and stood for a moment looking at ford's retreating form, and then he turned about, and catching diamond by the sleeve, said: "see here, jack! i want to speak to you for a minute." "what's the matter?" returned diamond, feeling a little impatient and provoked, for his mind was full of frank's trouble, and he could not think of talking of anything else. "it's about merriwell," whispered jones, "and i want you and rattleton and browning and page to come here." he withdrew to one side, and diamond, with a mystified expression, touched rattleton on the shoulder and beckoned him to follow. "what's up, dismal?" said rattleton. "get the other fellows," replied jones. the others were soon drawn from the group of excited students, and then dismal said: "i've got the key to this whole thing, and if you fellows will help turn it, we'll get merriwell out of this scrape in less than no time." the boys were too astonished to reply, and dismal went on: "yesterday," he said, "a fellow came to me and after a lot of hemming and hawing and beating about the bush, told me that he could put me onto a way to pass babbitt's examination perfectly; he also said that i could give the same tip to my friends. "i'm not letting any tips on examinations go by, you can bet on that, and so i made him tell me what the racket was. he said he had got hold of two copies of babbitt's paper." "who was it?" exclaimed the boys, eagerly. "wait a minute," said jones. "he said the printer accidentally struck off more than was necessary, and he got the copies in that way." "what way?" "oh, i don't know, i didn't ask particularly, because"--dismal hesitated a moment--"because, well, i'm not putting up a front for being a preacher, or a goody-goody boy, but i didn't quite fancy taking part in a cheat like that, and i told him so. "besides that, i couldn't see any reasons why he should give this favor to me: he and i have never been chummy, and i don't believe that he got them from the printer, either." "well, well, who was it?" demanded rattleton, excitedly. "ford." "ford, of all men!" "yes, he was the fellow." "it's just as merriwell says," said page. "ford is crazy to lead the class, and he will take any means for getting a paper." "how is it going to help merriwell?" asked rattleton. "you fellows must get after ford," responded jones, "and make him own up. do you remember how he passed down the aisle and asked babbitt a question?" "yes." "and don't you remember merriwell's papers were knocked off his desk?" "i saw that something had happened," responded diamond, "but i sat too far away----" "well, the papers were on the floor," responded jones, "and i'd like to bet a dollar to a button that ford tucked in that extra examination paper when he picked the papers up." the boys looked seriously at one another a moment, and then two or three said together: "let's call on ford!" away they went at once, and in a few minutes were at ford's door. "come in," he said, when they knocked. one of them tried the door, but found that it was locked. "wait a minute," called ford, and they heard him crossing the room. rattleton heard the scratching of a match at the same moment. something seemed to go wrong with the key, for ford fumbled at the lock for a moment before he opened the door. "hello!" he said in a tone of surprise. "come right in." rattleton dashed past the others, and ran to the fireplace. there was no excuse for a fire in september, but a tiny blaze was there, nevertheless. rattleton put his hand upon it instantly, to beat the flame out, and stood up with a partially burned and charred fragment of paper in his hand. "what are you trying to do?" demanded ford, indignantly. "dock the loor--i mean lock the door," cried rattleton, excitedly, to browning. the latter immediately closed the door, turned the key, and stood with his back to it. "we'll settle this thing in a hurry," continued rattleton, shaking the charred paper aloft; "this is a part of babbitt's examination paper." "well, what of it?" asked ford, angrily; "why shouldn't a man burn up a piece of paper that he's got no further use for?" "because you left the paper you've been at work on with your answers in the examination room!" retorted rattleton, "and this is an extra sheet. it shows what became of the two sheets that babbitt missed." ford looked from one to another of the students and broke into a laugh. "well," he said, "i don't feel called upon to make any explanation to you fellows, but as i understand it, your particular friend, merriwell, will have a good deal to explain." "by all that's good," exclaimed diamond; wrathfully, "you'll do the explaining for him." "me?" "yes, you, you skulking hound! you had those two papers; here's dismal jones, to whom you confessed to having got hold of them. you wanted dismal to take one, hoping that he would give it away to frank and the rest of us, so that if any exposure came we'd be mixed up in it. i know your sly trick!" ford had turned very pale. he sank into a chair, shut his teeth together, and muttered: "you're doing a good deal of guesswork; but if you're trying to pick a row go right along; i'm not afraid of you." "we're not here to pick a row, ford," said page; "i'm beginning to see through the whole thing. "you're about the only one, except merriwell, who knew how the chimney in my room communicated with babbitt's, and i remember you were coming away from my room at one time when we were coming from dinner. you had been up there then to steal the papers. you managed to work one of them off on merriwell's desk to-day. rattleton there has got a part of the other." "well, see here," said ford. "what does it all mean? ever since there were colleges, students have done their best to get ahead of the faculty, and if i've succeeded, what's the harm? it isn't hurting you fellows, and no student ever tells on another." he said this with a haughty air, as if to imply that they would be beneath contempt if they should report his doings to the faculty. "we're not going to do any tell-taleing--i mean tale-telling," blustered rattleton. "we're here to make you do that." "what do you mean?" "i tell you," said browning, slowly, and there was a dangerous glitter in his eyes, "i'm not above telling tales in a case like this, and if you don't go straight to the dean and tell him the truth, i'll go and lay the matter before him, and what's more, master ford, i'll give you such a thumping that you'll carry the marks as long as you live." browning spoke quietly, but there was a businesslike ring in his tone that ford could not misunderstand. the others were very quiet, and they looked at ford, awaiting his answer. "you take a mighty high attitude," he muttered. "shut up," muttered browning, savagely. "i for one won't hear any argument about it; you've got to do what we say, or take the consequences. and to make certain of those consequences, i'm going to give you a licking now!" browning pulled off his coat, threw it upon the floor, and advanced upon ford. the others stood aside, their eyes glistening, and their fists fairly itching to take a share in ford's punishment. as to the latter, he retreated to a corner, and placed a chair between himself and browning. "hold on," he said, huskily. "you've got the best of me because there are so many of you----" "i propose to lick you alone!" interrupted browning. "all the same," suggested dismal jones, slowly, "when browning gets through with him, i think the rest of us will take a turn one at a time." ford was thoroughly frightened. "i give it up," he stammered. "you force me to it i'll do what you say, and i guess my standing in the class is good enough, as i never have done anything before this----" "never been caught at it," interrupted diamond, sarcastically. "don't waste any talk," said browning; "he's going with us to the dean's office now; merriwell is probably there at this minute trying to make babbitt believe in a student's honor." saying this, browning put on his coat and unlocked the door; then he turned to ford. "come along," he said. trembling like a leaf, ford crossed the room, picked up his hat from the table, and went out into the hall. the other students followed closely after. as he came to the stairway ford made a leap. in his excitement he probably hoped that he might be able to run away from these angry fellows, and possibly escape making the confession that they wished him to make. with an angry laugh they all leaped after him and caught him as he was two steps down the stairs. the result was that the whole pack of them went tumbling down the flight and landed with many a bruise in a heap at the bottom. when they got up browning had his strong hand clinched in ford's collar until the miserable rascal was almost choking. in this way he was fairly pushed across the campus, to the great astonishment of all the students who happened to be there at the time. he was marched straight up to the dean's office, where the students entered without knocking. the dean was still talking with babbitt and mr. harding. frank, in the adjoining room, wondered what all the commotion was about. the dean wondered, too, and said sharply: "gentlemen, gentlemen, what does this mean?" "it means, sir," said browning, respectfully, "that an infamous outrage has been attempted, by which an honorable student is made to suffer. ford will explain." ford did explain with many cringing appeals for mercy, and with many protests against the violence with which the students had treated him. the dean listened with growing indignation, while even babbitt was stirred to anger against his favorite student. the upshot of the matter was that babbitt withdrew his charges against frank, and even went so far as to make a sort of apology for having suspected him. ford's case went before the whole faculty at its meeting that evening, with the result that he was suspended for one year. "i never was so relieved in my life, merriwell," said the dean, as he shook frank's hand, "for if it had been proven that you had done this thing, i am afraid i should have lost all faith in students, but----" and there was a sly twinkle in his eye. "i think we shall have to recommend that prof. babbitt stuff his chimney with bricks and mortar, or else move to a new room." "he needn't fear that i shall invade the chimney again," responded frank; "i'm only too glad that the matter has turned out so that there is no doubt about me. "well," said the dean, thoughtfully, "you ought to learn some kind of a lesson out of the experience, i suppose. let's take it for granted, merriwell, that you'll give your mathematics a little more attention this year." frank, smiling, assured the dean that he would do so, and there the matter ended. at a later time page asked frank why it was that he had insisted on the fireplace being kept secret until after the examination. "because," said frank, "i had got a tip there that was too valuable to lose. if you had shown the opening to everybody, it struck me that perhaps babbitt would hear you. with his suspicious nature, he might conclude at once that we had good papers because, somehow, we got into his room and found the questions. "as it happened, you see, the showing of the fireplace resulted in even worse than i feared. it gave ford his opportunity, and one of the reasons why i insisted on studying in your room was to prevent any such thing by having your room occupied all the time. "that scheme failed, because ford watched his chance and got in while we were at dinner." "i'll have my door fitted with a combination time-lock!" exclaimed page; "he could have unlocked it as it is now with a button hook." "you'd certainly better put on a better lock if you think of keeping pets in the chim----" "oh, come off, frank! i thought i'd heard the last of that." frank laughed pleasantly, but from that time on he never mentioned the subject. "it's just as well," he said. "i think we are lucky to get out of the affair so easily." "right you are," answered browning. and then, after a pause, he continued: "got a letter this morning. important news." "of what?" asked several. "about the intercollegiate games to come off in new york. friend of mine at princeton says they are bound to beat us." "not on your life!" came in a chorus; and on the moment the affair of the examination papers was forgotten and all of the boys were talking about the contests to come off and wondering who of the yale students would take part. chapter viii. picking out a team. "one, two, drop!" at the word there was a sudden thud as four bodies fell to the ground. immediately afterward there was a creaking and a sound of straining as the four prostrate men pulled with all their might at a rope. then there were long breaths and grunts, and presently one of the four exclaimed: "i say, merriwell, i didn't suppose you were going to say 'drop' until you had counted three!" "you had no business to suppose any such thing," responded frank, seriously, and yet with a smile; "the man who gives the word in a tug of war sometimes doesn't count at all, and you've got to get used to falling at one word only." "it will be a pistol shot in new york, won't it?" "that isn't decided on. you didn't get the rope under your knee when you fell, taylor." "i know," responded the one addressed, "and that was because the word 'drop' came before i was ready for it." "look out for it next time, then. that will do for the present." at this word the four young men stood up and looked at merriwell to await his next command. they were in the gymnasium at yale. a corner of the main exercise hall had been set apart for them and screened so that their work could not be seen or interrupted by other students. four short pieces of wood had been nailed to the floor at intervals of about five feet. at each of these blocks or cleats a student stood with his hand upon a rope that was tied to a post a few feet distant from the nearest cleat. these four were stripped to the thinnest of athletic costumes, but frank, who stood by directing their work, was in his usual street clothes. he was training the four to represent the college in a tug of war that was to be one feature of some intercollegiate games to take place early in the following month. the contests were to consist of all kinds of indoor exercises, as the season for outdoor sports had come to an end. there was to be leaping, wrestling, trapeze and horizontal bar work, maneuvers on the giant swings, fencing and so on. the entries for these events were not limited to any one class; freshmen could contest as well as seniors, and as a matter of fact many ambitious fellows in the freshman class were in training for the big event. every day the wrestlers got together in the gymnasium and varied their work at the machines by wrestling with each other. the leapers, too, made daily efforts to jump a little higher or a little farther than they had the day before, while those who made specialties of tricks upon the bar and trapeze spent hours every day in perfecting themselves in their feats. the students talked of little else when they met on the campus, or in one another's rooms of an evening. four colleges were to be represented in the meet, namely: yale, harvard, cornell and princeton. the contests were to take place on neutral ground, and for this purpose the big seventh regiment armory in new york city had been engaged. the college year had hardly begun before arrangements for this athletic meeting were under way. as is usual in such matters, where the whole college is concerned, the management was given to a committee of upper classmen. there were three on this committee, jack rowland, and bed hill from the senior class, and frank from the junior. it was not frank's intention to take any active part in the contests, although he was well known throughout the college as a first-class, all-round athlete. it seemed to him better that the contests against the other colleges should be made by those who were specialists in one line or another. he talked this matter over with his particular friends shortly after the term began. "it won't seem quite right to see you out of it," protested rattleton, "for when we had our sporting trip across the continent you were always coming in at the last minute to pull victory out of defeat, no matter whether we were jumping, running, playing ball or horse racing." "that's another story," frank replied. "when we were sporting it across the continent there were only nine of us, and we were not all yale students at that. here there are several hundred healthy men to choose from. "i don't think there's much doubt that out of all the students now in college there is some one who could beat me at any one thing i might undertake to do, from wrestling to trapeze work." "but," said diamond, "if you should go into training for any one event, i think you'd come out on top." "and that's what i don't care to do!" retorted merriwell. "i'd rather be an all-round man than be able to do just one thing; i shouldn't know which to choose if i were to start in training." "but we may lose a cup in some branch of sport if you don't go in." "oh, no, i think not. besides that, there's going to be one event in which i can take a kind of share, and where perhaps i can be as useful to yale as if i were contesting." "what's that?" "the tug of war." "is there going to be a tug of war?" "yes, siree!" "who's going to be on the team?" "will it be on cleats or on the level floor?" "will it be on the ground?" these and many other questions of a similar kind were asked so rapidly that frank had no chance for a reply. at length he explained that the team had not been chosen, and that anybody might be a candidate. "the managing committee," he said, "has asked me to take charge of the training, and we're going to have trials in a corner of the gymnasium every afternoon. as soon as the team is made up, we shall get down to daily practice." it was perfectly natural that the tug of war should arouse more interest throughout the college than any of the other events. of course it was important that one or another student should be in training to meet the best wrestler or jumper from the other colleges, but the tug of war was an event in which the whole college was represented. there is never anything like a team event to arouse the enthusiasm of students. a tug of war team consists of but four men, to be sure, but at that they are supposed to be, and generally are, the strongest men in the college, and so students of all classes looked to them for holding up the glory of the college. there was another thing that made the tug of war team especially interesting at this time. for two or three years princeton had been very successful in the tug of war, whether pulling against other colleges of against outside athletic organizations. it had happened that three very strong men in a certain class had gone onto the team in their freshman year and had stayed there ever since. that was greatly to the advantage of the princeton team, for with three men on it who were perfectly used to each other, and who had had a great deal of experience, the team was not only powerful, but it made every other team afraid of it. there is a great deal more in this than those who are not athletes imagine. a team that has the reputation of always winning is apt to strike terror to the hearts of its opponents and rattle them so that they cannot do their best. princeton naturally was very proud of its tug of war team and perfectly confident of carrying off the prize for that event. this was understood not only at yale, but at harvard and cornell, and at each of these three colleges there was a determination to "down" princeton if possible. so it happened that when the managing committee at yale announced that they would examine candidates for the tug of war team, there was so much interest in it that a perfect mob of students gathered at the gymnasium eager for a place upon the rope. rowland and hill, the senior members of the committee, were inclined to dismiss the whole crowd and then quietly pick out four men according to their own judgment, but merriwell opposed this policy. "there may be perfect giants concealed in that crowd," he said, "and if there's only one, we want to discover him. give them all a trial." "but it would take weeks," exclaimed hill, "to arrange those men in teams and make them pull against each other until we could sift out the best four!" "i don't think we need to have them pull against each other to find out what they're worth," frank responded. "what other way is there?" asked rowland. "i have an idea that i can sift that crowd in a week." "well, then, you'd better try it." so it was agreed that frank should undertake to examine the candidates for the team, and to superintend its training. his plan for examining the applicants caused a good deal of amusement at first, but it proved to be remarkably effective as well as a great time saver. in a tug of war, as in many other sports, it is not only brute strength that tells, but quickness and skill. frank believed a good deal more in the head work of tugging than he did in solid muscle. "if a man can't drop right every time," he declared, "he isn't fit for the team. if he can drop right, he's got the making of a tugger." to test this he had a rope fastened securely to a post, and the candidates in squads of four took hold of this rope and dropped half a dozen times at frank's command. he gave brief explanations of what was necessary for them to do, to each squad before giving the word; then he watched the men go down, showing them where they had been in error and had them try again. it took no more than half a dozen minutes for as many trials and then another squad was brought on. in this way he easily tested from thirty to forty men an hour, and so in the course of three days had given every candidate for the team a chance. after that it was an easy matter for him to strike off the list fully three-quarters of the candidates; that left from twenty to thirty who might still be useful. these men he tried in groups of four also, but continually shifted the men from one group to another so as to find out which of them worked together to the best advantage. at length, after ten days of patient examination in this way, he had rowland and hill come behind the screen and watch the efforts of six men who had been selected as the best team workers in the whole college. the matter was discussed very frankly, not only by the members of the committee, but by the candidates themselves, for everybody was anxious that the best possible team should be selected and nobody would have been offended if he had been left off. it was decided at last that bruce browning should be the anchor of the team. he had been frank's choice almost from the start, for he was heavy and cool, and from past experience frank knew that bruce could be quick if it was necessary. it is the anchor in a tug-of-war who does the head work for the team. "i'd rather have a good anchor and three weak men," said frank, emphatically, "than three giants on the rope directed by an anchor who is either excitable or slow." everybody agreed that bruce was just the man for the yale anchor, and after a good many trials taylor, of the senior class, and jackson, of the sophomore, were assigned places on the rope; that left one vacancy. merriwell recommended that the other three men who had stood the test so far be trained equally, so that two at least could rank as substitutes in case of sickness or other difficulty. the committee and the members of the team suggested that frank himself should take the vacant place on the rope. "everybody knows you've got the muscle and the head, and with you and bruce on the rope, we'll have as perfect a team as possible." frank hesitated a little before accepting this suggestion, but he finally yielded, for without conceit he felt that he could be more useful than the others, and he had a natural eagerness to take an active part in the contest. nevertheless, he continued to direct the training of the team, using rattleton as a substitute on the rope while he stood by and gave orders. in this way he got the men so that they could fall at the word and fall right, and when this had been gained he took rattleton's place and gave over the direction of the movements of the team to the anchor. after that there was a good deal of practice in pulling at voluntary teams from among the students. it proved that there were no four students in the college who could stay on the cleats half a minute against the team that frank had selected and trained; so practice teams were made up of five, six, and sometimes eight men. the dead weight of eight men proved to be a little too much for the regular team, although the latter was never pulled off the cleats. all in all the yale students were greatly satisfied with their tug of war team, and as the time for the intercollegiate contests approached their confidence grew. they believed that they would be able to get away with princeton, and it did not seem to strike them at all that the other colleges were in it. chapter ix. hunting for a freshman. the contests were to take place on a wednesday evening. on the monday previous all the yale athletes went to new york. special permission from the faculty had to be obtained for this absence from the college, but there was no difficulty in getting that, as there is hardly a professor at yale who does not have a strong interest in athletic events. as new haven is but two hours' ride from new york, it might have been possible for the students to attend to all their duties on the wednesday, and still get to new york in time for the events, but that would never do for the contestants. nobody knows better than men who train how easy it is for an athlete to get thrown out of order by a change in diet and air. the finer the training the greater care there has to be. therefore, the managing committee for yale felt that it was absolutely necessary to give the contestants at least two whole days in new york city, in order to get used to the slight change that would result in their leaving familiar quarters in new haven. students who were not contestants in the intercollegiate sports were not allowed to leave new haven so early, and so it was a comparatively small party that went with frank and the other members of the committee to rooms that had been engaged for them in the murray hill hotel. it would probably have amused an outsider if he could have known the great care taken to prevent those students from being harmed by illness or anything else. they were grown men and able to take care of themselves ordinarily, but from the time they went into training they were like so many children in charge of a nurse. they were informed as to just what they could eat and what they must let alone. not one of them was permitted to smoke, and every one of them was required to do just so many hours of exercise of some kind every day. while they remained in new haven it was no very difficult matter to see to it that every one of the contestants obeyed the regulations of the managing committee. in new york it was not quite so easy, for the members of the committee were a good deal occupied in discussing arrangements with the committees from other colleges who were quartered at different hotels. when it happened that all the committee had to be away from the murray hill at the same time, the oversight of the yale crew was left to browning, who was the most experienced athlete among them. there was not much for him to do, for each one of the contestants had a programme of exercise laid out for him. there was to be just so much walking, and at certain hours, and the rest of the time, except for meals, was to be put in in resting. it was understood that as often as possible the entire crowd should walk together, and this they did on the first evening after their arrival. they went up fifth avenue to central park, and walked rapidly for fully an hour among its winding paths; then they returned to their hotel, had baths, and went early to bed. during the next day, tuesday, the contestants were left pretty much to themselves, as the members of the committee were away most of the time. after one of the meetings with the committees from other colleges, the yale managers, finding that a number of things had to be done, divided up the work and separated. three or four hours later rowland and frank met on the way to the hotel where their companions were staying. they reported to each other what they had done, and then fell as usual into discussing the prospects for victory. "i saw the cornell tug of war team out for a run," said rowland. "ah! what do they look like?" frank responded, without much show of interest. "beef!" said rowland. "not dangerous, then, eh?" "why, no, i presume not. they look as if they could carry you fellows around on one hand, but it seemed to me they were clumsy in their running." "i don't fear them," said frank; "i'd heard from some other fellows that cornell was counting on weight more than anything else, and as you know, i take more stock in head work." "there's this to think of, though," remarked rowland, "if a beefy team gets the fall on you by the fraction of a second, you simply can't stand it. that's the time when dead weight will tell." "the cornell beefeaters won't get the drop on yale," returned frank, quietly. "no, i guess not, and for that matter, so far as i can hear, there seems to be no doubt in anybody's mind that the real contest will be between yale and princeton." "have you seen the harvard men?" asked frank. "no, but we know all about them, don't we?" "i think so. they're a game lot, but i don't think they can stand against us. the fact is, rowland, i'm thinking more of the other events than of the tug of war just now." "so? i would have supposed you would be capable of thinking of nothing else." frank shook his head. "the tug of war doesn't worry me a little bit," he said, "but as one of the managers i should feel pretty badly if we fell down on everything else." "oh, we're not going to fall down; there are two or three events, you know, in which we are almost certain to win. the high leap, for example----" "that's just what i've been thinking of," interrupted frank. "why, are you afraid of higgins?" higgins was a member of the freshman class who had shown most unusual power in jumping, and had easily beaten all the other yale students who had tried for that event. "i hear that cornell has a man named stover," said frank, "who thinks he can beat everybody at the high jump." "yes, i've heard of him, too," rowland responded, "but what of it? higgins has broken the record in private practice----" "that doesn't make it certain that he will do as well at the armory." "no; but he's in good condition, isn't he?" "first rate." "then i wouldn't worry about him." "i'm not worrying exactly, and in any case, if our fellows do their best and we get beaten, there's nothing to complain of." at this point in their conversation the two arrived at the murray hill hotel. they went at once to the suite of rooms that had been engaged for the athletes, and found most of the contestants reading or dozing. a few were out for a walk. all the students asked eager questions as to the final arrangements and so on. after several questions had been asked and answered, rowland remarked: "there'll be hard times in princeton this winter if the orange doesn't get most of the cups." "are the princeton men offering odds?" asked browning. "not quite so strong as that, but they're putting up loads of money." "is the betting any heavier than usual?" asked frank. "perhaps not," rowland answered, "but if not i must have come across the betting crowd. it seemed as if they had begged and borrowed every dollar they could lay hold of and had brought it here to put up on the different events." "how is the betting going?" asked browning. "i didn't pay very much attention to it, but it seemed to be about even as between princeton and yale on the tug of war, and on some of the other events the princeton men were asking for odds rather than giving them. "what impressed me most was that it looked as if it was the princeton crowd that had the most money." "why," asked frank, in a surprised tone, "it wasn't the princeton contestants who were doing the betting, was it?" "no, but some of the students." "that's queer." "why?" "here it is tuesday afternoon and the princeton fellows who are going to see the contests are not due before to-morrow afternoon. it doesn't seem to me probable that the princeton faculty would let the general run of students come up here at this time any more than the yale faculty would allow our men to come." "can't help that," said rowland, "there's a raft of princeton men in town going around with orange ribbons in their buttonholes and hunting for chances to bet money against yale, harvard and cornell." frank made no response, but remained for a moment in thought, while the others continued to talk about the betting. presently frank asked where higgins and mellor were. mellor was another freshman athlete. he was a giant in stature, and one of the best wrestlers that had ever been seen at yale. there was a good deal of confidence that he would win the cup for wrestling, for from all that could be learned of the wrestlers representing the other colleges, there was no one who could compare with him in strength, and his skill seemed to be all that would be needed. "they're taking in the town," answered browning. "what!" exclaimed frank, aghast. "oh, not in any improper sense," said browning. "they're just out for a walk, and i didn't see any objection to their taking it in such a way that they could see some of the principal streets." "no, that's all right," responded frank, in a tone of relief; "when are they due back?" "in about half an hour." more than half an hour passed, and neither higgins nor mellor had shown up at that time. rowland and hill were away on some other business concerned with the management. frank was getting anxious. he could not have said exactly why, for so far as mellor and higgins were concerned, he had a good deal of respect for them, but he was fearful of accidents, as if they were little children unable to care for themselves. he did not betray his anxiety to browning or the others, but remarked after a time that he had another errand to do, and went away, leaving instructions that no contestant should leave the hotel until his return. then he went down to madison square and stood for a moment looking doubtfully at the several hotels in that vicinity. he knew that the princeton athletes had had rooms engaged at the fifth avenue, but this thought was not in his mind at the moment. "the hoffman house," he was thinking, "is one of the most celebrated hotels in new york, and a place to which all strangers like to go." as it was the time of year when days are short, it was already dark as night, although it was yet some time before the usual evening dinner hour. frank strolled across to the hoffman house, and went in at the main entrance. a number of men were in the lobby, but apparently there were no students among them. he went slowly past group after group, and turned at length to the barroom. this place was famous at that time for its remarkable collection of valuable paintings and statuary; it was often referred to jocosely as the "art gallery." every stranger in new york regarded it as one of the most interesting sights of the town. it was pretty well filled with customers when frank entered, but everything was quiet and orderly. at the farther side of the room, and partly concealed by the bar, which took up the very middle, was a group of young men just on the point of leaving by the door that opens upon twenty-fifth street. "too bad you've got to hurry," one of them remarked in a pleasant voice. "i'm overdue at the hotel already," said another, "and must get back before they become anxious about me." frank could not see the speaker, but he recognized the voice as that of higgins. "he has no business in here, confound him!" thought frank, angrily. "no one but a freshman would go into a barroom even out of curiosity, at such a time as this." he crossed the room, intending to speak to higgins and walk back to the hotel with him, and give him some earnest advice on the way. higgins was a little in advance of the group as they went out, and so frank did not catch up with him before they were all out upon the sidewalk. he noticed that all the men who had been speaking with higgins wore orange ribbons in their buttonholes, but it struck him, too, that somehow they did not look like students. he had no time to reflect upon this doubt, for just as he stepped out upon the dark street he saw one of the crowd pretend to stumble and fall rather heavily against higgins. "i beg pardon," this man said, quickly. "it's all right," higgins responded, as he staggered to the curb under the force of the shove. at that instant frank saw another in the crowd making a movement which showed that he was going to trip higgins and cause him to fall. the attempt was not made, for acting instantly upon his impulse, frank leaped from the doorway and caught the fellow a terrible blow upon the side of the face. it sent him reeling halfway across the street before he finally lost his balance and fell full length. the attack was so unexpected and sudden that most of the others in the group did not stir for a second. there was one exception to this. it was a man who had edged forward in order to make sure of tripping higgins if the first man should fail, and he was so intent upon accomplishing this that he did not stop when frank's form shot past him to attack the other. therefore when frank wheeled about to defend himself in case the others should fall upon him, he saw this man just in the act of giving higgins a violent kick upon the shins. it was all happening so quickly that at this instant higgins had just made his reply to the apology of the man who had shoved him, and was only beginning to regain his balance. the kick in the shins did the business for him. he fell upon his hands and knees, and just then frank struck out again. he was never so thoroughly aroused in his life, and his blows fell like rain upon the princeton man's face and chest. the latter would have suffered a square knockdown if he had not been standing so that he fell against his comrades. the others, recovering a little from their first astonishment, made a feeble effort to close in on frank, but it would have taken more than them to stop him then. he beat them off vigorously, striking without mercy at any one who came within reach. "cheese it, there's a cop!" exclaimed one of the party suddenly, and they all took to their heels. higgins by this time had got up and was supporting himself against a lamp-post. "can you walk?" asked frank, quickly. "i guess so," responded higgins, so surprised that he could hardly speak. frank took him by the arm and marched him back to the barroom, through which they went to the lobby, and then out by the ladies' entrance upon twenty-sixth street. the scrimmage had taken place so quickly and quietly that it had attracted no attention within the barroom, and as frank and higgins were not followed, it seemed probable that the cry of alarm about a policeman coming was false. chapter x. the finding of mellor. "now, higgins," said frank, rather sharply, as they were well out on twenty-sixth street, "what have you been up to?" "why," answered higgins, hesitatingly, for he had not yet half recovered from the surprise of the event, "nothing but swapping boasts with those princeton fellows and refusing to drink with them." "it's small business for a yale student to boast of what he can do," exclaimed frank, in disgust. higgins bit his lip and said nothing; although he was a freshman of but few months' standing, he had already learned that in athletic matters the word of a manager is law, and that a student in training would no sooner dispute his manager or trainer than a soldier would dispute an officer. "and did you refuse their drinks?" demanded frank in the same sharp tone. "on my honor, merriwell, i did. do you suppose i would take such risks just previous to----" "don't talk to me about risks," frank interrupted; "here it is only the day before the contests, and you're not back at the hotel at the time you're ordered to be." "i know that," higgins responded humbly, "and i'm sorry for it, but i didn't realize how the time was going by after i got in with those fellows. they're very pleasant chaps, and i must say that i can't understand for the life of me why it was you sailed into them so." frank was too irritated to explain for a moment. it was very seldom that he spoke as sharply as this to a comrade, and he would not have done so on this occasion if he had not been so anxious for the success of yale in every possible event. as they walked along he noticed that higgins was perfectly steady, and although there was a slight flush on his face, there was no sign that he had been drinking. the flush undoubtedly was due to mortification and excitement. "see here, higgins," said frank, at length, in a quieter tone, "don't you know that those princeton students, as you call them, were trying to disable you?" "i never dreamed of such a thing." "it's a fact." "how do you know, merriwell?" "i saw the attempt made, and for that matter you got kicked in the shins and tumbled over, didn't you?" "yes, but i supposed that was an accident of the scrimmage." "it was nothing of the kind; it was a put-up job, and if i hadn't sailed in it might have lamed you so that you couldn't jump. that was what they were after." "whew!" exclaimed higgins. "i think i'm a good yale man, if i am a freshman, and i hate princeton and all the rest of them, but, on my honor, merriwell, i didn't think that a student of any college would resort to such a low-down trick." "i don't believe it, either," said frank. "well, that----" "what made you think those fellows were students?" "why, they said they were; they gave the year of their class, which made them out to be seniors. they had big wads of money that they wanted to bet, and they got into conversation with me by asking what odds would put up on myself in the high jump." frank grunted to express his disgust, and asked: "did they talk like students?" "i thought so." "i don't believe they were," said frank, "for there was something in their manner that didn't make them seem like students, and besides that, i can't believe any more than you that princeton men would try to win out in these contests by deliberately disabling any of our fellows. "of course, i can understand how, in an exciting match like a game of football, a man's temper might get the best of him, but to try to lame a fellow in cold blood hours before the beginning of the event is a little too much for me to think of when it comes to a student, whether he's from princeton, harvard or anywhere else." "then, who were these fellows?" asked higgins. "they may be new york gamblers, for all i know," frank answered, "but in any case i think they are men not connected with princeton in any way, who are trying to make sure of their bets by disabling the leading contestants in the other colleges." "then but for you i suppose i might have been seriously lamed?" "i don't know, higgins; i'm taking no credit for what i did, but i hope you see that you made a grave mistake in not coming back to the murray hill on time." "i do, and will look out that such a thing doesn't happen again." "where's mellor?" asked frank, suddenly. "i don't know." "didn't he start out with you?" "yes, but we didn't keep together long." "where did he go?" "we separated at the corner of thirty-second street and broadway. i was for going down broadway, but he said that he wanted to see something of the tenderloin district." "the tenderloin!" exclaimed frank, with a groan. instinctively he hurried his steps. "hasn't mellor turned up yet?" asked higgins, hurrying along with him. "no, and unless he's more careful than you were there's no telling what mischief he may have got into." higgins looked as penitent as if he had been guilty of a serious crime. the flush on his face had entirely gone now, and he was quite pale. "see here," exclaimed frank, cheerfully, "you've had your scolding, so now brace up and forget it. if you feel the slightest soreness from that kick, give yourself a good rubbing when you get to the hotel, and go to bed." "aren't you coming?" asked higgins, for frank had stopped short. "no." "what shall i say to the fellows?" "nothing; or you might tell them that i met you and ordered you to the hotel; if they ask for me, you don't know where i am, and that's all there is to it." higgins nodded and went on obediently to the murray hill. frank, boiling with indignation and sore with anxiety, set off toward the corner of thirty-second street and broadway. he had no foolish idea that he would find mellor there, but as that was the last place where he had been seen, it seemed to be the most sensible point from which to begin a search for him. when he arrived at the corner he looked about a moment and then entered a hotel, and going to the telephone closet, rang up the murray hill and asked for browning. "bruce," he said, when he heard a familiar hello in the receiver at his ear, "has mellor returned?" "no, but higgins has." "all right. good-by." "hold on, frank." "well?" "are you coming back soon?" "i don't know." "rowland and hill expect you to take a run with us up the avenue this evening." "i'll be there if i can." "what are you up to, anyway?" "that's my business, old fellow; say nothing about it, but if i don't turn up, go ahead with your run without me." with this frank hung up the receiver without giving bruce any further chance to ask questions. his object in not explaining what he was about was to prevent any of the contestants from worrying. he was pretty sure that higgins would not speak of his own adventure, and he did not care to have even cool-headed browning suspect that there was anything so serious in the wind as a deliberate plot to disable yale athletes. it seemed to frank as if he had never been in so serious a situation. there had been times in his travels when one adventure or another had brought him in danger of his life, but at such times his mind was usually easy; now he was oppressed by responsibility and anxiety for others. the credit of yale depended upon the good showing at the intercollegiate games; whether they won or lost was not so much of consequence as that the yale crowd should do their best. as one of the managers, frank felt responsible for the good condition of every man in the party. he set out down sixth avenue looking to right and left and glancing in at the door of every saloon he passed. near the juncture of sixth avenue and broadway are a number of places where gamblers resort, and it was in one of these that frank half suspected and feared to find mellor. business was lively in all these places at this hour. men of all conditions were at the bar discussing all manner of sporting events. once in a while, as frank made his way through the crowded barrooms, he overheard some remark about the coming college games, but it did not seem as if the professional sports took very much interest in them, and nothing occurred to give him any clew as to mellor's whereabouts. he continued on down the avenue, running through every place he came across, until he got as far as twenty-third street. there he paused, feeling rather discouraged. it is worse than looking for a needle in a haystack to hunt for a man in new york. farther down the avenue there were other saloons, but he had already passed out of the district most frequented by gamblers. he had no other theory on which to pursue his search, and it seemed to him that it might be better to return to the hotel and let mellor turn up or not, as it might happen. a public telephone sign caught his eye across the way, and he again went over and rang up the murray hill. this time it was rowland that he asked for, and when rowland was at the 'phone frank told him briefly that he was on the hunt for mellor. "don't mention it to anybody," frank added, quickly. "have you any idea what's become of him?" asked rowland. "mighty little," answered frank. "but if he hasn't returned to the hotel yet i'll make another short trip before i give it up." mellor had not returned, and the conversation with rowland was not continued. frank retraced his steps up the avenue, but this time he did not make so careful a search as he had before; he simply glanced in at various doors and passed on. at length he turned in at thirtieth street, intending to call at a drinking resort on broadway, which was known to be popular with gamblers. he had taken but a few steps when a sound of laughter attracted him and he paused suddenly. it came from his right hand. he noticed that he was standing near the side door of a saloon which he thought he had thoroughly investigated on his downward trip. he remembered then that he had not looked in at any of the so-called private rooms at the back. this laughter evidently came from such a room, and he was quite certain that he distinguished mellor's voice. he waited a moment until the laughter ceased and then he heard this in thick accents: "shet 'em up 'gain! i c'n rasshle any man 'n nighted shtatesh, drunk er shober." it was mellor's voice, and frank's heart sank like lead. for one miserable instant he was in doubt as to what he had better do. his disgust and anger were so great that he felt like leaving mellor to his fate, for it would serve the freshman right to let him continue filling himself up and so lose all chance of making a decent appearance in the contests of the following evening. then it occurred to frank that after all there might be some little hope that mellor could pull himself together sufficiently to make a good effort. in any event he was a yale student, and as such frank felt bound to look after him; so after the slightest hesitation he entered the side door of the saloon and opened a door leading into the small room from which had come the laughter and the sound of mellor's voice. he saw the big freshman with a silly smile on his face seated at a table, holding an empty glass unsteadily in his hand, and trying to talk with three companions, each of whom wore a rosette of orange-colored ribbon upon the lapel of his coat. none of the three had been in the crowd with higgins, so far as frank could remember their faces. they did not look up when frank entered, for they supposed, as mellor himself did, that the bartender was coming in to get an order. "fill 'em up!" said mellor, stupidly, rapping his glass upon the table. "letsh have 'nother round." his eyes were bleary, and although he glanced at frank he failed to recognize him. the latter stood still for a second or two to control his indignation; before he spoke the bartender entered with a bottle of champagne, the cork of which was already drawn. "i suppose it's the same, gents?" he said, in a businesslike tone. "shame old shampaggeny water," returned mellor, holding his glass upside down. one of the men at the table reached over and righted mellor's glass, which the waiter promptly proceeded to fill. "here'sh ter good ol' yale!" stammered mellor, bringing the glass to his lips with the aid of the man who had helped him to hold it steady. frank could remain quiet no longer. he reached over the table, and with a sweep of his arm knocked the glass from mellor's hand and sent it flying against the wall, where it broke in a hundred pieces. chapter xi. a reporter's influence. the wine spattered in the face of the man who was helping mellor. the latter looked up in stupid wrath, and then it dawned on him suddenly that the interruption came from his manager. he gasped, hiccoughed, sat back in his chair and tried to rise. meanwhile the other two fellows with the orange rosettes had sprung to their feet, and were trying to push frank from the room. in this the waiter joined them, and, for a moment, therefore, merriwell had his hands full. they were lively hands, though, and in much less time than it takes to narrate it he had struck out right and left and landed stinging blows upon the faces of two of his antagonists. the bartender, who was a heavy fellow, who had probably had plenty of experience in dealing with tough customers, set down the bottle of wine and attacked frank with great fury. he made the mistake of supposing that he could hustle the intruder out by mere force, and in so doing he put up both hands to catch frank by the shoulders. this gave the athletic student a better opportunity than he could have asked for. in quick succession the bartender got two blows, one full upon the mouth, and the other on his neck. he went down on the floor with a thump, and catching at the table for support, overturned it. the bottle of wine fell upon him and drenched him. the others, who had staggered back under the force of frank's first blows, now tried to push their way out. the room was a very small one, and there was but one door. it was evident that they were not there for fighting, and had no wish to defend their drunken companion, no matter what frank's object in making the attack had been. as frank's only anxiety was in getting mellor away, he did not attempt to stop the others from going out. the rumpus attracted the attention of everybody in the main room of the saloon, and by the time the bartender had been sent to the floor a dozen or so others, most of them customers of the place, came crowding up to see what was the matter. "letsh not fight, mer'well," said mellor, with a tremendous attempt at dignity. "letsh not get mixed up in a row." he, too, tried to walk out, but the way was now barred with other bartenders who had come to the relief of their comrade. they might have fallen upon frank and beaten him badly, for they far outnumbered him, if it hadn't been that at that moment a policeman took a hand in the affair. he had been passing the side door of the saloon at the very moment when frank struck the glass from mellor's hand. he had entered at the first sound of a ruction, and had been in time to get a glimpse of frank as he struck the bartender to the floor. there was a lot of excitement and confusion for a moment, during which frank stood with his fists still clinched and his jaws shut hard together, waiting for the next turn. everybody connected with the saloon denounced him as an intruder, and the one who had made all the trouble. frank thought hastily of explaining the real situation, but he refrained from doing so, as that would surely make the whole thing public, and he did not want any such disgrace to be attached to yale's part in the intercollegiate games. so when the policeman roughly put him under arrest he submitted quietly and went to the station house. a couple of bartenders followed, dragging the almost helpless mellor with them. yale's champion wrestler at that moment was too far gone to realize fully what was taking place. he staggered along between the bartenders, protesting that there had been a "mishundershtanding," that he was a gentleman, and that as soon as the matter had been explained he would return to the saloon and "set 'em up" for everybody. frank walked in silence, feeling extreme humiliation, not for his arrest, but for the disgrace that a yale athlete was bringing upon his college. when they stood before the sergeant in the station, the policeman told briefly how he had heard a row in progress in the saloon and had got there in time to see frank doing all the fighting. the sergeant looked at the bartenders, and one of them said: "this man," pointing to mellor, "was entertaining a party of friends in the back room when the other chap came in, and without saying a word tried to clean the place out. everything was peaceable and quiet until he came in." the sergeant took up a pen, and looking at frank, asked: "what is your name?" "frank merriwell," was the quiet response. "huh!" grunted the sergeant, as he wrote the name, "i thought from your looks you would say jones of nowhere. what is your residence?" "new haven." "have you got anything to say for yourself?" "not at present." the sergeant looked surprised, and hesitated a moment before he asked a number of other questions. they were such questions as are always put to prisoners concerning their age, their reasons for being in the city, and their own account of what had happened. frank gave his age, but to the other questions refused to reply. accordingly the sergeant ordered both him and mellor to be searched, and after a vain attempt to get any information out of mellor, both were locked up. a considerable crowd had collected in the main room of the station house during this, and frank remained quietly in his cell until he felt certain that all the curiosity seekers had gone out. then he called to a doorman and asked if he might speak to the sergeant or the captain. it took a little persuasion to get permission to do this, but frank got it finally, and was taken upstairs again. the main room of the station was then deserted by all except the doorman and the sergeant. the latter looked at the young prisoner inquiringly. "i'd like to send for somebody," he said, "and will pay liberally for a messenger. you've got my money, and therefore know that i can pay any decent charge." "yes," said the sergeant, "you're well heeled. who do you want to see?" frank thereupon gave the name of a supreme court judge. the sergeant's eyes opened wide. "what do you want of him?" he asked. "he'll come down here in a hurry," frank answered, "if he knows that i'm locked up." the sergeant sat back in his chair and thought a moment. it was perfectly plain to him that frank was not intoxicated, and his whole manner was that of a gentleman. the sergeant was probably wondering whether the name merriwell might not be a false one, and whether this prisoner might not be the son of the judge mentioned. while he was wondering what he had better do about it, a young man entered the station with a businesslike air, and stepping up to the big desk, said: "good-evening, sergeant, anything going on?" then he caught sight of merriwell, and exclaimed: "great scott, merriwell, what are you doing here?" "i'm a prisoner, mr. matthews," frank responded. the young man stared at frank for just an instant, and then turning to the sergeant, said: "anybody in the captain's room?" "no," was the reply. "come in here," said matthews, taking frank by the arm and walking him across the room. when they were in the captain's room, matthews shut the door, motioned to a chair, and sat down opposite frank. "now, then," he said, "what's got into yale?" "mr. matthews," frank responded, "i hate to say that i'm sorry to see you, but a newspaper man is the last man in this whole world that i would care to tell this story to." "well, but see here, merriwell," responded matthews, earnestly, "a newspaper man isn't a born fiend, you know; i'm not likely to forget that i'm a graduate of yale, and i certainly am not going to hurry off with an item to my paper that will bring you into any disgrace. "yale graduates are getting to think a good deal of you, merriwell, and i brought you in here to see if there might not be some way to help you, not to get a sensational item." "i beg your pardon, mr. matthews," said frank, "but i had an idea that when a man became a reporter he could think of nothing but news and things to write about." "that's business," said matthews, "sure enough, but i'm an old yale man, at least i'm older than you, but i graduated only a couple of years ago, you know, so sing your song and let's see if there isn't something i can do." thereupon frank told the reporter all about his difficulty. he explained how mellor was hopelessly drunk in a cell, and how he had got arrested while making an attempt to get mellor away from his companions. "by jove!" said matthews, under his breath at last, "i don't blame you for doing what you did, merriwell, but perhaps it would have been better if you had avoided a row and simply induced mellor to go out with you." "i don't think i lose my head very often," frank responded, "but i must confess i did then. it was just maddening to see him soaking there with three scoundrels who had undoubtedly set out to get him filled up. anyhow, there's no use regretting what i did, for here i am, and next to having yale win in the contest to-morrow night, i'd rather keep this thing from becoming public." "i can fix that easily enough," said matthews, confidently. "the sergeant doesn't know that you're a yale man, and even if he should, i'll prime all the other reporters who cover this district at night, and get them to say nothing about it. you needn't worry on that score, merriwell, the only thing to do is to get you and mellor away from the station house." frank then told how he had wanted to send for the judge referred to. "he's known me since i was born," he explained, "and was an intimate friend of my father. there's no doubt that he would believe me, and i suppose his word would go with the police." "yes, it would, but it's a long way to his house, and he may not be at home. the captain will be in in two or three minutes, and we'll see if i haven't got influence with him." in less time than matthews had supposed, the captain came in. to frank's great astonishment, the reporter easily persuaded the captain to release the two students. it is not very often that a police captain has an opportunity to do a favor to a newspaper man, and when a chance does occur, he's quick to take it, for the reporters of new york newspapers can make or unmake a policeman's reputation. the only thing in the way of letting the students go was the fact that the bartenders in the saloon where the fight occurred had made a charge against frank. that was quickly fixed by the captain, who went himself to the saloon and suggested that the charge be withdrawn. of course the suggestion of the captain was enough. the bartenders were glad to withdraw the charge if he advised it. therefore frank had not been a prisoner half an hour before he and mellor, accompanied by matthews, were rolling across the city in a closed cab on their way to the murray hill. when they arrived there they used a good deal of caution about going in, for mellor was quite as stupid as he had been at first, and both matthews and merriwell were anxious to prevent anybody from becoming aware of his condition. they got him into the turkish bath there without observation, and gave an attendant a liberal fee to look after him for the night. chapter xii. on their guard. the other yale men were out for their evening run when frank was at last ready to join them. he did not try to follow them, for he had been so disturbed by the excitement of his adventure with the police, that he thought it best to rest; so when the students returned they found frank in bed, and no one disturbed him. next morning early he got rowland and hill together and explained the whole affair to them. they were indignant, mad and disgusted all together. "we'll send mellor back to new haven on the first train!" exclaimed hill. "it would serve him right," added rowland, "if the faculty should hear of this and expel him." "the faculty mustn't hear of it," said frank, decisively. "the thing i've worked for most in all of this is to prevent any sort of disgrace, and if mellor can be put into condition for making a wrestle, it'll be better for all of us that he should go into the contest." "he'll never be able to last a single round," groaned hill. "if he should go down at the first catch," said rowland, "everybody would suspect that he was out of condition, and then what would come of it?" "well, perhaps he isn't so badly off as you think," suggested frank. "he may be able to put up a good front. let's go down and see how he is." the suggestion was adopted at once, and the three went down to the turkish baths. the assistants who had been feed to look after mellor said that the student was asleep on a couch. frank and the others went to the sleeping room and stood by the couch looking at mellor in silence for a full minute. as he had been very carefully rubbed and thoroughly steamed the night before, and as he had been sleeping for many hours, he looked now quite as well as usual. the three managers looked at each other and nodded. they understood each other; it was better that mellor should be allowed to appear in the wrestling match that night, even though he was almost surely doomed to defeat. they were about to withdraw when the wrestler opened his eyes. "hello, boys," he said, suddenly, and he sat up. "how are you feeling?" asked merriwell. "bully!" replied mellor, with emphasis. then his face flushed and he looked down at the floor. "i guess you remember what has happened," remarked hill, contemptuously. "yes, i do," responded mellor. "what do you think of yourself?" asked rowland. "you're a fine man to carry yale's banner to victory, aren't you!" demanded hill, savagely. "hold on, fellows," interrupted frank; "there's no use in rubbing it in. how did it happen, mellor?" "oh, it's just my confounded foolishness," mellor replied, with a groan; "i wanted to see a little bit of city life, but i had no idea of drinking. i had heard of a place where all sorts of toughs resorted, and i went in there simply to look on." "better have stayed in the hotel," muttered hill. "go on," said merriwell. "well, there was quite a crowd there, and among them were two or three princeton students." "how do you know?" "why, i saw the orange colors that they wore, and i heard them offering bets on princeton to other men who were standing around." "did you speak to them?" "not until they spoke to me." "how did that happen?" "why, one of them caught my eye, looked at me sharply, and then asked politely if my name wasn't mellor, and if i didn't belong to yale. i felt kind of flattered at being recognized----" "it made you think you were a great man, didn't it?" exclaimed hill "oh, keep still!" said frank. "let him tell his story; this is important to all of us." mellor ground his teeth and exclaimed: "you can't make me feel any worse about this than i feel already." "we don't want you to make any confession, mellor," said frank, gently; "that isn't what we're after, for, unfortunately, i know only too well what you'd have to confess to. "the point we want to get at is, what these princeton men said, for i'm inclined to think that there's something of a conspiracy on foot to down yale and the other colleges by unfair means." mellor looked a little puzzled, but answered: "after i had admitted who i was, the fellow who spoke to me asked how i felt about the wrestling match. i told him i was all ready to meet princeton's best man, and then he asked if i was betting any money on it. i shook my head, and he said 'that's right.'" "what followed?" "oh, there were a number of polite remarks, and the crowd got around; the princeton men suggested that it would be pleasanter if we were by ourselves, and i felt that they were right. "they were so decent about it that i had no hesitation in going into a back room with them. there they asked if i was taking anything." "did you say you were taking everything that came your way?" asked hill. "no, i didn't. i told them i was in training, and could take nothing but bass' ale." "huh!" grunted hill. "did they set up a bottle?" asked rowland. "yes. it was about the dinner hour, at which time i was allowed to take ale, and i thought that it would do no harm; of course it was wrong--i admit it now, but at the time i thought a single glass of ale wouldn't hurt me, and it would be more polite to these chaps to go through the form of drinking with them. so they had a bottle of champagne, and i drank ale." mellor hesitated. "you seem to have had your head about you," remarked frank. "how did you happen to get to drinking champagne?" "i don't know," he answered, gloomily; "the ale seemed to make me half drowsy, whereas usually i don't feel any effect from it at all, and i guess i thought that a drop of wine would brace me up." "i see it all!" exclaimed frank. the others looked at him inquiringly. "knockout drops!" he said. "by jove! i bet you're right!" exclaimed rowland. "it was anything to get the yale champion fuddled and they knew well enough that he wouldn't take more than one glass of ale, so unless i'm greatly mistaken they drugged his ale and got him completely unbalanced." "it's a monstrous outrage!" cried rowland. hill looked contemptuous and said nothing. merriwell turned to mellor with the remark: "lie still a while longer and get breakfast when you want it. i'll see you in your room later, and if you think you're going to be fit, we'll have you in the contest to-night just the same." "great scott!" cried mellor, "you wouldn't bar me out of that, would you?" "we were thinking of it," said hill. "you'll have to pull yourself together, mellor," said frank, seriously, "for unless you can make a good showing we don't any of us want you to appear." mellor bowed his head upon his hands, and the others left him. as soon as they were out of hearing hill said: "perhaps it's nothing better than could be expected of a freshman, but anyhow, we've got to bring this matter to the attention of the princeton managers at once." the others agreed, and they went to the fifth avenue hotel, where they found the princeton managers at breakfast. the case was not explained to the princeton men in full, but enough was said to make them certain that yale had reason to suspect a trick on the part of men wearing princeton colors. the indignation of the princeton managers was too great for expression; one of them was so hot-headed that he wanted a row at once with merriwell for seeming to suggest that princeton men could be capable of such treacherous conduct. frank hastened to assure him that no yale man thought such a thing possible. "we think some rascals are playing off under princeton's colors," he said. the princeton managers were sure that this must be the case, for no students had accompanied them to the city excepting those who were to take part in the contests. they declared their intention of keeping their eyes open for men wearing the princeton rosettes, and promised to do everything possible to have such men arrested, if any charge could be brought against them. so there the matter had to rest. there was no doubt that the princeton men were in earnest, and that they would do what they could, but that did not seem to promise very much. the scoundrels who were anxious to make money by betting on princeton could not be arrested for simply wearing an orange rosette, and there was no way of preventing further trouble, therefore, except for yale men to hang together and take the greatest care not to put themselves in the way of strangers. it was agreed by frank and his companions that nothing should be said to the contestants about the matter, for fear that they might get nervous, and so be unfitted for doing their best in the evening's games. the day passed, therefore, very quietly for the yale athletes. they went in a body to a gymnasium and had two or three hours' practice, and in the afternoon they had a walk through central park. mellor appeared to be quite himself, except that he was silent, and that he looked solemn. the other students supposed that this was due to his anxiety about the wrestling match, and no questions were asked, although there were a few good-natured jokes about his nervousness. he took all the jokes quietly, and made no retort. nothing happened during the day to give the yale managers any new anxiety. they kept their eyes open all the time for a sight of the bogus princeton men, but failed to see them. when at last evening came, and they went up to the seventh regiment armory for the great contest, they felt that with the possible exception of mellor, everything was in as good condition as could be hoped for yale victories. chapter xiii. the wrestler. there was an immense crowd in the seventh regiment armory that evening. nearly everybody present was a friend of one or another of the colleges represented in the contests, and excitement ran high. the seating had been arranged so that yale students and their friends occupied a solid tier of seats upon the side of the hall near the center. directly across the hall, in a similar tier, were the students and friends of harvard. on the same side with yale was the cornell crowd, and directly opposite them the princeton crowd. the rest of the spectators sat as near their favorite college as they could, with the result that long before any of the games began, the building fairly roared with college cries mingled together, each crowd trying to outdo the others. it seemed as if there would be no lungs or voices left to cheer the athletes, but if any one had such a fear it must have been because he was not acquainted with students' voices. an excited yale or harvard man can give the college cry somehow when he would be unable to conduct a conversation above a whisper. the very middle of the hall was left vacant. all the contests were to take place there, and, therefore, in full view of all the spectators. the athletes had their dressing-rooms at the ends and sides of the building, and there were so many of them that each college had a number of rooms for itself. the yale managers took their men up to the armory about half an hour before the call for the first event. dressing-rooms had been picked out in advance, and the men belonging to the tug-of-war were put into one room by themselves. the yale crowd in the audience cheered frantically when they recognized their companions marching across the floor to their dressing-rooms. shortly after that the princeton men came in, and then there was a wild howling from the other side of the room. so it went on, and so it continued all through the evening, for there was hardly a moment when there was not something going on to arouse the enthusiasm of one college or another, and if by any accident there was a hitch in the proceedings, there was plenty of excited students in each faction to stand in front of the tiers of seats and lead their comrades in cheering on general principles. as there were many events, and many entries in each one, the programme was put through rapidly, and as often as possible, two or more events were being contested at the same time. the object sought for by each college was to gain as many victories, or in other words, first places, as possible, but in some events, like wrestling and fencing, where only two men could contest at a time, it was necessary to have two or three and sometimes four bouts in the same event. this was not the case in such a sport as leaping, for there all the men could compete at the same time, and one set of trials decided the matter. in wrestling it was necessary to draw lots to decide which colleges should compete first. then lots were to be cast to decide which college the winner of the first bout should wrestle with, and so on. each wrestling bout consisted of three rounds, with a short rest between each two. as three rounds at wrestling is likely to tire any but the very strongest man, the next bout was set down a full half hour later on the programme in order to give the winner time to rest. it was the same with the tugs of war. one tug was put upon the programme early in order that the winners of it might have time to recover their breath and be in condition to meet the next comers. it would be an impossible task to describe all the many events that succeeded each other rapidly that evening. every one had its interest and importance, although in the audience at large, as it had been at yale, the tug of war was watched for with the greatest anxiety and excitement. there may be space, however, to indicate the outcome of one or two minor events in which frank and his companions were especially interested. the first thing on the programme consisted of the contests in high jumping and the first bout in wrestling. the jumpers went through their work at one end of the floor, while the wrestlers struggled at the other. the drawing of lots resulted in putting mellor of yale against grant of cornell for the first try. the yale managers almost groaned aloud at this piece of ill luck. if there was anybody among the wrestlers representing the other colleges that they feared, it was this same grant. he was fully as large and muscular as mellor, and had easily downed everybody who had met him in his own college. with mellor in good condition the yale men would have believed that the chances were at least even for his victory; as it was, those who understood the case were certain that the yale freshman would be turned down quickly. of course the managers said nothing openly after the lots were drawn, but they exchanged views in private just before mellor went out to begin his work. "tough luck," remarked frank, between set teeth. "i wish we had sent him back to new haven," grumbled hill. "it's a confounded shame," exclaimed rowland, "that mellor couldn't have had a chance to meet sherman of harvard first. he could probably throw sherman even if he were still half full, and that would give him some kind of a standing, but now he'll go out there and get turned down so dead easy that everybody will laugh at yale, and the rest of our fellows will get rattled." "i don't think the rest of us will get rattled," said frank, "and perhaps mellor won't be such an easy victim as you think." "let us hope that he gets at least one fall," muttered hill. there was no time for further talk about the matter, and they went out to the main hall to see the event. at the upper end of the floor higgins was taking his first leap, but the managers paid little attention to him. they hoped he would win, but they were confident that whatever happened he would make a good showing, and they could not take their eyes from their champion wrestler. mellor was still looking as solemn as if he were at a funeral. his face was rather pale, and he sat in a chair at one side perfectly motionless until the call came to enter the ring. grant of cornell, on the other hand, was laughing and chatting with his managers, and his face was pink with health. at the call he bounded from the chair and pranced into the ring nimbly, and as the yale managers looked him over they felt worse than ever. mellor got up slowly and walked, as if he dreaded the ordeal, out to meet his adversary. "that's right, mellor," whispered frank, as the wrestler passed, "take it easy and don't get excited." mellor gave frank a grateful look. it was the only encouraging word he had received from his managers since his foolish scrape. he shook hands with grant, and then stepped quickly back to his position. it was a catch-as-catch-can match, and for an instant the two big fellows stood warily watching each other before they advanced. meantime yale and cornell were setting up a chorus of howls to encourage their respective champions. the two got together with a sudden jump that surprised everybody. it was expected that grant would take the offensive, but it seemed that mellor decided upon the same policy, for the floor fairly shook when they met and began a mighty struggle. frank's eyes glowed, and his heart seemed to rise to his throat as he watched the muscles stand out on mellor's arms and back. "there's big stuff in that fellow," he said, half aloud. "if he only had staying power," retorted hill, in disgust, "but he's wasted all that in his jag." the words were hardly out of hill's mouth before there was a heavy thud, as the two wrestlers went down; then such a roar went up as the building had not yet heard, for yale's man was on top. mellor rose quickly and ran to his dressing-room, followed by his managers, who overwhelmed him with compliments. he said nothing, but stood up to be rubbed and taken care of. "you took him completely by surprise that time, mellor," said frank. "now the next time he'll be on his guard for that, and you'll have to pursue different tactics." mellor nodded. he did not appear to be suffering from loss of breath or any sort of exhaustion, so the managers left him with his trainer to see how the jumping was getting on. they arrived upon the floor just as another terrific chorus of yale cries went up. higgins had cleared the bar after every other contestant had failed. it was a grand start for yale. one first place had been gained, and with mellor's success it looked as if another was certain. the floor was quickly cleared of the posts that had been set up for the jumpers, and the harvard and cornell tug of war teams came on for the first pull. in this, as in the wrestling, the order of the trials had been decided by lot. leaving the tug of war for the moment, we will glance at mellor's further work as a wrestler. while harvard and cornell were getting into position for their tug, he went out again to the floor for his second set-to with grant. as frank had predicted, grant was wary this time; he waited for mellor to take the offensive, and the latter was slow in doing so. they got together at last, and for a few seconds each struggled vainly to overcome the other. then they stood still, and those who were giving their especial attention to them felt the greatest excitement because the men were evidently tremendously in earnest, and very evenly matched. after a good deal of dancing about the ring, and many a vain attempt to bring on a fall, grant got in a sudden trip that brought mellor to his knees. then, exerting all his weight and force, grant crowded the yale man down until his side was on the floor. no fall could be counted until mellor's shoulders were both squarely on the floor, and, therefore, grant was crowding with all his might to prevent his antagonist from turning on his face. when a wrestler lies over on his stomach with his arms outstretched, it is almost impossible to turn him. it looked as if mellor were trying to get into this position, for then grant would be compelled to stand off and give him a chance to spring up. grant, of course, was trying to do just the reverse, for having mellor so nearly down, he did not care to give him a chance to get on his feet again. just how it was done it was hard to see, but suddenly mellor seemed to rise as if he were on a trap that rose by the force of a concealed spring. with a wonderfully quick movement he broke his hold and got a new one, and before anybody realized what his attempt meant, he had turned his antagonist over and brought grant's shoulders squarely down upon the floor. then the building shook with howls. yale had won the first bout in wrestling, and at the same instant harvard had beaten the cornell tug of war team. the yale managers were happy. it seemed now as if mellor were certain of carrying off the cup for wrestling. according to the fall of lots he was to tackle sherman of harvard next. sherman was a comparatively slender, but very wiry fellow. he was considerably under mellor's weight, and as the latter had shown unusual skill it was thought that the harvard man would prove an easy victim. so he did in the first round. mellor downed him almost as easily as he had turned down grant, but as it proved that was the end of the yale freshman's staying power. he had put all his force into the two set-tos with grant and the first with sherman; when it came to the second set-to with the latter there was a long, exciting struggle, which ended in mellor's going under. he showed his exhaustion plainly after that, and his limbs quivered when he went out for the third set-to. he struggled well, and really made a good showing, but the harvard man downed him at last, and with that defeat yale's chances for coming out ahead in the general tournament were badly damaged. nevertheless frank and the other managers felt that mellor had made so good a showing that nobody would suspect that he had disobeyed regulations and unfitted himself for making the contest. chapter xiv. a trick. as might be expected, there was a big chorus of shouting when the yale and harvard teams came out for their trial in the tug of war. matters had been running rather evenly between the four colleges; each had gained at least one first place, and there was no reason for the friends of any college to be discouraged about the general result. the harvard men seemed to be as fresh after their victory over cornell as if they had not exerted themselves. they appeared to have about the same weight as the yale crew, and were made up in much the same way; a particularly heavy man as anchor, and three lighter but evidently very muscular fellows upon the rope. it had been decided that the fall should be at a pistol shot. as there are several ways of conducting a tug of war, it will be well to explain that in intercollegiate games, when held indoors, the contestants always brace themselves upon cleats. the rope which they hold lies loose upon the floor between the two teams. at a point midway between the two sets of cleats there is a chalk mark on the floor. a ribbon is tied around the rope at the point where it crosses this mark. when the men have fallen it is their object to pull the rope away from their opponents, and so bring that ribbon further and further toward their cleats. in a closely contested match it sometimes happens that the position of the ribbon will not vary more than two or three inches during the entire tug. the time is taken, and at the end of four minutes the victory is awarded to whichever team has the ribbon upon its side of the chalk mark. in this pull with harvard, frank's training proved to be of the greatest value. he had laid the greatest stress upon the fall. when the pistol shot came the yale team dropped like one man to the general eye. it seemed as if the harvard team dropped at exactly the same instant, but when the excited spectators looked at the ribbon on the rope, they saw that it was fully six inches upon the yale side of the chalk mark. after the fall there was a silent moment of hard tugging upon each part, but the ribbon did not budge. meantime bruce was manipulating the rope that ran around his belt, and keeping his eyes fixed upon the harvard anchor opposite. "how is it, bruce?" whispered frank. "we've got 'em," muttered bruce, in reply. frank said nothing, for in the course of training he and bruce had discussed this matter so many times that frank knew well what policy the anchor would pursue. it is often said that a miss is as good as a mile, and in the case of a tug of war an inch is certainly as good as a yard. it might have been possible for the yale team by constant tugging and by occasional surprises to get the ribbon much farther over to their side, but that was not the policy that had been decided on. if the team should win, there was princeton still to be pulled, and every ounce of strength would be needed then; so, having the advantage of harvard, the boys simply held to the rope, using only enough strength to keep what they had gained. it cost them a good deal of effort to keep it. about a minute had passed since the fall, when the harvard anchor suddenly gave his men the word, and leaned far back upon the floor. it was a mighty tug. slowly but apparently surely the ribbon moved toward the harvard cleats. bruce caught the end of the rope in a knot, and muttered: "hold hard!" the boys did hold hard, but in spite of that the rope gradually slipped through their hands. "it can't last long," whispered bruce, "keep cool." a few seconds of such mighty tugging was indeed all that any team could stand, and presently the harvard men rested, having gained three or four inches. to many of the spectators it seemed now as if the ribbon was even with the chalk mark, and the harvard crew were setting tip wild cries of triumph. the yale team, however, had been lying low. bruce and his men had simply resisted the harvard tug like so much dead weight, and the instant that the yale anchor saw that the harvard team had come to rest lie exclaimed: "pull!" then the yale team gripped the rope and strained at it in earnest. their effort came like a yank, and in less than three seconds all the space that had been lost in harvard's long tug was recovered. so the contest went on to the end. harvard frequently made desperate efforts to get the ribbon on its side of the line, and each time the yale team had to lose a little ground, but each time they made a complete recovery, and at the end of four minutes the victory was with the blue. the harvard team got out of sight as quickly as possible, while the yale men went to their dressing-room, followed by the wild cheering of their friends. for the next few minutes the yale spectators paid little attention to what was going on on the floor. they busied themselves in cheering each member of their team. puss parker led the cheering. he stood in front of the yale tier and shouted: "what's the matter with browning?" an immense chorus responded: "he's all right." "nine cheers for browning," demanded parker, and then the rah-rahs came rattling forth like volleys from a battery. then parker asked what was the matter with merriwell, and so on until the others in the team had been complimented in the same way. frank was well pleased, but the complete victory was not yet won, and besides that, as manager, he had a keenness in all the other contests. so as soon as he could do so he returned to the main room and watched what was going on. the other members of the team, with the exception of bruce, also returned. the anchor, with his usual indolence, preferred to remain in his dressing-room and rest, although, to tell the truth, he did not feel the slightest fatigue. frank found nothing to be dissatisfied with, although victories for yale were not piling up as well as he could have wished. all the yale athletes had made a good showing, and there was no blame to be cast upon anybody for losing, with the possible exception of the unhappy mellor, but there proved to be good men in the other colleges, and one by one events were decided with a first place now to cornell, now to harvard, now to princeton, and so also to yale. the longer the evening grew the closer the contest seemed, and at half-past ten, when nearly all the events had been decided, it was still a matter of doubt as to which college would carry away the trophy. the tug of war between princeton and yale was set last on the programme, not because it was thought that it would settle everything, but because it was the event that created the most general interest. a good many unfinished bouts in other sports were being rapidly worked off. as it drew near to eleven o'clock harvard and cornell gradually lost their grip upon their chance for first place, and at last, when it was time for the great tug, it proved that princeton and yale scored exactly the same number of points. therefore the result of the tug would decide whether yale or princeton should carry away the tournament trophy. the thing could not have gone better for the spectators at large, but it made the students representing the two leading colleges excited and nervous. the moment the last unfinished bout was decided, frank hurried to the dressing-room, followed by the other members of the team and the managers. he halted at the door with a great start of fear. bruce lay across the threshold, his right wrist in his left hand, and glaring across the room savagely, while his jaws were shut hard together. "for heaven's sake, bruce! what's the matter?" asked frank. "i've sprained my wrist," he muttered, "and by the feeling i guess i've sprained my ankle, too!" "how did it happen?" "a dirty trick, frank, and the scoundrel who did it is somewhere in the room. i managed to get here at the door so as to grab him if he should run out, and also to prevent you from taking the same fall i did." the other members of the team and the managers were now at the spot. "be careful when you go in," said bruce. "the floor has been soaped or greased just in front of those lockers there, and it won't do for any one else to get such a fall as i've had." chapter xv. off the cleats. "did you say the fellow was still in the room?" asked frank, in a low voice. "yes, i was sitting near the door with my head down when i heard a rustling noise back of me. i supposed i was all alone, and turned about to see who had come in. i caught sight of a fellow dodging behind that middle row of lockers." "who was he?" "i don't know. never saw him before. i thought he was a thief who was going through our clothes for watches and pocketbooks, so i made a jump and went for him. right at the corner of the lockers my foot slipped and i went down full length. i could have helped myself from being hurt even at that if it hadn't been that the floor was so thoroughly greased that my hand slipped, and my whole weight came down on my right wrist. the pain was fearful for a moment, and it don't feel very good yet. i saw that it was a trick." "didn't the fellow get out?" "no. i was bound that he should be caught somehow, and as there was too much howling outside to make myself heard, i couldn't call for help. i dragged myself to the door here, and if he had made any attempt to get by i'd have held him if it killed me." "he may have got out of a window." "i think not, or i should have heard him." "we'll find out about this," said rowland, emphatically, "but meanwhile the call is on for the tug of war with princeton. can you----" the question was not completed, for browning, with a wry face, held up his right arm. his wrist was swollen to almost twice its usual size. "i couldn't pull a baby," he said, regretfully. the fellows looked blue, and hill groaned dismally. "rowland," said frank, in a quick, decisive tone, "go back into the hall and tell the committee of arrangements that our anchor is disabled, and that we shall have to have five minutes to get our substitute in order." "who in thunder can you substitute?" asked hill "rattleton." "but he never trained as anchor." "i'll put him on the rope." "who will be anchor, then?" "i will." "you!" "why not?" "you're too light, merriwell." frank shrugged his shoulders "if you can think of anybody else in the college," he said, "who is better qualified than i am to meet this emergency, bring him along." "no, no!" exclaimed the others in chorus, "you're the man, frank. this is your event, and the team may win out with you after all." "it isn't a question of winning out now," he responded, "but of taking our part in the tournament. go on, rowland, and when you've spoken to the committee, call for rattleton, and have him come here in a hurry." rowland went away, and then frank stepped over and lifted browning into a chair. "one of you fellows," he said, "find somebody to get a physician. there must be a hundred of them in the audience." there were several other students not connected with the team about the door at this time, and two or three of them started away at once. "now, then, hill," said frank, quietly, "let's see what we can do about this rascal that has tried to disable us." hill nodded and stepped into the room. "the rest of you fellows," said frank, "stay at the door and don't let anybody out." "look out for the greased spot," said bruce, warningly. hill and frank went into the middle of the room, where there was a double line of lockers extending nearly its whole length. there were two windows at the end, one of which was down slightly at the top, the other was closed. they looked up at it, and then at each other. "he hasn't gone out," said frank, confidently, in a low tone. "try all the lockers." they started down, one on each side, opening first the doors of closets in which they and their companions had placed their clothes. nothing had been disturbed there. as they went they found nothing but empty lockers, but presently frank came to one the door of which he could not open. the handle was simply a knob, and the door was held fast by a yale lock. he looked at it a moment, then, drawing back, gave the door a terrific kick squarely upon the lock. the thin wood broke at once, and another kick splintered it from top to bottom. at that instant a man dashed out, tried to push frank aside and make for the door. frank recognized him at once as one of the men he had seen with higgins at the hoffman house. "no, you don't!" he exclaimed hotly, catching the fellow by the arm and giving him a smashing blow on the side of the head. hearing the rumpus, hill came running around the corner just in time to meet the two as they were staggering along. he promptly gave the scoundrel a rattling series of blows that dropped him to the floor half stunned. "come in here," called frank, and the other students came crowding into the room. "let's kick him to death!" exclaimed one, excitedly. the students were so angry that they might have put this suggestion into execution if frank had not called a halt. "find a cord," he said, "and bind this fellow hand and foot; then we'll notify the committee of arrangements and go on with the tug of war." a cord was quickly found, and the man was tied so thoroughly that there was no possibility that he could escape. then, while frank and the others were getting ready for the tug, hill looked up the committee of arrangements and explained the situation. it may be said in passing that the matter aroused a great deal of indignation on all sides, and that an investigation was made, which resulted in showing that the man frank had captured was a common gambler, and that there were several others who had put up a great deal of money on princeton, and then taken every means they possibly could to bring about princeton's victory. he could do this only by disabling princeton's adversaries. it was found that attempts had been made to injure both harvard and cornell men as well as those from yale. two or three of the gambler's confederates were found in the hall and put under arrest, and the next morning they were taken to police court on a charge of malicious mischief, for which they were severely punished. as it was perfectly certain that no princeton man had any hand in the matter, or any knowledge of it other than had been given to the managers by the yale team, nothing was said about it at the time, for everybody was anxious that the tug of war between yale and princeton should be pulled on its merits. the master of ceremonies announced that an accident had happened to yale's anchor, and that merriwell would take his place, with rattleton as substitute on the rope. there was a good deal of dismay at this in the yale ranks, for although everybody had confidence in frank, all knew that a change in the make-up of a team at the last moment is likely to be disastrous. nevertheless, merriwell was greeted with a big cheer when he went out to the floor and wound the end of the rope around his belt. he put rattleton on the farther end of the line, and moved taylor up to his own old position. there was then a breathless moment, while both sides waited for the pistol shot. when it came, the eight men went down at the same instant. it was evident that the princeton team had observed the success of yale men in dropping, and had determined not to let them get an advantage in that way. the ribbon stood exactly at the chalk mark, and the first few seconds of violent pulling failed to budge it more than a hair's breadth in either direction. the great audience stood up and cheered as they had not done since the evening began. it was a delight to see two teams of strong young men so evenly matched in strength and skill. on the yale side there was fear in spite of the enthusiastic cheering that merriwell's weight would be against them in the end, and not a few called attention to the fact that the yale team had already pulled once, while princeton was perfectly fresh. these things were thought of, too, on the princeton side, and that made the wearers of the orange more confident. as in the former pull, there was a short period of rest after the first tug. the anchors eyed each other warily, and the men lay on the rope, crossing their legs over it, and waiting for the signal to tug again. frank saw the princeton anchor whispering to the man in front of him. "if that's a command to pull," he thought, "it's given too openly, and it's probably a dodge to throw us off our guard." it seemed to be so, for the princeton men gave one sudden yank at the rope, and then lay still. the yank did not stir the ribbon, and it did not call out any answering pulls from the yale men. many of the spectators wondered at this, and began to set up shouts to merriwell to order a pull. he remained perfectly quiet, paying no attention to the shouts around him, apparently not hearing them. in fact, he was not more than half conscious that there was anybody in the room except the three men directly in front of him and the four adversaries on the opposite team. a full minute passed, during which there was some pulling by each side, and still the ribbon remained squarely over the chalk mark. the spectators left their seats, so great was their excitement, and in spite of the efforts of the policemen who were stationed in the hall, crowded down upon the floor until they were within a few feet of the opposing teams. old men in the crowd who had graduated from college before frank and his companions were born, were quite as excited as the younger men. "don't let it be a draw, merriwell," shouted one white-whiskered man, waving his hat frantically. "princeton! princeton!" came in a big chorus from the other side of the room, as the princeton team lay closer to the floor and pulled at the rope with might and main. the muscles of their arms and shoulders stood out like whipcords and the perspiration started from their brows. they were doing their best, to say the least, to prevent a draw. it was a splendid tug; the ribbon at last began to move. it took its course slowly and by little starts and halts toward the princeton side. the palms of the yale men fairly burned as the cord slipped by. it was not much, but as before, an inch at the end of four minutes would be as good as a yard. frank's face was set in an expression of intense determination, and the perspiration stood out upon his brow, too, although he was exerting little force. inch by inch he was paying out the rope from his belt, a thing that had to be done in order to prevent his crew from being pulled to their feet. frank was waiting his opportunity; it came as he had foreseen, just at the instant when the princeton men had exerted all the force of which they were capable. he knew when this minute had arrived, not by any expression upon their faces, but by the fact that the princeton anchor hastily caught his end of the rope in a knot in order to hold the advantage that had been gained. then frank said in a tone that could not have been heard by any of the spectators: "now, boys!" on that instant the three yale men who had been lying almost on their backs, sat up, made a quick grab at the rope a few inches in front of where they had been holding it before, and then strained back suddenly, and with all the force that they could muster. the princeton anchor, who had supposed that the yale men were exhausted also, was taken completely by surprise. he had knotted his rope and could not pay it out as the opposing tug came; the result was that while there was yet a full minute to spare, the princeton team stood up suddenly, pulled squarely off the cleats by the victorious sons of yale. the shouting changed on the instant; there had been a wild, triumphant howling on the princeton side because the ribbon had gone fully fifteen inches beyond the chalk mark. now it traveled so rapidly toward the yale side that there was no measuring the distance; that did not matter anyway, for when a team is pulled squarely off the cleats, the tug is done. frank, therefore, had the double satisfaction of seeing his college win the general trophy and of meeting successfully a serious emergency that had occurred in the special sport which he had undertaken to manage. it was a great evening for yale, and one that all men who were students in the college at that time will never forget. "i tell you, i wouldn't have missed it for a good deal," said rattleton, when they were on their way to yale, the day following. "it's too bad browning was hurt," answered frank. "it's not serious," said the big fellow. "it will soon be all right, so the doctor says." and this proved to be true. inside of ten days his wrist was as well as ever. "another contest is on hand," said rattleton, one morning to frank. "do you know we are up for admission to the pi gamma society?" "yes," answered frank. "we'll catch it hot soon--when they initiate us." "oh, i reckon we can stand it," came from frank, with a quiet smile. he did not dream of all that was in store for them. chapter xvi. black marks. there were about twenty students in a room that would comfortably hold six; four of them, looking very solemn, were arranged along one side of the room with their backs to the wall; the others were seated on such chairs as there were or upon the floor. the study table in the middle of the room had been cleared of books, and a covering of newspapers had been put on top of it. the air was thick with smoke from pipes, cigars and cigarettes. the four who stood with their backs against the wall were not adding anything to the fumes; they were the only ones present who were not smoking. every window was down and the transom was closed. it is the theory among students that the smoker can stand a thick atmosphere, but that if one is not smoking it soon becomes very disagreeable to him. one would have said that this theory was correct if he had taken but a glance into the room, for the four solemn persons looked far from well, while the others were evidently enjoying themselves to the utmost. each one of the others had something in his hand besides his pipe or cigar; two or three had brooms, some horsewhips, some baseball bats, some canes, others umbrellas, and so on. the one who was apparently the leader had an iron poker. "who is the next neophyte who wishes to become acquainted with the mysteries of pi gamma?" he asked. "it's merriwell's turn next," answered one of the others. "very well, then, fetch him in." at the mention of merriwell's name the four solemn students against the wall glanced at each other. "hi, there! hi, there!" called several voices. "no talking to each other!" all the other students turned furiously upon the solemn four and glared fiercely. one of the four opened his lips as if to say something, then thought better of it, and shut them again. "if you want to make a link in the mystic chain of the pi gamma," exclaimed the leader, sternly, "you'd better keep your mouth shut!" the student thus addressed looked as if he was aching to say that he had not said anything, but his eyes simply wavered and otherwise he remained perfectly still. "i guess they'll behave themselves," declared the leader. "go out and bring in merriwell." frank was about to take his first step in the long and trying initiation into the secret society known as the pi gamma. these are the two greek letters standing for p and g, respectively. what they mean is known only to the members of the order, but the society is generally known by an abbreviation of its initials. in this way, with the characteristic humor of college students, the order of pi gamma is generally known as the "pig." so, too, members of the order are sometimes referred to as "pigs." no one is supposed to take any offense at this, for, on the contrary, it is a mark of honor to be a member of the order, and if a man can say after he has graduated that he belonged to the "pig," he makes it known that his social standing was very high. no one can become a member of this society until he has reached the junior year; then students are elected from the junior class by the members of the senior class in blocks of five. the initiation of each block of five covers a period of one week. the juniors elected at the same time with frank were harry rattleton, jack diamond, bartley hodge, and john henderson. it was these four who formed the quartet of silent students with their backs to the wall. they had received their notification of election on the evening before, and with it certain instructions. from that moment until the end of the initiation the neophyte was forbidden to laugh, or to speak aloud unless addressed by a "pig" in good standing or a member of the faculty. if he was spoken to by one of his companions, not a member of the order, the neophyte was not to answer. he was to attend strictly to all his college duties, and whenever he set foot upon the campus, he was to run at full speed and not stop running until he had left the college grounds. he was to do without question anything commanded of him by any member of the pi gamma during the week. in frank's case this last rule had been put to the test at once by commanding him to go to a well-known store in the city and buy one match and one toothpick and bring the articles to the student who asked for them. frank had complied promptly. he went into this thing, as he did into everything, in a good-natured but businesslike way. he knew that it was the custom for students to be put in embarrassing situations during the initiation, and he made up his mind to stand his share of it without grumbling. besides the rules already noted, each of the neophytes was told to write an essay upon a given subject and have it ready for reading on the following evening when the senior members of the society would meet the neophytes in baker's room. baker was the president of the "pig," and it was he who held the poker during the deliberations. the neophytes had assembled promptly, and then had been conducted to the room of a senior named rowe, from which they were called one by one to read their essays. frank's turn had come last, because there was so much respect for his nerve that the students wanted to give him a particularly hard test, and they believed it would be more effective if they made him wait until toward the end of the evening. accordingly, rattleton and the others had been through with their essay reading before frank was summoned. a couple of seniors went out after baker gave the order, and presently returned with merriwell. the latter looked as unconcerned as if he were attending an ordinary recitation. he coughed a little as he entered the smoky room, and then said, "good-evening, gentlemen," in his pleasantest tone. "ah, ah! put down one black mark," exclaimed baker, severely. frank looked surprised. he had been told when notified of his election that black marks would be entered against the name of every candidate for every disobedience of the rules, and that if a neophyte got as many as ten black marks he would not be permitted to become a member. "the neophyte has evidently forgotten the rule about speaking aloud," remarked baker. every one of the seniors present took out a little memorandum and made a mark against merriwell's name. frank had really forgotten the rule for the moment, and his lips parted to say, "beg pardon," or something of that kind, when it occurred to him that that would bring him another black mark. in fact, the instant his mouth opened, out came the memorandum books, but he shut his lips hard together, and the books went back into the students' pockets. "we will begin with a little music," remarked baker. "neophyte rattleton, come forward." rattleton at once stepped up and stood in front of frank. their eyes met, but each kept his face steady. "neophyte merriwell," continued baker, placing his hand upon rattleton's shoulder, "this is a bass viol. this is your bow," and he handed him an umbrella. "we want you to play mendelssohn's wedding march." frank took the umbrella and looked from rattleton to baker in amazement. "play, neophyte," thundered baker. frank was not certain whether he caught the idea or not, but after a little further hesitation, he took rattleton by the shoulder and moved the umbrella back and forth across that young man's stomach two or three times. "we don't hear any music!" bawled the seniors in chorus. "give him a black mark, then!" commanded baker. out came the memorandum books, and down went another black mark against frank's name. "whew!" he thought, "this won't do! i must be slow or stupid; if i don't catch on pretty soon i'll get more black marks against me than i can stand." "give us something that we can hear!" roared the seniors. the three juniors who had been through it and who were still standing with their backs against the wall, were having a particularly hard time of it just now. their lips were twitching with an almost uncontrollable desire to laugh. frank caught rattleton again by the shoulder and again sawed the umbrella back and forth across his stomach, at the same time grunting in a wheezy way to imitate the sounds of a bass fiddle. "you're out of tune!" cried one of the seniors. "play louder!" shouted another. "he's playing on the open strings all the time!" exclaimed a third. "make him move his fingers, won't you?" frank caught this idea at once, and, throwing his left arm around rattleton's shoulders, he moved his fingers up and down on rattleton's chest as if he were touching the strings of an instrument. meantime he kept up his grunting and humming as loud as he knew how. the seniors roared with merriment. rattleton was shaking with laughter, and the three solemn juniors against the wall looked as if they would explode. frank was perspiring in the effort to do the thing as ridiculously as he knew how, and yet keep his face straight. "oh, but look here!" cried baker, suddenly, "this won't do!" he took out his memorandum book, and all the students followed suit. frank stopped fiddling. "keep on until i tell you to stop!" cried baker. "that's a black mark, anyway." in despair of ever doing anything right, frank began to saw away again for dear life. "i call your attention," shouted baker, above the uproar, "to the fact that this neophyte is making loud sounds with his voice." "that must be a black mark, then!" declared the other seniors, taking out their books. frank wanted to protest that he had been told to make a noise, and that he could not very well obey one rule without breaking the other, but he thought it best to keep quiet. he learned later that the complaint against his making a loud noise was made for the very purpose of causing him to protest, for that would have brought another black mark against him. as he kept his mouth firmly closed the seniors failed to catch him there, but they put a black mark down nevertheless, so that within the first five minutes of his initiation frank had had four points scored against him. chapter xvii. the test of nerve. frank felt really worried about it, although it did seem to him that the marking was absurdly unfair. "these fellows haven't any reason to complain of a professor's marking of examination papers," he thought, "if this is the way they treat a fellow student." "it's nearly time for the test of nerve," remarked baker, "and we'd better have the essay read before this neophyte gets so many black marks that his case will be hopeless. get up on that table, merriwell." frank started to climb up on the table, but as soon as his knee was upon it a half dozen of the seniors yanked the table from under him and he fell to the floor. there was a great roar of laughter at this, but merriwell kept his face straight and did not so much as grunt. "no black mark that time!" he thought. "i told you to get on the table!" roared baker. frank obeyed this time by making a sudden jump that brought him squarely upon the center of the table before it could possibly be yanked from under him. there was a roar of applause at this, and the students gathered around to listen to the essay. frank took his manuscript from his pocket. "what was the subject you were told to write on?" asked baker. frank looked at the paper and read: "why is a hen?" the four other juniors exchanged winks; each one of them had been told to write upon the same topic. just then there was a knock at the door, and, after a moment, bruce browning was admitted. browning was already a member of the order, although he was a classmate of frank's. he had become so by being dropped at the end of his freshman year, as already related in this series of stories. when that happens a popular student keeps up his society relations with his former classmates, so that bruce, although he was a junior in the standing of scholarship, was a senior when it came to society matters. the fact that he was still a classmate of merriwell's had led him to decide that he would take no part in the initiation. the students, therefore, were surprised to see him enter. "i thought you weren't to be here!" exclaimed baker. "i wasn't," browning answered, "but i've got something important to say to you." he spoke in such a serious tone that baker at once went over to him, and after a few whispered words they shut themselves into baker's bedroom, which adjoined the study. "you remember miller?" asked browning. "you mean the tough customer that sells cigars?" "yes." "i do remember him; what of him?" "he's got a grudge against merriwell. i think frank at some time or other interfered in some dirty work he was up to, and so he's laying for frank." "well, what of it?" "he's heard that frank has been elected to the 'pig,' and he declares that he'll take advantage of the initiation to raise hob with him." "huh!" "i thought i ought to let you know about it." "well, yes, but i don't see what miller can do." "nor i, either, but it'll be just as well to be on your guard, you know." "all right, and we'll try and look out for it." "how's merriwell getting on?" asked browning. baker grinned. "he's standing it like a man," was the reply, "just as we supposed he would, but he'll get black marks enough to sink a ship before the night's over." browning chuckled. "i'll bet he takes those black marks seriously," he said. "well, why shouldn't he?" returned baker. "it's the last time we'll get the chance to roast a good fellow like merriwell, and we're going to make it hot for him, i tell you." "go ahead, he'll stand it," said bruce. having delivered his message of warning, bruce left the room. then baker returned and ordered frank to begin his essay. "speak up loud and clear," he said, "for when you're told to talk, we expect you to talk." frank unfolded his manuscript and began to read: "the problem of the hen is one of the most interesting subjects in ornithology." "hi! hi! hi!" yelled the seniors, rapping the floor with their clubs, umbrellas, brooms and so on. "it seems to me very appropriate," continued frank, reading from his paper, "that this subject should be discussed by a 'pig'----" this word was a signal for the most terrific uproar that the room had yet witnessed. all the seniors made a dash at frank with their clubs, brooms, umbrellas and so forth, raised in the air. they brought them down in great whacks upon the table; he stood as still as a statue. if he had attempted to dodge he would certainly have been hit. "the idea of a neophyte using that word!" they cried. "give him a black mark!" accordingly, the memorandum books came out and down went another black mark. it then flashed upon frank that it must be a rule of this order that no neophyte should refer to it as the "pig," and unhappily in his essay he had done so a dozen times or more. he quickly decided to pretend to read, but really to speak offhand and so avoid using the troublesome word, but there came another knock at the door. this time it was prof. adler, whose room was in the building, and who called to protest against so much noise. "you see what it is, professor," said baker, throwing the door wide open. "you were once a 'pig' yourself, i believe." "yes, i was," the professor answered, trying hard to repress a smile as he looked at merriwell and the four solemn juniors, "but really it's getting late, gentlemen, and i think you ought to take your initiation elsewhere." "well, perhaps we have gone far enough at this stage," said baker. "at any rate, professor, we won't trouble you any more to-night." "i hope you won't," said the good-humored professor, "for i should hate to report you." with that he went away, and the next stage in the initiation began immediately. each of the five neophytes was blindfolded with a towel tied around his head; his hands were then bound behind his back, and a long cord attached to them; then they were sternly ordered to remember the rule of obedience. "if you obey you'll come to no harm," said baker, earnestly, "but the slightest act of disobedience may run you into serious trouble." when the blindfolding and binding had been completed the neophytes were taken out to the campus and so to the street; there three or four seniors went with each neophyte in different directions about the city. the seniors kept hold of the rope and walked several yards behind the neophyte, telling him when to turn to the right or the left. in this way frank was made to pass close to moving wagons, and to go to the very edge of embankments where if he had taken another step he would have had an unpleasant fall. for more than an hour he was kept moving about in this way, completely baffling the efforts of the seniors to rattle him. he did everything they told him promptly, and never a word escaped his lips. he had made up his mind that come what would he would not get another black mark. at last as he was crossing a street he was told to halt. he did so, feeling under his feet at the moment the rail of a street car track. then his "mentors," as his companions were called, gathered around him, threw the loose end of the rope over his shoulders and told him to stay where he was. "remember, neophyte," said one of them, slowly, "the command is to stand still, no matter what happens." frank made no response, but it was evident that he understood them. a moment later the mentors went away, where, or how far, frank could only guess. it was late in the evening, and the street was very still, but somewhere in the distance frank could hear the rumbling of a car; it drew nearer and nearer, and at length he could hear the buzzing of the trolley wire. it seemed directly over his head. "i see what this is," he thought; "they have put me between the double tracks of the line so that i'll think that a car is going to run me down. "of course, these fellows are not going to injure me, and so if i stand perfectly still the car will pass close beside me. if i should move i might get run over. i can imagine that some fellows might be completely unnerved by this test." the rumbling of the car became louder and louder; then there was a single clang of a bell and it stopped a short distance away; some passenger evidently was getting out. the bell rang again, and the car started. the motorman kept up a loud clanging of his footbell as he approached frank; the latter, remembering his instructions, stood perfectly still, confident that the car would rush past him without touching him. suddenly, just as the car was upon him, frank was pushed violently and fell face forward in front of it! chapter xviii. frank wants more. the car was going at full speed when frank fell. on the instant the motorman reversed the current and applied the brake hard, but although the wheels immediately began to turn in the other direction, it was impossible to check the advance of the car completely. it slid for a few yards along the rails, sending up a shower of sparks, and pushing frank's body along ahead of it. frank's first impression was, when he felt the push, that it was a part of the initiation. the mind acts with marvelous quickness under such circumstances, and what he thought was that, instead of being placed beside the car tracks, he was really directly upon them and thus in the way of the car, and that this push had been given him at the very last minute in order to knock him out of the way. it was but the fraction of a second, of course, before he realized his mistake, for he received a severe blow from the car platform. knowing then that this was either a mistake in the initiation, or something not on the programme, and that at all events he was in serious danger, he made the most desperate effort to help himself. naturally this was no easy matter, for his hands were tied behind his back and his eyes were blindfolded. the knots had not been tied with the greatest skill, but the line was a stout one and in the short time he had to make the effort, frank could not release his hands. he was more than half stunned by the collision, but he kept his wits sufficiently to roll over and over in front of the moving car, trying the best he could to kick himself out of its way. meantime the car was rapping him repeatedly. it was all over in a second or two, but the time seemed terribly long to the neophyte. he was only half conscious of what happened, but he knew that the noise of the wheels upon the rails had ceased, and that he was picked up in strong arms and carried somewhere; then his brain whirled and everything became a blank. that was the way the event seemed to frank. the way it appeared to his mentors was this: following the usual custom of such initiations, they had stood frank close to the car tracks, but not so close that the passing car would have so much as brushed him. such events were not so uncommon in new haven as to make them dangerous when conducted in the ordinary way. motormen get used to the pranks of students and accordingly send their cars past blindfolded figures at full speed, oftentimes clanging the footbell furiously in order to help out the joke by alarming the neophyte as much as possible. sometimes a motorman who is new to the business gets so disturbed at the sight of the blindfolded figure near the rail that he stops the car just short of him. in any event no trouble had arisen before this from this feature of "pig" initiation. having left frank beside the track, as we have stated, the mentors withdrew and stood in the shadow of a big elm from where they could see the result of the test without being observed by the motorman or anybody else in the vicinity. they were watching the affair with great interest, although pretty well convinced that merriwell's nerve was so strong that he would stand the test without trouble. they were disappointed when the car stopped to let off a passenger, but were satisfied when it proceeded again and rapidly gained full speed. then they were amazed to see a figure dart rapidly out from the shadow of another tree not far away and make straight toward the neophyte. they wondered at it, but were not alarmed, for their first impression was that it was some man who was unfamiliar with students' doings, and who believed that the blindfolded figure was in real danger. they rather expected, therefore, to see this stranger catch merriwell up and drag him aside. their horror may be better imagined than described when they saw the stranger push merriwell in front of the car and then leap across the tracks just missing the car himself, and disappear. the alarmed and indignant seniors dashed from their hiding place and ran with all possible speed to merriwell's assistance. they came up to him just as the car stopped sliding forward, and began to move back under the force of the reversed current. the excited motorman was jabbering curses upon the foolish conduct of students generally, and altogether too busy with his apparatus and too rattled to get down from the platform. the conductor and the few passengers in the car, disturbed by the slight collision, were moving toward the platform to see what was the matter. rowe, who was in charge of the party of seniors, immediately picked frank up and carried him toward the sidewalk. "get a move on, boys!" he exclaimed, under his breath. "we must get merriwell out of sight as quick as possible." "shan't i go for a doctor, dick?" asked one of them. "yes," answered rowe, hurriedly; "bring him to my room, but keep mum." one of the seniors sped away down the street, another took hold of frank with rowe to help carry him, while the last member of the party fell in behind his companions, determined if they were followed to beat off pursuers. this action on the part of the seniors might seem rather peculiar to those who are not wholly familiar with secret society matters. they did not stop to discuss it, for each one of them knew in a flash just what must be done. secret societies at yale are very powerful organizations. in past years there were some efforts to disband them and prevent the students from organizing them. all these efforts failed; the more the faculty tried to suppress the greek letter orders, the more firmly the students clung to them, until at last the faculty had to let the societies alone. the students knew, however, that there were plenty of men in the government of the college who would be glad of any excuse to suppress the societies and no better excuse could be found than the fact that a student had been injured in the course of an initiation. therefore, when frank was knocked in front of the car, rowe and his companions knew that it would not do at all to let the accident become a matter of public knowledge. so, before the people on the car half realized what had happened, they had carried frank across the street, got over a fence into the grounds surrounding a private house, and were rushing along toward a thick clump of shrubbery. when they were concealed in this they paused for an instant to get their breath and make a hasty examination of the neophyte. by that time frank was wholly unconscious. there was a red spot upon his forehead, his clothing was torn and his hands were bleeding a little from scratches. the wounds and bruises would not have disturbed the seniors particularly, but frank's unconsciousness gave them genuine alarm. "we must keep moving!" exclaimed rowe. "let me take my turn at carrying, then," said the one who had been acting as rear guard. this was done. they proceeded across the lawn, climbed another fence into a garden and, having crossed this, came to another street. they were now fairly safe from pursuit by the passengers on the trolley car, who, as a matter of fact, gave the matter no further thought when they were told by the motorman that the affair was a lot of students' nonsense. as it was now very late in the evening the streets were almost deserted and by acting cautiously the seniors succeeded in getting frank to rowe's room without interference. there they laid him upon a bed and hastened to apply restoratives as well as they knew how. "it would be simply awful if it should prove that he was dead!" exclaimed rowe, with a groan. "he isn't dead," said one of the others; "we'll fetch him around----" at this moment the student who had gone for a doctor burst into the room bringing the physician with him. the doctor laid a case of instruments upon the table as he passed and bent over the bed where frank lay. at that moment frank opened his eyes and, seeing a strange face above him, said in a surprised tone: "hello, what do you want?" "humph!" muttered the doctor, "i thought i was going to have a fine chance to set broken limbs or do some other clever job in surgery. i guess you've cut me out of an operation, young man." "hey?" said frank, trying to sit up. his bones ached and he gave up the attempt. "what's the matter, anyway?" he asked. "how do you feel, merriwell?" asked rowe, anxiously. "kind of sore," returned the neophyte. "i should think i'd been in a football scrimmage. oh!" his eyes brightened as he remembered what had happened to him. "something went wrong with the----" he began, intending to say "with the initiation," when he caught sight of the doctor's face. seeing that a stranger was present and remembering his instructions to keep the initiation a secret, frank hesitated an instant and then said: "machinery." "yes," answered rowe, understanding the point, "the machinery broke down, but it wasn't our fault." "i took that for granted," frank remarked. "how did the car get along?" the seniors laughed. this question showed them better than anything else could that frank was not dangerously injured. "the car seemed to stand it pretty well," rowe answered. "how is he, doctor?" "well," answered the physician, who had been making an examination, "i don't see any evidence of broken bones, and what is more surprising still, the young man's brain doesn't seem to have suffered under the strain to which you have subjected him." "i can stand more than that!" muttered frank. "there's nothing for me to do here," said the doctor. "i should advise him to go to bed and lie still for the rest of the night. if he feels badly in the morning you can send for me." with this the doctor took himself off. frank then slowly sat up. "there are some aches about me," he said, with a wry grimace, "but i suppose the more i talk of them the more black marks i'll get." "oh, hang the black marks!" exclaimed rowe. "there's been initiation enough for you, old fellow, and there isn't a doubt that when the matter is explained to the rest of the 'pigs,' that you'll be excused from any further test." "no, siree!" exclaimed frank, emphatically. "eh, what's that?" "if you think," responded frank, "that i'm going to do the baby act and crawl out of the rest of the circus you're mistaken." "but----" "there's no 'but' about it! i've been through worse things than this and if you fellows don't put the initiation through just as if nothing had happened, i'll be hanged if i'll join the society." chapter xix. the leap into the river. "that's the right kind of talk anyway!" said rowe, "and it's just what we might have expected from you, but really, merriwell, this was the last thing on the programme for to-night, and even if that scoundrel hadn't pushed you in front of the car we should have made you go to bed at this time." "well, i'm bound to obey you in any case," said frank, "but speaking of that, am i at liberty to talk?" "of course, for you're in the presence of members of the pi gamma in good standing." rowe grinned when he said this, for he thought of the black-mark nonsense and realized that frank took it in earnest. he added: "out of consideration for this accident, merriwell, i shall ask the president to score off the black marks already entered against you and let you begin with a clean record." "well, i can't object to that," said frank, "for i must say it struck me that some of those marks were chucked on rather harshly." "you'd better not make any criticisms of the way this society is run," declared rowe, sternly. "that's so; i take that all back, but what i wanted to say was that it seemed to me as if somebody had interfered with the game." "that was it exactly, merriwell, and it was something that we shall have to take a hand in before long." "how did it happen?" the others told frank what they had seen. he listened thoughtfully and remarked: "some fellow evidently had a grudge against me." "it looks that way," responded rowe. "who do you suppose it could be?" before frank could answer there was a knock at the door and baker hurried in. "ah!" he said, in a tone of relief, "i see you've got through all right. there was something i meant to tell you, rowe, and i forgot all about it." "what was it?" asked rowe. "why," answered baker, "browning came in, you remember, just before we started in on merriwell's essay?" "yes. i wondered what he wanted." "well, he came in to say how he had heard that miller, the cigar dealer, had it in for frank, and that we'd better look out lest miller take advantage of the initiation to put up some dirty job. of course i meant to tell you about it before you took the neophyte to the street, but prof. adler's interruption drove it clean out of my mind. i didn't think of it until i was half through with rattleton, who was the neophyte in my party. "i see you've got through to-night all right, but it'll be just as well to look out----" baker stopped, for there was something in the expression of the faces before him that aroused his curiosity. "what's the matter?" he asked, suddenly. they told him and he listened with growing indignation. "it must have been miller!" he exclaimed, at last. "didn't any of you fellows recognize him?" now that miller's name was mentioned the students thought that they did recognize him, but they could not be sure of it. "we must find out about it!" said baker, earnestly. "this thing has not only endangered a student's life, but it has put all secret societies at yale in danger of their existence. "if frank had been seriously hurt the faculty would surely hear of it and nothing would convince them that we weren't to blame for it. miller must be prevented from doing anything of this kind again." "probably he won't try it again," frank remarked, "for if he saw how successful his trick was, he must be convinced at this minute that i was maimed for life, if not killed." "merriwell insists on going on with the initiation," said rowe, "and i have told him that, under the circumstances, we would erase all the black marks against him." "that's right," responded baker, solemnly. "i think we'd better go on with the initiation just as usual, and meantime some of us will look up miller and see what we can do about him." "i rather wish," suggested frank, "that you could wait on that until the initiation is over, so that i can take a hand in it." "it won't do to lose any time," returned baker. "you go to bed, merriwell, for you'll probably find that you need rest; the rest of us will go and have an interview with miller." as frank was bound to obey, he made no further objection to this plan, and accordingly went to his room. baker and rowe and the others proceeded to the little shop where miller did a cigar business. they found it closed. usually it was open until after midnight. by patient inquiry they learned where miller lived and they went there. miller was not at home. the students rather wished that they could report the matter to the police, but that would have brought the pi gamma affairs into public notice and so they decided not to do so. it might be said right here that during the rest of the week of initiation they made vain efforts to get track of miller. he had disappeared. an assistant was in charge of the shop, who pretended to be very much mystified at his employer's absence. whether he was telling the truth or not could not be proved. the main fact was clear; miller had played his trick so successfully on frank that he was afraid of the consequences and was keeping out of sight. frank was a little lame on the following day, but not sufficiently so to be kept from going about as usual. the initiation, therefore, proceeded during the week according to regular custom. during the daytime frank attended lectures and recitations with regularity, and as he afterward said, did rather more studying than at any other week during his college career. every evening there was a meeting of the "pigs" in the room of some senior member, where exercises of a more or less ridiculous nature, similar to those already described, were had. usually, too, there was an excursion upon the street, but in these instances the neophyte was not blindfolded. frank had had to do numberless small errands, and one evening was devoted almost wholly to sending him from house to house to ask for a piece of cake or a slice of bread. his mentors always stood near to see that he followed out the instructions literally, and in every case he complied. rattleton and diamond suffered more from the experiences of these evenings than they had on the occasion when their nerves were tested by being driven blindfolded through the streets. diamond lost his temper several times and flatly refused to go on with the initiation, whereupon the seniors would give him a host of black marks. he took the black marks as seriously as frank did, and always became very penitent. "i suppose i can do what other fellows have had to do," he grumbled, "but i can't see any sense in such tomfoolery." then the seniors would discuss the matter gravely, and decide that as diamond was a well-meaning fellow, they would let the black marks go this time, so that he could start over with a clean score. before the week was over frank began to see through the black-mark farce, and he realized that it was a part of the scheme to make a neophyte get as many black marks against himself as possible, and then as a special favor allow him to start over again; nevertheless, he continued to obey instructions as carefully as possible. the most trying experience he had in this line was when the seniors arranged matters with several young ladies who were acquaintances of frank's, so that they should meet him one after another, speak to him, and try to engage him in conversation. on each of these occasions a senior member of the order happened to be near, and frank was compelled to put his hand to his lips and shake his head at every pretty girl who spoke to him. some of the girls understood the situation, and others were mystified. the result was, therefore, that as every one of them appeared to be indignant and offended, frank accumulated a lot of trouble which it took him several calls later to overcome in the way of making apologies and explanations. he never complained, however, and at last the final night of the initiation arrived. up to this time not one of the neophytes had been near the society's rooms. these were known to be on the top floor of a high building not far from the college. no student not a member was ever admitted to them, and what there was there was one of the mysteries of the society. on this evening frank and the other neophytes were again blindfolded and dressed in long gowns that had hoods attached to them. the hood was pulled over the neophyte's face. his hands were then bound behind his back, and half a dozen mentors accompanied him on his trip. on this occasion each of the mentors had a long horsewhip. they walked at some distance from him and guided him in the way he should go by touching his face on either side with the end of the whip; when frank felt the lash brush his right cheek he turned to the right, and _vice versa_. the mentors, as before, left him alone sometimes for half an hour at a stretch. on each of these occasions he had no idea where he was or what was being done. as a matter of fact, warned by their previous experience, the mentors kept within sight, but no effort was made to do frank an injury. the object of the long waits was to try the neophyte's nerves as much as possible, so that he should be in proper condition for the final test. the most trying of these consisted of the jumping from the bridge. after having been driven this way and that until his head was completely turned, frank knew that he was approaching the railroad tracks, for he heard the sounds of passing engines. presently two of the members stepped beside him in order to prevent him from stumbling, for he was now upon the sleepers themselves. they walked beside him thus for some distance until at length the neophyte knew that he was on a bridge; he remembered the place then, or thought he did. several railroads that pass through new haven enter the street by crossing the quinnepiac river on a drawbridge. frank was certain that he was on this bridge, and for that matter his guess was a correct one. the students conducted him to the middle of the bridge, and after halting him, told him to move forward very cautiously by shuffling his feet along on the boards. he did so, and presently was aware that his toes were projecting over the edge of the bridge; that meant that the draw was open. just below him he could hear the gurgling of the water as it flowed past the piles. he stood there in silence for a few minutes, and then another party approached, bringing with them rattleton, diamond, henderson and hodge. the five neophytes were then together. a whispered consultation took place among the seniors. apparently they were trying to prevent the neophytes from hearing them, but as a matter of fact the neophytes heard every word, which was exactly what the seniors intended. the discussion was as to whether the tide had risen far enough, whether the ropes were all right and would hold, and whether any of the neophytes were too nervous to risk the plunge. of course the waiting neophytes understood it all. they realized that they would be ordered to jump into the water. it was not a pleasant thought. there was not one of the juniors who would not have relished a dive if he had had his eyes open and had been dressed for the occasion, but it is quite another thing to stand bound and blindfolded above a rushing current and leap out into the darkness. at last it was decided that rattleton should go over first. the seniors talked in low tones and acted generally as if they were greatly excited by the seriousness of the occasion. even frank, who was perfectly cool through it all, wondered if everything was so arranged that no accident could occur, and he felt a little sorry for rattleton, who was so excitable that the sudden shock of jumping and landing in the water might produce unpleasant results. with it all the seniors were very slow in their procedure and every minute of suspense made it harder for the waiting neophytes. at last baker, in a low tone, reminded rattleton of his promise to obey orders, and then told him to jump. frank, of course, could not see a thing, but he heard a little grating sound as rattleton's feet left the planks. an instant later there was a loud splash in the water. "pull him in quick!" exclaimed the voice of rowe, "we don't want him to catch cold. hurry it up!" "there, he's coming to the surface!" said another voice. this remark was followed instantly by a loud coughing and sniffing. "poor harry's got his mouth full of water," thought frank. "i'll look out for that when i go over." with a great bustling about and a lot of excited exclamations the seniors pulled rattleton up and started him off as fast as he could go toward the college. chapter xx. the last stage. it was diamond's turn next, and he went off the edge as promptly as rattleton had. the same sort of action followed his jump, and frank was surprised that diamond appeared to have swallowed as much water as harry had. "i should have thought diamond would keep his mouth closed," thought frank. hodge's turn came next, and he, too, left the bridge promptly. henderson weakened when the command came to him. instead of jumping he drew back with a little gasp. "jump, neophyte!" exclaimed baker, in a low but stern voice. "it's too late for you to hope for any special consideration now. what others have done you must do, too!" "great scott!" muttered henderson. frank heard his steps wavering upon the planks, and then, with a little quivering cry, the frightened neophyte jumped over. the splash that followed his jump was very loud, and it was followed by a lot more of splashing. "thunder and mars!" cried baker, "the rope's broken." "do you suppose he can swim?" inquired the voice of rowe, anxiously. "how can he with his hands tied?" "then he'll drown." "we mustn't let him!" "did one of you bring along that boat hook that i told you to bring?" "yes, here it is." "catch it into his clothes before he floats too far." "whew! how fast the tide runs!" "have you got him?" "yes. no! the hook's got loose." "try again, then, quick!" "good lord! suppose he's become unconscious from fear, there'd be no saving him then." frank ached to have his bandage removed and his hands unbound so that he could go to the help of his companion. "when it comes my turn to conduct an initiation i'll bet i'll fix things so that there won't be any such accident as this," he thought. "it's outrageous to put an unoffending fellow like henderson through this sort of trial and then let a slip occur." it was a great temptation to frank then to forcibly release his hands and jump into the water after henderson, but he reflected that after all there were plenty of seniors present who had courage and who knew the water well. he decided that it was best to leave the matter in their hands, but he listened anxiously for some sound of henderson's voice to assure him that all was well. he did not hear henderson's voice, but he did hear a great many more exclamations of anxiety and doubt as the seniors seemed at last to get the big hook securely fastened in the neophyte's clothing. then there was a lot of tugging and hauling, and after a time the sound of retreating footsteps. "i guess henderson will come out of it all right," thought frank, "for it seems that he can walk." "it's nearly time to close the draw," said baker, hastily. "now, neophyte merriwell, it's your turn. remember your instructions, and when i give the word, jump." frank shrugged his shoulders. it was a slight action, but the seniors could see it, for a big electric lamp upon one of the bridge pillars lighted the scene brilliantly. it was very evident that merriwell's nerve had not been shaken. "be ready to pull him out at once, boys, and don't let the rope slip this time!" said baker. "one--two----" baker spoke very slowly, and although he appeared to be perfectly unmoved, frank's heart nevertheless was beating fast he wondered how far he would fall before he struck the water. he dreaded the chill that would come upon him suddenly, but he had no fear of the result, and he was fully determined that he would do his share in this as promptly and boldly as any man who had ever been initiated. "three!" said baker. "jump!" frank leaped at once, far out from the bridge. he had his lips tightly closed, and he held his breath to avoid taking in a lot of water. to his immense surprise he did not touch the water at all. he could not have fallen two feet before he was caught in strong arms and lifted back to the bridge. nevertheless he heard a loud splash and a voice saying: "pull him out at once." "oh, come off, rowe!" exclaimed baker, in a loud tone of voice, "have you forgotten that there's nobody to follow merriwell?" "yes, that's so," was the reply, "i'd clean forgotten that." "well, i'll be hanged!" exclaimed frank, "if this isn't a worse shock than jumping into the river itself. was that the way you treated the rest of them?" "give him a black mark for talking," said baker, with a hearty laugh. frank said "humph!" but nothing else as the students hurried him across the bridge back to land. he was immensely amused by the experience, and on the way to the society rooms he thought it all out, and came to a conclusion on the matter that was very nearly correct. at high tide the water in the quinnepiac river comes almost to a level with the bridge. the boys always arrange their initiations in such a way that the bridge test shall take place at high tide, and they choose an hour when no trains are due to pass. then a small fee persuades the bridge keeper to open the draw. a big, flat-bottomed boat is procured and made fast to the bridge just in front of the open edge. half a dozen of the students get into this boat; some of them receive the leaping neophyte in their arms and clap their hands over his mouth so that he shall not cry out. at the same time other students topple a big log into the water so as to make a splash. the rest of the farce is carried on as described, with the result of making the waiting neophytes believe that their companion has had a cold plunge into the river. time was when the students made the neophytes really jump into the water, but it was found that many a student whose nerve was supposed to be perfectly good, suffered such a shock from sudden contact with the water that he became seriously ill, so that test was modified in the manner described. the last stage of the initiation that can be described was one of the most ridiculous. frank was still blindfolded and bound. he was led, he knew not where, but at last halted within a doorway. there his hands were untied and he was told to kneel. he did so, and found that he was at the foot of a flight of stairs. "you are now going to ascend," said baker, solemnly, "to the mystic regions of pi gamma. it is becoming that a neophyte should enter there in a modest attitude, therefore you will go on your hands and knees until commanded to rise. proceed." frank immediately began to climb the steps upon his hands and knees. the moment he began to move his ears were fairly deafened with a hideous uproar. it seemed as if a tribe of demons had been let loose around him. there was an infernal clatter, made, as he afterward learned, by beating upon tin pans and shaking large squares of sheet iron. there was a chorus of savage yells and shrieking. the air was foul with the odor of firecrackers that were exploded close to his ears. every kind of barbaric noise that student ingenuity can invent was brought into play. "by the bones of cã¦sar!" thought frank. "if i hadn't been pretty well seasoned by adventures before this, i believe i should be scared." as it was, far from being scared, he shook with laughter as he slowly and patiently climbed up the stairs. it seemed as if they would never end. it was a winding stairway, and went from the ground clear to the top of the high building. later he learned that this was a back stairway built expressly for the students, whose society rooms were in the top of the building. it seemed to him as if he had climbed higher than the top of the washington monument when at last he found no steps in front of him, and the diabolical racket ceased as suddenly as it had begun. he was told to rise, and he did so with a sigh of relief. he was then led two or three paces and ordered to sit down. he did so, and felt that he was in something like a swing. there were chains at each side of him, holding the seat. he was told to grasp these chains tightly, and hang on, lest he be dropped the entire distance to the ground. "that would be a pretty long fall," thought frank, who at the moment really believed that there was a well beneath him that extended clear to the bottom of the building; so he gripped the chains and heard the voice of baker crying: "all ready, send him up." "i'd like to know how much farther up i can go," thought frank. he heard the creaking of a windlass and knew that he was rising. as he went up his seat swung back and forth a little, making him feel all the more how important it was that he should hang on securely. this journey was as long, and in one sense as trying as the climb upstairs had been. there was no noise in connection with it, except the constant creaking of the windlass. blindfolded as he was, it really seemed as if he had been hauled up at least a hundred feet when at last the creaking ceased and he was lifted from his seat. then he was laid upon an inclined plane, feet downward. it seemed steep, too, and when his fingers accidentally touched the little rail at the side he noticed that it was well greased. he did not need to be told then what was to happen, for he knew that he would be sent whizzing down this plane to land--somewhere. "is the tank all ready?" asked somebody, who was holding frank by the shoulders and thus keeping him from sliding down. "yes," came a muffled voice that seemed far, far below. "let him go!" the hands on frank's shoulders were released, and he promptly began to rush down the plane. in less than a second his feet had come in contact with a mattress, and as the force of his fall brought him to an upright position, a glass of water was flung into his face. at the same instant the bandage was torn from his eyes, the hood raised, and he found himself standing in a well-lighted room surrounded by a group of laughing and interested seniors. he turned with an expression of the utmost amazement to the plane down which he had slid. he saw that the distance up which he had been slowly raised by the windlass was less than ten feet. chapter xxi. making things interesting for miller. "it's funny," remarked frank, with a smile, "how far a man seems to be going when his eyes are shut." there was a chorus of laughter at this, in which rattleton and the other neophytes, who were present, joined. order was quickly restored by baker, the president, who announced that there was yet one more step in the initiation to be taken. what this step was cannot be described here. it must be remembered that the order of pi gamma is a secret society, and every member of it is sworn to keep its secrets sacredly. among the things that they are not allowed to tell are the very tests which have already been narrated, but such secrets are really common property in new haven. so much of the initiations are conducted upon the public streets and in a public manner that there has been no violation of the rules of the order in telling of frank merriwell's experience. what followed in the rooms of the society, however, must be omitted out of respect to the serious character of the proceedings and the fact that the members of the order regard them all as of considerable importance. it is proper to say that no further tests were required of the candidates; they had passed their week's ordeal successfully, and the other proceedings were conducted with their eyes open. the end of it all was conducted with vociferous cheering on the part of the old members of pi gamma, and each of the new members came in for a lot of hearty handshaking and congratulations. then the whole affair wound up with a supper in the society's largest room. at this there were not only the seniors who had initiated the first block of juniors, but also a number of graduates who had paid a visit to new haven for the sole purpose of taking some part in an initiation ceremony. two or three college instructors, who had been members during their student days, were present, and no one there appeared to enjoy the occasion more than did prof. adler, the one who had warned the boys that they must conduct their initiation more quietly as long as it took place in a college room. on such an occasion as that the students and professors are pretty much on the same terms. the professors, to be sure, are addressed by their titles, and spoken to respectfully, but there is none of the restraint of the classroom, and no fear whatever that any of the professors present will report unpleasant things to other members of the faculty. the supper was a good one, and naturally enough it was thoroughly enjoyed by the new members, the more so as a part of their trial during the week of initiation was the fact that they had been compelled to limit their eating to the plainest articles of food. all pies and cakes had been forbidden, and in fact nothing that could be called a luxury was allowed to pass their lips. those who smoked had been deprived of that habit also. now the seniors who had been the most severe in compelling an obedience to these rules fairly overloaded their new associates with attention. they made a point of heaping the junior's plates with more good things than they could possibly eat, and a plentiful supply of cigars and tobacco was placed before them. after the eating was finished speeches were in order. pres. baker called upon one after another of the older members, and eventually each one of the new members had to make remarks. prof. adler spoke briefly but with undoubted sincerity of the pleasure it gave him to be associated with the students' society in this way, declaring it as his belief that they were helpful to the college and that it was a mistake to try to suppress them. this from a member of the faculty was especially interesting to the boys, and it brought out thunders of applause. the younger members got through their speeches very well, being greeted with loud cheers whether they said anything of consequence or not. as was to be expected, rattleton twisted his words hind side forward a good many times, and at last sat down, blushing and feeling that he had never made such a fool of himself. the older members apparently thought differently, for they applauded long and heartily until the abashed student had to rise and bow. frank spoke easily and quietly. he made no attempt at oratorical effects, but declared that he felt it an honor to be a member of pi gamma, and assured them that he should look forward to the time when he could get even for the miseries he had endured for a week in inflicting the same tortures upon another fellow. this was the spirit that the members appreciated best, and of course they cheered tremendously. the most effective part of frank's speech, however, and the one that created the greatest interest, was not applauded at all. "perhaps you don't all know it," he said, "but some of you will remember that there was an incident connected with my initiation that was not on the programme." the room became very quiet. all the seniors had been informed of miller's attempt to do frank an injury, and the only ones there who did not know it were the graduates and a few members of the faculty. "i think my friends know me well enough," frank continued, "to believe me when i say that i haven't the slightest desire to be revenged upon the man who put me in such danger of my life. it was a low-down, dastardly trick and the work of a coward." there was a low murmur of assent at this. "a man who would do such a thing as that," frank went on, "is really unworthy the contempt of a yale student and so from one standpoint it might be well enough to let the matter drop. "on the other hand, we are bound to consider the possibility of such a thing happening again. if the man who did the trick escapes without any sort of punishment, he may attempt it again, or he may boast of it to some companion as cowardly and mean as himself, and the result may be that at some future time a student may be treated in a similar way and not have the luck to come out of it as well as i did." frank paused a moment, for the deathly silence with which his hearers listened was a little embarrassing. "i have said that i didn't care for revenge," he said, in a moment, "but now that i am a full-fledged member of pi gamma, i feel that i have a right to look at it as an offense against the society rather than against me as an individual." "right!" exclaimed one of the seniors, in a low tone. others nodded approval. "i think it would be dignified and proper," frank continued, "for the society to take some kind of action on the matter, and if it is allowable i should like to make a suggestion." "go ahead," said baker, promptly; "there is no member from whom a suggestion on this matter would be more fitting. what do you think we should do?" "i'm not thinking," frank answered, "of passing any vote to do one thing or another, but it strikes me that in a perfectly harmless way we can take the law into our own hands a bit and fix miller, for there's no doubt that he was the guilty one, so that he will never molest a student again as long as he lives. "you see," and he smiled good-humoredly, "i'm fresh from my experience with the tortures of pi gamma." all the listeners smiled broadly. "it is one thing," he added, "to endure these tortures with a feeling that you are in the hands of your friends, but quite another, i should think, to go through such an ordeal with a feeling that the fiends and demons surrounding you are hostile. "i can tell you frankly that for my own part, during the worst parts of the initiation, i felt always that you were friends of mine and that i was perfectly safe to trust myself in your hands no matter what extravagant things you seemed to be doing. "i think that if miller should be put through some such proceeding it would--well, it would likely tear what little nerve he has into tatters." frank hesitated a moment and then sat down. the room was perfectly still while the members of the order looked at one another doubtfully. "i don't quite see," remarked baker, presently, "how the society of pi gamma can put a man who is not a student through an initiation." "oh, i didn't mean to suggest that," responded frank, hastily, but without rising. "i was only thinking that the society has such means for terrifying a man that it ought to be easy for us to devise a plan for giving miller a good scare." "yes, that's the scheme!" exclaimed rowe, earnestly. "i wouldn't favor putting him through anything like the farce with which we treat neophytes, but it does seem to me that we might give him a dose in earnest somehow." other members gave their assent to this suggestion and then somebody asked: "but what can you do about it if you can't find miller?" "that's a damper!" responded rowe, gloomily. "i understand that he's skipped." "he's come back," said another senior. "so?" all eyes were turned upon the speaker. "i saw him in his shop on my way to the rooms this evening," said the senior. "then he's got over his scare. probably he may have heard that merriwell wasn't seriously injured and so thinks the thing's blown over." "we'll show him the contrary!" growled baker. "but how shall we do it?" after a moment of thought baker rose and said: "i think as merriwell has suggested that it is just as well that the society should not pass any vote on this matter, but with your permission i'll appoint a committee to take the matter in charge. "they can meet after the ceremonies of this evening are over and decide what to do about it. it is probably too late to undertake anything to-night." "miller keeps open until after midnight," somebody suggested. "yes, but it's after midnight now and we don't want to act without being thoroughly prepared. unless there is some objection i will appoint the five new members with rowe and myself to act as a committee to consider this matter and take such steps as we think best." there was no objection to this and so the matter was considered settled, but the interest of the students in it was so great that they had little desire to talk of other matters, and before long the meeting adjourned for the night and the members of the committee assembled in one of the smaller rooms to lay plans for miller's punishment. chapter xxii. miller's nerves. there is no need to give an account of the long discussion held by the committee; what they did in the matter is of more importance. a good many wild plans were suggested; hot-headed rattleton was in favor of severe measures that would have given miller pain if they had not produced serious injuries. jack diamond, too, who had lost his temper more than once in the course of his initiation, argued in favor of giving miller a punishment something like a flogging at the stake. frank resolutely sat down on all propositions of this kind. "i don't care to have any hand in it," he said, "if it comes to taking this man when he's only one against a good many and giving him a drubbing. if that was the question i'd tackle him single-handed and give him a chance to defend himself. "what we want to do is to give him an experience that he won't forget as soon as he might a licking." it took some argument for frank to bring his loyal friends around to his view of the case, and they were not fully satisfied until he himself had mapped out a plan that promised good sport and success. in accordance with this plan frank did not leave his room on the following day. there were lectures and recitations to be attended to, but he cut them and did not even show his face at the window. meantime the other fellows were busy in making preparations for the serious work of the night. most of these preparations were done in one of the rooms of the society, but a little took place elsewhere; for example baker and diamond arranged to meet as if by accident in front of miller's cigar store. they chose an hour when miller was certain to be behind the counter. he was there, and after the two students had said good-morning, as if they had just met for the first time during the day, baker remarked, in a loud voice: "i got up so late this morning that i had to run to lectures after breakfast without a smoke and i haven't had time for one since. i guess i'll burn a cigar. will you join me?" "thanks," responded diamond, in the same tone, "i will." accordingly they entered the store and baker called for cigars. miller set a couple of boxes on the counter while the students made their selection. "i never smoked this brand," remarked baker, "but it looks pretty good." "it'll do if it will burn," responded diamond, biting off the end and turning to the alcohol lamp for a light. "how's merriwell getting on?" asked baker, as he handed out a bill for miller to change. diamond's back was toward the cigar dealer, but he was facing a mirror, and in it could keep careful watch of miller's face. meantime, baker was studying miller also. the cigar dealer's face was very grave, and if any one not interested in the matter that was weighing upon the students' minds had been present, he would probably have noticed nothing. both students, however, were convinced that miller was greatly interested in the question and anxious for the answer. diamond drew a long breath. "he's in a mighty bad way," he said. "why!" exclaimed baker in surprise, "i thought the doctor reported that he was doing very well?" "you forget," said diamond, "that the doctor always said that he was doing very well under the circumstances." "oh! and i suppose that under the circumstances meant that the situation was very serious, eh?" "serious! why, man alive, you don't seem to realize that merriwell narrowly escaped death outright!" "huh! i hadn't thought it was as bad as that." "well it was!" continued diamond, and it seemed to take him a long while to get his cigar lighted, while baker was slowly counting his change. miller was fussing with the cigar boxes with his head bent down. "if merriwell's muscles hadn't been as tough as steel," continued diamond, "he would have croaked before this." "oh, no! oh, no!" returned baker, as if incredulous. "i'm sure you're exaggerating the matter, diamond, on account of your interest in your friend." "exaggerate nothing!" retorted diamond, indignantly. "i guess i've spent hours enough with merriwell to know his condition." "and you say he's worse this morning?" "decidedly! the critical stage in his trouble has come on and the doctor has cleared the students out of his room. that was why i was out for a walk instead of watching by his bedside. i'm going back there now, for i can't bear the thought of being so far away." "well, it would be simply awful," remarked baker, with long breath, "if he should----" "why don't you say die and have it out!" blurted diamond. "that's what he's in danger of, poor chap." "well, if he should die," added baker, "there ought to be a lot of trouble for the chap who pushed him in front of the car." "ah! if we only knew who that was!" said diamond. "i suppose that will always be a mystery," said baker, and with this both left the shop. "the miserable scoundrel!" exclaimed diamond, under his breath, as soon as they were well outside. "there isn't any doubt that he was the fellow that did it." "of course there isn't," responded baker, "but what makes you so emphatic in saying so now?" "why this! if miller had had a spark of manhood in him he would have made some inquiry about merriwell while we were talking about him. the very fact that he kept his mouth shut showed that he was afraid to speak for fear of giving himself away." "oh, he's the one, sure enough," baker declared, "and i don't think there's any doubt that we've given him a good bit of fright for a starter. now if he doesn't skip the town----" "rattleton and the others will look out for that," interrupted diamond. at that moment they saw hodge idling in a doorway across the street and they knew that rattleton must be loafing in a similar way in some other spot. these two had been detailed to keep watch of miller, dog his footsteps wherever he went, and if he made any attempt to leave town, keep him back by force if necessary. miller did not attempt to leave town. probably he was too cautious to do so, for that might have been the means of bringing suspicion upon him. baker and diamond in his shop had declared that the attack on merriwell would probably remain a mystery; therefore it is likely that miller reasoned that it would be safer for him to stay where he was as if he were entirely ignorant of the whole matter. although rattleton and hodge kept their watch on him faithfully throughout the day, no other of the students interested in the case went near him until early in the evening. then rowe and henderson dropped in. rowe went in first and bought a box of pipe tobacco. while he was waiting for his change henderson came in with a very gloomy face. he nodded silently to rowe, laid a coin on the counter and asked for a cigar. "why! henderson," exclaimed rowe, jocosely, "what's gone wrong with you? has the faculty suspended you, or is it simply stomach ache?" "oh! don't joke about it!" responded henderson, dismally. "joke about what?" "haven't you heard?" asked henderson, in the same melancholy tone. "heard what?" "about merriwell." "no. that is, nothing since morning. has he----" "yes. he's gone!" the two students looked at each other as if in great consternation. rowe drew a long breath and remarked: "great scott! that's awful." henderson sighed too, and both went out together without another word. then they got around the nearest corner and burst into a perfect fit of laughter. "say! but he looked as if he'd seen a ghost," chuckled henderson. "gee whiz!" returned rowe, "but he was blue. how will he look to-night, eh?" "i'm just burning up to have the fun begin," answered henderson, "and we shall have to wait until midnight." "yes, later than that if he shuts up at the usual late hour, but perhaps he'll start home earlier." "i shouldn't wonder," remarked henderson, "if this should work on his nerves through the evening and cause him to try to skip the town." "we shan't lose him," returned rowe, in a satisfied tone, "and the only thing we've got to do now is to kill time until the hour comes for business. let's play billiards." accordingly they went to a billiard hall and knocked the balls around until they were tired of walking about the tables. for the others interested, as well as those, the time passed slowly. a number of students, including merriwell, who were to take part in this affair, assembled at the society rooms about the middle of the evening, thinking that possibly miller might take fright and shut up his shop earlier, but the hours passed and miller still stuck to his counter. hodge and rattleton, who, now that it was dark, stood nearer to the cigar store, could see that miller was growing nervous as the time passed. he paced restlessly up and down back of his counter and occasionally shifted the position of boxes and did other things to indicate that he was suffering from extreme anxiety. when customers came in he greeted them gruffly and had little to say, whereas his usual custom was to talk freely. after eleven o'clock, when the store happened to be free from customers for a moment, the boys saw him empty his cash drawer into his pockets and also take what money there was in his safe and stow that in his clothes, too. from that time on he put whatever money came in into his pockets instead of into the drawer. they judged from this that he had made up his mind that he must leave town, and that he was taking all the money that he could lay his hands on with him. finally, a little before midnight, he seemed to feel that he could stand the strain no longer, and prepared to shut up the shop. he turned the lights down hastily, as if he feared that some customer might enter and detain him longer. he went out, locked the door behind him, and started rapidly toward his lodgings. he lived at some distance from his shop, and had to pass through a long, quiet street to get there. even in the daytime few persons were usually stirring upon this street, and at this hour it was entirely deserted. miller went along part of the time with his head down, and part of the time turning his eyes in every direction. he was just approaching an intersection with another street when two figures in long, black robes with hoods drawn over their heads seemed to rise from the ground in front of him. as a matter of fact, they had simply stepped from behind a tree, but miller's mind was in no condition to take things as they were. he gasped with fright the minute he saw them, stopped short and then tried to run back. the figures leaped after him, and clutched him by the arms, while one clapped a hand over his mouth. "it'll be safer for you," said one of them, sternly, "to make no resistance, for if you do you'll be beaten to a pulp in less than no time." miller chattered with fear. in spite of this threat he might have tried to break away, but he saw other figures apparently rising from the ground. he was quickly surrounded by not less than a dozen, all in black cloaks and hoods. he could not see the faces of any of them clearly. chapter xxiii. tried by the "pigs." if miller had not been guilty of the assault upon frank, he might possibly have had faith that no yale student would do him a serious injury, though that is doubtful, for he had the idea which many ignorant people hold that students are nothing short of young barbarians when they get to playing pranks. as it was, he was fully convinced that he was in for the most horrible tortures, even if he were permitted to escape with his life. he was in such an agony of fear that if he could have done so he would have disregarded the threats of the leader and yelled at the top of his lungs, but his very fear prevented this, to say nothing of the fact that one of the students kept his hand ready to close over miller's mouth. the cigar dealer was so paralyzed with terror that he could only chatter. a few disjointed words came out which seemed to be to the effect that he hadn't done it purposely. if the students had needed any further proof that he was the guilty party, this would have settled it. they were sufficiently satisfied, however, before they began their operations, and this partial admission merely stimulated them to more active work. the dozen or so who had come out in hoods to capture the man, surrounded him and walked him rapidly toward the building in which the pi gamma had its rooms. in so doing they passed more than one person on the streets, but no more than a little curious attention was paid to them. whoever saw them supposed that some process in a secret society initiation was going on, and if they caught sight of the unhooded figure in the middle of the group, they undoubtedly supposed that it was a neophyte. miller longed undoubtedly to cry for help whenever the party met anybody, but with a student clinging to each arm and hands raised to choke his voice, he dared not so much as whisper. so at length he was brought without interruption to the back entrance of the building, where he was hustled into the doorway and blindfolded. there, strangely enough, he found his tongue for a moment. "you fellers let me alone, or you'll all go to jail for it," he muttered. a chorus of hoarse, long-drawn "ahs!" was the answer to this. the outer door was closed then, and miller was told to kneel. "i won't do it!" he protested. "i'm not going to have my head struck off with an ax----" "kneel, you scoundrel!" cried the voice of baker, who was the leader of the party. they did not wait for him to kneel, but pushed him to his knees. he found himself as the neophytes did, at the bottom of a stairway; then they told him to mount, and prodded him in the back and legs to make him start on. miller started, for he could not help himself. his journey upward then was like that described in the case of frank during his initiation. what he felt cannot be described, for miller, so far as is known, never told anybody about it. he arrived at the top of the long, winding flight of stairs in a state of almost complete collapse. the noise had been more deafening and hideous than ever had been endured by any neophyte. the whole force of the pi gamma were out to make the thing a success, and every kind of racket that ingenuity could devise was added to the usual programme. when at last miller found that there were no other steps ahead of him to be climbed, he stumbled forward, face downward, and lay upon the floor gasping and groaning. the noise suddenly ceased, for baker had held up his hand and the students who understood the programme obeyed his silent command immediately. "the mystic gates have been passed," remarked baker, in a solemn tone. "it is understood that the person who has thus entered within the circle of pi gamma is not a member and that he has been permitted to come here simply that he may defend his own life. "we will, therefore, proceed to try him at once. set the prisoner on his feet." a couple of students lifted miller up, and obeying another sign from baker, took the bandage from his eyes. miller looked around then with a stare of fright and surprise. the hooded figures had disappeared and in their places were students dressed just as he was accustomed to seeing them. the room was a large one, but what it contained besides the students he was too frightened to notice. his knees were shaking and his lips quivered, although in the presence of these rather familiar faces he tried to pull himself together and look cool. "miller," said baker, sternly, standing squarely in front of him, "you are in a very serious situation, and it is necessary for your safety that you should have as good control of yourself as possible. we intend to give you every chance for your life." "i ain't done nothing!" muttered miller. "that will be found out later," was the stern reply; "meantime you're in no condition to defend yourself. we'll give you a bracer so that you may be able to understand what goes on and take part in it the best way you know how." with this baker nodded to a senior, who immediately came forward with a glass filled with some kind of liquor. "drink this," said baker. he held it out to miller, who took it with a trembling hand. "you're going to poison me," he stammered. "in the presence of all these witnesses?" returned baker, sharply. "hardly. the stuff will not harm you; if you don't drink it you'll be worse off." miller still hesitated. he looked doubtfully at the liquor, smelled of it and then stared helplessly at the faces around him. baker raised his hand. at the signal every student seized a club of some kind and got in a circle around miller, holding the clubs up. "we don't want any nonsense about this," said baker then. "you can either drink that dose now or the clubs will fall." the instant he had spoken every student brought his club down hard upon the floor close to miller's feet. the man fairly danced in an agony of fear, and a part of the liquor fell from the glass. "drink!" thundered baker. the cigar dealer then put the glass to his lips and poured it down with one gulp. baker nodded in a satisfied way. "now put him in the prisoner's chair!" he said. two of the students then led miller trembling and more than half convinced that he had taken deadly poison, to the swing in which the neophytes had been drawn up to the ceiling. miller was seated in the chains and told to grip the chain and then the windlass was worked, and he was raised three or four feet from the floor. the students grouped themselves in front of him, seated on chairs; baker alone remained standing. it seemed to miller then as if everybody moved very slowly. he thought he could count a hundred between every two words that were uttered. before many minutes had passed it seemed to him as if he had been a year in this place. this sensation on his part was due to the liquor he had drunk. it was a harmless preparation of hasheesh, a well-known indian drug that, taken in sufficient quantities, is poisonous, but in small doses produces simply a half dream-like effect upon the mind that causes the time to seem intolerably long. it is a dangerous drug to fool with, but the preparation of it in this instance had been made by a senior who was the best student in college in the department of chemistry. he knew just how to put it together so that the effect on miller's brain would not endure for more than two hours and would leave him entirely uninjured. as he expressed it: "it won't do him half as much harm as an ordinary jag, and he'll remember everything that occurs during the time that he's drugged, and everything that's done will impress him most seriously." taking his fear and the influence of the drug together, therefore, miller was in very ripe condition for the trial that then took place. it was really very brief, for knowing that the time was passing slowly to the victim, the students hurried through the proceeding in order to get more quickly to the climax. "miller," said baker, sternly, "you are accused of pushing frank merriwell in front of a moving car. what have you to say for yourself?" "i--i--i----" stammered miller, very slowly. "if you're going to tell the truth," interrupted baker, "you can take less time about it. we know the facts, for you were seen by four of us and recognized. we should have let the matter pass if it hadn't resulted fatally." "i didn't go for to do any real harm," answered miller, the perspiration breaking out upon his face. "but you admit that you did do it?" "i just thought i'd give him a scare." "very well, gentlemen," said baker, calmly, "what's your verdict?" "guilty!" thundered the students in chorus. miller trembled so that the chains to which he was clinging rattled. "see here," he said, feebly, "i don't see how it could be fatal, for i heard that frank merriwell was seen around on the streets day before yesterday." "then you doubt, do you, that your cowardly trick has proved fatal?" "how could it," asked miller, "if he was going around just as usual? i think this is some infernal trick of you students----" "you'd better speak respectfully." "well," stammered miller, "i don't want to cause no offense, but you told me i could defend myself, and i ain't going to believe that frank merriwell was seriously hurt. i'm sorry for it if he was, and i won't do it again." "take him down and let him see the body of his victim!" said baker, in a solemn tone. miller started so when he heard this that he almost fell out of the chain loop. the windlass creaked, and he was set down on the floor. baker's command had set his fears going afresh, and he trembled so that he could hardly stand upright. a couple of students caught him by the arms and pushed rather than led him to one of the small rooms of the order. a door was opened and miller was forced inside. he gave a loud gasp when he entered, fell upon his knees, and beat his hands helplessly upon the floor. chapter xxiv. humperdink to the rescue. what miller saw was this: a room lighted by one solitary candle and rendered more gloomy by heavy curtains hanging before the windows; a cot bed was in the middle, and upon it was a body all covered over with the exception of the face, and the face above it was that of frank merriwell. it need hardly be said here that frank was as much alive at that moment as he had ever been in his life, but his face had been covered with chalk so as to resemble that of a dead man. miller was thoroughly convinced that frank was dead, and he was not too frightened to realize that he had admitted having been the cause of it. "oh! what shall i do? what shall i do?" he groaned. "i never meant that it should be as bad as this!" "it isn't a question of what you shall do," remarked baker, sternly. the other students had come into the room and now stood around, looking on solemnly. not one of them so much as winked at another for fear that the spectacle would lose some of its force upon the mind of the frightened victim. "the point is," continued baker, "that you are not in a position to do anything; the question is, what shall we do?" "he ought to have his head chopped off where he is!" muttered bruce browning, gruffly. miller started and edged away from the spot where he was kneeling. "no!" exclaimed baker, sternly; "that would be too easy; i should rather think that it would be better to boil him in a vat!" "or might burn him alive out on the marshes!" said another. "i think a good straight forward hanging is the best thing for him!" muttered jack diamond. "oh, for heaven's sake, gentlemen!" groaned miller, "don't let it be to-night. give me a chance to make up for this!" "how can you make up for it?" retorted baker. "do you know any way of restoring a dead person to life?" "no, i don't, but i never would have gone to do it if i'd supposed that it would be serious, so help me, i never would!" "i don't think that that makes any difference." at this moment there was a stir in the room back of the students. baker turned inquiringly. one of the students who had really been present all the time now pretended to be coming in from the outside in a hurry. "prof. humperdink," said this student, "is on the way, and will be here in a minute or two." "ah!" responded baker, in a tone of relief, "perhaps then that may make things better, for, of course, while we are bound to punish this man miller, we want merriwell restored to life if such a thing can be done." "humperdink can do it if anybody can!" said rowe. "do you mean to say, gentlemen," gasped miller, "that there's a chance that merriwell may be restored?" "we can't tell until humperdink comes," responded baker, solemnly. "haven't you ever heard of humperdink?" "i don't think he buys his cigars at my store," responded miller. "no, he probably doesn't," responded baker, significantly. "humperdink doesn't indulge in ordinary tobacco; he smokes the root of snake plants found in the wilds of africa. one whiff of it for an ordinary man is fatal." miller stared in a way that showed he believed every word. he was not in a condition to doubt anything that was told to him. that is one of the effects of hasheesh, but even without the drug it is more than likely that he would have believed everything said to him on this occasion. "humperdink," continued baker, "knows all the mysteries of nature. he has experimented with all poisons, and eats them as readily as the rest of us do ordinary food. in the old days he would have been called a magician. really he's a very great scientist, and if there's any possible hope for merriwell he'll know it. ah! here he is." at the moment when miller had been taken into the room where merriwell lay apparently dead, another student had slipped into the dressing-room of the little theatre, which was a part of the society's quarters, and had put on a long gown, white wig and beard, and concealed his eyes with dark glasses. he now came tottering feebly across the room toward the students. "what have ye here?" he asked in a high, cracked voice. "one of the students has died, professor," responded baker, in a tone of deep respect, "and the circumstances were so peculiar----" "dead, eh?" returned the "professor," stopping short in his walk, "then i can't do anything for him." he turned about as if he would go away. "oh! don't give it up!" screamed miller, "come in and give him something to bring him back to life; do it, i beg you, for my sake!" "your sake," sneered the "professor," "you are not worth the turn of a thumb!" "oh, but you don't know how much depends on it!" cried miller. "i don't know!" fairly shouted the professor. "i know everything! i know that you caused that young man's death; i know that you pushed him in front of a moving car; i know that you didn't mean to kill him, but that you would be glad to do so if you could do it safely; i know that you're a cold-hearted wretch!" miller again beat his hands upon the floor helplessly. "yes! yes!" he groaned, "i'm all that, but i don't want him to die! do save him if you can, professor." "it's this way, professor," said baker, quietly. "this man groveling on the floor is not worth the turn of a thumb, but the rest of us are very fond of merriwell, and would like to have him restored to life if such a thing can be done. "do it for our sakes, and the sake of science, professor." "well," grumbled the "professor," after hesitating a moment, "for the sake of science i'll take a look at him. the rest of you clear out." he turned slowly into the dark room, while the rest of the students withdrew, taking miller with them; then a long ten minutes passed. meantime, acting according to their former programme, the students in the main room discussed various plans for the punishment of miller. the victim of their fearful proceeding squatted on the floor, rocking his body back and forth, moaning and wringing his hands. at last "prof." humperdink appeared in the doorway and started slowly across the room. miller jumped to his feet, ran to him, and caught him by his robe. "tell me," he cried, frantically, "will he recover?" "bah! don't touch me!" returned the "professor," giving the cigar dealer a vigorous kick. miller fell over on his side, while the "professor" went slowly out of the room. "why don't you ask him," said browning, anxiously turning to baker, "has he succeeded or failed?" "he must have failed," responded baker, sadly, "or he would have said something about it. we'll take the prisoner in there again and decide what to do with him." by this time miller was a complete wreck. he could not possibly stand upon his feet, and students picked him up to carry him to the darkened room. just then the door of that room opened again, and frank appeared in the doorway. he had rubbed some of the chalk off his face so that he appeared more natural than before, but he leaned against the doorpost as if weak. "well, fellows," he said, feebly, "what's the matter?" the students set up a great shout, ran to merriwell, grasping his hand and congratulating him warmly. frank appeared to be dazed by the proceeding. "what's the matter, anyway?" he asked. "what am i here for in this condition?" "you've been dead!" shouted the students, in chorus. "dead, is it?" "yes, and prof. humperdink has restored you to life." frank looked as if he did not believe it. "this is some joke," he said. "joke? why, we thought you were going to tell us what happened in the other world." "i'm not going to tell anything until i understand this!" he retorted. "hello, there's miller." during this miller had been half lying in a chair where the students had dropped him at sight of frank. he was staring in speechless astonishment at the figure in the doorway. the probability is that he was still so frightened that he believed that frank had not really come back to life, but that it was his ghost that was speaking. "what's miller doing in the pi gamma rooms!" exclaimed frank, starting toward him. "he's the fellow that pushed me under the car! did you bring him up here for me to give him a thrashing?" this was said in such a perfectly natural tone, and frank appeared to be so much in earnest, that miller was restored to a good deal of his ordinary condition. he jumped up from the chair, and tried to make for the door; of course, he was caught before he could get out. then while he was held there, baker pretended to explain to frank that death had taken place and that humperdink had restored him by some secret scientific process. "we had miller here," he concluded, "so that we might punish him for causing your death." frank listened very gravely. "well," he said, "the main thing is that i'm alive again. as for you, miller, you deserve to be hanged just as much as if you had succeeded in what you tried to do, but i'm so much alive again that i'm inclined to beg the boys to let you off." "oh, don't let them hurt me, mr. merriwell!" groaned miller. "on my life i didn't mean to do you any harm, and i'll never do anything wrong again as long as i live." "i think it's safe enough to take his word for that," said frank, turning to the others. they looked a little doubtful, but baker answered for them. "well, merriwell is the most interested party, and what he says ought to go. you may get out, miller, but remember if there is ever any sign of you attempting dirty work with a student again, we'll be after you, and next time we won't give you any chance for a trial, either." "i'll behave myself for the future, i will, so help me!" stammered miller, as he made for the open door. after he had been seen well out of the building the students indulged in an uproarious laugh at the success of their plan, and all declared that it was a much better way of getting even with the cigar dealer than any of the plans suggested by the other students. they had another supper on the spot to celebrate the event, and they were not surprised a day or two later to learn that miller had disposed of his cigar business and left new haven forever. chapter xxv. frank has a visitor. after the affair with miller matters went along quietly for some time with frank. he turned to his studies with a will, paying particular attention to mathematics, so that no complaint might be made against him by prof. babbitt. one day he was deep in a problem in geometry when there came a loud rap on the door. "come in." the door opened, and in walked ben halliday. frank looked up in surprise. "hello! hally," he called. "hello! merriwell," said the other, a trifle stiffly. "what's the matter, old man? you are not usually in the habit of knocking in that manner. usually you walk in without being invited." "perhaps i have been a little too free in that respect," said ben, significantly. "free! not at all. you know any of my friends are welcome here at any time. this is liberty hall." "that sounds all right, merriwell," said ben, remaining standing; "but, if you mean it, why should you say i am too fresh and take too many liberties?" "i say so? why, i never said anything of the sort has any fellow reported me as saying that?" "i heard it." frank came to his feet instantly. "heard me say so?" he cried. "is that what you mean, hally?" "no; i mean that i have heard you did say so." merriwell advanced and placed his hands on the shoulders of his visitor, looking straight into ben's eyes. "halliday," he said, slowly, "have i ever been anything but a friend to you?" ben moved uneasily, and then answered: "i do not know that you have." "did you ever know me to say anything behind the back of either friend or foe that i did not dare say to his face?" "no." "did you ever know me to lie?" "no." "then you will believe me, i think, when i tell you i did not say you were too fresh and took too many liberties. some chap has been trying to make you my enemy. i have seen of late that you acted strangely but did not know why. now i understand it. but i am surprised that you could believe such a thing of me." halliday was confused. "well," he falteringly said, "you see it's this way: i knew you hated to throw up your grip on the football team and drop out entirely, and somebody said you were jealous of me because i did such good work against the indians. you know my run in that game was compared with your famous run in the princeton game last season. and you have not been just like yourself lately. sometimes you have not looked at me when we met." "is that so?" asked frank, in surprise. "i didn't know it. must be my mind is on my studies too much. and still i made a dead flunk the day after the carlisle game. there had been so many reports that the indians had a new trick that was sure to enable them to win, and, knowing as i did what bulldogs they are to play, i was all nerved up with anxiety. couldn't seem to keep my mind on my studies for a week before the game, and it grew worse and worse the nearer the time came. after it was over, i found i might as well have taken part in the game." "that's just it!" cried halliday, quickly. "that's why i dropped around to see you." "eh? what do you mean?" "why don't you get back on the team?" "get back? what are you driving at? you're doing good work. "i don't want to crowd you out." "you wouldn't. they need you as full-back." "you played that position in the game with the indians." "but i am not to play it again. i am quarter-back now." "is that right?" cried frank, in surprise. "your position has been changed? how did that happen?" "quigg is out of it for the season. you know he was hurt in the last game. doctor says he must not play any more this year. i have been shoved into his place in a hurry." "what's that for?" "forrest did it. a new man is going to be tried at full-back--rob marline. forrest is desperate. he says the team is broken all to pieces, and stands a poor show with either harvard or princeton. this will be a dismal season for old yale." frank turned pale and seemed to stagger a bit, as if he had been struck. it was a shock for him to know that yale was in danger. he had supposed she was all right and everything was running well. "we did not make the showing against the indians that we should have made, although we beat them," halliday went on. "but for my lucky run, we might have been beaten." "i didn't know----" began frank, falteringly. ben made a fierce gesture. "what's the matter with you merriwell?" he savagely cried. "didn't know? you should know! you are the fellow of us all who should know. you have changed, and it has not been for the better. i tell you we stand a slim show with harvard and princeton, and you are needed just as you were needed at the tug of war. that being the case, you have no right to shut yourself up here in your room and plug away, seeming to take no interest in anything but your studies and recitations. you have been the most popular man in college, but your popularity is on the wane. i'll tell you why, if you want to know." frank was still whiter, if possible. was this halliday talking to him in such a manner--halliday, who had ever seemed to stand in awe of him? it was plain enough that ben was giving him a "call down," but what shook merry the most was the fact that he began to feel that it was merited. "i should like to know," he said, slowly. ben could not tell what effect his words might have on frank, but he was reckless, and he did not care. "you can punch my head, if you want to," he said, "but i am going to talk plain. don't seem to be anybody else who dares to talk to you. they kick and growl and say things behind your back, but they don't come right at you with what they want to say. they are saying that you are afraid to play on the eleven this year." frank stiffened up. "afraid?" he said, hoarsely. "yes." "how can they say that? have i ever shown fear?" "they do say it," came doggedly from halliday. "they say you made a lucky run in the princeton game last year, and you know it was a case of dead cold luck. it gave you a great rep., and you are afraid of taking a fall down if you play this season. that's exactly what they are saying, and," added ben, for himself, "i'll be hanged if it doesn't look that way from the road!" frank bit his lip and stood staring at halliday. he showed no anger, but it was plain that he was astonished. up to that moment he had not realized he stood in a position where he could not withdraw from football, baseball, or anything else in that line of his own desire without being regarded as cowardly. now he saw it plainly enough. halliday had been doubtful as to the manner in which frank would take his plain talk, but he was determined to tell merry what was being said, and he would not have hesitated had he felt certain it would produce a fight. but frank saw ben was speaking the truth, and, instead of being angry, he experienced a sensation of gratitude. still he was determined to know all about it. "how long have they been making this kind of talk, old fellow?" he asked. "ever since it was known for sure that you had decided not to try out for the eleven this fall." "and this is the first i have heard of it!" "they didn't talk so much at first," explained ben. "it wasn't known then but your place could be filled easily." "you were put in my place." "yes, but i should have been placed elsewhere if you had come on." "and they think that would have strengthened the team?" "of course it would! i tell you the fellows have a reason to growl when they see yale putting out a weak eleven while the best man in college refuses to get into gear and give a lift." "what sort of man is this marline?" "a good runner and a pretty punter." "sand?" "guess so." "then what's his weak point?" "temper." "quick tempered?" "like a flash of powder. loses his head. forrest says he may lose any of the big games for us by getting mad at a critical point, but still he is the best man we have." frank walked over to his window and looked out, his back toward halliday. ben stood watching him with no small anxiety. now it was over, and he had relieved his feelings by speaking out plainly, ben wondered at his own boldness. he had been flushed with excitement, but he felt himself growing pale and cold. "lord, what a crust!" he thought. three minutes passed this way, and then frank whirled around with startling suddenness. "do you practice to-day?" he asked. "yes." "i'll come out to the park." "what for?" "don't know yet. i'll look on, anyway." "shall i tell forrest?" "no, you needn't say anything about it." "all right." halliday was well pleased with the result, for he felt sure merry was aroused. "how do i know i am wanted on the eleven?" frank asked. "it's all made up now, and----" "heard forrest say he'd rather have you for full-back than marline." "well, i'll come out and see you practice." so ben left. at one time he had been envious of merriwell, but now, like others, he realized that merry was too good timber to be lost from the eleven. halliday overcame his selfishness, and, for the interest of old yale, desired to see merry back on the team. besides that, ben was not pleased to be changed from full-back to quarter-back and have a fellow like marline given the position he had played very well thus far that season. he felt that he had much rather be put off the eleven entirely to give room for frank. after ben left, frank attempted to return to his studies, but he could not fix his mind upon them. he went down to recitation in a dazed condition, and made a flunk, much to the surprise of those who knew he had turned into a "greasy grind" of late. frank's mind was uneasy, and it wandered constantly. the knowledge that he had been regarded as cowardly in declining to go on the eleven was gall and wormwood to him. he was glad halliday had come to him and let him know how matters stood, and surely no one could have closer at heart the welfare of yale in all directions. he began to understand that he had won a position in athletics from which he could not voluntarily withdraw without being misunderstood and maligned. that afternoon halliday came around for frank, and found him with his sweater and rough clothes on, ready to leave his room. "i was afraid you would forget," said ben, in a confused way. "little danger of that!" muttered frank. "i haven't been able to remember anything else but what you said to me this forenoon." "hope you didn't lay it up against me, merry." "don't take me for a fool, old fellow!" came rather sharply from frank. they left the college grounds and took a trolley car out to the park. forrest and the team were there ahead of them. a hundred spectators were watching the men catch punts. bob cook was there. he was not coaching; he was standing at one side by himself, watching the men, something like a disconsolate look on his face. this was not like him; it was significant. as they entered the gate, halliday touched merriwell's arm, quickly saying: "there he goes!" "who?" asked frank. "marline. he's getting out to take some punts." frank knew marline by sight, but he had never given the fellow much attention. now he deliberately sized him up. he saw a well-built, healthy-looking lad, who carried himself gracefully, almost arrogantly. there was more than a suggestion of conscious superiority in marline's manner. punk!--a strong leg sent a twisting ball sailing toward marline. he ran under it with an air of confidence, and caught it easily, gracefully. "i take it he is one of the fellows who show up well in practice, at least," said frank. chapter xxvi. significant movements. the appearance of frank on the ground soon attracted attention. of late there had been much talk about merriwell and there was not a college man interested in football who had not expressed an opinion concerning his ability or his withdrawal from the sport. early in the season walter gordan had made a try for the eleven, but had soon been turned down. sport harris could not have been induced to play football, but he took much interest in the team, as he wished to know how to place his "dough" on the great games. harris and gordon were watching the men at practice, but the latter saw merriwell as soon as he entered the park. "well, hang me!" he muttered, staring. "what's the matter?" asked sport. "look there--with halliday!" "yes, i see--why, it's merriwell!" "sure." "what's he out here for?" "don't ask me!" "thought he was out of it. hasn't seemed to take any interest in the eleven this season." "perhaps he thinks he's stayed away till it is so late he'll not be asked to come on the team. he couldn't keep away any longer." "well, he's needed on the eleven, and that is a fact. he has disgusted his friends by pulling out of the game." gordan laughed. "he seems to think he can retire on the laurels he has won." "well, he never made a bigger mistake in his life," said harris. "yale doesn't have any use for shirks. if he thinks he can retire because he made a great run in the princeton game last fall, he is mistaken." "he is retiring on his reputation as a globe-trotter," sneered walter. "you know he has been all over the world. i expect to hear any day that he has discovered the north pole during some of his extensive travels, but has forgotten to say anything about it." "you think he hasn't traveled as much as has been reported?" "oh, he may have been over the pond, but that's nothing. willis paulding has been over several times, and so have a score of fellows i know. but the yarns about shooting panthers in south america, gorillas in africa, and other fierce and terrible beasts in other countries are altogether too steep to go down my throat." "how about the trophies he has to show for it?" "bah! his uncle left him money to burn, and he has a way of squeezing any amount of it out of his guardian, prof. scotch. if he calls for a thousand dollars, he gets it right away. with money like that i could buy a lot of old weapons, queer pottery, fake idols, brass lamps, skins of wild animals, and so forth, and make a big bluff that i had gathered them all over the world. i don't say much about him, but, between you and i, that fellow makes me awfully weary." harris grinned a bit. "can't get over it, can you?" he said. "can't get over what?" "the fact that he beat you out at both baseball and football last year. he got onto the 'varsity nine and the eleven. you tried for both, and got onto neither." "oh, i don't care about those things," protested gordan. "it was by chance that he got onto the nine, and you know it. if yale hadn't been hard up for pitchers, he would not have been given a trial." "that's all right, but you had the same opportunity and you got left." "oh, well, rub it in!" snapped gordan. "merriwell has beat you at a few things, or the stories they tell are lies." it was harris' turn to get red in the face. "who has been telling anything? has merriwell been blowing around?" "i don't know about that, but it is said that your harvard friend, harlow, proved to be a card sharp--and you introduced him to a lot of fellows here. merriwell got into a game and caught him cheating. if the stories are straight, merriwell could have made it hot for you. he let up on you." "lies!" snarled harris, his face growing dark, while he pulled away at his short mustache. "it must be merriwell has been telling these things. oh, i'd like to punch his head!" "yes, but you don't dare try it any more than i do," grinned gordan. "you know he can lick you and not half try." "oh, he's a fighter, and i don't pretend to be that; but he may find me dangerous. i have been keeping still for some time, but i'm simply waiting, that's all." "the fellows say he was dead easy with hartwick, but that evan would not let up on merriwell." "well, hartwick was forced to leave college, anyway, and i'd like to make frank merriwell do the same thing." "wish you might. it would give some of the rest of us a show." "if he's played on the eleven this fall, i should have been forced to put my money on yale. now we've got a weak team, and i have put up something on harvard as soon as this. i am getting all the bets i can before it is generally known that yale is weak." "what if merriwell should be taken on?" "there is no danger of it, and he couldn't play the whole game, anyway. as full-back, however, he would have strengthened yale's weakest point. it is remarkable, but we haven't a man besides merriwell this season who is fully qualified to play the position." "what's the matter with the new man?" "marline?" "yes." "he's a grand-stand player. all he cares about is to do something pretty to win the admiration of the ladies. he will work for marline, and not for the team. mark what i say. the team was weak enough when it went against the indians, but it is weaker still with halliday at quarter and marline at full. harvard is better than she was last season, when we beat her by a fluke, and she will walk right over our team. put your money on harvard, gordan, and you will win everything." "hello!" exclaimed walter, suddenly. "what's up now?" "cook is talking with merriwell, that's all." "that means something." "get out! cook is coach, but he isn't running the team." "i tell you it means something! see--cook calls forrest. now the captain of the eleven is coming over. see that! they are talking together. i tell you that means something, harris!" gordan was excited, and he seemed to impart his excitement to his companion. with the greatest eagerness they watched the little group. perhaps the trio spent ten minutes talking, and then there was a move that added to the excitement of gordan and harris. "what's merriwell going to do?" asked sport, catching his breath. "do!" exclaimed walter, in deep disgust. "can't you see? he's going to practice!" "practice? great scott! that means----" "that means that he is sure to play on the eleven!" gordan and harris were not the only ones interested in merriwell's movements. tom thornton, who had once been an enemy to frank, and was now very friendly toward rob marline, the new man, who was expected to play full-back, was watching cook, forrest and merriwell. in catching a ball, marline ran past thornton, who asked: "what's up over there, rob? why are those fellows talking with their heads together?" "i don't know," was the answer. "maybe merriwell wants to get onto the eleven." "if he wants to, he'll do it." "he can't. positions all taken." "somebody'll be fired." "'twon't be me." "don't be so sure of that," thought tom, but he did not speak the words aloud. after a little merriwell was seen preparing to practice. halliday was at it already. happening to be near ben, thornton heard him observe to a player: "i've done the job for yale this time. got merriwell back. they will have to thank me for that." "got him back?" said the other. "why, how is that? where will he play?" "full-back, of course." "but marline." "marline will be given a chance to rest." thornton nodded. "knew it!" he muttered. "rob is a good fellow, and this isn't a square deal. he won't be given a show. merriwell is all right as a player, but he has no right to refuse to play and then come on after things are fixed and knock some other chap out. i'll tell rob." so, at the first opportunity, thornton told marline what he had heard halliday say. marline was from south carolina, and he was proud as lucifer. in fact, his manner of always speaking of south carolina as the "one" state in the union was often little short of exasperating. he was haughty and overbearing, proud of his birth, inclined to boast, and utterly blind to his own shortcomings. no one questioned marline's courage. he came from a family noted for courage and daring. his great-grandfather was a patriot officer of revolutionary times, and his father had won a commission in the confederate army in the war of the rebellion. the blood of fighters and heroes ran in marline's veins. for all that, there was no one at yale who could make himself more offensive than the boy from south carolina. he had a way of sneering at everybody and everything outside his native state, and when he set out to call anybody down, the most withering and biting sarcasm flowed from his tongue. marline was smart intellectually, but whimsical and set in his notions and beliefs. once let him express an opinion and he would not confess himself in the wrong even when absolute proof lay before him. instead, he was pretty sure to want to fight the fellow who offered the proof. as an orator the youth from south carolina had no superior in college. he was strong in argument, and it was through him that yale had succeeded in wresting from harvard the honors in the annual debate. with the professors he stood unusually well, as he was regarded as a brilliant scholar, and he had never been known to take part in any of the students' carousals. marline's face grew dark as he listened to halliday. "they can't drop me without playing me at all," he said, harshly. "can't! guess you don't know walt forrest. he wouldn't hesitate a second if he thought he could improve the team. he doesn't allow his feelings to interfere at all with the discharge of what he thinks is his duty." "if they try to kick me out, there'll be a hot time, sah!" flashed the boy from south carolina. "i'll show somebody that i'm not to be used like i am a dog!" "don't blame you," nodded tom. "it is a dirty trick." marline was rattled. three times he tried to catch a punted ball, and three times he dropped it, something remarkable for him to do--something that made the boys stare at him in surprise. in the meantime, merriwell was on the gridiron, and he was taking all kinds of twisters with his old-time confidence and skill. three balls were in use, and, after a time, it happened that, in running under two of them sent into the air at the same time, marline and merriwell collided. frank struck rob in such a manner that he was thrown to the ground, but he flopped over, sat up, and took the ball that belonged to him, laughing in a good-natured way. marline paid no attention to the ball he had started after, but stood looking down at frank, his face utterly bloodless and his eyes gleaming. "sah," he said, after a few seconds, as frank was getting up--"sah, you ran into me!" "believe i did, old man," laughed merriwell. "no harm done, i hope. didn't upset you, and you did me. i'm all right." "but you ran into me, sah!" "couldn't help it, you know," declared frank, with unfailing good nature. "accidents will happen." "accidents, sah, may often be avoided." "it is difficult to avoid them on the gridiron." "you may apologize, sah." marline was standing there, his arms folded, his dark eyes looking daggers at merriwell. his pose was graceful, and he really looked handsome, for all of his arrogant bearing. frank whistled his surprise. "apologize?" he said, slowly. "do you really mean that?" "i certainly do, sah." when rob marline addressed anybody as "sah" in that manner it was a warning. the word was one seldom used by him since coming to yale. to a great extent he had adopted the manners of the north, and had suppressed any little peculiarities of speech that might indicate his southern blood. now, however, he felt that he was a south carolinian, and the dignified and haughty "sah" of the south suited his mood. frank paused a moment, looking straight into the eyes of the hot-blooded youth who had demanded an apology. he seemed in doubt, but quickly made up his mind. "i never heard of an apology on the football field," he said; "but, as you seem to think me to blame for this little accident, i ask your pardon. i trust that is satisfactory." to this marline made no answer, but with a contemptuous movement of his body, turned about and stepped away. a few of the players near at hand had seen and heard everything. all were astonished. to them it seemed that marline had cowed merriwell, and a feeling of disdain for the latter mingled with their astonishment. "that beats the band!" said one to another. "is this the same merriwell we have thought such a lion?" "it's plain," said the other, "that the fellows who have been claiming he really has less nerve than is generally supposed were right. he is afraid of marline--i can see that. marline comes from a fighting family, and he would challenge merriwell to meet him in a genuine duel. merriwell can scrap, but he has no relish for swords or pistols. he has been cowed by the fellow from south carolina." chapter xxvii. halliday is puzzled. two teams were made up, and a short game was played, while the coachers kept at the men like relentless slave drivers. the appearance of frank on the field had seemed to awaken bob cook. he opened up on everybody, and the men seemed to find it inspiring to have him scold them. during the first half merriwell played full-back on the eleven that was pitted against the regular 'varsity team. he went into the game as if it was of the utmost importance. once he went through the center of the opposing team, and once he went around the left end. had he been well backed up, the regular eleven would have found difficulty in securing two touchdowns, one of which was made by marline. on the last half, much to his disgust, marline was taken off the regular eleven and placed at full-back on the other team, while merriwell was given his place. then the 'varsity eleven seemed to have new life, and the men played like so many tigers. the "irregulars" could do nothing with them. merriwell kicked a goal from the field, besides making one of his surprising and bewildering runs. marline played desperately, but he gave up in disgust before the end, realizing he could not make a good showing under such conditions. in his bosom his heart was heavy and bitter. "if i am pulled off the team without having a show, somebody shall suffer!" he vowed. the practice game over, the men pulled on their coats and started for the two trolley cars which were waiting at the entrance to the park. halliday got a seat beside frank on one of the cars. "you're right in it, old man!" said ben, enthusiastically. "why, you worked as if you were in training!" frank smiled. "i suppose i forgot the possibility of making myself lame. til feel it to-morrow." "never mind. you showed everybody that you are as good as ever. marline will get walking papers." merriwell's face suddenly became sober. "i don't know as that will be using him square, hally," he said, in a low tone of voice. "i presume he has been told he should play half-back on the eleven." "told nothing!" snorted ben. "forrest don't tell us fellows we can play anywhere, and there's not a man but knows he's likely to be dropped any time. he told marline to come and practice, and i'll go my last dollar that is all." "still marline has every reason to suppose he'll be given a show in some sort of a game." "huah! if he supposes too much, he'll get left." "i don't like to crowd anybody. you know that, hally." "you are too careful about crowding somebody. you are forever preaching that any fellow must fight his way through this world, but you never fight unless forced to do so. by the way, how could you apologize to that overbearing cur?" "well," said frank, deliberately, "i permitted my good judgment to govern my action." "good judgment be hanged! why, he was insulting!" "a trifle overbearing, perhaps, but it's natural with him. you know he comes from south carolina." "what of that? is he any better for that reason?" "not in the least, but it is probable that he has been brought up to think so. and it is certain that he has sand. he can't be driven into his boots, and i'll bet on it. south carolina produces tigers, and marline is one of them, or i have taken his measure wrong." halliday looked at frank in doubt and astonishment. "is it possible you are afraid of robert marline, merriwell?" he asked. "no," was the calm reply; "but i think you will remember that i had a little trouble with one hot-blooded southerner since entering college. the southern aristocrat seldom fights with his fists, but he is none the less ready to fight. i am willing to confess that i do not care to become involved in a duel with pistols or swords. can't afford to take the chances of being found out and expelled, even though honor should be satisfied without the death of either concerned. i have been hot-headed in my day, but i'm trying to hold myself down. i'd rather apologize for the accident to marline than to have him challenge me to a duel. that's the whole of it, and----" "what will the fellows think?" "let them think what they like!" exclaimed frank, flushing. "a person who is forever considering what some one will think if he does this, that or the other is forever miserable and uneasy." "but they'll say marline cowed you." "let them." "they'll say it is proof you have not the courage every one has thought." "let them." ben looked hard at frank, and then slowly observed: "thought i understood you, merriwell, but i'm blowed if i do!" chapter xxviii. frank's visitors. despite himself, frank was somewhat disturbed by what had taken place that afternoon. he knew halliday was right in saying it would be believed he had apologized to marline through fear of the proud southerner. merriwell was no more than human; he did not fancy being thought a coward. who does? had it been simply one or two persons who thought him afraid of the lad from south carolina he would not have minded, but for nearly every one in college to think so--well, that was different. and the peculiar combination of circumstances made the situation more trying than otherwise it could have been. frank could not help feeling some sympathy for marline, for all of the fellow's natural arrogance and overbearing manner. it was easy for merriwell to imagine himself in marline's position. "it would cut me," he thought. "i might hold my temper, but it would cut me to have any fellow step in and shove me out without letting me have a show to see what i might do." sentiment demanded that marline should be given an opportunity to play full-back on the yale team; but sentiment should not enter into college sports, and no one knew that better than frank merriwell. the football or baseball team that is run on sentiment can never be a winner. yet it seemed to merry that, under any circumstances, he would be placed in a false position before every one. he had refused to take an interest in football, and had held aloof till the very day that it was known halliday had been changed from full-back to quarter-back and marline had been given ben's former position. then merry had suddenly appeared on the scene and seemed to oust the new man before the latter had a show to prove his capability. to frank this seemed a cowardly thing to do, and nothing but the knowledge that the eleven was weak and really needed him could have induced him to go on the field. he did not want to fight marline, and he was determined not to fight marline if he could avoid it. still he realized that his enemies would say he feared the lad from south carolina, and his friends might believe it was true. "well," thought frank, after meditating on the situation, "it will not be the first time i have been thought a coward. i can stand it. if forrest says he needs me i shall play for the love of dear old yale. rather than have yale lose through my failure to do everything in my power, i'd be branded a coward for life!" this settled in his mind, he went to bed that night and slept peacefully, quite unaware that at morey's a gay party had gathered about rob marline, who was "opening things" and vowing publicly that he would drive frank merriwell off the gridiron forever. in case frank showed a determination to get into the game again, marline swore he would never give him a moment of peace till they met face to face on the "field of honor." "i come of fighting stock, gentlemen," said rob, his face flushed, his legs unsteady, his tongue unloosed, and a glass of "velvet" held aloft. "my grandfather killed his man, and my father has been concerned in more than one affair of honor. i am an expert with the sword, and i can shoot as well as the mountaineers of my native state--the fairest spot on the american continent merriwell will not have a chance with me if we ever do meet. with the blades, gentlemen, i'll run him through in less than thirty seconds; with pistols i'll lodge a ball in his heart at the first fire. but he'll never dare to meet me. the way he took water to-day proved that. he will crawl like a whipped dog." if marline had not been drinking freely he would not have said so much. the wine was in his head, and he was not responsible. but he meant every word he spoke, and he did not require "dutch courage" in order to back up his talk. in the morning frank awoke refreshed by a good night's sleep, took a cool dip, scrubbed down hastily, got into his clothes in a hurry, and was away to chapel, looking as fresh and rosy as a healthy youth should. merriwell took such care of himself that he was in perfect condition. he had not given up physical exercise, although he had thought of keeping out of football that season. every day he spent a certain amount of time in the gym, and not a minute of that time was wasted. under no circumstances did merriwell believe in radical dieting. at the same time he believed in common sense, and he knew a fellow could do himself no more harm than by overloading his stomach. the gourmand makes himself heavy of body, and dull of brain. frank had quite forgotten the unpleasant occurrence of the previous afternoon, and he dipped into his studies after the earnest manner that had marked him of late. on returning from recitation in the middle of the forenoon, he found visitors in his room. they had been admitted by "honest john," the colored porter. "lor' bress yeh!" grinned the white-headed old darky, showing his teeth in a broad grin--"lor' bress yeh, mistah merriwell! nebber see no purtier gal in all mah bawn days!" "girl!" cried frank, astonished. "lor' bress yeh, yes! purty's a picter, mistah merriwell." "girl in my room?" "yes, sah." "you let her in, john?" "yes, sah; but dar's a lady wif her, sah." "oh, ha!" "yes, sah--got a face dat'll stop a trolley car, sah. looks like it war cut out of wood, sah, an' mighty hard wood at dat. de gal smile, but de ole woman nebber smile at all." frank looked puzzled, and honest john began to look troubled. "hope ah ain't done no harm, sah?" he faltered. "de ladies said dey knowed yeh, sah, an' dey war yeh friends." "but i do not know of any friends in new haven who would come to my room." john showed alarm. "lor', sah! hope dis ain't no scrape, sah! mebbe yeh don't want teh see 'em? i'll jes' go an' 'splain yeh ain' heah--i'll say yeh been called away sudden by de deff ob yeh grandmam." "never mind, john. my grandmothers died years ago, and my visitors may be aware of the fact. i'll see them myself, although i don't care to be bothered by visitors at this time of the day." "hope it's all right, sah," said john. "yo' boys hab to be careful, sah. if yo' git too wild----" but frank was hurrying to his room, regardless of the darky's words. honest john followed. he listened outside the door after frank entered. he heard a girlish cry of delight, and an exclamation of pleasure from merriwell. "lor' sakes!" he chuckled, holding one crooked hand over his mouth, as he stood crouching at the door. "suah dat don' soun' lek trubble! yo' am all right, john. jes' yo' watch fo' mistah merriwell when he come out, an' yeh'll get a tip fer lettin' de ladies in. hey--what am dat?" he held his ear close to the door and listened again. then the crooked black hand was pressed still closer over his mouth, and his whole body shook with emotion as he tiptoed away. "lordy! lordy!" he exploded, when he considered himself at a safe distance. "i know dat soun' any time ah heah it. smack! smack! dat war kissin'! heuh! a-he-uh! a-he-uh! if mistah merriwell don' make dat tip a whole dollah, dis coon ain't took his size an' suckumfrence!" chapter xxix. an unwilling promise. when frank stepped into his room he was astonished to find himself face to face with his old-time sweetheart, inza burrage, and her aunt, miss abigail gale. inza hurried toward him, uttering a joyous cry, and an exclamation of surprise and delight escaped his lips. in a moment, regardless of the presence of her aunt, the girl flung her arms about frank's neck and kissed him. miss gale's hard face did not soften, but she turned her back toward them, and pretended to be greatly interested in a strange crooked dagger, having a point smeared with some green substance, the dagger being locked in a case with a heavy glass door. upon the glass of the case was pasted a slip of paper bearing these words: "the snake knife of the pampas." "inza!" exclaimed frank, as if somewhat in doubt. "inza--here?" "yes!" she cried. "isn't it a surprise? i knew i would surprise you, frank." "a surprise indeed! why, you didn't let me know you were coming." "no." "how does it happen?" "aunt abby knows some friends in new haven, and she wished to visit them while she was in the east, so she asked me to come with her. you may be sure i was ready enough to come, and, as father is getting along very well, we were able to leave him." "then your father--he is improved?" "a great deal since getting back to america. he raced all over europe looking for health, but continued to get worse till he returned home. now he says he believes this the healthiest country on the face of the earth." "and he is right. if a person is not strong enough to endure the rigors of our northern climate, there is the perfect climate of california. but i don't suppose you came here to talk climate." frank said this with a laugh, and they advanced, hand-in-hand, toward miss gale, who had turned her attention from the queer knife to some still queerer images and ornaments that adorned the mantel. "aunty says you'll be a museum manager if you keep on," laughed inza. "says she never saw so many queer things." "goodness, no!" exclaimed miss gale, severely, turning to look at frank over the rims of her spectacles. "i hope you ain't a crank, mr. merriwell." "i trust not, miss gale," smiled frank, with extended hand, which abigail rather awkwardly accepted, but shook with a heartiness that was expressive of her esteem for merry. "what be some of these horrid-looking things?" asked the spinster. "what be they good for?" "some of them are mementoes, and some of them are simply for the purpose of decoration. those little images, those odd vases, the pottery on that shelf--i gathered those things as ornaments." "do tell! i want to know if that ain't just like some folks! them things are so hombly i'd want to hide 'em or put 'em all in the fire if i had 'em in my house. some real pretty chromo pictures would look so much better in place of them. if you want vases, why you can get pretty glass ones almost anywhere from fifteen to thirty cents each, and land knows they'd look better than them things! then there's that great stuffed tiger. goodness! it scared me awful when i saw it standing there in the corner of the room. i thought it was living, and was shooing at it when inza ran over and put her hand right on it. whatever in the world can induce you to have such a thing in your room?" "at first i found it difficult to induce aunt abby to remain in this room," laughed inza. "she wanted to go outside and wait for you. i am afraid she has obtained an unfavorable impression of you by coming here." "i sincerely trust not," said frank, who had worked hard when he first met miss gale in santa barbara to win her good esteem, a task at which he had been most successful. "i should regret it very much if i thought such was the case." miss abigail's hard face did not soften, but she immediately said: "i suppose we all must have some weak point, and it seems to be mr. merriwell's weakness to gather such hideous truck. i'm sure he's a gentleman, and i think just as much of him as i ever did." frank bowed gracefully and expressed his thanks. "can't help looking at the stuff," said the spinster, readjusting her spectacles and turning her back squarely on frank and inza. "i like to see what crazy notions they do get up." she appeared to be very busy examining the collection of bric-a-brac and curiosities. frank and inza looked at each other a moment, and then their hands met. he drew her to a seat on the sofa. for some time they chatted of various matters that interested them alone, miss gale being strangely taken up with the trinkets in the meantime. "is this the way she usually chaperones you, inza?" asked frank, after a while, smiling. "goodness, no!" replied the girl. "if you were any one but frank merriwell she would be sitting stiff and straight on a chair, never taking her eyes off us for a moment. but you--she thinks you are the finest young man in the world. you have completely won her withered old heart, frank. you should hear her praise you to papa." "i'm lucky to have such a champion. has your father given over the hope of marrying you off to some rich man?" "i don't know about that. he hasn't mentioned it of late. i think his ill luck has discouraged him." "two years after this will take me through college, and then----" "and then----" his hand found hers once more, and the look that he gave her she could not misunderstand. her eyes drooped, and the warm color surged into her cheeks. to frank it seemed that inza grew more handsome each time he saw her. certainly she was destined to become a strikingly attractive woman. after a little their conversation drifted onto the subject of college sports, and inza suddenly said: "i am so glad you are not playing football this season, frank." "glad?" questioned frank, surprised. "why?" "oh, just because--because--i am." this was unlike inza. she had ever taken a great interest in manly sports and games, and, in the old days at fardale, her smiles and encouraging words had fired him with enthusiasm to do his best in many a contest. "i don't think i understand you," he said, slowly. "you used to be glad for quite the other reason." "but--but it's different now." "how?" "oh, i can't tell; but it is." "well, inza, i have not played football this season, but i am thinking of playing in the two principal games--the ones with harvard and princeton." inza appeared startled. "don't do it, frank--don't play football this year!" she exclaimed. "promise me that you will not." "oh, i can't do that, inza. yale is not as strong as she should be this fall, and, if i can do anything to help her win, i feel that i must." inza secured both his hands, leaned toward him, and looked straight into his eyes, as she deliberately asked: "if i didn't want you to play, would you do so?" frank's position was rather unpleasant, and he showed confusion. "if there was a reason why you did not want me to play----" "there is." "tell it to me." "not now--sometime. but i want you to promise me that you will not go on the field this season. will you promise?" in her dark eyes there was a command, as well as an entreaty. he felt that he could not resist her if he looked into those eyes, and he turned his head away. instantly inza sprang up. "i think we had better go, aunt abby," she exclaimed. frank was on his feet instantly. "now, inza," he exclaimed, "i know you are angry. it seems to me that you are unreasonable. if you would tell me why you don't want me to play, i--i----" "it is very plain that i have been mistaken in you," she said, severely. "i thought of you when my father was trying to force me into marriage with an englishman with a title--and i ran away from the englishman. perhaps, if i had known you would refuse me such a little thing as this--perhaps i might have married that odious old englishman out of spite!" her eyes flashed, and she stamped her small foot. she was right; he felt it. she had done much for him, and truly he might please her in this matter. marline could play full-back all right, and it was no more than fair that marline should have a chance. he had not intended to play football, but halliday had tried to drag him into it. "don't be angry, inza," he said. "let's talk it over. perhaps i will promise." "i have talked enough," she said, without relenting. "if you care for me as i fancied you did, you will promise without another word." one more moment of hesitation, and then frank said: "that settles it--i promise." "you will not play football this season?" "no." "you are a dear, good boy!" then she suddenly kissed him again. chapter xxx. "false to his colors." as the hour to start for the park that afternoon approached halliday came hurrying into merriwell's room, and found frank digging away at his greek again. "hey, there!" cried ben. "have you forgotten, old man?" "hello!" said frank, looking up with an uncertain smile. "forgotten what?" "practice." "no." "but you're not ready." "no." "forrest wants us there on the dot. come, frank, get into your old suit, and we'll make a rush for the car." frank put down his book, saying: "i'm not going, ben." "hey?" cried halliday, staggering. "come again." "i'm not going." "not? come off! what are you giving us? don't try any funny business with me, merry!" "there is no funny business about this. i have decided not to go." "you can't afford to miss an afternoon if you are going to get in shape for the same with the cambridge fellows." "i am not going to try to get into shape." that was another staggerer for halliday. he gasped for breath and stared at merriwell. "not going to try?" he slowly repeated. "why--why, it can't be that----" "yes it can, hally; i'm out of it. i have decided to stick to my studies and let football alone." ben groped for a chair, upon which he weakly dropped. "is this a dream?" he muttered; "or did my ears deceive me? it can't be that i heard aright!" "there is no joking about this," said frank, getting up and standing before his visitor. "i have decided at last, and my mind is made up." ben was silent, but he stared and stared and stared at frank. he seemed trying to comprehend it. "i wouldn't have believed it," he muttered--"i won't believe it now! it isn't frank merriwell! he wouldn't do a thing like that. he has a mind of his own, and he does not change his mind with every change of the wind." frank flushed painfully, but said: "only fools never change their minds, hally. men of reason and good sense are forced to change their minds occasionally." as soon as he seemed able to comprehend it fully, ben got up and approached merriwell. "look here, merry," he said, entreatingly, "don't be a fool! i'm going to talk plain with you! by jove! somebody should talk plain to you! i don't care if you kick me out of your room! if you whiffle around again you'll be the butt of ridicule for everybody. you'll never again have any standing in yale. man, you are throwing away your reputation! can't you see it?" frank paled somewhat, but a firm look settled about his mouth, and he was unmoved. "surely, i have a mind of my own, and i have a right to do as i please in this matter," he said, his voice cold and steady. "i am my own master." "yes," confessed ben, desperately, "but you must listen to reason. i haven't an idea why you have whiffled around again, but i do know it will ruin your reputation. word has gone out that you will play full-back in the harvard game. forrest has the same as stated that he should put you in at the start, with marline as substitute. now think--think what it will mean if you again withdraw! cã¦sar's ghost! merry, you will be a dead duck in athletics and sports. you will be regarded with contempt." "can't help it." holiday's desperation increased. "think of marline." "i have." "they'll say he cowed you--say you backed down because you feared him." "it will not be true." "but it will go, all the same." "can't help it." "you must have a reason for this new move." "my studies." "that's the old reason. there must be another." "perhaps." "will you tell me what it is?" "no." "and do you want me to go out to the park without you?" "you will have to go without me, for i am not going." "and i have been bragging about getting him back on the eleven!" muttered ben. "they'll jolly me to death, and i shall be so ashamed that i'll want to crawl into some sort of a hole." "i am sorry about that, hally," said frank. "believe me, i care more about it than about anything else." "you do not mind the ruin of your own reputation?" "i scarcely think my reputation will be damaged so badly." "but it will--it will! if you were sure it would, wouldn't you go along with me?" "no!" that was like the blow of a hammer, and it took the last bit of hope from halliday's heart. "i think more of my word of honor than anything else," said frank, grimly. "if i always stand by that, i'll risk my reputation." "they'll say he is a traitor to yale," muttered ben, as if frank could not hear. "they'll say he refused to do his duty--refused to fight for the honor of old eli. they'll say he is false to his colors." frank winced somewhat. he could not help it, for he was touched on a tender spot. "no fellow can have the interest of old eli more at heart than i," he declared. "but i think the importance of playing me full-back on the eleven is overestimated. there are several fellows who are able to play the position. marline did excellent work in practice yesterday, and i believe he will show up finely in a game. i won't crowd him out--that's all. it's no use to talk to me." he sat down and picked up his book. halliday stood looking at frank, his face showing wrath and disgust, then turned and left the room. as he passed out frank heard him mutter: "false to his colors!" chapter xxxi. frank is miserable. frank was expecting a call from forrest. it came. the captain of the eleven brought yates and parker with him. he did not beat about the bush, but immediately asked frank why he had not come out to practice. with equal directness, merriwell told him he had finally decided for good and all that he could not play football that season. parker looked dismayed; yates looked disgusted. forrest did not give up. "you can't refuse," he said. "we need you, and you must play." but frank was determined, and persuasion proved of no avail. he firmly refused to think of playing. "come away!" exclaimed yates, with a sneer. "it's no use to talk to him. i did think he was all right, but this settled his case in my mind." frank bit his lip, and all the color left his face, while his eyes gleamed dangerously. "mr. yates," he said, "you are in my room, and i cannot lift a hand here. any time you see fit to insult me outside i'll do my best to resent it." "bah!" cried yates. "if you haven't the courage to face marline, you'll never stand up to me. i have discovered that you are a big stiff! you're a case of bluff!" merriwell quivered, and his hands were clinched till his finger nails cut into the palms of his hands. it was plain that he was making a battle to restrain himself. "mr. yates," he said, hoarsely, "you and i have had our troubles before, and, if i remember correctly, you did not come off with flying colors. it is plain you delight in this opportunity for retaliation, but i warn you to take care. there is a limit, and you may overstep it. if you do----" "what then?" "you'll find you have made a big mistake." "bah!" duncan yates was withering in his scorn. with a contemptuous gesture he turned toward the door. it seemed that merriwell was on the point of leaping after him, but frank still managed to hold himself in restraint. puss parker seemed grieved. "it's too bad!" he said, shaking his head. "i wouldn't have believed it. you are done for here, merriwell." "that's right," nodded forrest. "you can never recover after this. it's the greatest mistake of your life, man." "come!" cried yates from the door, which he was holding open. "you are foolish to waste further breath on him." then all three went out, not one of them saying good-by. when they were gone frank felt like tearing up and down the room and slamming things about, but he did nothing of the sort. he believed in controlling his emotions, and so he stood quite still till the first fierce anger had left him. then came regret and doubt. he was sorry he had shown himself on the football field, and he regretted that he had given inza his promise not to play the game. but it was too late for regret. he could not quell his doubts. he was not certain he had done right, and that was enough to make him wretched. that night frank was the most miserable fellow in yale. it did not seem any fault of his that had brought him into such a wretched predicament, and yet he was thoroughly disgusted with himself. he could not study, he could do nothing but think. sometimes he was determined to go to inza and ask her to release him from his promise, and then he would think how his enemies would say he had been driven into it. then came another thought. if he were to come out now and offer to fill a place on the eleven, would he be accepted? he had fallen so in the esteem of forrest that it was quite likely the captain would refuse to take him on the team. he tried to devise some way of setting himself aright, but could think of none. had any one told him two days before that he could be so utterly miserable, he would have laughed at them. only a short time before this turn in events he had been the best known and most popular student in the college. his fame had spread all over new haven and gone abroad to other college places. he was regarded with awe as a great traveler and a wonderful athlete. now--well, it was different now! finding he could not rest, study or think of anything but his wretched position, frank went out for a walk. he tried to tire himself out physically, so that weariness of body would force his mind to rest. miles he tramped, far out into the country. he drove along like one walking on a wager, paying no attention to the frosty air which nipped his nose and ears. it was eleven o'clock when frank was passing morey's on his way to south middle. in front of the place he paused. he remembered the many jolly times he had enjoyed in there. he remembered when he was the chief one of any little circle that might gather in that famous resort. now he felt like an outcast--an outsider. three students came out. they did not see him, and they were chatting and laughing merrily. he watched them as they strolled away, his heart growing heavier and heavier. "anderson, cobb and nash," he muttered. "they're always jolly--never seem to have any troubles. they drink and sport too much to stand high in their classes, but they will get through college all right, and every one will call them first-class fellows. isn't that better than to be valedictorian and a hermit? i was getting along all right, although i was not showing up brilliantly in greek. i'd have scrubbed through and held my position on the football team if i had tried. it's plain i made a big mistake." it seemed plainer and plainer the more he thought about it, but he could see no way of turning back now and taking the path he had abandoned. he had burned his bridges, and he must go forward. a great curiosity seized him. he knew well enough a party of students would be gathered in morey's little back room, and he longed to know how he would be received among them. "i'm going in there," he muttered. "haven't been around for a long time. here i go!" in he went. he was known the moment he appeared. straight for the famous back room he made his way, and he was immediately admitted, his face being his passport. he was right in thinking a party was gathered there. at least a dozen fellows were sitting about drinking ale. they were not laughing or talking loudly, but as frank entered the room, he distinctly heard his name spoken by one of them. chapter xxxii. "the marble heart." "hello, fellows!" called merriwell, attempting to be cheerful. "thought i'd drop in." there was a sudden silence. all turned to look at him. two of them sat with their half-lifted glasses suspended. then somebody muttered: "speak of the devil----" frank was embarrassed. there had been a time when his appearance at morey's was greeted with a shout of welcome. the silence was freezing. marline was not there. frank felt relieved when he discovered this, and still, for the first time in his life it seemed that there was a cowardly sensation in his heart. he knew he was not a coward, but the position in which he stood at that moment made him feel like one. the silence was maddening. his soul revolted against such a reception. for the first time in his life he fancied he understood what it was to be regarded with universal contempt. and the injustice of it was what cut him to the heart. a little more and the limit would be reached. he would go forth ready to fight, and he knew that his first blow would be aimed at rob marline. thoughts like these flashed through his head in a moment, then he advanced into the room with old-time grace. "a jolly party you have here," he said. "i'm glad to see you making merry. drink up--drink up, everybody, and have a round with me." charlie creighton was there, and frank was sure he had a stanch friend in charlie. the fellows fell to speaking together in low tones, casting sidelong glances toward frank. none of them seemed eager or ready to accept his invitation. they seemed to draw a barrier about him, as if they intended to shut him out. frank felt it--saw it plainly. he was quick to understand the situation, but he was not satisfied. "they shall be put to the test," he mentally vowed. "i'll find out who are my friends and who are my enemies." then, one by one, he asked them what they would have to drink. some had excuses, some flatly declined to take anything at all. some showed their partly emptied glasses, and some said they had quite enough. frank's face grew hard and cold as he progressed and met with nothing but refusals. he was coming to putnam, stubbs and creighton. surely they would not refuse to drink with him! putnam saw he was to be asked in a moment. he hastily dashed off half a glass of ale and got up, remarking that he must be going. "hold on a moment, old man," said frank. "i am going to have a lemon-seltzer. have a drink with me." "excuse me," mumbled "old put." "i don't care for anything more." "but you will have one drink with me?" urged frank. "no," said putnam, shortly, "i've had enough." then he sauntered toward the door. merriwell bit his lips and turned on stubbs. "you'll have something, bink?" he said, huskily. "no, thanks," said the little fellow. "i'm going, too." he followed putnam. creighton was merriwell's last resort. as old readers know, he had been a guest at charlie's home in philadelphia. "come, creighton, you surely will not decline to take something with me, old fellow?" charlie hesitated, flushed to the roots of his hair, looked at frank and at the others, then got up quickly, saying: "you'll have to excuse me, too, merriwell." with that he bolted out of the room, and all the others followed, leaving frank there alone. for some moments the stunned and astonished lad stood as if turned to stone, staring with distended eyes toward the door by which they had passed out. his hands were clinched, his nostrils dilated, his head thrown back and his attitude that of a warrior wounded to the heart, but still unconquered in spirit. he was aroused by a touch on the arm, and the smooth, almost sneering voice of a waiter asked: "what will you drink, sir?" frank lifted one hand to his head and seemed to awaken from a dream. he looked at the waiter doubtfully, as if he did not understand the question that was put to him, then, after a bit, said: "thank you, i never drink." the corners of the waiter's mouth curled upward in the faintest smile--a smile in which pity and scorn seemed to mingle. that aroused all the fury in frank merriwell's heart, and, with his eyes blazing, he half-lifted his fist as if he would strike the man in the face. then he as quickly dropped his hand at his side, shivering as if he had been touched by a sudden chill. the waiter had shrunk away with merriwell's menacing movement, but when he saw there was no danger, he softly said: "i beg your pardon--i thought you were going to drink, as you asked the others to have something with you." how the words cut and stung! it was as if the man had struck him across the face with a whip. he fell back, half-lifting his hand, and his chin quivered. "i did ask them!" he hoarsely whispered--"and they refused! not one of them but would have considered it a high honor to have me ask them a month ago! and i have come to this!" his words were incoherent, but his face told the story of his wounded pride. he remembered how many times he had been welcomed with a shout in that little room where the famous tables hung upon the wall. he remembered how his admirers had gathered about him, eager to listen to every word he might speak, and roar with laughter at his stories and jests. he remembered the songs, the speeches, all the jolly times in that room. little had he dreamed the time would come when the very ones he had counted as his warm friends would refuse to drink with him there and turn their backs on him in disdain. nothing could have hurt him more than that. his pride was cut to the core, and his spirit was shaken as it had never been before. his first thought was that he would find a way to get even with them all. then he realized how great a task that would be. he saw himself scorned and ostracized by the whole college, and, for a fleeting moment, he thought of leaving new haven forever that very night. his brain began to whirl. the waiter was standing there, looking at him in a manner that seemed rather insolent. "what do you want?" he snapped. "i beg your pardon," returned the waiter; "what do you want?" "whiskey!" cried frank merriwell--"bring me whiskey, waiter, and bring it quick!" chapter xxxiii. "for the honor of old yale." the order was filled, the whiskey was brought. it was placed on the table at which frank sat. he stared at it in surprise. "what's that?" he asked. "why, sir, it's the whiskey you ordered," answered the waiter. "whiskey?" said merriwell, in a dazed way. "did i order that?" "yes, sir." he paid for it. later, when a gay party dropped in, he was sitting at that table, with the untasted whiskey before him. he sat there staring and scowling at the table, but paid no attention to any one. the expression on his face made him look like anything but his old jolly self. no one spoke to him. newcomers drank, joked, laughed and went out. still he sat there, scowling and staring at the table. the report spread that merriwell had been cut by his old friends. curious ones strolled in and ordered a drink just to get a look at him. he seemed quite unaware of this. never in his life had frank tasted whiskey, but for one moment he had weakened and thought of easing the blow to his pride by resorting to the stuff. merriwell was human, but still that weakness lasted no more than a moment. then he came to himself, and he was ashamed to think that he had contemplated such a course. it seemed cowardly. "they say i am a coward," he thought; "but i am not a coward enough for that." for more than an hour he sat there at the table. finally he seemed to come out of the stupor that had seized upon him. "waiter," he called. his voice was calm and natural, the scowl had vanished from his face, and he was himself once more. "waiter, you may remove this whiskey and bring me a lemon-seltzer. i don't care for this stuff." when this order was filled, he calmly drank the lemon-seltzer, paid for it, rose to his feet, pulled on his gloves, and left morey's with an air of combined nonchalance and dignity. he was his own master once more. he had been insulted by fellows he formerly believed friends, but he was still frank merriwell. he felt within himself that he was a man and the equal of the best of them. some day they should be ashamed when they remembered their act. he felt confident that day would come. that night he slept as peacefully as a child, and arose in the morning refreshed and undisturbed. he would not permit his mind to dwell on what had happened, but resolutely set himself at his studies. those who had thought merriwell, having once been so popular, would be crushed, soon found out their mistake. he was calm, quiet, and dignified. he did not seek the society of his fellows, but seemed the same old merriwell to those who came to him. he was perfect in his recitations. he attended the gym., as usual, taking his daily exercise. he paid not the least attention to sneering words and scornful looks. frank's bitterest enemies were dissatisfied. they had fancied he would be utterly broken by his downfall, and they could not understand his dignity and disregard for public opinion. those who had reluctantly turned against him were impressed by his strength of spirit and dignity. he carried about him an air of manliness that won their admiration, despite themselves. but every one had not turned against him. bruce browning was stanch and true, although he fiercely berated merriwell for his course. harry rattleton tried to remain unchanged, and never a word of reproach did he utter, no matter what he thought. jack diamond did not say anything, but it was because he could not trust himself to speak. in his heart he felt like punching frank and whipping his enemies and traducers; but he knew enough to let merry alone. halliday held aloof. he was thoroughly disgusted with merriwell. at first he said as much, and then he became silent and would say nothing at all. so the days went by. frank called on inza, but did not mention what had happened. he had thought of telling her everything, and then he decided that it would do no good, and he would tell her nothing. it was too late for him to change his course, and it could do no good to talk it over. he preferred not to think about it. the football team continued to practice and get ready for the great game at cambridge. it was said that harvard had the strongest eleven put on the field by her in five years. her games with the higher teams had shown she was "out for blood." there was doubt and uncertainty in the yale camp. ott, marline's substitute, was not satisfactory. those who understood the situation best said that an injury to marline early in the game would ruin yale's prospects. the anxiety increased as the day of the game approached. some claimed the eleven had not been properly trained, others asserted they had been overtrained. from frank merriwell's manner one could not have suspected he had ever taken the slightest interest in football. he did not seem to know anything of the general gossip. it was the night before the game. merry had been studying. he was alone in his room. at last, feeling exhausted, he flung open the window and looked out. it was a perfect night, cold, clear and light. the sky was filled with stars. from across the campus came the sound of a rollicking song. directly beneath frank's window was a group of students who were excitedly discussing something. their words attracted merriwell's attention. "it's settled," said the voice of paul pierson. "yale will not be in the game for a minute. what can a team do without a first-class full-back?" "isn't there a chance that marline's ankle will be all right in time for the game?" asked another of the group. "not a chance," positively asserted pierson. "the doctor says he'll not step on it for three days, at least. it is a bad sprain." "such beastly luck!" growled randy robinson. "now if merriwell----" "don't speak of that fellow," exclaimed two or three. "he is the only hope for yale," declared pierson. "ott isn't in it for a minute. frank merriwell must be appealed to for the honor of old yale." "who'll appeal to him?" "i will, if they'll give me authority. i know he will play when he understands the situation." merriwell drew in his head and closed the window. his face was pale. up and down the floor he walked. "for the honor of old yale!" he muttered. then he suddenly cried: "for the honor of old yale i will do anything!" then came a knock on his door. chapter xxxiv. a sensation on the field. the day of the great football game between harvard and yale had arrived. the hour approached. jarvis field was ready for the great struggle. the white marks of the gridiron were regularly and beautifully made. the sun shone down from a clear sky. there was no breeze, but the air was crisp, for all of the sunshine. at either side the stands were filled; hundreds upon hundreds were standing; hundreds upon hundreds were coming. a better day for the game could not have been ordered, and spectators were turning out in force. harvard students were there in a body. they flaunted the crimson and sung their songs of glee. their faces were radiant, and they were confident of victory. yale had sent her representatives by hundreds. they wore the blue, they waved the blue, they cheered for the blue. everywhere the blue and the crimson could be seen. everybody was partisan; everybody had a favorite. back of the dark mass of human beings, beyond the limit of the field, were the trees and the great buildings with their many windows, upon which the sunshine glinted coldly. policemen kept back the standing mass of spectators, or those in the rear would have pressed those in advance forward upon the field. a few of those in the rear had obtained boxes or stools, upon which they were standing in order to look over the heads of those before them. a wagon was covered with spectators; they were standing on the spokes of the wheels. the excitement and the eager anticipation was most intense. it betrayed itself on every face. not far from the point where the mass of yale blue was thickest two lads were talking. one wore the blue, the other wore the crimson. the first was sport harris, and the other was rolf harlow, who had been forced to leave harvard after being exposed as a crooked gambler. "every dollar is up," said harlow, gleefully. "we are in to win a good pile on this game if what you say is right." "what i have told you is straight." "marline can't play?" "no." "ott is a poor man?" "sure." "and there is no chance that frank merriwell will be run in?" "bah!" exclaimed harris, disdainfully. "merriwell is a dead duck at yale. he'll never count in anything more. he is an outcast now. what do you think?--he's universally rated as a coward." "oh, say!" exclaimed harlow; "that's too much! you don't expect me to believe that about frank merriwell?" "believe it or not, it's true." "i don't understand how it could come about, for you and i know there is not a drop of cowardly blood in merriwell. confound him! if there had been, some things that have happened would not have taken place." "circumstances have conspired to put him where he is, and he'll never dig out. he has a few enemies who will take care to keep him down, now he is down." "well, i'm glad he's not on the team. we'll make a fat thing out of this, old man." "yes, i gave you every dollar i could raise, so you must know i am dead sure harvard will win. if, by any fluke, yale should happen to pull off this game i shall be busted." "same here." "in that case, we'd have to stand in together and catch some suckers. we've done it before." "and been exposed in it by that cursed merriwell! oh, i'd like to get a good rap at that fellow! he has spoiled a number of good, soft things for me since we first met." "you can't hate him more than i do." "i don't know about that; but he has been a lucky devil. i'm glad he's not going to play for yale to-day." "he couldn't win the game alone." "no, but it would be yale's luck to win if merriwell played. he has been a mascot for yale in almost everything." harris believed this, for he remembered how many times frank merriwell had been the instrument by which yale had snatched victory from apparent, certain defeat. suddenly a band struck up, and out upon the field came the harvard eleven on the trot. what a cheer went up--what a wild roar of greeting! for the moment it seemed that the crimson was everywhere. the band hammered away, and the blood was leaping in the veins of the thousands of spectators. harvard immediately took a bit of preliminary practice. "they are the boys to polish yale off this year!" laughed harlow. "it's going to be a snap for harvard." "i believe it," grinned harris. "we'll have money to burn after this game." suddenly another kind of a cheer rent the air, and now the blue was waving everywhere. onto the field came the yale eleven at a sharp trot. harris and harlowe laughed and nudged each other with their elbows. "see the little lambs!" chuckled the sport. "coming to the slaughter!" grinned rolf. "too bad!" "it's a shame!" "i feel for them." "i expect to feel for that money. where's ott?" "why, he's right over--over there--where the dickens is ott?" "can't you see him?" "can't seem to, but he must be there. yes, there he is with the group out to the right." "those are the substitutes. why is he with them?" harris stared, quite as much puzzled as harlow, for he had understood that ott was to be put in as full-back for yale at the very start. "it must be--it can't be--it can't be marline is going to try it!" "you said he couldn't step on his foot." "he can't." "then he isn't in it." "of course not." "who is?" "you tell!" then, all at once, harlowe caught harris by the shoulder, and, pointing toward the field, almost screamed in his ear: "ten thousand furies! look there--look there, you blunderer! see him--see that tall, straight fellow?" "where?--who?" "where? who? right there, with the yale captain--with forrest! by all the living fiends, it is----" "frank merriwell!" gasped harris. "yes, and he is going to play full-back for yale! he'll hoodoo harvard! yale will win this game!" chapter xxxv. stopping a touchdown. frank merriwell was there. his appearance was a surprise to nearly all the yale crowd; it created a sensation. "merriwell has been taken in to fill marline's place!" was the excited statement that went around. "it's a foolish move," declared scores. "he has not been practicing with the team. he's not in condition." they did not know frank merriwell thoroughly, for he kept himself in condition constantly. at first his appearance seemed to create doubt and uncertainty among the spectators who were interested in yale. gradually, however, enthusiasm grew. it was remembered how he had carried the ball right through princeton's center in the game the year before, making the most remarkable run ever known on a football field. yale had felt her chance was a desperate one; surely it could not be any worse. perhaps it might be bettered by the placing of merriwell at full-back. it was a desperate resort, but who could say the result would not justify the move? forrest was talking to merriwell, having drawn frank aside. they were in earnest conversation. a little negro boy came on the field. how he escaped the vigilance of the officers was a mystery, but he reached the group of substitutes. "heah!" he called, flourishing something in his hand: "heah am suffin' to mistah merriwell. where am he?" it was a folded scrap of paper. one of the substitutes took it and told the boy to "chase himself." "i's done got mah pay fo' bringin' it," he chuckled, as he scudded off. the note reached merriwell when he had finished talking with forrest. he took it in surprise, and then opened it hastily. a gasp came from his lips when he saw the writing. "from inza!" he whispered. this is what he read: "dear frank: did not receive your letter till this morning. too late then to answer. had left new haven for boston before i read it. you asked me to release you from your promise not to play football. no, i will not! you must not play! if you do, i'll never speak to you again! i know yale will win if you play! you must not play! hastily, "inza." "line up!" the game was about to begin! frank tore the note into many pieces, and those pieces he tossed aside. his face was stern and determined. "it's for old yale--dear old yale!" he muttered. "she has no right to ask so much of me without giving me a reason for it. i must play--i will play!" out to positions went the two teams. they lined up for business, and a great hush came over the mighty jam of spectators. yale had the first kick-off, and merriwell balanced himself for it. pung!--away sailed the ball clean through harvard's goal posts, causing the uninitiated to tremble, as it was an exquisite exhibition of kicking. but this kick really gave yale no advantage, for the rule gives the ball to the opponents on such a play. harvard's full-back sent it spinning back into the center of the field. it looked like another kick by merriwell, but, instead of that, yale tried mills, the right-half, who could make only two yards against harvard's heavy forwards. the game was on in all its fury, and the excitement was intense. kick followed kick in quick succession, but that style of play did not seem to gain anything worth gaining for either side. yale got the ball and tried the revolving wedge on harvard. they could not make a big gain, for the cambridge lads were like a stone wall. again and again was this style of play tried, till harvard got the ball on downs. then came harvard's turn to see what she could do, and the first attempt was a try at the tandem play, made famous by pennsylvania. yale seemed ready enough for that, and the way she cut through and broke harvard's line showed immediately that the tandem was not likely to prove very effective. then harvard called on benjamin, her right-half, and a moment later the rush line did a fine piece of work, opening yale's center and letting the little fellow through. benjamin had the speed of the wind. he also had the ball. away he went with it, and there was a clear field before him. harvard admirers roared from all over the field. the crimson flaunted everywhere. it looked like a sure touchdown for harvard. every yale spectator held his breath in racking suspense. benjamin was flying over the ground. it seemed that his feet scarcely touched the turf. where is yale now? what chance has she to stop the little fellow with wings on his feet? three seconds of suspense seemed like three hours of torture. it was awful! a yale man was after little benjamin--was gaining! could he stop the little fellow in time? it must be a tackle from behind, if at all, and the slightest slip would bring failure. behind them came all the others on the run, strung out raggedly. benjamin would make it--he was sure to make it. his pursuer could not reach him in time. then it seemed that the yale man had springs in his legs, for he sailed over the ground like a frightened rabbit. he closed in on benjamin and flung himself headlong at the little fellow. down slipped the tackler's hands, down from the hips to the knees, to the ankles. down went benjamin with a hard thump, stopped within three yards of yale's line. twenty men piled upon tackler and tackled. deep down beneath that mass was frank merriwell, his hands clinging like hooks to benjamin's ankles. he had stopped what seemed to be a sure touchdown for harvard at that early stage of the game. chapter xxxvi. won back. beside inza burrage, in a splendid position to watch the game, sat a pretty girl with fluffy hair. she wore harvard's colors, and seemed greatly excited. "there he is!" she exclaimed, at various stages of the game--"there is jack! see him, inza!" "yes," said inza, "i see him." but her eyes were not on the one meant by her companion. she was watching frank merriwell, and she bit her lip as she watched. she had seen him receive her note, she had seen him read it, tear it in pieces, cast the pieces aside. "he will play!" she muttered. "he will break his promise to me!" her companion heard her words. "you said merriwell would not go into the game," she cried. "yes, i said so, but i was wrong. he gave me his promise not to play, and last night he sent me a letter asking to be released from that pledge. the note i sent to him a short time ago was a reminder of his promise, and a refusal to release him." "yet he will play?" "he is going into the game." "then it can't be that he thinks as much of you as you supposed." "he does not. this has settled that point." "i'm afraid harvard will not win, inza. jack says frank merriwell has been harvard's hoodoo in everything. he was sure harvard would obtain this game if merriwell did not play. you said he did not mean to play, but i wanted you to ask him not to do so." "i did ask him, something i should not have done had we not been such friends, paula, although i was curious to know how much influence i had over him. oh, i think he is the meanest fellow! i shall hate him now!" inza's eyes were flashing and her face flushed. she was intensely angry, and she showed it. paula benjamin was startled. "oh, you musn't be too hard on him!" she said. "you know how much jack loves harvard, and how crazy he is for harvard to beat yale in this game. i was almost as crazy myself, and that is why i wanted you to ask mr. merriwell not to play." "i shall never trust him again," whispered inza, hoarsely--"never! he has broken his promise to me." "it is certain he loves yale as dearly as jack loves harvard. he may think it is his duty to break his word for the sake of yale." "i don't care! i don't care! i do hope harvard will beat!" with breathless interest the two girls watched the game. they were nerved to a point of intense excitement. they saw harvard stand like a stone wall against yale's repeated assaults. it was a battle of gladiators. then came harvard's tiger-like assault upon yale's center, and jack benjamin went through with the ball. the great crowd of spectators rose as one person, seething with excitement, as benjamin flew toward yale's line. "hurrah!" cried the sister of the little fellow. "that is jack--my brother jack! he'll make a touchdown! they can't catch him--they can't stop him!" "wait a bit!" palpitated inza burrage, who was clinging convulsively to paula's arm. "look--look there! frank is after him! see them run! frank is gaining!" "he can't catch jack--my brother jack! i know he can't do it! jack has the start! hurrah! hurrah!" "he will catch him! he's gaining! see--see him again! he is getting nearer--nearer! now--now----oh-o-o-oh!" frank merriwell had flung himself at the harvard man and pulled him down. then the other players piled upon them. "i knew it!" cried inza, with a hysterical laugh. "i knew he could not get away from frank!" "oh, the brute!" sobbed paula--"the brute to throw my brother like that! jack was right! frank merriwell will keep harvard from winning! i hate him!" "yes," fluttered inza, "he will do it if it is in his power. oh, he is a wonderful player! but he thinks more of his old college than he does of me! i'll never speak to him again!" paula sat down and cried, while inza did her best to comfort her friend. soon the game was on again, as fierce as ever. yale fought desperately, driving harvard back a little, but it seemed that harvard had the superior team. all the fighting was on yale's territory. at last, as the first half drew to a close, harvard's left half-back went around yale's end, and the most masterly interference prevented yale from stopping him. he crossed the line and made a touchdown. then harvard's full-back had time enough to kick a goal, and the first half ended with harvard triumphant. "har-vard! har-vard! harvard! rah-rah-rah! rah-rah-rah! rah-rah-rah! harvard!" it was a sense of wild rejoicing. crimson fluttered all over the great throng. where was the blue? "yale isn't in the game for a minute," said some who were supposed to be experts. "the yale fellows found they were butting against a stone wall every time they tried a rush. this is harvard's year." ralph harlow was beaming with triumph. "it's going to be an easy thing for our money, harris," he chuckled. "yale can't do anything with harvard to-day." "that's the way it looks," admitted harris; "but the game is not over." "the game will run the same way till, it is over. yale's rushers could do nothing with harvard's line. frank merriwell is the only man who has distinguished himself for yale, and he could do nothing but delay the inevitable for a short time." "that was the only real good opportunity merriwell has had," said sport. "he showed what he could do then. you remember his run through princeton's line last year?" "that's all right. yale can't break an opening to let him through harvard's line this year." "i hope not, but i shan't feel sure of it till the game is over." the harvard crowd cheered and sang songs till they were hoarse. they hugged each other, tooted horns and indulged in wild antics to give vent to the exuberance of their feelings. the sons of old eli who had come up from new haven to see the game were dolefully silent. they had seen yale fling herself upon harvard time after time and rebound as a ball rebounds from a solid wall, and their hearts were weak within them. paula benjamin was almost crazy with joy. she laughed and cried by turns. "oh, the dear fellows!" she exclaimed. "i could hug every one of them!" inza burrage said nothing, but upon her face there was a look of unspeakable disappointment and dismay. in her heart she was crying: "will yale let them beat? will frank be beaten? if he is, i am sure i'll never speak to him again!" soon the men formed for the beginning of the second half. harvard went into the game on the jump, and yale was forced to resort to defense play. it seemed that there was no stopping the crimson in its onward march to victory. foot by foot and inch by inch yale was beaten back till the ball was on the twenty-yard line. then halliday revived hope in a measure by taking it back to the center of the field, where he was downed with such violence that he was picked up quite unconscious, and another man had to be put in his place, while he was carried from the field, limp and covered with dirt and glory. it seemed that halliday's desperate do-or-die break gave yale courage and hope. for some time she held harvard at the center of the field, not allowing a gain of a foot. then old eli got the ball and rushed it into harvard's territory. what a glorious fight it was! now every yale man in the crowd was on his feet cheering like mad. those cheers seemed to make fiends of the defenders of the blue. they played, every man of 'em, as if they were in battle and ready to sacrifice their lives without a moment of hesitation. they were irresistible. harvard's stone wall was broken at last. merriwell was in the thick of it. four times he advanced the ball. others took turns, and, at last, the ball was on harvard's twenty-five-yard line. then there was a hush, for it suddenly became plain that merriwell would try to kick a goal from the field. it was a desperate expedient. yale feared to lose the ball and have it carried back to the center in a minute. such a loss would be fatal, and forrest knew it frank had been given the signal to kick. "he can't do it!" cried scores. then they thought of the beautiful kick he had made at the very beginning of the game and were silent. frank advanced to the proper position, exactly the right blade of grass. there he poised himself. cross fiddled with the ball between his legs. the suspense became intense. suddenly the ball was snapped and passed back. punk--frank kicked it. away it sailed. he did it before those harvard tigers could down him. it was a glorious kick. through the goal posts and over the bar it sailed. then the yale yell was heard. but the game was not over. harvard had secured a touchdown and a goal. yale had secured a goal. it seemed that she had feared utter defeat, else she would have fought for the touchdown. the harvard crowd remained confident. they crowed, for they said yale had displayed her own lack of confidence by kicking a goal from the field. the time was growing short, and there seemed little chance for yale to do anything more. harvard men laughed and said harvard would obtain another touchdown and goal before the end. little time was lost in putting the ball into play again. harvard immediately started out with rushes. now, to the astonishment of all, yale was the stone wall. soon the ball went to yale. mills took it around harvard's end for fifteen yards. powell bucked the center with it and gained some ground. harvard men began to get anxious. things had changed since the first half. harvard was on the defensive now. what had caused the change no one could tell. back and still back the harvard line was forced. would yale try to secure another goal from the field? that was the question. paula benjamin was almost crying. "it's frank merriwell!" she said. "jack said he would hoodoo harvard, and he has!" "it is frank!" thought inza. "he has put life into the yale men. he has given them confidence somehow. he must win now--he will!" the ball was getting dangerously near harvard's line. the cambridge men fought to hold it during the last few minutes of the game. then, with a sudden movement, a man was sent through harvard's center, although an around-the-end play had been anticipated. it was a tricky move, and took harvard by surprise. like a shot that man went through harvard's line. he ran with wonderful speed, with interferers on either side and a bit in advance. it was frank making a last desperate effort for a touchdown! one by one the interferers were flung aside till he was alone, hugging the ball, running as if for his life. three men came down on him while he had fifteen yards to go. they flung themselves on him like famished wolves. they thought to crush him to the ground. then ten thousand people gasped with astonishment, scarcely able to believe what they saw. it did not seem that merriwell slackened speed much, and he still went forward, carrying those three men on his back and shoulders. they tried to drag him down, and others tried to reach him. they could not break him to the ground, and, with them all on his back he carried the ball over the line. then he fell, and the ball was beneath him. it was a touchdown for yale! besides that, it was the most wonderful touchdown ever made on a football field. a mighty roar went up from the spectators when they realized what had happened. never before had they witnessed anything like that. they knew the man who made the play had won fame. to-morrow his picture would be in every boston and new york newspaper. oh, how the yale men shrieked, and screamed, and roared! they were like human beings gone mad. they were crazed with their admiration for the man who had done that trick. they longed to take him in their arms, to bear him on their shoulders, to do him every honor. gloriously had frank merriwell won back his lost prestige! let a man breathe a slur against him now and there would be a hundred ready to knock that man down. when the mass untangled merriwell was seen lifted to his feet. he stood up, wavering a bit, supported by forrest, who had an arm around frank's body. then frank pushed forrest off. time was precious, and his soul was strong. hasty preparations were made, and, for all of what he had just passed through, merriwell kicked a goal. three seconds later the game was over, and yale had won. then all merriwell's admirers rushed upon the field to surround him, to fight for a look at him, and to roar their delight. "rah for yale!" "three cheers for frank merriwell!" "they can't down old eli!" so the cries rang on. it was truly a scene never to be forgotten. but at that moment frank did not think of the game. he was wondering what inza would say. would she forgive him for what he had done? "oh, i hope she does," was his thought. "if she doesn't----" and he could think no further. chapter xxxvii. inza begins to understand. "how did the game come out?" asked miss abigail gale, inza's aunt, as the two girls returned to paula's home, which was a handsome house in an aristocratic portion of the back bay. miss gale was knitting. for all of her luxurious surroundings, she was plainly dressed, and she was practicing economy by knitting herself some winter stockings. reputed to be comfortably rich, miss gale was "close-handed" and thrifty. "yale won, of course!" cried inza, who had not recovered from her enthusiasm. "oh, aunt abby, you should have seen it!" "no, no!" exclaimed the spinster, shaking her head. "you would have gone crazy over it!" "it's brutal. i have no sympathy with such brutal games. i didn't want to see it, and i stayed away." "but it was such a splendid spectacle. twenty-two young gladiators, clad in the armor of the football field, flinging themselves upon each other, struggling like trojans, swaying, straining, striving, going down all together, getting up, and---"land!" cried miss abigail, holding up both hands. "it must have been awful! it makes my blood run cold! don't tell me any more!" "at first harvard rushed yale down the field. yale could not hold them back. it was easy for harvard. jack got the ball--jack benjamin. he went through yale's line. the coast was cleared. he made a touchdown. he ran like a deer. how his legs did fly!" "good!" cried miss abigail, getting excited and dropping her knitting--"good for jack!" "but a yale man was after him, and the yale man could run. the crowd was wild with excitement. jack tore up the earth. the yale man tore up the earth----" "he couldn't catch jack!" exclaimed the spinster. "it wasn't any use for him to try." "he did catch him--jumped at him--caught his ankles--pulled him down!" "you don't say! he'd ought to be walloped!" "then the others came up, and they all piled on jack and frank." "frank? frank who?" "why, frank merriwell, of course." "was he the one that caught jack?" "yes." "i might have known it. no use for jack to try to run away from frank. he couldn't do that. but i thought frank wasn't going to play?" "he broke his promise to me--he did play." "do tell! i'm surprised!" "so was i. he stopped jack, but harvard scored in the first half, and yale didn't get a thing. then came the other half. yale went at harvard with new life. frank seemed to give it to them. he rushed the ball down the field. harvard couldn't hold him." "of course not." "he got the ball close down to harvard's line. then he kicked a goal." "hurrah!" cried miss abigail, with an astonishing burst of enthusiasm. "go on, inza." "the ball was put into play again. again yale got it and rushed it down through harvard's line. harvard made a furious struggle to hold it back. frank got it at last--he broke through--they couldn't stop him. then--then, with three harvard men on his back, he carried the ball over the line for a touchdown, kicked a goal, and won the game." miss abigail was palpitating with excitement. "goodness me!" she gurgled. "and frank did all that? i didn't see him do it, either! goodness me! it must have been grand--it must have been! what a fool i was to stay at home!" inza laughed, and then became sober, suddenly. "yale won," she said, "but i'll never speak to him again." "him? who?" "frank." "won't speak to frank merriwell?" "no." "why not?" "he broke his promise to me. harvard would have won if he hadn't. look at paula! she is heartbroken! it was mean of frank--just as mean as it could be!" "it was mean," said paula, "and frank merriwell ought to be ashamed. i think he must be an awfully cheap fellow to do anything like that." miss abigail's face grew hard as iron. "now, you hold right on, paula benjamin!" she said, severely. "don't you talk about him! your mother and me was schoolmates, but i won't stay in this house to hear frank merriwell traduced! i know him, and he's a fine young man." "he may be," reluctantly admitted paula, seeing miss gale was thoroughly aroused; "but it seems to me that a fine young man should keep a pledge." "you don't know his circumstances. there must have been a good reason why he broke his pledge." "i presume he was called on to play when mr. marline injured his ankle." inza looked at paula quickly. "mr. marline?" she said. "i think frank spoke of him. who is he?" "he was to play full-back for yale, but he sprained his ankle, and so he could not play." "do you know him?" "i have been introduced to him. jack knows him very well. we met him when we were south two years ago." "how do you know he sprained his ankle?" "jack heard of it last night." "then word must have been sent from new haven. did it come through a traitor or a spy?" paula flushed, and then said: "through neither. mr. marline expected to see us after the game, and he sent word that he could not very well, as he had sprained his ankle and might not be able to come on. i saw him with the yale boys, though. he was on crutches." "i begin to understand frank's position," thought inza. "he was forced into the game. well, i have said i'd never speak to him again, and i shall keep my word. i don't care if it breaks my heart! i know he thinks more of his old college than he does of me." jack benjamin came home bruised in body and crushed in spirit. paula met him at the door, and drew him into the sitting-room, where inza and miss gale were. "it's too bad, jack!" cried his sister, her sympathetic heart wrung by the look of pain on his face. "i think it is just awfully mean that harvard didn't win!" "harvard would have won if it hadn't been for that fellow, frank merriwell!" growled benjamin. "i said he'd hoodoo us, and i was right. we can't down yale at any game he is in. it's no use to try. why, we out-classed yale all around to-day, and still he won the game for them. that's what i call infernal luck!" inza repressed her elation, but something like a grim smile came to miss abigail's hard face. "if marline hadn't hurt his ankle, we'd been all right," declared jack, as he sat with his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands, looking down at the floor. "rob is a good man, they say, but he could not have done the things merriwell did. why, hang it!" he suddenly cried, getting on his feet, sinking his hands deep in his pockets, and stamping around the room, "that fellow actually carried woodbury, stanton and glim on his back for more than fifteen yards! they couldn't pull or crush him down. i wouldn't believe it possible if i hadn't seen it. he's a terror!" inza's eyes sparkled. paula followed jack and took his arm. "i hate him!" she cried. "i saw him pull you down, the big, strong ruffian!" "yes," nodded jack, "and a pretty tackle it was. he didn't pile upon me like a wooden man, but his hands went down to my ankles and flipped me in a second. if he'd bungled the least bit, i'd made a touchdown. oh, he is a terror!" "but i hate him!" persisted paula. "i was so sure you would make a touchdown. what right had he to grasp you that way and throw you so hard?" "that's the game, sister mine. any yale man would have done it--if they could." "i don't care! why was he playing?" "that's right!" cried jack, turning to inza. "i thought he wasn't in the game this season? i thought he gave you his promise not to play?" inza flushed with shame and embarrassment. "he did," she confessed. jack whistled. "and broke his promise--i see! it can't be that he thinks much of his word." it seemed for an instant that inza would defend him, but she did not. for the first time frank had broken a promise to her, and she felt it keenly. she turned away. miss gale looked grim, but remained silent. she knew herself, and realized she might say too much, if she spoke at all. it was an hour or so before jack could cool down, so stirred up was he by the result of the game. finally, he went upstairs to take a bath. before dinner there was a ring at the bell, and a servant brought in a card, which she gave to jack, who was enjoying his first smoke of weeks, now that the game was over. "hello!" he cried. "rob marline! i didn't expect him." "rob marline!" exclaimed paula, in no little confusion. "gracious! i must be looking like a fright! come up to my room with me, inza, and see that i am presentable." so the girls ran up to paula's room, and jack directed that marline be brought directly to the smoking-room. "i want to look my best when mr. marline comes," said paula, when they were in her boudoir. "i am sure my hair looks bad, and i must be a perfect fright." inza laughed. "it seems to me you are very particular about mr. marline." "i am," confessed paula, busying herself before the mirror. "you know, he is jack's particular friend." "oh, he's jack's particular friend!" the manner in which inza said that brought a warm flush to paula's cheeks, and she endeavored to hide her confusion, but in vain. "i've discovered your secret, dear!" cried inza, with her arm about her friend's waist. "now i know why you take such an interest in robert marline." "nonsense! i like him, because--because----" "just because you do." "no; because he is jack's friend." "now, don't try to deceive me, paula!" cried inza, holding up one finger. "you can't do it. you would like rob marline just as much if your brother was not in it." "oh, it's no use to talk to you," fluttered paula. "you are one of the girls who will have your own way." "no, not always. i did not have my way to-day. frank merriwell played football. but, paula, i think i am beginning to understand more fully just why you were so anxious mr. merriwell should not play on the yale eleven. he was mr. marline's natural rival for the position of full-back. if frank merriwell played, rob marline could not. i'm sure i am right. you did not tell me the entire truth, but i have found it out." paula was more than ever confused, but she could not deny inza's charge. "if i told you that," she confessed, with sudden frankness, "i feared you would not try to induce mr. merriwell not to play. now, don't be angry with me, inza! i know it was rob's--i mean mr. marline's ambition to play full-back on the yale team, and i wanted him to do so. that's all. perhaps i ought to have told you in the first place. do forgive me, dear!" it was not in inza's heart to be unforgiving, and so the girls hugged each other, kissed and assisted each other in getting ready to go down and meet the visitor. they found jack and marline in the library. the yale lad arose with difficulty. his crutches were lying on the floor beside the chair on which he sat. paula blushed prettily as she shook hands with marline, and then she presented inza. thirty minutes later, while they were chatting, there was another ring at the bell, and the servant brought a card to inza. "gentleman wishes to see you, miss." inza looked at the card, turned pale, and then, her voice quivering a bit, said: "tell mr. merriwell i will not see him!" chapter xxxviii. a blow for frank. "eh? what's that?" exclaimed miss abigail, who entered the library just in time to catch inza's words. "frank merriwell has had the impudence to call here to see me--as soon as this!" flared inza, her face flaming. "eh?" exclaimed miss abigail, once more. "impudence?" "yes--insolence! after he did not keep his promise to me!" rob marline was greatly interested, although he pretended not to notice what was going on. "oh, well, dear," said the spinster, "you must not blame him." "but i do!" "you do not know the circumstances." "i know he broke his promise, and i know i'll never speak to him again as long as i live--never!" "you think so now, but----" "i shall think so always." "don't be foolish, child! mr. merriwell is a splendid young man, and you----" "i will not see him! that is all." then inza again instructed the servant to tell mr. merriwell that she would not see him. "if you won't see him, i will," said miss abigail. "is he in the parlor? i'll go to him." "now, aunt!" cried inza, catching her arm, "you need not try to fix anything up. he broke his promise to me, and i said i'd never speak to him again. i meant it! he may just stay away, for i don't want to see him. tell him so for me." "all right, i will, but i'm going to tell him you're all fluttered, and don't know what you're talking about." so miss gale went to see frank in the parlor, while inza remained in the library. paula was not hard-hearted, for all that she had declared she hated frank merriwell, and, when she saw inza was in earnest about not seeing frank, she drew her aside, and said: "perhaps you had better see him. i don't want to be the cause of a misunderstanding between you." "don't let that worry you," said inza, with affected lightness. "i don't want anything to do with a fellow who cares so little for me that he will break a pledge the way mr. merriwell did." "but--but he was loyal to his colors and his college." "which shows he thinks more of his old college than he does of me. i have said i'd never speak to him again, and you shall see that i can keep my word." paula was distressed, for she began to think herself responsible for the misunderstanding between frank and inza. she knew inza well enough, however, to realize it was useless to attempt to reason with her when her mind was set on anything. the more one tried to reason, the more set she became. rob marline had taken in all that passed, although he pretended to be interested in jack benjamin's talk about the football game. marline felt elated, for he saw merriwell had done something to turn against him this pretty girl, who was paula's friend. at first glance, this yale student from south carolina had been strongly impressed by inza's appearance, and there was something about her spirit and her manners that impressed him more and more. "if i could cut merriwell out with her!" he thought. "ah! that would be a rich revenge! but paula might object! never mind; i've given paula no particular reason to think i am stuck on her. if she is stuck on me, it's not my fault. there is no reason why i should not try to catch on with miss burrage." he compared inza and paula, and he saw that the former was far the handsomer girl. she had a strikingly attractive face with large dark eyes, red lips and perfect teeth, while the color that came and went in her cheeks told the tale of perfect health. he could see that she was destined to become the kind of a young lady who always creates a sensation when she enters a drawing-room and causes men to turn and look after her on the street. the more marline thought it over, the firmer became his determination to do his best to win inza from frank merriwell. he laughed to himself when he thought what a revenge that would be upon the fellow he hated. "what are you laughing at?" cried benjamin, somewhat offended. "i tell you harvard would have won in a walk if it hadn't been for that fellow merriwell." "beg pardon," said marline, quickly. "did i laugh? excuse me. still, i think you overestimate merriwell." "not a bit of it. he's the best man on the yale eleven. besides that, he is one of the best baseball pitchers who ever twirled a ball. he has done more for yale sports and athletics than any one man ever did before in the same length of time." "he had the opportunities to-day," said marline. "that's how he happened to do so much." "he made the opportunities," declared benjamin. "what kind of an opportunity was it when three of our men piled upon him and he carried them more than fifteen yards? that was something wonderful!" "don't speak so loud, jack," cautioned paula. "he is in the parlor, and he might hear you." "well, i'm sure i'm not saying anything that could offend him." "it might give him the swelled head," put in marline. inza turned on him like a flash. "it is evident you do not know him very well, mr. marline," she said, severely. "frank merriwell never gets the swelled head." marline was somewhat embarrassed, but, with the utmost suavity, he bowed to her, smoothly saying: "it is possible i do not know him very well, as you say; but i am sure almost any fellow might be in danger of getting a touch of swelled head had he done the things mr. merriwell did to-day." he said this so gracefully that inza's threatened anger was averted, and she fell to chatting with him, much to his satisfaction. they were standing close together, talking earnestly, marline supporting himself by leaning on the back of a chair, when frank left the parlor, saying to miss gale that he must hasten to catch a train back to new haven. the library door opened into the hall, and frank saw inza chatting with rob marline in a manner that seemed very friendly and familiar. the sight gave him a start, and the hot blood rushed to his cheeks. inza knew frank had seen them, but she did not turn to look at him. she began to laugh in her most bewitching manner, as if amused very much at something marline had said, and leaned a little nearer her companion. frank seemed dazed. the sight of rob marline in that house chatting thus with inza seemed a revelation to him. all at once, he fancied he understood the situation--fancied he knew why inza had not wished him to play on the yale football team. "we shall be in new haven the last of the week, mr. merriwell," said miss abigail. "she'll get over it by that time, and we'll call. it's nothing but a foolish whim." she spoke the words just loud enough for frank to hear, but he did not seem to understand. like one in a dream, he took his cap from the rack and turned toward the door. "good-day, mr. merriwell," called the old maid. "eh? oh! good-day!" frank paused at the door and looked back; then he spoke, loudly enough to be heard in the library: "i shall be pleased to see you at any time, miss gale, but, if you call on me, perhaps it would be well not to bring a certain person with you. it might be embarrassing and unpleasant. good-day." bounding down the steps, frank walked swiftly away. there was a hard, set look on his face, which had grown singularly pale. "yes," he muttered, "i understand it all now. she would not tell me why she did not wish me to play on the eleven, but i know now. somewhere she has met rob marline, and she is stuck on him. he wanted to play full-back for yale, and she aided him all she could by inducing me to promise that i would not play. i see through the whole game! she was playing me for a fool! i did not think that of her, but it is as clear as crystal." and marline had cut him out with inza! he felt sure of that. "well," he grated, "i have been easy with that fellow. now we are enemies to the bitter end! let him look out for me!" chapter xxxix. the homeward journey. "what's the matter with merriwell?" asked lewis little, speaking to a group of jolly lads who were on the train that bore the yale football team out of boston on its way to new haven. "he's grouchy." "is he?" cried paul pierson. "well, he ought to be ashamed of himself! why, he's the hero of the day! all the papers will have his picture to-morrow. i saw at least five persons snapping him with cameras on the field. grouchy, is he? well, confound him! he has no right to get a grouch on." "not a bit of it!" cried charlie creighton. "what's the matter with him? where is he?" "he's sitting back in the end of the car, looking fierce enough to eat anybody." creighton, pierson and several others sprang to their feet and looked for frank. they saw him. he was staring out of the window in a blank manner, although he did not seem to notice anything the train passed. he was paying no attention to the gang of shouting, singing, laughing students, who filled the smoker and were perched on the backs of the seats and crowded into the aisles. "hey, merry!" shouted creighton. "shake it, old man--shake it! come up here! get into the game!" frank looked around, shook his head, and then looked out of the window again. "well, hang him!" growled charlie. "any one would think he had played with harvard, instead of winning the game for yale! what can be the matter with him?" no one seemed to know. creighton went down and talked to frank, but could get no satisfaction out of him. as soon as he was let alone again, merriwell fell to gazing out of the window, seeming quite unaware of the shouts and songs of the jolly lads in the car. when strangers crowded into the car to get a look at the man who had won the game for yale, having heard he was on the train, he still continued to gaze out of the window, and it was not apparent that he heard any of their remarks. "tell you what," said creighton, as he returned to pierson and the others of the little group, "merriwell is sore." "sore?" cried tom thornton, "he can't be any sorer than i am! why, i was jumped on, kicked, rammed into the earth, and annihilated more than twenty times during that game. a little more of it would have made a regular jellyfish out of me. i'll be sore for a month, but i believe in being jolly at the same time." then he broke forth into a song of victory, in which every one in that car seemed to join, judging by the manner in which the chorus was roared forth. "boom-to-de-ay, boom-ta-de-ay, boom-to, de-boom-ta, de-boom-ta-de-ay; we won to-day, we won to-day, we won, oh, we won, oh, we won to-day." any one who has not heard a great crowd of college lads singing this chorus cannot conceive the volume of sound it seems to produce. when they all "bear down together" on the "boom-ta," the explosive sound is like a staggering blow from the shoulder. but even this song of victory did not seem to arouse frank in the least. he remained silent and grim, being so much unlike his usual self that all who knew him were filled with astonishment. "i did not mean that he was sore of body," said creighton. "i think he is chewing an old rag." "what do you mean by that?" "well, you know, we all gave him the marble heart when we thought he had decided not to play football because he was afraid for certain reasons. i think he is sore over that, and i don't know that i blame him. i swear, fellows, we did use him shabby!" "that's it," nodded pierson; "that's just it. and he is proud and sensitive. he would not show he cared a continental before the game, but, now he was the means of saving the day for yale, i fancy he is chewing over it a little." "never thought of that," said bink stubbs. "bet you're right, fellows. we'll have to get down on our hulks to him to make it all right. i'm ready to say i'm ashamed of myself, and ask him to forget it." the others expressed themselves as equally willing, and so it came about that frank was much surprised to have them come to him, one after another, and confess they had used him shabbily. he was ready enough to shake hands with them all, while he assured them he did not hold the least hardness. they saw he was in earnest, they were satisfied he was willing and ready to forget they had ever treated him with contempt, and yet he did not cheer up, which was something they could not understand. "better let him alone," advised creighton, after a little. "it may be something we don't know anything about, that he is chewing. anyway, he's not himself." bruce browning, big and lazy ever, was one of the group. he had been keeping still, but now he observed: "that's right, let him alone. i've traveled with him, and i never saw him this way before. i tell you he is dangerous, and somebody may get hurt." "keep away from the window, my love and my dove- keep away from the window, don't you hear! come round some other night, for there's gwine to be a fight, and there'll be razzers a-flyn' through the air." thus sang bink stubbs. "look at harris!" laughed thornton, nudging the fellow nearest him. "don't he look sour? they say he got hit to-day." "got hit?" "yes." "what with?" "a roll." "a roll of what?" "bank notes." "you mean he has been betting?" "sure." "but you don't mean he bet on harvard?" "i understand he put his last cent on harvard, and went broke. he was fortunate enough to have a return ticket to new haven, so he didn't have to borrow money to get back on." harris was sitting in a seat, looking sulky and disgusted, fiercely trying to chew the end of his short black mustache. his hat was pulled over his eyes, and he did not seem to take much interest in what was going on in the car. stubbs and creighton got a crowd together to jolly harris, and they descended on him in a body. "hello, old man!" cried charlie, gayly. "is it straight that you won three hundred on yale to-day?" "i heard it was five hundred," chirped bink stubbs, "what a pull to make! congratulations, old man!" "you'll have to ball the crowd when we get to new haven, sport," said lewis little. "you can afford to open fizz." harris smiled in a sickly way, and tried to say something, but paul pierson got him by the hand and gave him a shaking up that literally took away his breath. "good boy!" cried paul. "i'm glad you stuck by old eli! but did you have the nerve to bet every cent you had that yale would take that game? my, my! you are a nervy fellow, sport, old chap. you were the only man who had all that confidence." "sport never goes back on old yale," laughed little. "he knew the chance of yale's winning looked slim, but still he backed her up. that's what makes him look so cheerful now." "you would have felt bad if you had bet your money on harvard, now wouldn't you?" cried thornton. "oh, yes, i certainly should," gasped harris, who was suffering tortures. "what a jolly time we'll have drinking fizz on you, old man!" exclaimed bink stubbs. "i feel as if i might get away with about four quarts." "oh, we'll make a hole in your winnings!" laughed pierson. "i am so dry this minute that my neck squeaks." "so are we all!" shouted the others. harris could not repress a groan. he wondered if they were fooling with him, but they seemed so much in earnest that he could not tell. perhaps they really thought he had won a big roll on yale. he couldn't tell them he had bet on harvard. what could he do? he was forced to pretend that he was delighted, but over and over he promised himself that he would give them the slip, even if he had to leap from the train while it was running at full speed. pay for fizz! why, he didn't have enough left to pay for a glass of plain beer! chapter xl. rejoicing at yale. harris found his opportunity to slip away when the train drew into the station at new haven. a band of music was on hand to meet the returning conquerors. a wild mob of screaming, cheering, horn-tooting students was there. it was evening, and the yale lads had come down to the station with torches, prepared to give the eleven such a reception as no other football team had ever met. when the train drew into the station, the band was hammering away at a blood-stirring tune. when the train stopped, the great crowd of young men and boys presented a perfect sea of upturned faces beneath the flaring light of the torches. blue was everywhere. it was yale's great day, and all new haven wore the color. the train stopped. then there was a fierce swaying and surging of the crowd, a flutter of flags, followed by a mighty cheer that was like a savage yell of joy over the downfall of a defeated and slain enemy. how they shouted for yale! how they swayed and surged! how like lunatics they were! the sound of the band was drowned, and not a strain of music could be heard. the musicians continued to play, but they might have saved their breath. the crowd knew well enough that the eleven would be on the smoker. that was the car in which the victors could disport themselves as hilariously as they pleased. the smoker began to discharge its passengers. paul pierson was the first to get off, and he was followed closely by a stream of yale men. the general cheering had died down, but almost every man who stepped from the train was greeted in some peculiar manner. "what's the matter with yale?" howled a voice. then a thousand throats seemed to roar back: "she's all right! 'rah! 'rah! 'rah! 'rah! 'rah! 'rah! yale!" bruce browning appeared. "hey, brownie!" cried some one on the platform. "how's your corns?" "sore," answered the big fellow. "strained 'em cheering for yale." bink stubbs came forth riding astride puss parker's shoulders. somewhere on the train he had captured a silk hat that was much too large for him, and it had dropped down over his head to his ears, which were lopped forward by the weight of it. in the hatband was stuck the short staff of a small flag. bink had a horn, and he blew a hoarse blast the moment he was outside the car. "where'd you get that horn?" called a voice. "this horn's nothing," returned the little fellow. "i've had about twenty horns besides this, and still my neck is dry." four fellows came off the car, carrying a fifth. they held their caps in their hands, and were as mournful and sad-appearing as possible. the one who was carried had a big white placard on his breast. on the card were these words: "i bet a dime on harvard, and dropped dead after the game!" it was not an easy thing to carry him down the steps, but the mournful-appearing bearers succeeded in doing the trick. dismal jones came forth from the car. he was holding a handkerchief to his eyes and pretending to weep. this brought a shout of delight, and some one yelled back: "weep for poor old harvard. she needs it." then capt. forrest of the eleven appeared. a mighty roar went up the moment he was seen. it was a great shout of admiration and welcome. it brought a hot flush of satisfaction to his cheeks, and he stood bowing and smiling on the platform. "what's the matter with forrest?" shrieked a voice, when the noise lulled somewhat. "he's a lulu!" shrieked another voice. "he's all right--he is!" roared the crowd. then they cheered for him in the regular manner. each player was received with an ovation as he came out of the car, and they must have felt themselves well repaid for their weeks of hard training and practice. frank merriwell was nearly the last one to show himself. the crowd had been waiting for him. what a shout went up! the torches flared, and it seemed that the very stars quivered with the volume of sound. "merriwell! merriwell! merriwell!" roared the vast throng. roar! roar! roar! it seemed that they would never stop. it was an ovation that might have pleased a monarch. frank would have been less than human had he not thrilled with satisfaction as he heard them cheering him thus. he took off his cap and bowed again and again. he tried to descend from the steps and mingle with the throng, but some of them held him back. they seemed to want him up there where they could look at him. it was some time before the cheering subsided. at last, somebody began to shout: "speech! speech! speech!" frank shook his head, but it was useless. they were determined he should say something. he saw he could not escape, so he held up one hand. silence fell on the great crowd beneath the torchlights. then frank spoke--a single sentence: "every man of us did his level best for dear old yale!" that was enough. they went mad again, and again they roared till they were hoarse. they cheered for yale, they cheered for forrest, they cheered for merriwell. of everything for which they cheered, merriwell created the greatest enthusiasm. then he was lifted from the steps and carried away on the shoulders of his admirers, while the mob swarmed after him. the band got out and formed to head the parade of triumph. the crowd of students fell in behind. the band struck up, and away they went, with the yale eleven close behind them. great crowds had turned out to witness the spectacle, knowing the students meant to give their victorious team a rousing reception. all along the line the spectators cheered and waved hats, flags and handkerchiefs. a committee had raised a fund for fireworks, and roman candles began to pop up balls of fire, while rockets went whizzing into the air from the head of the procession. no one interfered with the rejoicing students. it was their night, and the city fathers remained in the background and permitted them to have a glorious time. some of the business places were prepared for their appearance with illuminated windows. all new haven seemed delighted. this year every one had seemed to expect harvard would "wipe up the gridiron" with yale, and this victory was so unexpected that it set the people wild with delight. all along the line the students sang and cheered. now and then the band could be heard pounding away industriously. in this manner they marched to the college grounds. as they drew near the college, browning suddenly descended on the trombone player and captured his horn. that was a signal for a general rush upon the band by the boys, and, within three minutes, every instrument was in the hands of a yale student. some of the boys could play on the instruments they captured, and some could simply make a noise. "attention!" roared browning, who seemed to have awakened from the lethargy that had been on him so long, and was once more a leader in a genuine racket. "we will play the 'star-spangled banner.' all ready! let her rip!" they played! such a wild medley of sounds never was heard before. puss parker had a cornet, and he was playing the air of the "star spangled banner," while browning was putting in the variations with the trombone. but the others played anything they could think of and some things they could not think of! "john brown's body," "yankee doodle," "marching through georgia," "suwanee river," and "hail columbia," were some of the tunes that mingled in that medley. those who could not play anything at all added to the hideous din by making the captured horns bleat forth horrible sounds. bink stubbs had secured the bass drumstick, and the way he hammered the big drum was a caution. he did his best to break in the head--and finally succeeded! in this manner the rejoicing students marched right in upon the campus, regardless of policemen, professors, rules or regulations. chapter xli. a contrast in enemies. it was a wild night on the yale campus. even the worst old "grind" in the college came out and looked on while the hilarious students made merry, even if he did not join in the riotous proceedings. a bonfire was built. once there had been rules prohibiting such fires, but of what use were rules now! boxes, barrels, lumber, fencing, almost anything that would make a blaze was brought in and heaped up there. it was done in a rush in a manner that showed all preparations had been made in advance, although the combustible material had not been piled up till the time arrived when the fire was required. around the great fire the students with the instruments belonging to the band marched and tooted and sang. bink stubbs had knocked in one end of the bass drum, but he continued to hammer away on the other end, apparently doing his best to break that in also. bruce browning "tore off" music and other sounds with the trombone, while puss parker astounded those who knew him best by his skill with the cornet, for he really could play at some tunes. about twenty fellows tied handkerchiefs over their faces, turned their coats, and attempted to rush the band and capture the instruments. then there was war, and the real owners of the instruments looked on in horror, wondering what would become of the horns. the police were called upon to regain the instruments for the proper owners. a dozen of them attempted to do the trick, but they were not permitted to come onto the campus. there were rumors of a rush. it was reported that the freshmen were coming out with canes. but the freshmen were not fools, and they knew it was a bad time to bring about a cane rush. they mingled with the rejoicing crowd, but sported no canes. some of the band instruments were ruined in the struggle, but a cheap band had been engaged, and the instruments were of poor grade, so the boys did not mind their destruction, although all felt that somebody would have to settle the bill for damages. some one placed danny griswold on a box and yelled for a speech. danny never made a speech in his life, but he felt elated, and he started in to say something. the moment he opened his mouth everybody cheered. when they stopped cheering, danny started again. "this is----" not another word was heard. again they cheered, drowning his voice. he waited for them to stop. they stopped. "this is----" "'rah! 'rah! 'rah! whooper up! whooper up! 'rah! 'rah! 'rah!" danny waited again. now he felt that he wanted to make a speech. he was determined to make a speech. "this is----" he couldn't get beyond "is," and he was growing disgusted. he longed for a fireman's hose and good head of water. as they began to cheer all at once, they stopped all together. once more danny tried it: "this is----" it was no use. the mere sound of his voice seemed to arouse them to the wildest enthusiasm. he shook his fist at them. "go to thunder!" he screamed, getting black in the face. but they laughed and cheered so he could not hear the sound of his own voice. some fellows found frank and carried him around and around the fire. they tried to induce him to get on the box in danny's place, and say something, but he was too shrewd to try that, even if he had wished to do so. sport harris, holding aloof, his heart sour with disappointment and disgust, saw a fellow swinging himself along on crutches, but refraining from taking any part in the celebration. "it's marline," thought sport. "he must be somewhat sore himself." then he approached and spoke to the unlucky student, who had lost the opportunity to play full-back when he sprained his ankle. "hello, marline!" called harris. "why aren't you whooping her up with the others?" marline looked at him in doubt, and then remembered that harris and merriwell had never been good friends. "why should i celebrate?" he asked, sourly. "yale won." "yes, and i sat where i could see the fellow who filled my place secure the opportunities to win, which must have been mine had i played." "it was hard luck for you to be knocked out in such a manner." "hard luck! it was beastly! but it was worse luck to have that fellow, merriwell, run into the game and get all the opportunities to cover himself with glory." "well, he got 'em, and he improved 'em." "any fellow fit for the position could have done the same thing." "think so?" "i know it." "how about carrying three men on his back the way merriwell did?" "that was nothing." "everybody seems to think it was a great trick." "it was nothing, i tell you. those harvard chumps tackled him in the most foolish manner possible. not one of them tried to get low down on him, but all piled upon his back." "still, it seems that three of them ought to have crushed him into the ground." "not if he had any back at all. you could have stood up under it." "thanks!" said harris, dryly. "i don't care to try." "i know i could." "but merriwell carried them right along on his back." "what of it?" "wasn't that something? he scarcely seemed to slacken his speed in the least, for all of their weight." "rot! they came upon him from behind, and when they leaped on him they hurled him forward still faster than he was going, if anything." "it's a wonder they didn't hurl him forward on his face." "wonder--nothing! are you stuck on that fellow?" "well, i should say not! i have no reason to admire him." "nor i! i despise him, and i am willing he should know it. wait till my ankle gets well." "what will you do then?" "i am making no talk about what i'll do," said marline, lowering his voice and hissing forth the words; "but frank merriwell had better steer clear of me." "he is a bad man to have for an enemy," said harris, "i know, for he is my enemy." "how does he happen to be your enemy?" asked marline. "you are not in athletics. what made him your enemy?" harris hesitated, and then said: "some time ago he wrongfully accused me of cheating at cards. i have hated him ever since." a sudden change came over marline. he remembered now. he had heard something about it at the time, but it had slipped his mind. he remembered that he had heard from a reliable source that merriwell had exposed harris in a crooked game. involuntarily, marline drew away from harris. the lad from south carolina had very high ideas of honor, and he could feel nothing but contempt for a card sharp. sometimes he played cards himself, but he would have died rather than do a crooked or dishonorable thing. a moment before, he had seemed to feel a bond between himself and sport, as they were both enemies to merriwell, but now there was a feeling of repulsion. no matter what rob marline's faults might be, and he had many of them, there was not a dishonest streak in him. harris seemed to see the change come over the other, and regretted that he had told the truth, for he knew marline was "encumbered" by a fine sense of honor. he tried to set himself right by fiercely declaring he had been unjustly accused by merriwell. "that's what makes me hate the fellow so," he said. "he has injured me by leading some fellows to think i was crooked, and that is the worst injury he could do anybody." "i agree with you on that point," nodded marline. "some time i'll square it up with him," grated harris. "we both hate him, and i see no reason why we shouldn't pull together." marline hesitated a moment, then shook his head. "no," he said, "i'll not make a compact with any one against him. i hate him, and i am willing he should know it. i'll meet him face to face and man to man, and i'll make him crawl, or i'll fix him so he won't play football for a long time to come!" chapter xlii. a challenge accepted. the day after the great game the boston and new york morning papers gave columns to a full report of the contest. all the evening papers of the day before had contained reports, but on the following morning the story was told more fully and accurately. not a morning paper appeared in either city that did not contain frank merriwell's picture. it made little difference if some of the pictures were poor, frank's name was beneath each and every one of them. the papers gave him glaring headlines. he was called "the yale trojan," "the sensation of the season," "the boy of iron," and many other complimentary things. all yale was reading the papers, and frank was more than ever the topic of conversation, for his fellow-students began to realize that he had played an even more important part in the game than was at first thought possible by those who had not witnessed it. if frank had smoked or drank he would not have found it necessary to buy a cigar or a drink for weeks to come. scores of fellows would have considered it a great honor to buy smokes and drinks for him. but merriwell neither smoked nor drank. he had never indulged in tobacco or liquor. who knows how much that was responsible for his wonderful strength, nerve and wind? at the fence a group gathered early and read and discussed the newspaper reports. rob marline seemed to be the only man who did not have a paper. "what's the matter with you, old man?" asked tom thornton. "you are looking as blue as if we had lost yesterday." "i'm feeling grouchy," confessed marline. "ankle?" "has something to do with it." "too bad! it was tough to be knocked out just before the game, but you can feel satisfied that your place was filled by a good man." marline seemed to turn yellow. "that is it, sah--that's just it!" he exclaimed, "look at all the stuff in the papers about him! and i might have had the opportunities he had if i had played." "perhaps not." "why not?" "the change might have made considerable difference in the play. you know as well as i, no two men will play just the same under the same circumstances. they may attempt similar plays, but they do not carry them out in precisely the same manner." "i don't like the way you use that word 'attempt,' sah!" said marline, flaming up a bit. "it seems like an insinuation that i might have failed in the attempt, while merriwell succeeded." "you are altogether too suspicious and sensitive, marline. i did not hint anything of the sort, although even you cannot be sure you would have succeeded as well as merriwell. indeed, what he did in that game was phenomenal." "rot, sah!" "i believe you are jealous of him, marline. if you are, take my advice, and conceal it, or the boys will jolly you to death." rob marline drew himself up with as much haughtiness as possible, considering his lame ankle. "sah," he said, hissing the words through his white teeth, "the boys had better be careful. i am in no condition to be jollied on that point, sah." had any other fellow at yale taken such a stand, it would have produced shouts of laughter. as it was, not a fellow of the group grinned, and burn putnam observed: "if you don't want to be jollied, you'd better keep still about merriwell. all the fellows will be onto you if you keep it up." rob flashed old put a cutting look, and then haughtily returned: "my tongue is my own, sah!" "all right," grunted burn. "use it as you please. you'll find i've given you a straight tip." "i presume, sah, a man has a right to criticise the playing of any fellow on the eleven?" "sure; but it doesn't come very well from you, as you and merriwell were rivals." "we were not rivals, if you please. he was substituted to fill my place after i was injured. but for this ankle, he would not have been on the team." "but that he refused to play football this season, you would not have been on the team," put in bandy robinson. "oh, i see all you fellows are standing up for him and are down on me!" fiercely cried marline. "i don't care if you are. i think frank merriwell is----" "is what, sir?" it was merriwell himself, who had approached the group without being noticed by any of them. he now stepped forward promptly and faced marline. rob turned pale, and his eyes gleamed. for some moments he did not speak, but he did not quail in the least before merriwell's steady gaze. at last, gaining control of his voice, he sneered: "so you were listening. well, there is an old saying that eavesdroppers seldom hear good of themselves." "so you call me an eavesdropper?" "you heard what was not meant for your ears." "because i happened to be coming here to join this party. you were talking loudly and in public. there was no reason why i should not have heard, and i did so in anything but a sneaking manner. your insinuation that i eavesdropped is an insult." "what are you going to do about it, sah?" "demand satisfaction!" shouted back frank, who was aroused to such a pitch that he was ready to quarrel with his rival on the slightest provocation. marline grinned sarcastically. "very well, sah," he said, something like exultation in his voice. "i am ready to give you all the satisfaction you want, sah, as soon as my ankle will permit." "you will fight me?" "with pleasure, sah." "all right; it's settled. i'll agree to give you a pair of nice black eyes." "no, you won't, sah." "eh? you won't be able to stop me." "only ruffians and prize fighters use their fists." "eh? what do you mean?" "i mean business, sah!" shot back the boy from south carolina, drawing himself up, with the aid of his crutch. "you have seen fit, mr. merriwell, to consider yourself insulted by me, and you have demanded satisfaction. you shall have it, sah--all you want! we will fight, but not with our fists. i am the challenged party, and i name swords as the weapons!" marline's words produced a sensation. of all who heard them, frank merriwell seemed the least startled or surprised. danny griswold near fell off the fence. all the boys looked at each other, and then stared at the boy from south carolina, as if seeking to discover if he could be in earnest. he was in deadly earnest; there could be no doubt of it. his face was pale, and his eyes gleamed. the fighting blood of the marlines was aroused. then the other lads of the group remembered the record made by the marlines, the famous fighters of south carolina. they remembered that rob marline's ancestors were duelists before him, and every one of them on record had killed his man! with such an example in his own family, and with certain notions of the proper course for a man to defend his honor, it was certain marline meant business when he named swords as the weapons. but such a meeting could not take place. it was unlawful. besides that, dueling was not popular in the north, and it was not believed that a man showed cowardice if he refused to consider the challenge of an enemy. what would merriwell do? he could not accept marline's proposal, and still it would not be easy for him to back down, after demanding satisfaction. he was in a trying position, and the boys wondered how he would get out of it. "mr. marline," said frank, and his voice was perfectly calm and cool, "you must be aware that such a thing as you propose is utterly impossible." "i am not aware of anything of the sort, sah." "then i will tell you so now." "that means you are afraid--you dare not meet me face to face and man to man! you show the white feather!" "it means nothing of the sort." "you can't get out of it, sah." "i am a northerner, and i do not believe in personal encounters with deadly weapons, after the rules of the code duello." "a northerner!" flung back marline, with a curl of his lips and a proud toss of his head. "well, i am a southerner, and we do believe in the code duello. it is the only way for a man to satisfy his honor." "it is evident that is a point on which we cannot agree." "then, you are going to back down--you will play the coward?" "you are making your language very strong and offensive. will you be good enough to remember you are on crutches, which makes it impossible for me to strike you now?" "no man ever struck a marline without spilling his blood for the blow! it is a good thing for you, sah, that i am on crutches." "if you were not crippled, you could not use the language you have within the past few moments, without getting my fist between the eyes." marline sucked in his breath with a hissing sound through his teeth. "never mind my condition, sah--hit me! nothing would give me greater satisfaction, sah!" "it is impossible. you will not be crippled long." "i shall recover as swiftly as possible. you may be sure of that, sah!" "there will be time enough to settle this little affair between us then." "but the preliminaries can be arranged in advance, mr. merriwell. my representative will call on any friend you may name, sah." it was plain enough to all that marline intended to force a duel or compel merriwell to back down squarely. "if i decline to name a friend--if i decline to meet you in a regular duel----" "i shall brand you as a pusillanimous cur, sah!" frank's face paled a bit, but still his eyes met marline's steadily. "you seem to forget you are not in the south," he calmly said. "if you were on your own soil, you might be justified in pushing this thing as you are, for that is the not entirely obsolete custom among southern gentlemen. but you are in the north, where duelists are criminals who have not even the sympathy of the public in general. under such circumstances, you have no right to try to force such an encounter with me." "you demanded satisfaction, sah, and i named the weapons. i know nothing of your northern ideas, and i care less. i do know that a man of honor in your position would name a representative and have this affair settled properly." "you have raised a point of honor on which we cannot agree, that is all." "then you refuse to meet me? you take water? ha! ha! ha! i swear i did think you were a coward all along! a short time ago all yale said you were a coward, but now, because you made two or three lucky plays in the football game, all yale is praising you to the skies. well, sah, i will show them the kind of a man you are! i will show them that you challenged me, and then dared not meet me. i will brand you as the coward you are, sah! it will give me great satisfaction, i assure you." "look here, marline," broke in burn putnam, "you are carrying this thing beyond the limit. merriwell has explained to you his position and made it clear that such a meeting as you propose is utterly impossible." "that's right, that's right!" chorused the others. "mr. merriwell knew me at the beginning," said the boy from the south, unrelentingly. "he knew i did not take any stock in fist-fighting--that i made no pretensions of being what you call a scrapper. yet he demanded satisfaction of me for what he chose to consider an insult. that gave me the chance to name the weapons, and i named them. it seems that he sought to take an unfair advantage of me, thinking to force me into a fist-fight, about which he knew i knew nothing, and, having the advantage of me thus, give me a drubbing. it was a brutal attempt to take advantage of me, but he was check-mated. now, under the circumstances, i have a right to push this matter as far as possible, and i will do it! he'll meet me in a regular duel, or i will take great trouble to brand him as a craven." "you'll get yourself into a very bad scrape, marline," said thornton. "sympathy will not be with you." "bah! what do i care! i can stand alone! i am a marline!" "besides that," continued tom, "there is another point to be considered." rob made a gesture of disdain, but thornton hastened on: "suppose you two would fight a duel and one of you should be seriously wounded, what then? why, an investigation would follow, and the truth would come out that would mean expulsion for you both--it would mean disgrace." "bah!" cried marline, once more. "i presumed i was dealing with a man of honor, and that every person here was a man of honor. in such a case, if one of us should be wounded, he would keep his lips closed, even if he were dying. not a word of the truth would he disclose, and no amount of investigation would discover the truth. the victor would be safe." "that is much easier to talk about than it would be to put in practice. i, for one, am against anything of the sort." "you do not count, sah." "don't, eh? well, we'll see about that! frank merriwell can't meet you, and that settles it. if you try to force him, i'll report the whole matter to the faculty, and the chances are about ten to one that you will be fired from college. there, mr. marline, you have it straight from the shoulder, and i trust you are satisfied." thornton was astonished with himself for taking such a stand, as he was, as a rule, a good follower, but no leader. he had a way of thinking of things after others put them into execution, but now he was the one to take the lead. marline made a gesture of scorn. "yes, sah, i am satisfied," he said; "i am satisfied that mr. merriwell is a coward. he was looking for a loophole to crawl through, and you have provided him with that loophole. he should feel very grateful to you, sah!" "marline," said frank, sharply, "you can make a mistake by heaping this on too thick! i can't stand everything, and you'd better drop it." "yes, drop it, marline!" cried some of the others. "oh, i'll drop it for the present," said rob, with deep significance--"for the present, you understand. but i am not done with mr. merriwell. my ankle will be all right in a short time, and then----" he paused, giving frank a stare of hatred. then, without another word, he turned and swung himself away, aided by his crutches. all felt sure that the affair was not ended. chapter xliii. an unpleasant situation. "great scott!" gurgled old put, staring after marline. "but he is a regular fire eater!" "he's a bad man--a blamed bad man!" fluttered danny griswold. "that's right," nodded lewis little. "he really wants to fight with swords, i believe." "of course, he does," nodded andy emery, who had not said a word during all the talk between merriwell and marline. "jack diamond was another fellow just like him when he first came to yale." "so he was," said putnam. "and it seems to me i have heard that merriwell met him." frank smiled a bit. "we had a little go," he said. "he put up a fierce fight, too, for a fellow that knew nothing about the science." "oh, everybody knows about that!" said put. "it was the other affair i was speaking of. didn't he force you into a duel with swords?" "that affair was not very serious," said frank, evasively. "but i know it took place. he was a fire eater, and he had just such ideas of honor as marline holds. thought it a disgrace to fight with fists, and all that. you couldn't get out of meeting him in a regular duel, and you did so. i've heard the fellows talking it over. let's see, who got the best of it?" "it was interrupted before the end," said frank. "the sophs came down on us, and we thought them the faculty. everybody took to his heels." "and diamond would have been captured if it hadn't been for merriwell, who stayed behind to help him out," put in thornton. "the duel was never finished." "don't try it again, merry," cried danny griswold. "the next one wouldn't come out as well as that." "but what am i going to do?" asked frank. "this fellow marline will not let up on me." "don't pay any attention to him," advised little. "that's right, ignore him," said the others. "that will be a hard thing to do. i am no bully, as you all know, but i cannot ignore a man who tries to ride me." "better do that than get into a fight with deadly weapons, and be killed," said put. "or kill him," added griswold. "never mind if he does try to brand you as a coward," advised emery. "he can't make the brand stick. you are known too well here." frank flushed a bit. "i don't know about that," he asserted. "it was only a few days ago that almost everybody here seemed to think me a coward because i declined to play football. they would be thinking so now if i had not played through absolute necessity." "but what you did in that game has settled it so no man can call you a coward hereafter, and have his words carry any weight," said putnam. "i believe you can afford to ignore rob marline. he is sore now because he was unable to play in the game, and because you put up such a game. he'll get over that after a time, and it's quite likely he'll be ashamed of himself for making such a fuss. he's not much good, anyway." "right there is where i think you make a big mistake," said frank. "marline has been underestimated by many persons. he has sand, and plenty of it. he is not responsible for his peculiar notions as to the proper manner for a man to settle an affair of honor, for he was born and brought up where such settlements are generally made with pistols." "well, you can't fight him in the manner he has named, and that's all there is to it. nobody will blame you for not meeting him. let him go it till he cools off." "perhaps he will be cool by the time his ankle gets well," said griswold. others came along and joined the crowd, and the talk turned to football. everybody seemed to want to shake hands with frank, and his arm was worked up and down till it ached. he was congratulated on every hand. sport harris stood at a distance and saw all this, while his face wore a sour, hateful sneer. "it makes me sick to see them slobbering over him!" he muttered. "he'll swell up and burst with conceit now. hang him! he beat me out of my last dollar yesterday, and now i'll have to take some of my clothes down to 'uncle' and raise the wind on them. ain't got even enough for a beer this morning, and my account is full at morey's. this is what i call hard luck! wonder how harlow feels this morning?" rolf harlow had formerly been a harvard man, and he was an inveterate gambler. through him harris had placed all his money on the harvard eleven. sport had tipped harlow to the condition of the team, and the apparent fact that harvard was sure to win, on which tip rolf had hastened to stake everything on the cambridge boys. at the close of the game harris got away from harlow as quickly as possible, finding him anything but agreeable as a companion. harris knew marline hated merriwell, and he felt sure the boy from the south had nerve and courage, but, to his wonderment and disgust, rob would not enter into any sort of a compact against frank. "together, we might be able to do up merriwell," thought harris. "the only man i ever, found who had the nerve to stick by me against merriwell was hartwicke, and he was forced to leave college. i'll get the best of the fellow some day." later on, sport heard something of the encounter between merriwell and marline that morning. he listened eagerly to this, and he was seized by a few thoughts. what did he care about marline? if merriwell could be led into a genuine duel with the lad from south carolina, it might result in the expulsion of both from yale, either if neither should be seriously injured. if merriwell should be injured, all the better. if he wounded marline, the whole story might come out on investigation, and that would put him in a bad box. anyway, a duel between the two might bring about merriwell's downfall. harris set about stirring the matter up. he reported that marline had driven merriwell "into his boots." there were a few fellows who "took some stock" in sport, and through them he worked to spread the story. harris was industrious, and before another night all sorts of tales concerning the encounter between the rivals were in circulation. harry rattleton, frank's old-time chum, heard some of the reports, and he lost no time in telling frank just what was being said. merriwell smiled grimly, and said nothing. "what are you going to do about it?" asked harry, excitedly. "nothing," said frank. "what's that?" shouted rattleton. "if you don't do anything, lots of the fellows will think the stories are true." "let them." "i wouldn't stand it! i'd hunch somebody's ped--i mean, punch somebody's head." "the fellows who heard it all know if marline drove me into my boots." "all right!" said rattleton. "if you don't do anything about it, i shall. i'm going to find out who started the yarns, and then i'm going to punch him!" and rattleton went forth in search of some one to punch. and he was not the only one, as we shall see. within three days marline was able to get around, with the aid of a cane. his ankle was improving swiftly, and he expected it would be nearly as well as ever in less than a week. marline had a following. there were some rattle-brained young fellows in the college who looked on him with admiration, as it was known he came from a fighting family, and was just as ready to face a foe on "the field of honor" as any of his ancestors had been before him. marline considered himself a "careful drinker," for he took about a certain number of drinks each day, seldom allowing himself to indulge in more than his allowance. he always took whiskey. beer and ale he called "slops." such stuff was well enough to boys and dutchmen, but "whiskey was the stuff for a man." rob did not know he was forming one of the worst habits a man can acquire--that of "drinking moderately." the moderate drinker becomes the steady drinker, and, in time, he gets his system into such a condition that he cannot get along without his regular allowance of "stuff." the moment he tries to cut down that allowance, he feels miserable and "out of sorts." then he "throws in" a lot of it to brace up on. perhaps it is some time before he realizes what a hold drink has on him, and, when he does realize it, in almost every case it is too late to break off the habit. gradually he increases his "allowance," and thus the moderate drinker becomes a slave to liquor, and a drunkard. the only "safe way" to handle liquor is not to handle it at all. marline had a father with plenty of money, and he was provided with more than a liberal allowance while at college. he had money to spend, and now, knowing the value of popularity, he began to spend it with unusual liberality. as a result, there was a crowd of fellows who clung to him closely in order to get as many drinks as possible out of him. although frank did not drink, he often went around with fellows who did. he had a strong mind, and it was not difficult for him to resist temptation. thus it came about that merriwell and marline sometimes saw each other in morey's or treager's, two well-known students' resorts. at first, they seemed to avoid each other. then marline got the idea that merriwell was afraid of him, and he took to flinging out scornful insinuations and staring at frank contemptuously. it was difficult for merriwell to restrain his passions, for never had he known a fellow who could anger him like marline, but he held onto himself with a close hand. jack diamond heard of the affair between frank and the boy from south carolina. although jack was from the south, he knew merriwell as well as anybody at yale, and his knowledge told him frank was in the right. it galled diamond to think that anybody could sneer at merriwell, and not be called to account. he did not say much at first, but, after a time, he began to feel that he had stood it about as long as possible. "look here, merry!" he exclaimed, as he stalked into merriwell's room one evening; "how long are you going to stand this?" frank had been studying, but he flung down his book immediately. "stand what?" he asked, smiling. "why, the insolence of this fellow from south carolina. i heard him in morey's last evening when he made that sneering remark about you, and it has been galling me all day. i expected you would jump him on the spot, but you never moved an eyelash." "what did you think i'd do?" "punch him, confound it!" "how can i?" "how can you? with your fist, of course." "but i can't do it, you know. he has acknowledged publicly that he is no fighter with his fists, and i'd seem like a bully if i hit him." "oh, rot!" exploded jack. "think i'd let any fellow insult me and then rub it in without giving him a thump on the jaw? not much!" "your ideas on that point seem to have changed since you came to yale. you will remember you did not believe in fighting with fists when you came here." "that's right," nodded jack. "i thought gentlemen never fought in such a manner, but i have found out that even gentlemen are occasionally forced to do so." "marline holds just the same ideas as you held. i demanded satisfaction of him, and he said he'd give it to me, with swords." "he's a chump! what he really needs is a good drubbing, and you ought to give it to him." "and be called a bully. they would say it was a cowardly thing to do. really, jack, i'm in a confounded nasty place!" "i believe you are," admitted diamond, slowly. "but you must do something." "suggest something." "fight him with the weapons he named!" cried the virginian, hotly. "you can do it, and i know you can get the best of him. i haven't forgotten our little duel. not much! why, merriwell, you disarmed me twice! you can do the same trick with him." "perhaps not." "i know you can. if you disarm him twice, you can call him a bungler, and refuse to continue the duel. do it, merry!" excitedly urged jack. "i'll stand by you--i'll be your second." "thank you, old man; but aren't you afraid of getting into serious trouble? if the faculty----" "hang the faculty! we'll have to take chances. you can't stand his insults, merry, and you'll have to fight him with the weapons he has named. that's the only thing you can do." "you may be right," said frank, slowly. "i am getting sick of the way the thing is going, but i don't want to make a fool of myself." "you won't; but you'll make a monkey of rob marline, and i'll bet on it. why, merry, you are wonderfully clever with the foils, and you have nerves of iron." "still, there might be a slip, you know." "are you afraid he'll do you up?" "not that," said frank, "although i know he might. i'll tell you the truth. i hate marline, and i might do him up. a sword is a nasty weapon. what if i should run him through?" "i never saw the time yet when you were not your own master. i don't think there is any danger that you will kill marline, but you pink him, just so he would remember you. he wouldn't blow. he's from the south. he wouldn't blow if you pinked him for keeps." "i think you are right about that. well, jack, there's no telling what i may be driven into. if i have to meet him in a duel, i shall call on you to act as my second." "you may depend on me. i'll serve you with great satisfaction. call him out, merry--call him out!" chapter xliv. students' rackets. inza burrage came back to new haven with miss gale. frank discovered she was there by seeing her on the street. he started to join her and speak, but she entered a store, and he lost her. that evening he started out to call on her, resolved to have a talk with her and come to a complete understanding, if she would see him. he knew where miss gale was stopping, and he made his way to the house by a roundabout course, thinking over what he would say in case inza consented to see him. as he approached the house he saw some one ascending the steps. the person going up the steps carried a cane. frank halted abruptly. "marline!" he whispered. it was his rival. rob rang the bell and was admitted to the house. frank turned about and walked swiftly away. "that settles it!" he grated. "i don't want to see her now, for i am sure she was playing double with me. she is stuck on rob marline. it's all right! it's all right! i'll have to take diamond's advice. marline shall have all the satisfaction he desires." on his way back to his room he met browning, diamond, rattleton and several other fellows, who were starting out for a jolly time. they were singing, "here's to good old yale," and he immediately joined in with them, his beautiful baritone adding to the melody which floated out on the crisp evening air. "hurrah!" cried rattleton. "it's merry! come on, old man, and we'll have some sport." to the surprise of all, merriwell joined them, without asking where they were going. he seemed ready enough for any kind of sport, and his laughter rang the loudest and merriest of them all. he was overflowing with jokes and witty sayings, so that the boys began to say to each other that he was like the frank merriwell of old. they made the rounds of the "places." nearly all of them drank beer, but, although frank seemed in a reckless mood, not a drop of beer or liquor touched his lips. he seemed to enjoy the sport as much as any of them, and still he remained sober. in fact, frank was a leader in wild pranks that night. before the evening was over, the boys got two policemen after them, and were forced to run to escape arrest. rattleton was somewhat slower than the others in starting, and he soon found one of the policemen was close upon him. "stop!" cried the officer. "go to thunder!" flung back harry. "stop, i tell yer!" "save your wind! you can't catch me in a thousand years." "can't?" whiz--something flew through the air. it struck harry between the shoulders, knocking him forward on his hands and knees. then the officer pounced upon him, picking up his stick, which he had flung at the boy. "oh, i've got yer!" grated the policeman. "i'll teach yer to be tearin' down an' shiftin' round people's signs! i saw yer when yer pulled down the sign in front of the chinese laundry, and the charge'll be larceny. we're goin' to fix some of you frisky students." the police had been sore ever since their ineffectual attempt to get upon the campus and arrest the students who were parading with the horns captured from the band. word had gone the rounds among the students that the "cops" were watching for an opportunity to retaliate. evidently this policeman fancied his opportunity had come. larceny! harry realized the full meaning of the charge, and he knew it would go hard with him if he were convicted. thoughts of making a desperate effort to slip out of his coat, and leave it in the officer's clutch, flashed through his head; but the blow of the club had knocked the wind out of him, and, just then, he did not have the strength to make the effort. where were the others? had they all escaped? had they abandoned him? "git up!" ordered the policeman, releasing his grip on harry a bit, in order to change his hold. swish! thump! bump! a dark body came out of the shadows and struck the policeman with the force of a catapult. the officer was hurled through the air, his hold on harry being broken. he struck the stone paving heavily. a hand fastened on rattleton's collar, a strong arm jerked him to his feet, a familiar voice hissed in his ear: "run!" it was merriwell! harry's heart leaped as he realized that. frank had not deserted him. frank never deserted a friend. rattleton was somewhat dazed, but merriwell's hand directed him, and away they sped. they heard the policeman behind them, heard him shout breathlessly for them to stop, but they had no thought of obeying. into a narrow space between two buildings plunged frank, telling harry to follow. merriwell came to a gate, but he seemed to see it, for all of the intense darkness. "over here!" he called to harry. they heard the policeman plunge in behind them. over the gate they scrambled, not daring to pause long enough to find the way it was fastened. out into a back yard they dashed, hearing the officer run into the gate and grunt as he was flung backward. there was a high fence around the yard, and it seemed that they might be in a trap. frank felt for a clothesline and found it. he seemed to see in the dark. "over the fence, harry--over the fence!" he whispered. "come on!" "in a moment." "what are you doing?" "lowering this line, so it will just catch mr. officer under the chin. get over the fence." rattleton obeyed. he found a place where he could scramble to the top of the fence, and there he sat, calling to frank: "come on--hurry!" the policeman came out into the yard. it seemed that merriwell had been waiting for him. frank started to run, and the officer started after him. "i have yer now!" grated the policeman. frank led him directly toward the clothesline. just before the line was reached, frank seemed to stumble and nearly fall. he did it in order to duck under the line. a triumphant exclamation broke from the officer. it was cut short by another sort of exclamation. the clothesline caught him under the chin. it snapped his head backward and his heels forward. he went down flat on his back with a terrible thump, and there he lay. with a triumphant laugh, frank shinned up the fence and perched on the top beside rattleton. the officer was sitting up. he had seen more stars and fireworks than it had ever been his fortune to behold before. "ta, ta, old chappie!" tauntingly called merriwell. "we'll see you some other evening." "stop--stop right where you are!" ordered the policeman, in a bewildered way, looking around for the speaker. "you can't get away. it's no use for you to try." "you're twisted, old man," laughed frank. "good-night, and pleasant dreams! we certainly had you on a string to-night. ha! ha! ha!" then the boys dropped down from the fence into the next yard, made their way to the street, and hastened toward morey's. "christopher? what a racket!" laughed rattleton. "why, i haven't been in anything like this since i was a freshman." "it's good for a fellow once in a while," said frank. "it stirs up his blood." "but i was in a hard place when you came to my rescue, merry. the cop had me pinched, and he said the charge would be larceny. i thought i was in for it." "i wasn't going to leave anybody to be locked up." "you never do, merry; you always stick. it does me good to see you out on a time like this, for you have not been like yourself in weeks. now you seem like the old frank merriwell." they reached morey's safely. entering, they discovered nearly all the others of their party there ahead of them. and rob marline was there, drinking whiskey. as soon as frank and harry appeared, the others of the party surrounded them, asking about their adventures. bruce browning was wiping the perspiration from his flushed face, while he growled: "haven't done anything like that for a long time. it was awful! wouldn't done it then if it hadn't been to escape arrest. cã¦sar's ghost! think of being arrested." "i was arrested!" said rattleton. "what?" cried the others. "come again!" "a cop pinched me." "no? how did you get away?" "merriwell came to my rescue. he didn't desert me, if the rest of you did. he saw the cop nail me, and he sent his buttons flying by running into him. that gave me a chance to skip. i tell you, it took nerve to tackle a cop like that." rob marline laughed sarcastically, but did not say anything. rattleton flushed with anger, but merriwell did not seem to notice it. harry went on with his story, telling of their adventures, and the party shouted with laughter when he related the clothesline incident. the fellows were gathering about merriwell, and marline found that he was being deserted, which added to his bitterness. he saw the boys listening to the story of merriwell's attack on the officer and the trick with the clothesline, and the soul of the boy from the south was filled with bitterness. "he's cutting ice with the gang again," thought marline. "that must be stopped." but how could he stop it? he thought of calling to those who had been with him before merriwell came in, and asking them to have another drink. then it seemed that he would humiliate himself by doing so, for he would cause everybody to notice how he had been abandoned. so he ordered another drink for himself, and drank it sullenly. every time the boys laughed marline grated his teeth. things had not gone right with him that night, and he was in an ugly mood. he had called to see inza burrage, and had attempted to make himself "solid" with her. in the course of his conversation he had made some disparaging remark about frank merriwell. that remark was like a spark of fire in a keg of powder. in a moment inza flared up and exploded. she told him frank merriwell was a gentleman. she told him frank merriwell was too much of a man of honor to malign an enemy behind his back. she showed deep scorn and contempt, and marline left the house crestfallen and raging with anger. he had been touched on a tender spot. to have any one insinuate that frank merriwell was more honorable than he, was like stabbing him to the heart. the whiskey made marline desperate. little did he know that the boy he hated was in a most reckless mood. had he known it, he would not have cared. there was not a drop of cowardly blood in marline's body. he longed for an encounter with merriwell. at length, when he could stand it no longer, he arose to his feet. some one was complimenting merriwell on his nerve. marline had not tasted the last glass of whiskey brought him. he took it in his hand, made two steps toward frank, and flung the stuff full into merry's face! "if mr. merriwell has so much nerve, let him resent that!" rang out the hoarse voice of the boy from south carolina. "we'll see how much nerve he has!" frank took out a handkerchief and slowly wiped the liquid from his face. he was very pale, and his eyes gleamed with a glare that his best friends had never seen in them before. but he laughed, and those who knew him best shuddered at that laugh. "mr. marline," he said, his voice calm and modulated, "will you be kind enough to name your friend?" marline looked around. sport harris was at his side in a moment. "i'll serve you!" sport eagerly whispered. marline felt that almost any one was preferable to harris, but he saw the others had drawn away. harris seemed to be the only one with nerve enough to stand by him. he felt forced to accept sport. "mr. harris is my man," he said. frank bowed gracefully. "mr. diamond will wait on him." a gleam of exultation came into marline's face, for he felt that he had driven merriwell to the wall at last. frank and jack immediately withdrew from morey's, and, later, the virginian sought harris in his room. frank awaited diamond's return. he came back in about an hour "to-morrow, at sunrise," he said. chapter xlv. the duel. "are you ready, gentlemen?" the sun was just peeping over the horizon. beyond the city limits, near a strip of timber far down the sound, five persons had met. two of them were frank merriwell and robert marline, who were to fight a deadly duel there that beautiful morning. two more were their seconds, jack diamond and sport harris. the fifth was a young collegian named morton, who was studying medicine and surgery. he had brought along a case of instruments, although he was not certain this was to be a duel in deadly earnest. merriwell and marline, despite the fact that the morning air was keen and cold, had stripped off their coats and vests and were in their shirt sleeves. now they stood facing each other, weapons in hand. frank's face was calm and confident, as if he had not the least doubt concerning the outcome of the affair. his nerves were under admirable control. he was a trifle paler than usual. marline, on the other hand, was flushed and nervous. he had taken several drinks of whiskey to brace him, and merriwell's calm confidence was something he could not understand. at that moment, frank seemed like the duelist and marline like the novice. the sun shot a single lance of light across the world, and then diamond, who had been chosen to give the signal, spoke the word that set the rivals at each other. clash! clash! clash! the bright blades clanged sharply on the morning air. the sunshine glittered coldly on their polished lengths. at first the work was of a very scientific order, for each man seemed feeling of the other to discover just how much skill he possessed. marline was more than ever astonished, for he had scarcely fancied frank could be an expert with such a weapon. now, however, he saw by the manner in which frank handled himself, by his every move, that he was a skillful swordsman. the boy from the south attempted to force the fighting. the whiskey went to his head, and he fought savagely, his teeth set and his eyes gleaming. deadly determination was in his every move. the seconds and the surgeon watched breathlessly. suddenly there was a cry. by a twisting movement of his wrist, frank had disarmed his enemy, sending marline's blade spinning into the air. the sword fell with a clang on the frozen ground at rob's feet, and he instantly snatched it up. then he came at frank with the fury of one driven mad. merriwell was forced to give ground before the fierce onslaught of his enemy. he knew well enough that marline was exceedingly dangerous, for he had flung discretion to the winds and was exposing himself in all ways by his fierce desire to get at frank. merriwell did not wish to wound marline, but hoped to humble him. however, it began to look as if frank would be forced to do his best in self-defense. he had remarkable control of himself, and watched his chance. it came in a short time, and again he twisted the sword from marline's hand. marline fell back before merriwell's half-lifted sword. "kill me!" he passionately cried. "kill me now, or i'll kill you!" merriwell lowered his blade. in a moment marline sprang to the spot where his sword had fallen, caught it up, and turned on frank again. "on guard!" he shouted. like a whirlwind, he came at merriwell. clash! clash! clash! it was a terrific battle now. the young surgeon was excited and frightened. "it must be stopped!" he cried. "marline is determined to kill him! we must stop it!" snap!--frank merriwell's blade broke within a foot of the hilt! with a hoarse shout of victorious fury, marline thrust straight at frank's breast! merriwell succeeded in foiling the thrust with the part of his weapon that remained in his hand, but marline's sword passed through frank's shirt sleeve at the shoulder. the seconds and the surgeon had started forward to interfere, but, with a gasping curse, marline flung his sword on the ground and covered his eyes with his hands, his whole body quivering. diamond caught up the weapon the southerner had flung down, muttering: "there's no telling what he may try to do next. i'll keep this out of his reach." but marline had no thought of resuming the duel. when he lowered his hand from his face, his shame was betrayed. "mr. merriwell," he said, his voice quivering, "i wish to apologize to you." all were astonished. "for what?" asked frank, calmly. "you have shown yourself more honorable than i," said marline, although every word cut him like the stroke of a knife. "twice you disarmed me and took no advantage of it. but when my turn came, my hatred for you was so great i lost my head. i tried to kill you. i offer a humble apology, and say what i never expected to say to any living being--you have shown yourself more honorable than i." that was enough to touch frank, and all the past was forgotten in a moment. with an impulse of generosity, he held out his hand. "take it!" he cried. "let's call the past buried." marline shook his head. "i can't!" he exclaimed. "i can't be a hypocrite. you have shown yourself the more honorable, merriwell, but i hate you still. i shall try to forget it, but, with my disposition, it will not be easy. if i conquer myself, some day, perhaps, i'll accept your hand--if you care to offer it then." "when the time comes," said frank, "my hand will be open to you." then the dueling party broke up. when frank reached his room, he found a letter from inza awaiting him. this is what he read: "dear frank: i have been a foolish girl, and i am ashamed. i can't say more this way, but will explain everything when i see you. please come to me. come as soon as possible. "inza." frank's heart gave a great bound as he read this communication. he could not go to see inza at once, but he sent word that he would call that evening. when he arrived, he found inza awaiting him alone, the girl's aunt having wisely withdrawn. "oh, frank--i--i----" she began, and then she could not go on, for he caught her in his arms and gave her a tight squeeze. "don't let's talk about it," he said, cheerily. "i guess it was all a mistake." "i had no right to bind you down, frank," said inza, softly. "it has been a lesson to me. you know what is best, always, and after this you shall have your own way in everything." "are you quite sure of that?" he said, softly, looking into her clear eyes, which immediately dropped. "then, i'm going to have my way now." and a kiss followed, which seemed to be a complete forgiveness all around. then she told him of marline, and he understood something of what had led to the duel. but he did not tell inza of that terrible encounter, and the girl did not learn of it until some time later. chapter xlvi. a students' confab. the days passed, and frank turned again to his studies. he was anxious to prove to the professors that he could learn his lessons, as well as play football. to be sure, he did not give up his sports entirely, nor his recreation at the gym. as the days slipped by, many of the students became more or less interested in a big, burly freshman, who went by the name of hock mason. mason had proved himself a regular bruiser on more than one occasion, and he was such a thoroughly "bad man," that some of the boys grew afraid of him. one night there was a crowd gathered in frank's room, and it was not long before the conversation turned upon the "bad man," who was hardly known to our hero. "he's a terror!" it was plain halliday thought so. the manner in which he uttered the words showed that he was fully satisfied on that point. "is he scientific?" asked merriwell. "no; but he is a bulldog," answered halliday. "and a brute!" exclaimed harry rattleton. "that's right," nodded danny griswold. "look at my eye. i hadn't an idea that he thought of hitting me till he let me have it. knocked me flat. felt as if i'd been kicked by a mule." "what did you do to cause him to strike you?" asked frank. "nothing. just looked at him." "if he keeps this up," grunted bruce browning, who was stretched on the couch, puffing away at a cigarette, "his career at yale will be short." "that's right!" cried jack diamond, showing his teeth. "some one will kill him. if he struck me, i'd shoot him in a minute--in a minute!" diamond meant it. there was hot blood in his veins. frank's example had taught him to control his fiery temper to a certain extent, but there were times when it would blaze forth and get the best of him for all of anything he could do. "it's a pity some fellow can't get at him and lick the stuffing out of him," said bandy robinson. "that's what he needs." "well, who is there that can do it?" cried griswold. "he's a perfect giant, over six feet tall, and must weigh nearly two hundred pounds, though there's not an ounce of fat on him. he's all bone and muscle. he strikes a regular prize-fighter blow, and he can't be hurt. i tell you, he is a good man to let alone." "that's right," agreed halliday. "i saw him do up those coppers the other night, four of them, and they all had their clubs out." "did they hit him?" asked merriwell. "hit him! well, i should guess yes. they cracked him eight or ten times over the head and shoulders." "somebody said it didn't have any effect on him," observed "uncle" blossom, who was chewing gum as if his life depended on it. "not a bit more than it would if they had hammered a block of wood," declared halliday. "it made me sick the first time they cracked him on the head, and it sounded exactly as if they struck a piece of hard wood. i expected it would lay him out stiff." "but he kept on his feet?" "he never staggered! cut his scalp open in three places, and he bled frightfully, but that only seemed to make him worse." "very interesting," commented frank, his eyes sparkling. "it would be an honor to subdue such a fellow as that." "honor?" cried halliday and griswold. "it would be a miracle!" "if he lives, he'll become a prize fighter," said blossom. "he has their brutal instincts, and still he seems to have some brains." "that's what makes him such a bad man--his brains," cried halliday. "he fights with his head, as well as with his hands." "i must say, you interest me greatly in this freshman," said merriwell. "what did you call his name--mason?" "yes, hock mason. you've seen him. he's that big, red-headed bruiser, who----" "yes, i've seen him," nodded frank. "i know him by sight." "it's a wonder he hasn't jumped on you yet. you must have attracted his notice, for you are the most popular man in college." "oh, he'll get at merry in time," grinned griswold. "all he is waiting for is the opportunity." frank laughed. "i don't know as i care about having any trouble with this freshman bully," he confessed. "i should say not!" cried the others. "but i shall not run to get out of his way." "you'd better." "perhaps some of you are aware that i can put up a good, stiff fight myself." "yes, but you can't lick a fellow you can't hurt." "there is no man living that can't be hurt--if you find out his tender spot. if i were forced into trouble with this hock mason, i should try to find how i could hurt him." "while you were finding it, merry, he would kill you." frank laughed again, showing not the least annoyance. "you think so, and you may be right. as i said before, i don't know as i care to have any trouble with him; but, at the same time, i am not going to run away from him. i never saw a genuine bully yet that was not a squealer when he knew he had met his master, and i'll wager something mr. hock mason can be cowed, for all of his famous fight with the policemen." "if you'd seen that fight, you might have a different opinion," put in halliday. "all he had was his bare fists, and he knocked those four cops out. why, when he struck one of them fairly, the man went down like a stricken ox, and lay quivering on the ground. he knocked out two of them, and then he grabbed the others by the collars. both let him have it with their clubs, but he just thumped their heads together and dropped them. they were knocked out, and i wondered if their heads were cracked. that made him a king among the freshmen. they're so scared of him that they shiver when he looks at them. i don't believe there is a freshman who likes him, but they pretend to, and they got him to his room after the fight, washed him up, plastered up his head, and then went forth and swore they knew nothing about the affair. the cops couldn't spot their man when they tried, for mason came out the next morning looking as if nothing had happened. he wears his hair long, and he's had it clipped away around the wounds on his head, plastered the cuts up, and then combed his hair over the plasters. i tell you, he is a bad man!" "every bad man meets his match some day," said frank. "mason's match is not to be found in yale." "perhaps not." "he's bound to be cock of the walk." "and are freshmen, sophomores, juniors and seniors going to allow this brutal bully to walk on their necks?" "what else can they do?" "kill him!" cried jack diamond, fiercely--"kill him, by the eternal gods! he can't walk on my neck! if he tried it, i'd kill him, though i hung for it!" "i don't think it is necessary to kill him," smiled frank. "there's always some way of subduing a bully. that way must be discovered, and he must be subdued." "we'll owe you a vote of thanks if you discover it and do the job," said griswold. "well, you are liable to owe merriwell a vote of thanks, then," grunted browning. "i've traveled all over with him, and i never saw him take water for anything that stood on legs. there are a few bad men out west, but they didn't faze him." "merry is all right," said halliday. "he's a corker, and athlete, and is built of pure sand, but he'd have to be built of iron to go up against a big ruffian like this mason. about the only way to subdue that fellow is to kill him, as diamond suggests." "he is growing more and more insolent and aggressive every day," said griswold. "if something isn't done to check him, he and his crowd of followers will run over us. they are all getting insolent, and we have received notice that they'll appear in a body to-night with tall hats and canes. mason will lead them, and they don't think we'll dare tackle them." "we'll rush them, if we're killed!" cried diamond, springing to his feet and wildly pacing up and down the floor. "are you in it, fellows? hark--what's that? they're out now! they're singing! it's a challenge! oh, there'll be a hot time around here to-night!" chapter xlvii. diamond strikes a blow. forty freshmen, with tall hats and canes, commanded by the giant, hock mason, were singing, "that bully." in the most belligerent manner possible, they shouted the line: "we're lookin' for that bully, and he must be found." behind them were more freshmen without silk hats and canes, but prepared to take a hand in the scrimmage, if the juniors tried a rush. the freshmen had grown bold and saucy. hock mason bullied them, and they were afraid of him, but they knew the juniors were afraid of him, too. they sang and shouted. they marched up and down with mason leading. they began to express their fears that the juniors would not dare try a rush. the juniors saw the freshmen were out in force, and they were not hasty about making an assault. they seemed to lack a leader. they kept gathering, but held aloof. the freshmen grew bolder and bolder. they invaded the campus. the juniors were gathered at their fence. it was plain the freshmen meant to rush them, and attempt to take the fence. the juniors prepared to struggle to the bitter end. on came the freshmen. the others were outnumbered. it looked as if many of them were afraid, and were keeping out of the _mãªlã©e_ that must come. the freshmen marched past the line along the fence. they were insulting. they turned and marched back. then, at a signal from their giant leader, they attempted to sweep the juniors from the fence, and take it by storm. there was a charge, a clash, and the battle was on. but it afterward developed that the juniors were far more crafty than the freshmen thought. they had not concentrated their entire force at the fence, but their main body were keeping out of sight and waiting for the onset to begin, knowing the freshmen were in a mood to try something desperate and unusual. the moment the freshmen made a rush for the fence, the second body of their antagonists came with a wild charge. frank merriwell led them! in a moment such a battle was taking place there at the fence as had not been witnessed since the old days at yale--the good old fighting days. almost immediately the freshmen were on the defensive, doing their best to retain their hats and canes. frank singled out hock mason, believing the best course was to engage his entire attention without delay. he was urging the freshmen on, and no one seemed to stand before him. with all the nerve he could command, putting all his strength and skill into the effort, merriwell went at mason. he came upon the fellow like a tornado. frank did not try slugging tactics, but he caught mason's cane with both hands, and, giving it a twist and a whirl, snapped the big freshman into the air and fairly flung him over his shoulder, tearing away the cane. it is possible that never before in all his life had hock mason been handled in such a summary manner. he struck the ground with a thump, bewildered beyond measure by what had happened, for he had not dreamed any man at yale could handle him that way, even if he were taken by surprise. but mason was not hurt in the least, and he was furious. laughing triumphantly, frank merriwell spun the cane into the air and caught it with the skill of a baton-thrower when it came down. roaring like an enraged lion, hock mason scrambled to his feet. somebody gave merriwell a push from behind, nearly throwing him down, and mason struck him behind the ear. it was one of the giant freshman's sledge-hammer blows, and frank dropped like a log. "cuss ye!" snarled the bully. "i'll fix ye!" the brute in his nature was aroused, and he kicked the fallen lad in the ribs with his toe. "shame! shame!" cried a score of voices. bruce browning, with a roar of rage, tried to reach the brutal fellow, but jack diamond was quicker. jack had torn a heavy cane from a freshman, and now he wielded it, butt foremost, with all the strength he could command. whack! the blow might have been heard anywhere on the campus. it fell just where the furious virginian had intended it should--across the side of mason's head and behind his ear! the fellow who had stood on his feet before the blows of the policemen's clubs now fell as if he had been shot, pitching headlong over frank merriwell. frank sat up, still grasping the cane he had captured from the bully. jack caught his hand and pulled him to his feet. hock mason lay at full length on the ground, gasping for breath. "he's dying!" cried somebody, horrified. the rush was over, freshmen and juniors stopped struggling in a moment, and all gathered around the spot where the giant lay. his heavy rasping breathing was terrifying. "he is dying, diamond!" whispered browning, in jack's ear. "i don't care!" returned the virginian, passionately. "but think--think what that means!" "i don't care!" repeated jack. "he struck frank--kicked him when he was down! you know, browning--you know how merriwell stood by me on our trip when all the rest of you turned against me, because i was out of sorts. you know how he stood by me when i raved at him. another fellow would have told me to go to the old nick. i haven't forgotten those things. i am ready to do anything for him!" "but if it should happen that you have killed this freshman----" "what then?" "it will go hard with you. a little while ago, in merriwell's room, you were saying you would kill him. it will look like a premeditated murder." this hit jack hard, but it did not stagger him. "i can't help it. i did the trick to keep him from killing merriwell. merry was down, and that brute was kicking him. no one would dare try to stop mason with bare hands. i used the best and only means to stop him. if he dies----well, i'll take my chance with a jury of honest men." browning felt that diamond had nerve, for all that he was hot-headed and passionate. "well, we'll hope the fellow isn't hurt much." some one was bending over mason, fanning him, while others were pushing the crowd back. "get back--give him air! do you want to smother him to death?" "smother time, perhaps," chirped danny griswold, who could not hold back the pun, for all of the gravity of the situation. the rush had begun and ended so quickly that the faculty did not seem to be aroused. some of the students were watching for the expected appearance of the professors, however. water was brought, and mason's temples were bathed. he continued to breathe hoarsely for some time, plainly drawing his breath with the utmost difficulty, but the sound gradually lessened, and he finally struggled to sit up. "what's the matter? what's the matter?" he growled, harshly. "let me alone! let me get up!" some one offered to help him. "get out!" he snarled, flinging the fellow off. "what do i want of help? what's the matter with my head? it is whirling." he got up, although it was with the utmost difficulty he could do so, and there he stood in the midst of the crowd, swaying and putting his hands to his head. some could not believe their eyes. they had not thought it possible hock mason could betray weakness. "somebody struck me!" he harshly grated, glaring around. "where is he? i'll wring his neck as if he were a chicken! where is the fellow?" all were silent. "oh, i'll find out who it is," declared the bully, "and when i do, i'll make him weep tears of blood. i'll make him wish he never had been born. i'll----what's the matter with my head? it's going around--around--around----" he would have fallen, but some of the freshmen caught hold of him, and he was led from the campus toward his room. chapter xlviii. facing the bully. the events of that night created a sensation, forming a topic of general conversation. strangely enough, very few seemed to know who had struck mason, and those who did, kept silent, not wishing to be drawn into the affair, being friendly toward diamond. jack was not at all excited or alarmed over it, and he did not show concern when he was told over and over that the giant freshman would be sure to make good his threat, if possible. "let him try it!" said the lad from virginia. "next time i will finish him. i do not propose to fool with a beast like him." from the campus a party of students went direct to frank's room. frank had the cane he had taken from mason. "it will make a fine ornament for my room," he laughed, as he placed it conspicuously over the mantel. "jove!" cried danny griswold. "you should be proud of it. you took it from mason so quick that the fellow was dazed." "that was the flittiest pring i ever saw--i mean the prettiest fling i ever saw," excitedly declared rattleton. "how did you do it, merry?" "oh, that was a simple trick," smiled frank. "it would have bumped the wind out of any other fellow, but it didn't seem to damage mason much," observed charlie creighton. "it was diamond's little rap that damaged him," grunted browning, who had again captured a couch. "that was a corker!" broke forth banny robinson. "a corker!" echoed halliday. "i should guess yes! it dropped him in his tracks, and i saw the cops hammer him over the head with their clubs till they were tired without bringing him to his knees." "i intended to lay him out when i struck him," said jack, his eyes flashing. "i hit him on exactly the right spot." "i'm sorry you did it, old man," said creighton, soberly. "i'm not!" returned diamond, instantly. "he is sure to make it hot for you." "let him try it! he was kicking merry, and merry was down. if i'd had an iron bar, i should have cracked him with it, after seeing him sink his toe into frank's ribs." merriwell took a long step toward jack and grasped his hand. "thank you, diamond," he said, soberly and sincerely. "it is a true friend who stands by a man when he is down." he glanced around at the others a moment after saying this, and the eyes of some of them failed to meet his. they remembered how, a short time before, frank had been somewhat unpopular because of his refusal to play on the football team, and many of them had turned against him. they knew well enough that merriwell had not forgotten it, and he thought of it when he spoke. diamond was one of the few who had stood by him when he was most unpopular. "the time has come," said browning, slowly, "when this bully must be shown that he is not cock of the walk." "who'll show him?" cried several voices. "merriwell didn't hesitate about tackling him to-night--and got the best of him in a fair way. he struck a foul blow, and----" "a terrible blow it was," confessed frank, soberly. "i felt as if i had been kicked in the head by a mule." "oh, he'll kill a weak fellow with a fair blow of his fist!" exclaim halliday. "if we can't do anything else," said browning, "we'll have to organize against him. if we were to do that, we could bring him to time after a while." danny griswold lighted a cigarette, and perched himself on top of the table. "if merry will be our leader we may do something," he said. "i am not in favor of the scheme," declared frank. all regarded him in surprise. "you are not?" they cried. "no." "why not?" "it seems cowardly for several fellows to band together against one." "but it's all the way he can be subdued. what can we do?" "i am not certain it is the only way he can be subdued." "suggest another." "i won't make any suggestions to-night, but i will think it over." "we should organize for the protection of diamond," suggested creighton. "he is bound to find out jack struck him the blow that knocked him out, and then----" "don't worry about me," broke in the virginian. "i am not afraid of hock mason. he might kill me, but he'd never be able to make me squeal." this was not boasting. those who knew jack diamond best realized that he spoke nothing more than the simple truth. brute force might conquer him physically, but his heart could not be conquered in such a manner. creighton was in earnest about forming some sort of a combination, offensive and defensive, against mason, but merriwell would not go into it, and the scheme failed to go into effect. some one suggested that mason might be hurt more severely than they supposed, and robinson went out to find out, if possible, about it. he finally returned, but brought no information. "it would be a good thing if he couldn't get into bed for a day or two," said halliday; "but you'll see him about as well as ever to-morrow." ben was right. mason came forth to chapel in the morning, and, from his appearance, no one could have told that he had been knocked out in such manner the night before. straightway the giant freshman set about trying to discover just who it was that struck him, but those he questioned did not know, or lied by saying they did not know. mason grew more and more furious as time progressed and he failed to learn what he desired. he swore that he would find out before night, and the fellow should suffer. at noon a crowd gathered at the fence and talked the matter over. charlie creighton was there, and again he was in favor of organizing against the freshmen. while they were talking, mason was seen approaching. "here he comes!" was the general exclamation. "and he's out for blood!" declared creighton. "his manner shows that. there is going to be trouble." before reaching the fence, mason encountered danny griswold. instantly he collared the little fellow. "griswold," he said, "i know that you know who struck me last night. if you don't tell, i'm going to give you the worst drubbing you ever received." danny shrank away, saying: "i didn't see the fellow hit you." "but you know who did it. you can't deny that. who was it?" "i can't tell." mason raised his heavy fist. "tell, or i'll break your pretty little nose!" he grated. there was a step near at hand, and a calm voice said: "drop it, mason! you should be ashamed to bully a man smaller than yourself. don't dare to strike him!" hock looked around in astonishment. frank merriwell was close at hand, coolly standing there, with his hands thrust into his pockets. "hey?" cried mason, in surprise. "you heard what i said, freshman," spoke frank, as coolly as ever. there was a stir at the fence, for the students there saw all and heard all. "jingoes! merriwell has a nerve!" gasped one. "mason will thump him, sure!" said another. "if he does----" "hark!" "yes, i heard what you said," flung back the bully; "but what you say chops no frost. if i want to thump this chap i'll thump him, and twenty fellows like you can't stop me." "you overestimate your ability, freshman," said frank, and his coolness was most exasperating. "if you thump that chap, one fellow will thump you." "jee whiz!" palpitated one of the students at the fence, "now he's in for it!" "there'll be gore spilled!" muttered creighton. "i'm sorry for merriwell!" said another. "eh?" gurgled hock mason, more astonished than ever. "is that a fact?" "that is." "well, i'm going to thump him!" again he lifted his fist, and danny griswold cowered before it. "stop, mason!" cried frank, his voice hard and cold. "strike him, and i'll give you a mark to remember me by!" "ho, ho!" sneered mason, and he smashed griswold in the face. the moment the bully struck the little fellow, he released his collar and whirled toward frank. merriwell kept his word. crack--frank's fist struck fairly on hock mason's left eye, and the big bully was knocked down in a second. the witnesses gasped with astonishment. with a roar of rage, mason leaped to his feet and came at merriwell, somewhat blinded and dazed, but raging like a mad bull. with the utmost ease frank avoided the big fellow, and then he struck mason again. the second blow did not knock the giant down, but it stopped him a moment, and the blood began to run down his face. frank's fist had cut a long gash over the bully's right eye, and the blood quickly began to blind hock, for already his left eye was swelling swiftly, showing it might be entirely closed in a few moments. mason wiped away the blood with his coat sleeve, and went at frank with another rush. merriwell dodged, thrust out his foot, and tripped the freshman, sending him to the ground with a thud. over by the fence a little party witnessed all this with astonishment unspeakable. was this mason, the freshman bully, who was being handled in such a manner by merriwell? was this the man who had knocked out four new haven cops? mason had struck at frank savagely enough to lay him out, but merriwell easily dodged the blow. now the bully got upon his feet the second time. blood was streaming down his face, and he was fast going blind. he looked around for merriwell, but saw him dimly and indistinctly. "oh, hang you!" he cried. "you took me by surprise, and i can't see you now. if i could get hold of you----" "but you can't do it, you know," said frank, cheerfully, as he skipped out of the reach of his enemy's long arms. mason whirled around dizzily. he began to realize that it would be foolish to attempt to get the best of merriwell then. "oh, i'll fix you for this--i will!" he grated. "you think you will, but you won't," was the calm reply. "i shall be on the watch for you, and this is but a taste of what you'll get the next time you go up against me. your days as a bully around here are over. i told you i would mark you, and i have. whenever you look in a mirror for some time to come you will see something to remember me by." "whenever i look in a mirror for some time to come i shall remember you, and i'll repeat my vow to make you regret the day you ever saw me. next time we meet to fight, i'll hammer you within an inch of your life!" then, holding a blood-stained handkerchief to his bleeding eye, he turned and hastened away. chapter xlix. to the rescue. danny griswold danced and crowed with delight. "oh, scissors!" cried the little fellow. "i don't mind the crack he gave me a bit. it was worth it to see him get done up like that. and it was done so quick!" the fellows at the fence rushed forward and gathered around merriwell. "never touched you at all, did he?" asked creighton. "didn't come within a hundred miles of me," smiled frank. then they got him by the hand, shook it, congratulated him, complimented him, expressed their wonder, and some of them almost seemed to doubt if they had actually seen hock mason done up in less than two minutes. "quickest job on record," declared silas blossom. "biff--biff--it was over. didn't suppose he could be licked like that." "he wasn't licked," said frank. "it is a mistake to think that. i took particular pains to give him the first soaker in the left eye, and that eye was closing up on him so he couldn't see out of it very well. then i let him have the next one on the right eye, and skinned my knuckles, see? those knuckles cut him over the eye, and he bled as if he had been stabbed. the blood got into his eye, and he was more than half blind. that was what stopped him, and i hoped all the time that i might do it, for i will confess that i have no desire to receive one of his prize-fighter thumps. i was lucky to do the trick just as i planned it." "and you had a nerve to stand up to him at all," said deacon dunning. "especially here on the campus at this time of day, when it would mean something serious if the faculty knew of the fight." "that was another thing i was thinking about," said frank. "i wanted to end the scrap as soon as possible, so we'd not be seen at it by anybody who'd make trouble for us. hope it won't kick up a muss and get us hauled over the irons." they were astounded by merriwell's coolness. he did not seem in the least ruffled by his encounter with the "bad man" of the freshman class, and was not particularly elated by his easy victory. he seemed to take it as a matter of course--a thing he had known would end just as it did. it was not long before every freshman and junior knew what had happened, but all alike were slow to believe it possible. frank merriwell, single-handed, had got the best of hock mason--no, no, that could not be true! the most of them wished to believe it, but could not at first. mason was not popular among the freshmen, although he was their leader. he had bullied them too much, and he had many secret enemies, who pretended to his face that they were his friends. the eyewitnesses of the encounter were forced to tell the story over and over till they were tired. every one seemed to desire to know to the minutest particular just how merriwell had gone to work to do the trick. some said it was pure accident, while others declared hock mason could not be knocked out by an accident. the latter were inclined to give frank credit for all he had done, but the most of them prophesied that mason would kill merriwell as soon as his eyes were in condition to allow him to see properly. diamond had not seen the encounter, a fact which he bemoaned very much. "oh, christopher!" he cried. "it was just my luck not to be around, and i'd given ten dollars to see it." frank told him how danny had refused to divulge the knowledge mason had desired. "that shows little gris has sand," said jack. "but i'm sorry he didn't speak right up and tell mason who it was. i don't want anybody to get thumped for keeping my secrets." "it's all right. i don't think mason slugged him hard. anyway, he only made a sore place on danny's cheek bone." "i am going to take pains to let mason know who it was thumped him with the cane. you're not going to fight him alone, merry." but that did not please frank at all. "you're going to do nothing of the sort, diamond," he promptly declared. "the fight is on between mason and merriwell now, and you will keep out of it. i haven't made any talk about it, but it's my object to subdue this fellow, if possible, so there will be no further trouble with him." "you may need help." "i think not. it will be better for one man to do the job, as that will humiliate him, while he is such a bull-headed chump that he would never submit till he was killed if there was a party against him." diamond seemed to feel sorry that he could not get into it somehow. he even accused frank of crowding him out. he had formed such a strong hatred for mason that he felt as if it would be the greatest satisfaction of his life to do something to humble and crush the fellow. but frank knew jack well enough to be sure it would not do for the hot-blooded virginian to be deeply mixed in the affair, as he would not hesitate at anything in order to get the best of the freshman he hated. diamond's soul rose up in scorn and contempt for a brutal fellow like mason. he actually felt that it would be a desirable thing to call mason out and shoot him in a duel. merriwell's popularity rose to the flood when it was known that he had not hesitated to face the freshman bully in defense of danny griswold, and had got the best of the encounter. every one congratulated frank, and shook hands with him till he was tired of it all, and felt like keeping out of sight in his room. but he knew it would not do to keep close in his room, for then it would be said that, although he had faced mason once, he was afraid of the vengeance of the infuriated bully. frank went out more than had been his habit for some time. he had been devoting himself with unusual closeness to his studies, his main object being to stand so well in the spring that there would be no drawback about going onto the baseball team. mason kept close in his room, had a doctor, and made the excuse that he had inflammation of the eyes so he could not appear at recitations and found it impossible to study. to those who knew all about it, the bully's excuse provided great amusement. three evenings after the encounter a jolly party gathered in traeger's. ale was freely consumed, stories told and jokes sprung. frank merriwell was one of the party, and, as usual, he drank nothing but "soft stuff." under no circumstances could he be induced to take a drink of liquor. frank's temperance principles were so well known that it was seldom any one urged him to drink anything. occasionally they would jolly him, and he was often spoken of as the "worthy chief of the good templars." he did not mind this, however, and he often said that, as he never drank anything but raw alcohol of the rankest kind, and he couldn't get that at the places he patronized, he refused to take anything at all. but he could be as jolly as any of the rest, and his stories and songs always "took." he was the life of any party, and, naturally, his society was much sought. while the party was making merry in traeger's, dismal jones wandered in. he paused and regarded them sadly, then said: "feasting, song and merriment within; cold, bitterness and misery without." "without what?" chirped danny griswold. "without yonder portal," solemnly returned jones. "as i approached this gilded snare of satan, i chanced to behold one who hath lately removed from one eye a beef-steak poultice, and whose other eye is in the neighborhood of several strips of plaster." "mason?" cried several. "verily thou hast named him," bowed dismal. "he stood there shivering in the bitter cold, while about him gathered his wretched followers. it was a sad and heart-rending sight. i was touched--no, i mean i was afraid i would be touched, and i hastened hither to seek something that would drive from me memory that sad spectacle. hot toddy, please." "mason?" exclaimed diamond. "i wonder why the fellow is hanging around here?" "looking for merry, perhaps," laughed paul pierson. "he wants to look out, or he will get merry thunder," laughed lewis little. "he got that the last time," said andy emery. "boys," said danny griswold, with sudden seriousness, "i believe there is something in the air." "what?" asked several. "dust," chuckled danny. "there's a high wind to-night." "hit him quick!" cried halliday. "hit him hard!" "a-haw! a-haw! a-haw!" laughed joe gamp, a big, hulking fellow from new hampshire. "darned if that little runt ain't alwus doin' that. a-haw! a-haw! a-haw!" gamp had a laugh that was infectious. he seldom burst into a hearty roar that every one in hearing did not roar also. on this occasion dismal jones was the only man who did not join in the laughter. dismal sipped his hot toddy, and looked sad and reproachful. mason was forgotten. jokes and stories followed. merriwell sang a song. the party showed no signs of breaking up, and frank decided that he must get some sleep, so he reluctantly bade them good-night. "i'm going along," said rattleton, rising. "don't want us all to go to protect you from mason and his gang, do you?" asked puss parker. "i think not," smiled frank. "i am not afraid of mason himself, and i hardly think he'll call on any of his friends to help him lick me. good-night, fellows." "good-night!" "good-night, merry!" "so long, old man!" "good luck, frank!" any one hearing them bid him good-night would have known he was a very popular fellow. every man there joined in the general chorus, and frank went out laughing, his heart warm within his bosom. "a jolly lot of fellows, rattles," he said, "and white men, every one of them." "oh, they are jolly enough," admitted harry; "but i hope you have not forgotten that almost every one of them turned his back on you when they fancied you were afraid of rob marline and did not dare play on the football team." "it is best to forget such things as that," returned frank. "it seemed to all of them that i showed the white feather, and, not knowing me as well as they might, they were disgusted. it also seemed that i was willing to let yale go on the field with a weak team when it might be strengthened if i would play. yale men are loyal to old eli. they will forgive a personal affront quicker than anything that looks like cowardice or treachery toward yale." "oh, well, if that's the way you look at it, i have nothing to say." chapter l. against odds. five minutes after merriwell and rattleton left traeger's the latter came rushing back, hatless, excited and out of breath. he burst in upon the merry party, gasping: "quick? quick! they've got him!" "hey?" cried several, astounded. "got who?" "merry!" "who's got him?" "gang with--masks--over--faces!" palpitated rattleton. "what's this?" shouted paul pierson. "the deuce you say!" "it's right," declared harry. "mason's gang--know it was--mason's gang!" every man was on his feet. "to the rescue!" shouted jack diamond. out of traeger's they poured. rattleton led them. he took them to the dark street where the gang had suddenly jumped out and pounced upon merriwell and himself. "it was right here," he said. "yes--here's my hat. i got a soaker in the jaw--knocked me stiff for a moment. they piled onto merry. had a cab waiting--bundled him into it. before i could give him a hand, they were carrying him off in the cab." "how many of them?" asked pierson. "i don't know--six or seven." "well, they have got away with him. they're gone. there is no cab in sight. what are we going to do?" "try to follow some way!" cried diamond. "we must find them! we must stand by merriwell! oh, curse it! we might have known something was up when jones told us he saw mason outside." "sure!" agreed the others. "i said there was something in the air," put in griswold, but no one paid the slightest attention to him. "we should have gone along with merry," grated the excited virginian. "then, if the gang had tried to jump him--oh, we'd given them a hot time!" "what do you suppose they'll do with him?" asked somebody. "do?" palpitated rattleton. "the infernal skunks will do something dirty! mason is playing to get square. he has sworn to hammer the life out of merry, and he'll try to keep his word." "it's a dirty trick!" fluttered diamond. "if merry is harmed, we should stand together and tar and feather mason." "we will!" every man there uttered the shout, and they were in earnest. for some moments they lingered near the spot, and then they started along the street in the direction rattleton said the cab had taken. they found a policeman after a time, and he had seen a closed cab go past in a hurry. he told them the direction it had taken. they tried to trace the kidnaped junior, but the attempt was a failure. at last they gave it up. vowing vengeance on all freshmen in general and hock mason in particular, they went back to traeger's. the story spread. it was not long before every junior abroad that evening knew what had happened. fierce were the threats made against the freshmen. the hour grew late, and some of the fellows decided to go to merriwell's room and wait for him. they anticipated that he would be released after mason had obtained his revenge. to their astonishment, merriwell's door was not locked. they opened it and walked in. merriwell was there! "come in, fellows!" called frank, cheerfully. he was examining some of his clothes. they were the clothes he had worn that evening, and a glance showed they were torn and ruined. "just looking over this suit, to see how much it was damaged," merriwell laughed. "it strikes me it is knocked out. won't ever be able to wear it again." then he saw them standing and staring at him in astonishment, and he asked: "what's the matter?" "rattleton must have been stringing us!" exclaimed puss parker. "lot on your nife--i mean not on your life!" spluttered harry. "i gave it to you straight." "but merriwell is here--all right." "how long have you been here, merry?" asked browning. "came in about ten minutes ago," answered frank. "just had time to change my clothes before you chaps drifted in." "then they did carry you off?" "rather." "but you're all right?" "never was better." "mason didn't get revenge on you?" "not this evening." "tell us about it!" cried browning and halliday, together. "yes, tell us," urged parker. "you've been in some kind of a scrimmage. that's evident by the appearance of the clothes you have taken off. tell us what happened." "i suppose rattles has told you how they jumped us?" "yes." "well, they had me before i could do a thing. i rather think mason got his hands on me. anyhow, it was some big fellow with the strength of samson. before i could strike for myself i was bundled into a cab, and two or three of them were in there with me. they told me to keep still. my hands were twisted behind my back and tied. then they carried me off." "didn't i give it to you straight?" cried harry. "where did they carry you?" asked halliday, eagerly. "somewhere out of town. they didn't talk much--didn't want me to recognize their voices, i suppose. i kept still, as they told me, but i was trying to work my hands free all the time. i found i could do it, but i waited till they stopped and bundled me out of the cab. then----" "then?" cried the listening boys, eagerly. "then i slipped my hands out of the ropes and sailed into them." "wish i'd been there," grunted browning, with unusual animation. "go on, frank--go on!" cried the others. "it was a right tight little scrap," laughed merriwell; "but they were taken by surprise, and that gave me a show. one or two of them got hold of me. they tore my clothes. once they got me down, but i managed to get away and got onto my feet. i told them i was going to mark the whole crowd so i would know them in the morning, and i think i did it for the most of them. it was dark, or i should have known them, for i ripped the masks off nearly all of the gang. every time i could, i slugged a fellow in the eye, and some of them will have their peepers decorated to-morrow." rattleton fell to laughing. "oh, gee!" he cried. "they were monkeying with a cyclone! they'll remember you, merry!" "i intended that they should. at last, seeing i could not lick the gang, and they were bound to get the best of me in the end, if i persisted in trying to do so, i took to my heels and ran for it. one fellow gave me a red-hot chase. he was a sprinter, fellows. i found i had drawn him on ahead of the others, and i slacked till he was close at my heels. he thought he was overtaking me. all at once i stopped short and turned on him. he couldn't stop or dodge, and he ran against my fist. well, i am dead sure he'll bear my mark to-morrow." merriwell was congratulated. alone and single-handed he had bested his enemies, a feat that was sure to add to his record. the end. the famous frank merriwell stories by burt l. standish "_best of all boys' books_" no modern series of tales for boys and youths has met with anything like the cordial reception and popularity accorded to the frank merriwell stories. there must be a reason for this and there is. frank merriwell, as portrayed by the author, is a jolly, whole-souled, honest, courageous american lad, who appeals to the hearts of the boys. he has no bad habits, and his manliness inculcates the idea that it is not necessary for a boy to indulge in petty vices to be a hero. frank merriwell's example is a shining light for every ambitious lad to follow. _twenty-four volumes ready_ frank merriwell's school days frank merriwell's skill frank merriwell's chums frank merriwell's champions frank merriwell's foes frank merriwell's return to yale frank merriwell's trip west frank merriwell's secret frank merriwell down south frank merriwell's loyalty frank merriwell's bravery frank merriwell's reward frank merriwell's races frank merriwell's faith frank merriwell's hunting tour frank merriwell's victories frank merriwell's sports afield frank merriwell's power frank merriwell at yale frank merriwell's set-back frank merriwell's courage frank merriwell's false friend frank merriwell's daring frank merriwell's brother _the motor power series_ donald grayson's famous motor stories for boys mr. grayson is an accomplished writer of up-to-the-minute juvenile stories which are eagerly read by modern american lads. in his new series, his characters have exciting adventures with every kind of motor-driven machines--motor cycles, automobiles, aeroplanes and submarines. you may readily see what a vast field for adventures mr. grayson has chosen. _now ready_ bob steele's motor cycle bob steele on high gear bob steele from auto to airship bob steele afloat in the clouds bob steele's submarine cruise bob steele in strange waters bob steele's motor boat bob steele's winning race bob steele's new aã�roplane bob steele's last flight 