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.
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.”
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!”
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.
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.”