“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?”
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.
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.
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.
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.