The crowd drew about the table, eager to witness a game of cards in which a dog took part.
Merry sat on a short bench, with Boxer at his side. The cards were cut, and the deal fell to Schlitzenheimer.
"Be careful, Dutchy," advised Boxer. "We're watching you, and you'd better not try any slick tricks."
"Eferything on der lefel shall pe," assured the saloon-keeper, pulling at his long pipe.
O'Grady was likewise smoking, and his pipe contrasted ludicrously with that of Schlitzenheimer.
When the cards were dealt, it fell the dog's turn to meld first. Frank spread out the cards and held them in front of Boxer's nose.
[Pg 219]
"I will meld one hundred aces," said the dog. "Put 'em down, Frank."
Merry did so.
"Sixty queens," called Boxer, and Merry spread them out.
"Lally ka lolly loka!" chattered Sing Lee, or something like that; whereupon Boxer seemed to fix the Chinaman with a scornful stare, and observed:
"You ought to take something for that. It must be painful."
"Gleatee Sklot!" gasped the Celestial. "Dogee hab a debbil!" And he backed away.
"That's right," said Boxer. "I like you a long distance off, the longer the distance the better I like you."
"Pay attention to the game," said Frank. "Are you going to meld anything else?"
"Forty trumps, twenty spades, and twenty hearts," said Boxer.
"Dunder!" muttered Schlitzenheimer, and his hands trembled so that he dropped some of the cards.
"Get a basket," snickered the dog; and the crowd laughed loudly at the saloon-keeper's expense.
When all the melding was finished they prepared to play.
"I'll lead the ace of trumps," said Boxer.
Frank ran the cards over.
"It's here," he said. "But I didn't see it."
"What's the matter with your eyes?" snapped the[Pg 220]dog. "Didn't I meld one hundred aces? You ought to learn something about this game!"
"I seldom play cards," said Merry apologetically.
"Well, you want to keep your eyes open!" exclaimed Boxer sharply. "These chaps may try to skin us."
At this Gentle Bob looked up and said:
"I do not mind a little faking none whatever, but I sure objects to being called a skin, either by a dog or his master, so I opine it will be best for somebody to apologize."
And, as he made this remark, he suddenly whipped forth a pistol, with which he covered both Frank and the dog, but held the weapon more in Merry's direction.
Cimarron Bill's tool had found the opportunity he sought, and he meant to make the most of it.
Merry saw in the fellow's eyes the full extent of his evil purpose.
"If the apology is not forthcoming instanter," murmured the ruffian, "I shall puncture the wonderful talking dog with a bullet!"
Now, it seemed that Bob had Frank at a great disadvantage, but at this point Bart Hodge shoved the muzzle of a pistol against the fellow's ear and harshly commanded:
"Put up that gun—instanter! If you don't I'll blow the whole top of your head off!"
But Bart had made a miscalculation, for Gentle Bob had not come alone to the saloon, having noted well[Pg 221]that Frank Merriwell had a friend. He had picked up a chap of his own sort, and now this fellow had a gun at Bart's head.
"You're the one who'll lose the ruff o' his head!" he said. "You put up your gun!"
Gentle Bob still sat pistol in hand, but Boxer had taken advantage of an opportunity to drop down from the bench to the floor.
Of a sudden there came a wild yell from Bob, who kicked out with his feet and flung himself backward, his pistol being discharged straight up at the ceiling.
Boxer had seized him by the leg beneath the table.
Instantly there was a fearful uproar in the saloon. The action of the dog had disconcerted the plans of every one. Hodge ducked and whirled, catching the ruffian at his back a fearful blow on the solar plexus that drove him slam against the bar, and he went down and "out."
Merry went across the table in a leap at Gentle Bob, from whom he tore the revolver that the fellow was trying to use on Boxer.
"Let up, boy," said Frank to the dog. "I'll attend to his case."
Boxer seemed reluctant to let go, but he did so at the second command.
Merriwell pinned Bob down and deftly disarmed him, removing every weapon, which he passed over to Schlitzenheimer.
"Take care of these tools, sir," he said, "until I leave town. It will save this fellow's life—perhaps."
[Pg 222]
"Und dot vill peen a pity!" muttered the saloon-keeper, who had no love for the ruffian, but held him in great awe.
Having disarmed Bob, Merry rose and commanded him to get up. The fellow rose immediately and sprang at Frank, trying to strike him.
Boxer would have mingled in, but Bart held him in check, saying:
"Keep out of it. Frank can attend to that case now without any of your aid."
Hodge was not mistaken, as Merriwell quickly demonstrated. He avoided the blows of the ruffian and quickly knocked him down. Bob rose, only to be struck in the eye and sent to the floor again. Four times this happened, and then Merry picked the wretch up, carried him bodily to the door, and kicked him into the street, observing:
"If you come back here or bother me again, I'll send you to the hospital for a month!"
And the dog barked with great satisfaction.
[Pg 223]
The second ruffian was ejected, and Frank and the talking dog were regarded with unbounded admiration by every one present.
"I neffer haf seen Shentle Pob done upness pefore," remarked Schlitzenheimer. "He vos a pad man."
"You bettee!" put in Sing Lee, who crept forth from behind a barrel, where he had taken refuge during the encounter. "Him velly bad. Him shootee, stabbee, killee."
"An' so he will," nodded Pat O'Grady, seeming quite concerned. "It's me opinion he wur lookin' fer throuble whin he came here."
"Well, he found it," smiled Merry.
"That's what!" said Boxer, wagging his tail and looking up at Frank knowingly. "But he tasted disagreeable. You don't suppose it will make me sick, do you?"
Frank stooped and patted the dog's head.
"I hope not," he laughed. "You got hold of his leg just in time, old boy."
"Oh, I didn't dally when I saw him throw his gun out," said Boxer, winking rapidly with both eyes. "I allowed he was going to begin shooting directly."
[Pg 224]
"Uf you vould tookit my device," said Schlitzenheimer, "you couldt out uf dis town get a hurriness indo."
"Thot's roight," nodded O'Grady. "It's moighty dangerous to remain after this, Oi know."
"Pob vill got vor heemseluf another gun, und he vill look vor you on der sdreet," declared the saloon-keeper.
"Well, he may find us, eh, Boxer?" smiled Frank.
"Sure thing," said the dog. "And I reckon you can shoot as quick and as straight as he can."
Schlitzenheimer shook his head and averred that Bob was the greatest pistol-shot known in those parts, which, however, did not seem to alarm Frank Merriwell in the least.
Suddenly there came a scream from the street, the voice being that of a girl, and the sound indicating that she was in great fear and distress.
Frank sprang to the open door, Boxer barking at his heels, and Hodge was not slow in following.
The cry had issued from the lips of June Arlington, who was then on her way to the post-office to mail the letter she had written, not wishing her mother to see it.
June had arrived in the vicinity of the saloon as Gentle Bob was turning away. She noted that the man's face was cut and bruised and one eye was swollen. His appearance led her to look at him with something[Pg 225]like sympathy, when, of a sudden, he turned on her, smiling evilly, and seized her arm.
"Derned ef you ain't a right peert gal!" said the fellow insolently. "Gimme a kiss, sweetness."
Then June screamed and tried to break away, striking at him with her clenched fist. She was frightened and angry.
"Stop yer squarmin'!" snarled the fellow, who had thought to kiss her quickly before she could make much resistance, and then hasten along, it being his intention to boast of what he had done.
But June would not stop. She saw a tall, athletic young man come bounding through an open doorway into the street, followed closely by a dog and another young man. Her eyes recognized the one in advance, and she cried out:
"Mr. Merriwell, help—help, quick!"
With a growl of rage, Gentle Bob released her and turned. As he did so, the dog, terrible in his fury, shot past Frank, and made a great spring through the air straight at Bob's throat.
Bob threw up his arm, and the teeth of the dog fastened on it. The force of the creature's leap hurled the ruffian backward.
The man went down in the dust, and Boxer was at him with all the fury of a mad animal. He would have torn the wretch to pieces right before their eyes, but Frank fearlessly grasped the dog and pulled him away, at the same time crying commandingly to him.
[Pg 226]
"Keep him off!" palpitated Bob, now filled with a great terror for the fierce animal. "Don't let him touch me ag'in! He's near bit me to pieces now!"
"You got just what you deserved, and no more, you miserable creature!" said Frank indignantly.
Then he turned and asked June what Bob had been doing.
"Oh, he grasped me, and he tried to kiss me!"
"Did he!" grated Merry, very white. "Then I should have let Boxer finish him!"
"No, no!" gasped June.
"No, no!" exclaimed Bob.
"On your knees!" cried Frank, in ringing tones—"on your knees and apologize to the young lady! If you don't do it, so help me, I'll let Boxer get at you again!"
Bob did not hesitate. Ruffian and desperado though he was reputed to be, he cast himself on his knees before June and humbly begged her pardon, all the while watching Boxer, who glared back at him and licked his chops.
"Get up and go, you pitiful coward!" said Frank. "Keep out of my sight while I'm in town, and be careful not to try any dirty tricks. If you hurt me, Boxer will eat you up; if you hurt Boxer, I'll have your life! Go!"
The wretch lost not a moment in getting away.
Frank stooped and picked up the letter June had dropped. He was restoring it to her when his eye[Pg 227]caught the address upon it, and he stared in astonishment.
"Mr. Richard Merriwell,"Fardale."
"Mr. Richard Merriwell,"Fardale."
That was the name and address he read. Then he looked closely at June and recognized her.
"Miss Arlington?" he exclaimed, his hat in his hand; "is it possible?"
The color was coming back into her cheeks.
"Mr. Merriwell," she said, "let me thank you for coming so quickly to my assistance."
"It was Boxer who got there first. But I'm amazed to see you here—here in Arizona."
"I don't doubt it."
"What brings you to this place?"
"I came with my mother."
"Your—your mother?" he said, still further astonished. "And your father—he is here, also?"
"No, sir."
"He is coming?"
"No, sir, I believe not."
Merry had thought at once that there might be a very good reason why D. Roscoe Arlington should come to Holbrook to learn just how well the hired ruffians of the syndicate had performed their tasks, but the presence there of Mrs. Arlington and June, without D. Roscoe, rather bewildered him.
June looked back toward the hotel windows, thinking it must be that her mother had heard her cry and[Pg 228]would be looking forth; but was relieved to see nothing of the lady.
"You were on your way to mail this letter?" said Frank, divining her destination.
"Yes."
"May I accompany you, to make sure you are not molested further?"
She accepted his escort. Bart had lingered near, and Frank presented him.
"An old school and college chum, Miss Arlington," he said, "and one of my closest friends."
Bart lifted his hat and bowed, smiling a bit on the pretty girl. In his way, which was dark and silent, he was almost every bit as handsome as Frank himself, and it is no cause of wonderment that June could not wholly repress the flash of admiration that came into her splendid eyes.
On his part, Bart was quite smitten with her, and he stood watching Frank walk away at her side, Boxer following, smiling without envy, yet thinking his friend fortunate to have the company of such a charming girl for even a brief time in that part of the country.
Frank found himself somewhat embarrassed, not a little to his surprise, as he walked down the street with June. The girl was the daughter of the man who was doing his best to bring upon Merriwell complete ruin—or seemed to be doing his best to that end, for Frank could not know that all his trouble at the Queen Mystery had not risen directly from D. Roscoe Arlington.[Pg 229]Much less did he suspect that any great part of it came without Mr. Arlington's knowledge and through the vengeful malice of Mrs. Arlington.
It was not agreeable to speak of this matter with June, and still in his heart Merry was more than eager to know what had brought the girl to Holbrook. He had not forgotten that it was the hand of June that had restored to him the precious papers relating to the mines when those papers had been stolen from him in Fardale, a service for which he remained grateful.
Further than this, Frank had learned that Dick had a deep interest in June—so deep, indeed, that the boy himself did not quite suspect its measure. Merry had been able to read his brother, and his good sense told him beyond question that never would Dick hold his hand from the person of his most persistent enemy simply because that enemy's sister thus entreated him, unless there was back of it all a feeling of affection for the sister that was of no small magnitude.
That June cared something for Dick, Merry more than half-suspected, and the sight of the name on the letter she now carried in her hand seemed very good evidence that this was not false fancy on his part, for did she not care for the lad far away in Fardale, then why should she write to him?
It was June herself who relieved Frank's embarrassment by earnestly turning to him and beginning speech.
"Mr. Merriwell," she said, with such a sober face[Pg 230]that he was greatly surprised, "I have wanted to see you since you came into town."
"Then you knew I had entered town?"
"I saw you; and I have wanted to speak with you to warn you."
"To warn me?" said Frank. "Of what?"
"Of your great danger, for you are in danger here. You have in this town a man who would kill you."
"I think we lately parted from such a man," smiled Merry.
"But he is not the one."
"Is there another?"
"Oh, yes! I saw him! Perhaps I saved your life."
At this Frank gave a great start of surprise and asked her how that could be, upon which she told him how Cimarron Bill had shot at him from the window, and how she had spoiled the aim of the would-be murderer. She held back the fact that the man had fired from one of the windows of her mother's rooms, and that her mother had shortly before been in consultation with him. Still Frank was keen enough to see that she was hiding something, and he had the good discernment to come close to guessing the truth.
"Miss Arlington," he said, "it seems that I owe you my life. I heard the shot, but I could not be sure it was fired at me. If I mistake not, the man who fired it has a deadly aim, and I could not have escaped but for your quickness in spoiling his sight. I owe you a great deal more than I can ever repay."
June knew something of the truth, and she was[Pg 231]aware that her father was concerned in a movement the accomplishment of which meant ruin to both Frank and Dick; therefore this acknowledgment by Frank of his indebtedness to her caused her to flush with shame.
"It is I who owe you a great deal!" she exclaimed. "See what you have just done—saved me from a ruffian! But your brother—Dick—he did more. He saved me once from the fangs of furious dogs, at another time from being killed in a runaway, and that is not all. It is I who owe you much more than I can ever repay. My brother"—she choked a little—"my brother is Dick's enemy, yet, for a promise to me, Dick has been easy with him and has not forced him in disgrace from Fardale. Oh, Mr. Merriwell!" she suddenly exclaimed, feeling her utter inability to express herself, "it seems to me that never before was a girl placed in such a position as I find myself in! What can I do?"
"You can do nothing, Miss June," he said gently. "You are not to blame for anything that may happen, and I shall not forget that. I am very sorry for you, as I fancy you must be far from comfortable."
At this her pride returned, and she straightened, thinking she could not acknowledge to him that her people were in the wrong.
"You know there is always two sides to any question," she said, "and there may be as much of right on one side as the other. I presume my father has every reason to think himself right."
Now, June knew that it was her mother who hated[Pg 232]Dick and Frank with undying intensity, while her father cared very little about either of the Merriwells, save that he had been led to wonder immoderately at the success of Frank in fighting the syndicate; but she wished to avoid the shame of confessing that her mother had such a vengeful nature and could enter with vindictiveness into an affair that might well be left to men.
Frank had no desire to hurt her feelings. He understood her pride and sensitiveness, and he said:
"It is very likely you are correct about that. At any rate, we will not argue it. It is no matter for us to speak of, as what we might say would not change the situation in the least. Still, if I should become satisfied that your father had the right in this thing, even though it stripped me of my last dollar and made me a beggar, I would surrender to him immediately."
She did not doubt him then, and she saw that the character of Frank Merriwell was one to be admired, his one concern being for perfect and complete justice, even though by justice he might be the sufferer. Inwardly she was struck with the conviction that her father seldom made inquiry into the justice of any project he wished to carry through, his one concern being to accomplish his ends by any method whatever, so long as it did not involve him in difficulties of a nature too serious.
"Mr. Merriwell," she said quickly, "you must leave Holbrook just as soon as you can!"
"Why?"
[Pg 233]
"The man who tried to shoot you is here—the man with the wicked face and evil eyes."
"I am not given to running away from one man."
"It's not that. He is an assassin! See how he tried to kill you without giving you a show! You don't know what moment he may try it again. If he were to meet you face to face it would be different. You cannot defend yourself from attacks in the dark. You have no show."
"Well, there is some truth in that," smiled Merry.
"He will attack you that way again. I know it! He will strike at you from behind."
"Possibly."
"You must go! You must leave Holbrook before dark!"
"I hardly fancy it," muttered Frank, frowning. "I do not like the notion. It leaves an unpleasant taste in my mouth to think of running away from Cimarron Bill."
For, although June had not mentioned the ruffian by name, not knowing it herself, her description of him had satisfied Frank that it could be no other than the baffled scoundrel who had twice attempted to seize the Queen Mystery Mine.
"But you will go?" she urged.
"I'll think of it."
They had reached the post-office and were now standing in front of the building. Bart Hodge was sauntering slowly in their direction on the opposite[Pg 234]side of the street, having kept within easy pistol-shot of Frank all the while.
Frank's words did not satisfy June. He saw she was in distress.
"If you will not go for your own sake," she said, "please do for mine."
He looked astonished.
"For your sake?" he said. "Why, I had not an idea in the world that it could be of so much concern to you. I'm afraid I do not understand why it should be. Now, if Dick——"
She stopped him with a gesture, her face flushing very warm.
"Don't!" she entreated, in a low voice. "At least, you are his own brother! But it is for my sake more than yours. I cannot explain. Do not embarrass me! But promise me you will go—for my sake!"
Having a quick perception, Frank suddenly fancied he caught an inkling of the truth. In that moment he saw Mrs. Arlington dealing with Cimarron Bill. It was a conjecture, but it struck him hard as the truth.
This, then, was the reason why June wished him to flee from Holbrook. She feared that her mother somehow would become involved in the murder in case Cimarron Bill should carry into execution his dastardly purpose.
Of course, it was not possible for him to be sure he had struck upon the truth.
[Pg 235]
"It is hard for me to refuse a girl when she corners me like this," he smiled.
"You'll go?" persisted June.
"If you insist."
"Oh, thank you—thank you! I shall not breathe easy until I know you are well out of this dreadful place."
"And I shall not breathe easy as long as I know you remain here, where you may become subject to such insults as to-day happened. It is no place for you at the present time. Holbrook is well enough in its way; but you are too pretty to walk its streets without an escort. Western gentlemen are gentlemen in every sense of the word, and no man can hold the honor of a lady more sacred; but Western ruffians are dangerous, and it seems there are several of the latter class in this place."
"I must remain while mother stays here; I must stay with her."
The letter was dropped in the post-office, and June urged Frank to depart at once; but he insisted on escorting her back to the hotel.
Boxer kept close to their heels, seeming to listen to their conversation at times; but, strange though it may appear, he made no attempt to take part in it, nor did he speak as much as one word during all the time that he seemed neglected by his master.
Frank made a sign to Bart, who crossed the street and joined them.
[Pg 236]
"I have decided to leave town right away," said Merry. "Have the horses saddled and prepared. We'll start as soon as I have escorted Miss Arlington back to the hotel."
Hodge looked surprised.
"The horses are in no condition, Frank," he said. "You know they are in sore need of a good rest."
"I know it, Bart; but I have a reason for this. We'll go. Get them ready, please."
"All right," said Bart, as he turned away to carry out instructions.
[Pg 237]
The sun was down in the west and night was gathering over the face of the world when Frank and Bart rode forth from Holbrook, setting their faces to the southwest. Boxer trotted behind them.
They were not molested, although Frank remained in constant expectation of an attack until they were fairly clear of the place and had it a long rifle-shot at their backs.
The blue night grew upon the distant plain, and the stars were coming forth over their heads as they rode down into the distance, the beating hoofs of the ponies making rhythm on the baked ground. The first cool breath of night touched their heated cheeks with grateful kisses.
"How did you happen to do it, Frank?" asked Bart.
"I found out a thing or two," Merry answered. "Cimarron Bill is in town, and he was watching his chance to get another shot at me."
"Another?" exclaimed Bart; upon which Merry explained how Bill had fired at him already.
"It was rather dangerous to stay there, and I couldn't resist when a pretty girl took enough interest in me to urge me to get away," Frank laughed. "We had some sport with our talking dog, and now——"
[Pg 238]
"You can't mean to ride far?"
"Remember the hut we passed on the way into town? It's not very far. We'll stop there to-night."
"Good!" said Bart; and they rode on.
Coming to the deserted hut, they stopped there. The horses were cared for, and Frank and Bart entered the hut with their blankets, where they prepared to sleep until toward morning, planning to rise before daybreak and get an early start, so that some distance could be covered ere the sun rose.
Both of the young men were weary, and they lost little time in drawing their blankets about them and rolling on the floor. Boxer curled in a corner and went to sleep. The door of the hut was left open to admit the cool night air.
Frank fell asleep at once, and Bart was not slow in following his example.
They were awakened in the middle of the night by a snarl, a cry, a struggle, and a fall. Both sat up, grasping their weapons.
The moon was up, and by its light, which streamed in at the wide-open door, a man and a dog were seen struggling on the floor. The dog was Boxer, who had leaped at the throat of the man as he came slipping in at the open door.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Hodge. "What's the meaning of this?"
"One of my friends has arrived," said Frank. "Boxer has him."
The struggle was fierce and terrible. The dog[Pg 239]seemed to have the man by the throat. Before either Merry or Hodge could interfere the moonlight glinted on something bright in the hand of the man, who struck and struck again.
Not a sound came from the dog. But the bright thing in the man's hand grew suddenly dark.
"Heavens!" gasped Frank, leaping forward. "He has a knife!"
Then a terrible sound came from the throat of the man, and he lifted his arm no more. The thing in his hand, dark and dripping, fell to the floor of the hut.
A moment later the man rolled into the shadow, and then Boxer was seen dragging himself away, while the man lay still.
"Boxer! Boxer!" cried Frank, bending over the dog. "Are you hurt, boy? Merciful goodness! he ripped your whole side open with that knife!"
Hodge struck a light and bent over the man who lay in the shadow. When the match burned out in his fingers he dropped it and stepped out to join Merriwell, who had picked up the dog and carried the creature into the open air.
Bart found Merry sitting on the ground, with the dog in his arms. Boxer had been cut in a terrible manner, and was bleeding in a way that plainly told his end was near.
"Oh, the wretch!" choked Merry, in a husky voice. "Oh, the wretch who did this! He ought to be hanged!"
[Pg 240]
"No need of hanging for him," said Hodge. "He'll be beyond that in less than three minutes."
"You mean——"
"He's pretty near dead now. Boxer's teeth found his jugular vein."
"Who was it, Bart?"
"The fellow who made the row in Schlitzenheimer's saloon."
"Gentle Bob?"
"Yes."
"One of Cimarron Bill's hired tools, or I am mistaken! He followed us here and tried to creep in on us with that knife, meaning to finish the job at which he failed in town. Boxer saved us. Good old Boxer! Poor old Boxer!"
The dog whined a little on hearing this name from Frank's lip's, and feebly wagged his tail. The moonlight showed his eyes turned toward Merry's face.
"Is it so bad there's no show for him?" asked Hodge, in genuine distress.
"No show!" sobbed Frank. "He's finished, Bart! It's a shame! The most knowing dog in the whole world! And he has to die like this, killed by a human being that is more of a beast than he!"
"It's a shame!" said Bart.
The dog licked Frank's hand. Merry bowed his head, and tears started from his eyes.
"Poor Boxer!" he choked. "Boxer, we have to part here. You're going to another country, where I must follow in time. It's all up with you. You may[Pg 241]find your first master over there; but he'll never love you more than I have. Good-by, Boxer!"
The dog uttered a whine. And so his life ended in Frank's arms, with the moonlight falling on them and the stillness of the Arizona night all around.
Hodge entered the hut, only to come forth, bringing the blankets and looking very sick.
"For Heaven's sake, let's get away from here!" he exclaimed.
"The man in there?"
"Dead!" said Bart. "The place is gory! I'm faint from it!"
Boxer's body was wrapped in a blanket, and they mounted and rode away, Frank carrying the dead dog in his arms to find a burial place where there could be no chance that his body should be exhumed by any prowling thing of the desert.
[Pg 242]
Rap! rap! rap!
"Wait a minute!" called Frank. "No need to knock the door down!"
He flung the door of his cabin wide open, standing on the threshold.
It was early dawn in Mystery Valley. Sunrise was beginning to gild the barren peaks of the Mogollons. The new day had come to its birth in a splendid glow, and the world smiled refreshed after the cooling sleep of the departed night.
Frank was just risen and not yet fully dressed, but about his waist was his cartridge-belt, and his pistol swung ready in the holster at his hip. He had no use for the weapon, however.
Outside the door stood old Joe Crowfoot, his blanket drawn about his shoulders. Those keen eyes gazed on Merry with an expression of friendly greeting.
With a shout of surprise and joy, Frank clasped the old redskin in his arms in the most affectionate manner.
"Old Joe Crowfoot, as I live!" he cried, showing unusual excitement and delight. "Why, you old reprobate, here you come popping back from the grave[Pg 243]after I've been mourning you as dead! What do you mean by it, you villain?"
"Ugh!" grunted old Joe, something like a merry twinkle in those beady eyes. "Strong Heart him think Crowfoot dead, eh?"
"Hang me if I didn't!"
"Crowfoot him heap tough; no die easy," declared the Indian.
"I should say not! Why, you tricky scoundrel, they told me you were done for."
"Who tell so?"
"Some of Cimarron Bill's delectable gang. They averred they had disposed of you for good and all."
"Waugh! No let such cheap carrion kill me!" said Joe. "They mebbe think some they do it. Joe he fool um heap lot."
"But where have you been?"
"Oh, all away round," was the answer, with a wide sweep of the arm. "Joe him scout—him find out how land lay. Do a little biz."
"Do business? What sort of business?"
"Catch the sucker some."
"Catch the sucker? What's that?"
The redskin flung open his dirty red blanket and tapped a fat belt about his waist, which gave back a musical clink.
"Play the game of poke'," he exclaimed. "Make heap plenty mon'."
"You've been gambling again?"
[Pg 244]
"Strong Heart him guess," nodded Joe, with something like a sly smile.
"You villain! And I'll wager you got away with your ill-gotten spoils."
"Heap do so," said Joe. "Have some firewater. Find one, two, three, four crooked paleface follow to kill and rob. Let firewater 'lone till fool crooked palefaces so um no follow some more. Then go safe place drink firewater a heap."
"You've been drunk, too!" cried Merry.
"Mebbe so," admitted the Indian. "White man firewater heap good while um last; heap bad when um gone. Make um feel much glad at first, then much sorry little time after."
Frank laughed heartily at the queer manner of the old Indian as he said this.
"I suppose that's about right," he said. "I've never tried it to find out."
"Strong Heart him no try firewater?" exclaimed Joe, in surprise. "Crowfoot him think all paleface drink the firewater."
"Well, here is one who doesn't. I've seen too much trouble come from the stuff."
"Ugh! Strong Heart him got heap more sense than anybody Joe ever see," asserted the Indian admiringly. "Once git taste of firewater, always be heap fool and drink him some. Many times old Joe he say no drink some more. Head all swell, middle all sick, mouth all dry, taste nasty a lot, bone ache—then him say no more[Pg 245]the firewater. Mebbe he go 'long some time, but bimeby he take it some more. White man make firewater. Bad! bad! bad! No firewater made, nobody drink it."
From inside the cabin a voice called.
"What, ho! Methinks thou hast found a philosopher, Merry! Bring the sage in that I may survey him with my heavenly blue eyes."
"Yes, dew!" drawled another voice. "I want to set my eyes onter him, by gum!"
Merry led the old Indian into the cabin.
"Here he is," Merry laughed. "Crowfoot, these are some of my friends, whom you met last summer. You remember them. They played ball with me in the Mad River country."
"Ugh!" grunted the redskin. "Heap remember!"
Bart Hodge stepped forward, his hand outstretched to the Indian.
"I am glad to see you again, Crowfoot," he said.
"Me same," said Joe, shaking Bart's hand. "You heap good to ketch hard ball when Strong Heart him make it go fast like a bullet and man with stick he—whish!—strike at it so, no hit it at all."
They all laughed at the Indian's manner of describing Bart's skill at catching.
"Consarned if it ain't a sight fer sore eyes to see ye, Mr. Crowfoot!" said Ephraim Gallup, as he froze to the redskin's hand and shook it warmly. "Yeou was the best mascot a baseball-team ever hed."
"How! how!" said the old fellow. "Nose Talk him[Pg 246]stand way out far, ketch ball when it come there. How! how!"
"Nose Talk!" laughed Frank. "Well, that's one on you, Gallup!"
Jack Ready was smiling blandly. He gave his hand a little flirt in salute, and stepped forward with an odd movement.
"Gaze on my classic features, Joseph Crowfoot, Esquire," he invited. "See if you can recollect what I did in the game."
"Sure remember," nodded Crowfoot. "Talk-talk a heap, no do much else."
Then the joke was on Jack, and even Bart Hodge was forced to smile, while Gallup gave Ready a resounding smack on the shoulder with his open hand.
"Bless my punkins!" snickered the Vermonter. "That's a thunderin' good one on you, Jack!"
Ready looked sad.
"Alas!" he sighed. "Is it thus I am to be defamed! And by a copper-colored aborigine! The thought is gall to my sensitive soul! I shall peek and pine over it! For days to come no sweet smile shall adorn my beautiful features!"
Joe looked puzzled.
"No say something bad," he declared. "When Red Cheek him talk-talk a heap lot other man that throw ball he got a lot mixed, no make good pitch. Red Cheek him help win game a heap."
Jack's face cleared at once.
"Crowfoot, you have poured soothing balm on my[Pg 247]wounded heart!" he cried. "I'm glad to know that I do amount to something, for, so help me! of late I have begun to wonder what I was made for!"
"Sit down, Joe," invited Frank. "We're going to have breakfast in a short time, and you are to eat with us."
"Ugh!" said the Indian, disdaining a chair and sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. "Joe him do so. Him a heap empty. Mebbe after him eat him tell Strong Heart something much good to hear."
When breakfast was over the old Indian lighted his rank pipe and smoked contentedly, still sitting on the floor, with his back against the wall.
Through the open door came the sounds of work at the mine. Frank was not yet running the mine day and night, with shifts of men, but it was his intention to do so later. Smoke was rising from the high pipe of the stamp-mill, and soon the stamps began to rumble and roar, awaking the echoes of the valley. The sound was a pleasant one in Merriwell's ears.
"This running a mine in Arizona is a snap," said Jack Ready, as he elevated his feet to the top of the table, in which the breakfast-dishes and remnants of the meal remained. "The hardest part of it seems to be washing the dishes. It's Gallup's turn this morning."
"Not by a thuttering sight!" exclaimed Ephraim. "Yeou can't shoulder that onter me! You've gotter wash the dishes to-day. I done it yisterday."
"Is it possible!" cried Jack. "Why, I thought it[Pg 248]was day before yesterday, or, perchance, the day before that. Alas, how time flies—tempus fugit!"
"Now, don't go to springin' any Latin on us!" growled Gallup. "You never learned enough Latin to hurt ye, an' ye don't want to try to show off."
"Behold how the green-eyed monster turneth a friend into a critic!" said Jack.
"You can attend to the dishes later," said Frank. "Just now I am anxious to hear the good news Crowfoot said he might have to tell. What is it, Joe?"
"Some time little while 'go, few days, you be in Holbrook?" questioned the Indian, pulling away at his pipe.
"Yes, I was there—Hodge and myself."
"Joe him been there since."
"And you bring good news from that place?"
"Heap good to Strong Heart. In Holbrook him find white woman who hate him a lot, eh? White woman she is the squaw of man who make for Strong Heart big trouble 'bout mine."
"You mean Mrs. Arlington?"
"Ugh! Mebbe that her name."
"That is it. She is in Holbrook, or was a few days ago."
"She hate Strong Heart a heap."
"I reckon she does," nodded Frank, wondering how the old redskin found out so much.
"She come to get bad men to take mine."
"Possibly that is right."
[Pg 249]
"Joe him know it. She make much business with Cim'run Bill."
"That I suspected, although I did not find it out for a certainty while in Holbrook."
"It so."
"Go on."
"She give Bill heap much mon' to buy bad men to take from Strong Heart the mine."
"Is that so?"
"Waugh! Joe him find out. Joe he play sharp; he listen."
"Crowfoot, you're as good as a detective."
"No know 'bout that. Find out white squaw she hate Strong Heart, then try to find out more. Now squaw she heap sorry she come to Holbrook."
"She is sorry?"
"Heap so."
"Why?"
"She have papoose girl with her—young squaw."
"Her daughter June."
"Ugh! Now she no have young squaw."
"What's that? What do you mean by that. What has become of June?"
"You tell," said Joe, with a strange gesture. "She gone. Old squaw tear hair, tear run from her eye, she make a loud weep. Ha! Now you hear good news, Strong Heart! Now you know your enemy have the great sorrow! That make your heart much glad!"
[Pg 250]
But Frank was on his feet now, his face rather pale and a look of excitement in his eyes.
"See here, Crowfoot," he said, "do you mean to tell me that June Arlington has disappeared and that her mother does not know what has become of her?"
Joe nodded.
"Laugh!" he said. "Laugh, Strong Heart!"
But Frank did not laugh; instead, to the wonderment of the Indian, he betrayed both consternation and dismay.
"Are you sure of this, Joe?" he demanded. "How long had the girl been missing when you left Holbrook?"
"The sun had slept once."
"By which you mean that one night had passed?"
"Ugh!"
"Then this is serious, indeed! Something most unfortunate has happened, or June Arlington would not be missing overnight. Boys, prepare at once to start for Holbrook! Get ready to mount and ride as fast as horseflesh can carry us; We'll start at the earliest moment possible!"
Crowfoot arose, a look of wonderment in his dark eyes. He reached out and grasped Frank's arm.
"What would Strong Heart do?" he asked.
"I'm going to Holbrook hotfoot," was the answer. "I'm going to find out, if possible, what has happened to June Arlington, and I shall do my best to return her to her mother, if she has not already returned when I reach there."
[Pg 251]
The redskin's hand dropped from Merriwell's arm and the old fellow stared at the white man in uncomprehending amazement.
"Why so?" he asked. "Paleface squaw she hate you, she is your enemy. Now she have something to think a heap of, and no time to make trouble for Strong Heart. He should have a great happiness that it is so. Why does he hurry to the bad white squaw? Is it to laugh at her? Is it to see her weep and cry?"
"No, Crowfoot; it is to find out, if possible, what has happened to the girl, just as I said a moment ago, and to return her to her mother."
The Indian shook his head.
"Waugh! No understand!" he declared. "Strong Heart him much strange."
"Joe, will you go with us? You shall have a good horse. I may need your aid. Will you go?"
"Joe him go. No understand; him go, all same."
"Then hustle, fellows!" cried Frank. "We'll be off soon!"
He rushed from the cabin.
[Pg 252]
Another morning was dawning when five weary horses bore five persons into the town of Holbrook. The animals had been pushed to the utmost, and the riders showed signs of deep fatigue. The dust of the desert lay white upon men and beasts.
At the head of the party rode Frank Merriwell, showing of them all the least weariness, his lips pressed together with an expression of grim determination.
Bart, Jack, and Ephraim were behind, with old Joe bringing up the rear.
Straight to the hotel they went, where Frank learned immediately that Mrs. Arlington was still there, and he also found out that she was very ill, having been completely prostrated by the vanishing of June, who was still missing.
When Frank asked to see the woman he was told that the doctor attending her had said no one was to see her without his permission.
"Then I must see that doctor in a hurry," Merry declared. "Where can I find him?"
He was directed and hastened to the home of the doctor, who proved to be a red-faced, pompous little fellow.
[Pg 253]
"Impossible to see the lady," declared the doctor. "She has heart trouble, and it might prove fatal. I cannot permit it."
"See here, doctor," said Frank, "I have ridden a right good distance to see her, having heard of the disappearance of her daughter June. I have come to see what I can do about tracing the missing girl and restoring her to her mother. To start the work right, I should have an interview with the lady."
"Hum! hum!" coughed the doctor. "I don't know about it." He shook his head, but Merriwell caught his eye and continued to talk earnestly until the man gradually ceased his opposition.
"I'm afraid it's not just the wisest thing," he said. "But still it is anxiety over her daughter that has brought her to this pitiful condition. If you can do anything to relieve that anxiety, it may be better than medicine. But you must take care not to excite her more than possible."
This Frank readily promised, and they set out for the hotel.
Having ascended to the rooms occupied by Mrs. Arlington and those she had brought with her, the doctor entered first, being admitted by the faithful colored maid. In a few moments he came out and said:
"I forgot to ask your name, but Mrs. Arlington says she will see you. Come in."
Frank followed the doctor into the room.
Mrs. Arlington, partly dressed, was reclining on a[Pg 254]couch, propped up amid cushions. She was very pale and showed signs of great worriment and grief.
The moment her eyes rested on Frank, who came forward, hat in hand, she gave a great cry and started up. The doctor hurried to her side, cautioning her against becoming excited, but she appeared to heed him not in the least.
"You?" she cried, pointing at Frank. "You have dared to come here?"
Merry bowed.
"I know of no reason why I should not come here," he said. "I have heard of your misfortune, and——"
"Wretch!" the woman panted, glaring at him. "How dare you! I'll have you arrested at once!"
Frank was surprised by this reception, but he kept his composure, although he was struck by a thought that the woman must be mad.
"Why should you have me arrested?" he asked. "For defending my property? I scarcely think you will do that, madam!"
"You—you scoundrel!" panted Mrs. Arlington, pointing at him. "Where is my daughter? You shall never leave this place until you restore her to me!"
This did stagger Merry somewhat.
"Mrs. Arlington," he said, "I have come to offer my services in searching for your daughter. If I can be of any assistance——"
"You—you lured her away!" declared the shaking woman. "You were seen talking with her on the street. Is this the way you defend your property? I[Pg 255]know your game! You mean to make me promise to drop the battle against you, on which condition you will restore June to me! I have been told that you would try that trick! But I am ready for you, and you shall be arrested immediately. You have walked into the trap!"
"My dear woman," said Merry quietly, "you never were more mistaken in all your life. I know absolutely nothing of the whereabouts of your daughter; but I fancied you might be able to tell me something that would serve as a clue in the search for her."
"Don't tell me that! I have sense enough to know you would not offer to help me find her!"
Startled by the sound of Mrs. Arlington's excited voice, Eliot Dodge, her agent, who was in an adjoining room, now entered quickly. When he saw Merriwell he stopped short.
Frank had met Dodge once in Denver, at which time the man with the blue nose had made him an offer in behalf of the mining syndicate for the San Pablo and Queen Mystery Mines, an offer that Merry had scornfully declined. Now Frank recognized the crafty fox of a lawyer at once.
"So you are here, Dodge?" he said. "And I fancy you are behind some of the doings that have been going on in this region of late."
Dodge puckered up his mouth and tried to look at the young man with something like contempt, although the effort was a failure.
"Yes, I am here," he said, in his raspy voice; "and[Pg 256]I fancy it is a pretty good thing for Mrs. Arlington that I am. I have been able to show her the inwardness of this last move of yours."
"Then you are the one who has filled her mind with the idea that I know something of the whereabouts of Miss Arlington? Well, Dodge, I know you are not a fool, and, therefore, I must conclude at once that you have some rascally reason for giving her such an impression. Be careful, sir, that you do not make a false step! In this part of the country it is very dangerous. Down here men are sometimes lynched for rascality."
"Don't you dare threaten me!" fumed Dodge, shaking his fist at Frank. "There is a warrant out for your arrest, and you'll find that the end of your career is pretty near."
Frank smiled derisively.
"You remind me of a snapping cur, Dodge," he observed; then he turned from the man, as if not deigning to waste further words on him. "Mrs. Arlington," he said earnestly, "I assure you on my honor that I have come to you with the most friendly intentions. I assure you that I have ridden more than one hundred miles for the purpose of offering my services in the search for your daughter. You may not believe me, but it is the simple truth. You have received me in a manner most disheartening; but I understand that your nervous condition must be the excuse.
"I am not your enemy. I do not wish to fight you.[Pg 257]I am fighting the Consolidated Mining Association of America. I would not like to think that I have a woman among my enemies, who have hired murderers and ruffians to try to seize my property! Such a thought is most distasteful to me. I have had the pleasure of meeting your daughter, and I found her a most charming girl. I was interested in her. When I learned that she had disappeared I lost not a moment in gathering a few friends and starting for this place. We have covered the ground as fast as possible, taking the heat into consideration. If any one has told you that I am even remotely connected with the disappearance of Miss June that person has lied to you and deceived you. If you will give me a little aid, I shall exert myself to the utmost to restore June to your arms. That is all I have to say."
She heard him through with impatience. Frank saw before he had finished that her mind was set and that he had wasted his breath.
"Like your brother," said the woman passionately, "you are a scoundrel! Like him, you assume the airs of a gentleman. I know your tricks, and I am not deceived. You have been told that there is a warrant out for your arrest. It is true—and here is the officer to serve it!"
Behind Merry there was a heavy step. He turned and found himself face to face with a plain, quiet-looking man, who promptly said:
"Are you Frank Merriwell?"
"I am."
[Pg 258]
"Then let me tell you that I am Ben File, city marshal of Holbrook, and you are my prisoner! If you try to pull a gun, I'll shoot you in your tracks!"
Frank showed his nerve then. He did not even change color, although the arrest had fallen upon him so suddenly.
"Your words are plain enough, sir," he said. "There is no reason why I should provoke you into shooting me, as I have nothing to fear from arrest."
"I have been led to understand that you are a very dangerous character," said File, looking Merry over in some surprise. "You do not seem so at first glance."
Frank smiled a bit.
"I assure you I am not in the least dangerous," he said. "I surrender without the least resistance."
Eliot Dodge stood in the background, rubbing his hands together and grinning.
"Mr. Dodge," said the city marshal, "will you be good enough to relieve this young man of his weapons."
"Eh?" said Dodge nervously. "I—I—yes, sir."
He came forward and took Frank's revolvers, handling them gingerly, as if fearing they would explode in his hands. He passed them over to File, who afterward searched Merry himself.
In spite of Frank's coolness, he was indignant over the outrage.
Mrs. Arlington astonished the doctor by seeming[Pg 259]stronger and better than she had been since it was known that June had disappeared.
"Now I have you!" she said exultantly. "If you do not tell me at once where my daughter may be found it will go still harder with you."
Merry gave her a look of pity.
"Madam," he said, "I fear that you are not in your right senses. Your action in coming to this part of the country and bringing your daughter here, where you have had dealings with ruffians, confirms me in this belief. I cannot believe you would do such things if perfectly sane."
"You insult me!" she exclaimed, tossing her head. "But you shall pay dearly for your insults! The law will punish you!"
"And are you to stand clear of the law—you, who have incited ruffians to attack me and my property? I am well aware that law and justice may frequently be two different things; but I fancy it will be to your discomfort to have the whole truth come out. I know a ruffian called Cimarron Bill fired at me from the window of this very room. How came he here unless by your permission? And were you in partnership with a man of his character in an attempted murder?"
Frank's fearless words struck home, and the woman turned pale, in spite of herself.
"Oh, doctor!" she said, sinking back on the couch.
The astonished physician, who had remained dumb and staring through the most of this scene, now cried to Frank:
[Pg 260]
"See what you have done! See what you have done!"
"She brought it on herself," retorted Merry, turning away, his heart hardened toward the woman. "I have ridden a hundred miles to do everything in my power to find her daughter and restore her to her mother, and I am—arrested!"
There was deep bitterness in his tone and manner.
"Mr. File," he said, "I am ready to go with you, sir."
"Hold! Wait!" called Mrs. Arlington from the couch. "Tell me where you have taken my daughter!"
Frank gave her a look, shook his head a bit, and again turned away.
"Oh, tell me!" pleaded the wretched mother. "I can't bear this suspense! My poor June!"
Then she sat bolt upright and almost screamed:
"If you harm a hair of her head, I'll make you regret it until the day of your death! You'll be conpelled to tell! I'm going to see that you are sent to prison! I'll make a convict of you!"
Frank did not retort. As he was walking out with File's hand on his shoulder, the woman fell on her knees and begged him to restore her daughter.
"Too bad!" said Merry, when the door was closed. "I believe she really thinks I know something about the girl."
File said nothing until they had descended to the[Pg 261]street. On the steps of the hotel he paused and looked hard at Frank.
"Young man," he said, "you don't act to me like a desperado. I'm mightily disappointed in you. From what I heard, I supposed you a ruffian. To tell you the truth, I'm rather inclined in your favor."
"Thank you," said Frank, with a bit of bitterness. "Little good that does me, although I am grateful to know that I have not become villainous in appearance. I came here to do that woman a favor, knowing all the while that she hated me, and this is the way I have been received."
"Why did you take so much pains to come?"
"Because I know her daughter, a handsome, refined, noble-hearted girl. It was not for the woman's sake, but for her daughter's that I put myself to the trouble that has drawn me into this scrape, Mr. File. Tell me, what has been done to find and rescue June Arlington?"
"Everything possible," said the city marshal. "But the girl seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. She vanished in the very heart of this town, too. It's a most mysterious affair. Mr. Merriwell, I regret that my duty compelled me to place you under arrest and now compels me to lock you up. I hope circumstances may give you your freedom very soon."
Frank was somewhat touched by these simple words.
"Go ahead," he said. "But you had better get me under lock and key before my friends find out what[Pg 262]has happened. They might raise trouble, and I don't want to see anybody hurt over this affair."
So they started down the street, walking side by side, like two friends. File did not even keep a hand on Merry.
They had proceeded but a short distance when a man suddenly appeared in the open doorway of a saloon. Frank saw the pistol in the man's hand, and he recognized his mortal enemy, Cimarron Bill.
As Bill appeared in that doorway, Merry knew the fellow's purpose was to make a second attempt to kill him, and Frank was unarmed and defenseless, under arrest at the time.
As Bill's weapon came up Frank made a sidelong spring. He did this at the very instant, it seemed, that the revolver spoke. The fact was that he sprang a trifle before the shot was fired. His movement seemed much like that of a man death-smitten by a bullet, and Cimarron Bill dodged back at once, believing he had accomplished his dastardly purpose.
Frank was not touched.
But the bullet meant for him had found a human target. Ben File swayed from side to side, his legs buckling beneath him, and fell into Merriwell's arms.
[Pg 263]