Frank had learned the art of trailing from Indian guides in the West, and, for a white person, he was an expert. As a shadower, he had the skill of one who had been all his life in the business.
He did not let the man in gray get far away before approaching near enough so Mr. Cooler could be seen occasionally as he slipped through the bushes.
But it was not difficult to follow the queer old man, for Cooler did not seem to imagine for a moment that he was shadowed. He walked swiftly, puffing away at his pipe, and the smell of burning tobacco came back to the nostrils of the pursuing lad.
After a little time the man struck the path that runs round the island and through the old granite quarry. Then he walked still more swiftly, but Frank also found less trouble in following.
Soon the quarry was reached. Cooler passed straight through this and struck the track which led down the incline to the sheds near the wharf.
Now Frank was not able to pursue him so closely; he was forced to linger far behind, for to keep close meant certain discovery should the man look back.
Still he followed. The track ran through a cut and wound slowly along a bank, to one side of which lay the water.
Frank reached the cut and saw the man in gray disappear beyond some bowlders. A moment later Merry was at the bowlders, peering down the track toward thestill retreating form of the little man, over whose shoulders at regular intervals curled blue puffs of smoke.
Frank had expected that the man would be suspicious and would look round frequently. He was astonished when the man did not look round at all.
"He doesn't act like a criminal," Frank decided. "He hasn't the air of a criminal. He walks along as if he had not a care in all the wide world and did not fear to have all his actions watched. It is strange—very strange."
Already Merry had learned that men who commit crimes betray themselves by certain peculiar movements. The thief unconsciously assumes the pose of a man picking a pocket, or taking what does not belong to him. The burglar crouches in his walk and steals along catlike. The guilty man often casts sly backward glances over his shoulder. It is rare for him to have the air and manner of innocence.
But this little man in gray, when, without doubt, he believed himself to be alone, was still the same care-free, careless old fellow.
He disappeared into one of the sheds at the end of the railroad. Frank had slipped yet a little nearer and watched from a place of hiding.
Five minutes passed, and then the man in gray and another man came out of that shed and took the path that led toward the old boarding house.
Frank uttered a low exclamation.
"Is it possible?" he muttered. "I believe I know that fellow with him."
He watched the companion of the man in gray. As they passed from view, he again muttered:
"I do know him! He is Dan Hicks, the cock-eyed man! That settles it! Mr. Caleb Cooler is just what I thought—he is one of the gang, and he came here to spy upon us!"
Frank ran lightly down the track, hidden by the bank beyond which the men had disappeared. He stooped as he ran. Ahead of him he saw the point where Browning had pried up the rails and sent a flat car, loaded with granite, into the water, thus saving Frank's life. He shuddered as he thought of his sensations during those terrible moments of peril while he was bound to the track and could hear the car rumbling toward him.
The bank grew lower till at last he could not keep hidden behind it if he ran farther down the track. Then he flung himself flat on the bank and crawled up till he could peer over.
The two men were walking toward the distant boarding house. Hicks was talking excitedly, while Cooler still smoked. Hicks looked back suspiciously, but the man in gray did not turn his head.
They passed the house where the overseer had lived when he was on the island with the crew of men who worked in the quarry—they were again hidden from view.
Over the bank scrambled Frank. Keeping the house between him and the men, he ran swiftly forward.
In a short time he reached the house. He paused to listen, his heart thumping loudly.
He could hear nothing.
Then he slipped round the house. He carefully peered round each corner before advancing. At the second corner he halted, for again he could see the men he was shadowing.
They were near the old building in which Frank had been struck down. The man in gray seemed to be asking questions. He was surveying the surroundings as if he had never inspected them before.
For fifteen minutes they stood there talking, and then they went into the building.
Frank decided to return to his friends. He quicklydarted up an incline toward some cedars, which he saw grew thicker and thicker higher up the slope. Soon he was hidden by the bushes.
Then Frank went forward more slowly, taking pains to keep in the bushes. Up above was a ledgy height. He came to it after a time. He found a position where he could look down into the old quarry. From that position he could see the overturned car and the granite which lay in the water at the foot of the bank down which it had jumped. He could also look far out over the island-dotted bay. He could see small boats in the distance, he could see white sails, he could see the sunshine reflected on the blue water. In the midst of this mass of water and islands lay Devil Island, shrouded by mystery, lonely and desolate, shunned by man.
Once before he had strongly felt the air of desolation that seemed to hang about the place, and now the same uncanny sensation was creeping over him again. Somehow it seemed that he was far from men, far from life, lost in a lonely waste of water, cast on an uncanny island.
He shook himself, trying to throw off the feeling. He wondered why it should come upon him at that time, and then he began to remember how he had first felt it once before when near that very spot.
"The glade—the grave in the woods!"
He muttered the words, realizing that the woods were close at hand. They lay there dark and gloomy. He must pass through them in order to reach theWhite Wings, or he must retrace his steps and take the path. To do the latter would be sure to expose him to the men he had watched.
But Frank did not wish to turn back. There was something fascinating as well as repellent about the woods. Down there was a grave. At the head of the grave was a stone. On that stone was chiseled:
"Sacred to the Memory of Rawson Denning."
Denning, like Frank Merriwell, had been inquisitive. He had attempted to solve the mystery of the island, and he had disappeared. Afterward the grave had been found on the island. No one had dared open that grave to see if the body of the missing man from Boston lay within.
Frank felt a desire to look at that grave again. He went down toward it, entering the thick woods. Every step that he advanced seemed to cause the feeling to grow stronger upon him. The woods were silent and deserted. It did not seem possible that there could be a thing of life other than Frank anywhere within them.
All at once, with astonishing suddenness, he came out into the opening and there before him was the grave, the headstone gleaming gray in the dim light.
Frank paused. Involuntarily he listened. He had not forgotten how, on his other visit to the spot, both he and Browning had seemed to hear a mysterious whisper in the air, had seemed to hear a rustle down in that grave, as if the murdered man turned restlessly. Without knowing why he did so, Frank listened again.
"Look!"
He started, for it seemed that he had heard that whisper. He glanced all around.
Silence in the woods. Not even the rustle of a leaf. How lonely it was!
"Look!"
Again that word, coming from he knew not where.
At what should he look? What did it mean?
Then he told himself that it was all his imagination—he had heard no whispered word. He advanced toward the grave; he stood beside it.
"Look!"
Was it imagination? This time the whisper sounded amazingly clear and distinct.
"Look at what?"
In spite of himself, he spoke the words aloud. He did not expect an answer, and he gasped for breath when it came:
"The stone!"
A quiver ran over Frank Merriwell's body. Of all the mysteries on this island, the mystery of this black whispering glade in the woods was the greatest.
He bent forward and looked at the stone. There were fresh chips on the mound, and at a glance he saw that the name "Rawson Denning" had been chiseled out. Below it another name had been cut into the stone, so that the inscription now read:
"Sacred to the Memory of Frank Merriwell."
As time passed and Frank did not return, the boys began to grow restless and anxious.
"I don't like it," declared Diamond, pacing the beach, upon which the tide was washing higher and higher as it came in. "I did not think much of letting him go away alone. We all know what happened to him once when he was alone on this island."
"He knows it himself," said Hodge; "and it is mighty hard work to catch him twice in the same trap."
"Oh, he's shrewd enough, but he can be overpowered by numbers. What do you think about it, Browning?"
Bruce was stretched on the sand, his head pillowed on his coat, which lay on a rock.
"I'm not going to think for an hour," he grunted. "Too much trouble."
"Oh, your laziness makes me disgusted!" snapped Diamond.
"Huah!" came in a puff from the big fellow. "Something seems to be gnawing you still."
"Poys," broke in Hans, who still looked sad and weary of living, "I made der biggest mistook uf your life ven I let Vrankie go avay alone all py himseluf to chase dot liddle defil mit der saucy mouth—you heard me vawble!"
"If he had fallen into trouble, he would have done some shooting to let us know."
"But should we have heard it, Hodge?" asked Diamond.
"The island is not very large."
"I think it is pretty large, and I do not believe we could hear a gun fired on the other side even under favorablecircumstances, and the circumstances are not favorable now."
"Why not?"
"Wind is blowing the wrong way."
"Didn't think of that."
The boys soon concluded that the shooting on the farther side of the island would not be heard by them, and straightway their anxiety increased.
Diamond was for starting out at once to look for Frank. He did not believe in waiting till the hour was up; but Hodge, who in his heart was the most anxious man of the party, objected to disobeying Merry's plain command.
"He told us to stay here an hour, and I shall stay here," said Bart.
"I suppose you would stay if you heard him shouting for help?" said the Virginian, hotly.
Bart flushed, for he did not fancy being spoken to in that tone of voice.
"I have always found it best to do just as Merriwell directs," said Hodge, stiffly. "If you wish to go search for him, you may go. I remain here twenty minutes longer."
Browning grunted his approval of the stand taken by Bart, and Jack gave them both a savage look.
Hans, who had refused to partake of the clams while the man in gray was present, was feeling very hungry, and that made him still more miserable.
"Oxcuse me, poys," he said. "I must made a raid der ship's brovisions ubon. I vill peen pack britty soon, if nod before."
Then he took the boat and rowed off to the yacht, where he lost no time in satisfying the cravings of his "inner man."
As the Dutch lad appeared on deck to row ashore again,Browning suddenly straightened up from his recumbent position. He had his watch in his hand, and the Dutch lad heard him say:
"The hour is up, Hodge."
Immediately Bart turned toward the yacht and shouted to Hans:
"Bring two of those guns ashore, and plenty of cartridges for them. Be lively about it! We are in a howling hurry."
"All righd!" shouted Hans, in return, as he plunged down the companion way.
He was not long in getting the guns and placing them in the boat, but when he reached the shore it was discovered that he had brought the wrong cartridges.
Then Hodge leaped into the boat and rowed out to the yacht for what was needed, returning in a few minutes.
Browning, however, usually careless and lazy, was fretting at the delay, for the big fellow remembered how, but a short time before, he had saved Frank's life by a hair's breadth. A delay of one minute in that case would have been fatal.
Bruce had some imagination, and he was beginning to picture Frank in all sorts of peril.
"Look here!" came fiercely from Diamond; "what are you chaps up to? Do not think for a moment that you are going to leave me behind! I'm going with you! I am going to help find Merriwell!"
"Of course, you can come if you insist," began Bruce.
"I do!" cut in Jack.
"But I scarcely think it advisable," the big fellow continued. "At least two of our party should remain and watch the yacht."
"Hans is enough for that."
"Don't you pelief I vos goin' to stayed here alone!"squawked the Dutch boy. "You don'd plaid dot tricks on me!"
Jack tried to argue with him—tried to convince him that there could be no danger in remaining on board the yacht; but Hans was obstinate, and the effort failed.
"You don'd fool me dot vay," he fiercely exclaimed. "I don'd stayed alone here, dot vos all."
It became plain that one of the boys would have to remain with him. Hodge had returned with the proper ammunition, and Jack was not supplied with a gun.
"Well," he said, fiercely, "I was the first one who wanted to go after Merriwell, but I seem to be left out of it. All right! I may come later. Perhaps you will need me."
"Perhaps so," confessed Bart, grimly. "Give us plenty of time to make a circuit of the island and return here. Then, if we have not appeared, you will have a reason for coming."
"Und I vill come mit him," put in Hans.
"Don't leave theWhite Wingsunless you feel it is for the best. We are going prepared for trouble, and it will be a warm crowd that gets the best of us. Come on."
Away went Bart and the big Yale man, scrambling up the bank with their guns and quickly disappearing into the bushes.
Bart took the lead, but Browning was at his heels, swinging along with a stride that covered ground swiftly. There was a look of intense anxiety on the face of the giant.
Round the island to the quarry they went, down the railroad they hurried, and soon they were in sight of the spot where not many hours before Frank had nearly lost his life.
Browning drew a breath of relief when they did not find the mangled body of Merriwell stretched on thetrack. Somehow he had felt it was possible the wretches had captured Frank and completed their work at last, and he was dreading to walk down that railroad, fearing he should find the friend he loved and admired dead upon the rails.
"He is not here."
The words came from Hodge, and they were exactly what Bruce was thinking.
"No."
"Where shall we go now?"
"To the old boarding house." Away they went toward the building. It looked before them, the sunshine glinting on its windows, apparently utterly deserted. There was something forbidding in its appearance.
"We shall not find him there!"
Hodge spoke the words in full conviction that time would be wasted in looking through the building.
"Perhaps not," admitted Bruce; "but I know of no other place to look."
This was a confession that the big fellow would be "stumped" if no trace of Frank was found in the building.
They reached it, passed round to the back door by which admission had been obtained when Frank and Bruce visited it the first time, and there they hesitated.
The door was standing open.
"Just exactly as we left it!" exclaimed Browning. "No one has closed the door."
This seemed to surprise him. Hodge pushed forward and went in. Bruce followed.
The empty rooms echoed to their steps. Everywhere were cobwebs, dust, decay. Some of the windows were broken, some were boarded up.
From room to room they went, they ascended the stairs, they spoke in whispers.
The sun shone in upon the floor, but it brought nothingof cheer to the deserted building. It seemed like a mocking attempt to make the place look pleasant, an attempt that served to show its dreary desolation all the more plainly.
"He is not here," whispered Bart.
"The basement," came from Bruce. "It was there that I found him when he disappeared the other time."
Down the creaking stairs they went, Browning taking the lead now. The door at the head of the stairs leading into the dark basement was open.
"Just as we left it," declared the big fellow. "It was fastened in the first place, so Merry said. He had to force it open."
They lighted matches as they went down the stairs into the basement. The place was dismal enough, filled with old boxes and barrels.
"Frank!"
Browning called, causing Hodge to start and drop his match. Then they stood still and listened.
Squeak! squeak!
A rat scampered across the ground beneath their feet.
That was all. There was no answer to Browning's call.
"He is not here."
"No."
They lost little time in hastening up the stairs and getting out of the old building. As soon as they were in the open air they drew deep breaths, for they had been stifled and oppressed.
"Where next?" asked Bart.
"The house," said Bruce. "We must not go away without looking through that."
"Can we get in?"
"We will find a way—or make it!"
The door of the house would not open for them. Bruce threatened to burst it in with his shoulders, but Bart advised him not to do so, unless as a last resort.
Then a window was found that would open, and soon they had clambered in.
There was some furniture in the house, but still the place had the same dreary, deserted air of the big building they had just left.
Browning began by shouting Frank's name, to which cry there was no answer. The rising wind rattled a loose window.
It did not take them long to go through the house, to which there was no cellar, and they found nothing to indicate that a human being had entered the place for months.
As they stood outside, after getting out of the window and closing it behind them, they looked at each other in a helpless manner.
"What has become of him?" asked Bart, huskily.
"That is what I would like to know," confessed Bruce. "He seems to have disappeared completely."
"And the man in gray——"
"Is gone, too."
"Browning, I am afraid Merry was lured into some sort of a trap."
"So am I."
"Why should they take him in particular, and not harm any of the rest of us?"
"Perhaps their motto is one at a time."
"No. I believe Frank was selected out of our party as the one to get out of the way. He was determined to solve the mystery of this wretched island, and he was the leader of our party. The ruffians fancied that they would put an end to all trouble by getting him out of the way, for they fancied we would run at once."
Browning grunted, and Hodge went on swiftly and fiercely:
"By the eternal skies, they made a big mistake! I'll not leave this island till I know what has happened to Frank Merriwell, or I am dead!"
"Nor I," nodded Bruce. "I'm with you, old man."
"If he has been harmed," Bart went on, "the wretches who did the dirty work shall suffer! I swear it!"
"I'm another."
"We will bring them to justice!"
"Or kick the bucket trying."
They shook hands on it, and they were in deadly earnest.
They decided not to return to the yacht by the path, but to go over the island and through the woods. Thus, by chance, they followed almost directly in Frank's footsteps.
As they drew near to the dark woods, Browning felt a tightening at his heart—a sensation similar to that he had once before experienced as he stood beside the lonely grave in the dark glade. He sought to throw it off, but could not do so.
"Come," he said.
"Which way?" asked Bart.
"This way."
He seemed to feel something drawing him toward the grave in the glade, and Bart followed without another word.
Unconsciously the big Yale man stepped softly, as ifhe feared to alarm somebody or something. The moss beneath his feet gave no sound. Not even a twig snapped. Without knowing that he did so, Hodge imitated Browning's stealthy manner.
The wind soughed through the pines and cedars in a fitful manner. There seemed to be strange rustlings in the air.
At the edge of the glade Bruce halted. There was the grave, with the gray headstone. He stood there staring at it. Somehow he was possessed by a feeling that the grave had something to do with the vanishing of Frank Merriwell, although his reason told him that such a thing was folly.
"What is the matter?"
Hodge almost whispered the question, for he was beginning to feel the uncanny air that overshadowed the place.
"There is the grave," said Bruce.
"What grave?"
"Why, the one we told you about—the grave of the Boston man who disappeared in such a mysterious manner. It is supposed that he was murdered on this island and buried there."
Bart shivered.
"You act as if you half expected to see another grave beside that one," he muttered.
"Not so soon."
"But to-morrow——"
"If Frank has been foully dealt with, the villains have not been given time to make another grave. His body is hidden somewhere. But I will not believe anything of the kind has happened. We shall find him somewhere—alive and well."
"We must!"
Bruce remembered the strange whispering they hadheard there when he and Frank visited the place, and now he listened, half expecting to hear it again.
The silence was unbroken save by the mournful sound of the wind in the trees.
Bruce went forward quickly and stood by the grave. Bart came up, and together they looked down at the gray headstone.
"What is that?" asked Hodge, pointing. "Somebody has been doing something to the stone since it was placed here."
They bent down and looked at the stone.
"Why," cried Bruce, "the first name has been chiseled off! Another name has been put on! That name is——"
"Frank Merriwell!"
Astounded, they stared at the headstone. What did it mean? Why was that name upon it?
The tightening sensation grew around Browning's heart. All at once it seemed that the mystery of the island was deeper and darker than ever before.
"Now what do you think of that?" cried Bart, huskily.
Bruce shook his head, for the moment feeling that he was not able to speak. It did not seem that he could govern his voice. All sorts of wild fancies were rushing through his head.
He looked at the mound, and a feeling of relief came to him when he saw that it seemed undisturbed.
Hodge was shaking. He reached out and grasped the big fellow's arm with a savage clutch.
"Was it—was it meant for a warning?" he asked.
"Yes," said Bruce, quickly grasping at that explanation, "it must have been. You have struck it, Hodge."
"Then it is not likely Frank saw it."
"Perhaps not, and yet he may have come here."
Then they stood there a long time, silently staring atthat stone, on which was chiseled the name of the friend they held dearest in all the world.
At last Bruce hoarsely said:
"Come, let's get away from here!"
"But it may be that—somehow—we may strike a clew here. This may be a clew. This may explain what has happened."
"If this explains it, there is but one construction to be placed on Frank's remarkable disappearance."
"And that is that he is——"
"Dead!"
In the treetops the wind seemed to repeat the word in a whisper.
But neither Bart nor Bruce were willing to believe that Frank Merriwell was dead, for all that his name was there before them on the gray stone at the head of the lonely grave.
"Dead or living, I'll never rest till I know the truth!" came passionately from Bart's lips. "If he is dead, the murderers shall suffer!"
"We must throw off the feeling that anything so awful has happened. Even now he may be with the others at the yacht. While we have been searching for him, he may have returned."
Hodge caught at this eagerly.
"You are right!" he said. "Come on; we will hurry back there."
They left the glade, turning to look back as they passed on into the gloomy woods. They were glad to get away.
At first they hurried on, their hearts buoyant with the thought that they should find him waiting for them at the yacht. He would laugh at them, would jolly them because of their foolish fears. The placing of his name on the headstone of the grave was a ghastly joke, and nothing more.
In his mind Browning was thinking how he would growl at Merry for causing them so much trouble. He even thought of the words he would use.
But as they came nearer and nearer to the side of the island near which the yacht was anchored, their spirits fell again and they were beset by doubts and fears. What if they should not find Frank waiting for them when they arrived?
These doubts caused them to walk slower and slower, for they dreaded to hear that Frank was still missing.
"It seems to me," said Bart, "that it is very probable Merriwell will not be with Jack and Hans."
"He may not be," confessed Bruce.
"If he had returned, they would have fired guns and done things to let us know it."
"We might not have heard them."
"We should. The wind is right. We are near the yacht now."
Bruce felt like turning back and making another search. He dreaded to return and report that they had discovered nothing save the name of the missing lad on the headstone of a grave.
All at once they came out of the woods upon the high bank, from which position they could look down into the cove where the yacht lay. There she was, swinging idly with the incoming tide, and on her deck they could see Dunnerwust and Diamond. Merriwell was not in sight.
Almost as soon as they came out of the thick woods, they were seen by Diamond, and he called to them:
"What have you found?"
"Nothing," answered Hodge, gloomily. "Hasn't Frank returned?"
"No!"
Immediately Diamond and Dunnerwust got into the boat, which floated beside the yacht. They took guns, and Hans soon rowed the boat ashore. Bart and Bruce came down the bank and told them where they had been and what they had seen.
On hearing about the name on the headstone, Diamond became greatly excited.
"My God!" he cried. "Can it be that Frank has been killed? If so, I'll never forgive myself for letting him follow that man alone! Oh, that treacherous little devil! I could strangle him! I wish I had him here now!"
"So do I, py Chorch!" shouted Hans.
"It would not be healthy for Mr. Cooler," said Browning.
"Were you speaking of me, young gentlemen?" chirped a familiar voice, and down the bank came the man in gray, calmly walking up to the astonished lads. "I hope you were not saying anything behind my back that you do not care to repeat before my face."
"No!" rang out the clear voice of the Virginian. "I called you a treacherous little devil, and I repeat it!"
"That's complimentary, to say the least," grinned the man in gray, in his provokingly careless manner. "But I'd like to know what I have done to lead you to speak thus disparagingly of me. Wouldst tell me?"
Browning reached out and collared the queer old fellow, lifting him off his feet and swinging him around so he was in the midst of them.
"There!" grunted the big Yale man, with satisfaction. "Now we have you! You can't run, so don't try it!"
"If you try it, by the Lord Harry! I'll fill you full of lead!" came hoarsely from Hodge, who was fingering the gun in his hands as if he longed to shoot Cooler anyhow.
"Ah, me!" sighed the little man. "How rude you are, young gentlemen! Is it possible you are in your right minds?—or have I fallen in with a lot of lunatics? Why, I wouldn't run for anything! It's not necessary to threaten me. I wish you would tell me what I have done to arouse your ire."
"Where is Frank Merriwell?"
"Hey?"
"Where is he?" snarled Diamond, showing his white teeth. "Don't lie, man! Don't try it! If you do we will put you where you will lure no other person into a trap!"
"Goodness me!" said Mr. Cooler, somewhat mockingly. "You are very much excited, young man. I do not know what you are driving at."
"Don't lie! I tell you it is dangerous! We are desperate!"
"You really seem so."
"Where is he?"
"How do I know?"
"You do know! He followed you, and you trapped him some way. What have you done with him?"
"He! he!" chuckled the little man. "Followed me, did he? Why did he do that? It seems to me he should have been more careful."
"There it is!" burst from Hodge. "That is the same as a boast! Now we know you have done something to him!"
"You are a very knowing young man."
Now the manner of the man in gray aroused the angerand resentment of the boys. He seemed to be taunting them.
"Shall we shoot the snake, Bruce?" asked Diamond, his face purple with passion. "Shall we avenge Frank?"
"Not just yet," said Browning. "We will give him a chance for his life."
"You are very kind!" murmured Mr. Cooler.
"If he will tell us what has become of Frank—if he will lead us to Frank, we will spare his life."
"What if I don't know where he is?"
"You do know. You dare not deny it!"
"You are very much mistaken, for I do deny it. I give you my word of honor that I do not know where Mr. Merriwell is at this moment. I do know he followed me. He thought he was doing a very shrewd thing, and I must confess that I rather admired his skill at it, but I knew all the time that he was behind me."
"Ha!" exclaimed Hodge. "Then you know what became of him?"
"No. He followed me over to the other side of the island, and then he started to return by coming straight back through the woods. That is all I know. I am here to learn if he returned safely. If he did, I intended to warn him that his life was in danger if he should go about the island alone. You must see that I am serious now."
"Oh, yes, we see!" came scornfully from Diamond. "It is too thin! It will not work, Mr. Cooler. You know too much not to know more. If you wish to keep your skin whole, just lead us straight to Frank Merriwell—that's all!"
"I can't. I would do it if I could. But I give you my word to do my best to save him if he is in trouble. That is the best I can do."
Diamond's anger caused him to lose his head so that he threatened the old man with his fist. He quicklyrealized what he was doing, however, and, with an air of apology, he cried:
"If you keep it up, you will lead me to do something of which I shall be ashamed. You can't fool us, old man. We have you foul, and we'll never let up on you till you lead us to Frank Merriwell. We are young, but you will find we can keep a pledge like men."
In truth, Cooler seemed in earnest as he said:
"Young gentleman, you wrong me very much. I am ready to go with you and do what I can to help find Mr. Merriwell, but that is all I can do. It will be better if you will let me go alone. I shall be able to work alone far better."
"Oh, yes," sneered Hodge. "You think we are fools! No, we go with you."
"All right. I am ready."
It did not seem that anything further could be forced from his lips. They warned him that they would not hesitate to shoot if he tried to run away, and then they climbed the bank.
"If you want me to lead you," said Mr. Cooler, "come on."
He did not take the path, but plunged into the woods. They kept close to him, watching him.
"If you try to lead us into a trap," said Hodge, "you will be sorry. If we are ambushed here in these woods, my first shot will be at you. I'll fix you, if I never do another thing."
There was nothing like bluster in the words, and Mr. Caleb Cooler knew Bart meant exactly what he said.
"That is all right," nodded the little man. "Shoot away."
He led them toward the glade in which was the mysterious grave. At last they stood around the grave, and he said:
"Here is something I discovered since coming to the island. That name was on the stone before I joined you at the clambake. I forgot to tell you about it."
"Yesterday there was another name on that stone," said Browning. "The new name must have been cut there after we left the island yesterday afternoon."
"I do not know when it was cut there," declared Cooler; "but everything shows it must have been very recently. I do know it was there when I landed on this island to-day."
"And you know who cut it there!" accused Diamond.
"If you think so, it is useless to deny it."
"Now take us to Frank Merriwell!"
"All I can do is aid you in the search. I am willing to go anywhere with you."
They passed on from the dark glade, leaving the mysterious grave behind them.
Cooler seemed inclined to keep to the left, although the woods were thicker there. They pushed forward, as if passing through a jungle. Branches whipped them in the face, and beneath their feet the underbrush crackled.
All at once Diamond shouted:
"Stop! stop! Where is Cooler?"
"Why," grunted Browning, "he's right here. Thunder! He was at my elbow a moment ago. I scarcely took my eyes off him."
"He isn't here now!" rang out Jack's voice. "He has disappeared! He is trying to hide in these thick bushes. Scatter and search for him! If you see him running, shoot at his legs! Stop him somehow!"
The excited lads beat the bushes in vain. Caleb Cooler had disappeared in a moment, as if the ground had opened and swallowed him. It seemed impossible that he could give them the slip in such a manner, but he had.
At last four very disgusted and angry boys stopped in a little opening and looked at each other.
"We are a set of chumps!" declared Hodge.
"That's so!" grunted Browning.
"Ought to have held onto the snake all the time," came savagely from Diamond. "Oh, if we had him here now!"
"Yaw!" gurgled Hans. "Uf we had him here now he vouldn't done a thing to us!"
"I feel like crawling into a hole," growled the big Yale man.
"So do I," nodded Hodge; "but I don't know where to find a hole small enough. What fools we are!"
"Yaw!" again gurgled Hans. "Vot fools you vos!"
"But I'm hanged if I can understand it," said Bruce. "How did he do it? That is what I want to know."
"He was within reach at one moment and gone the next."
"Let's search again."
They did so, but the time was spent in vain. They were close to the rocks which rose above the ground in the vicinity of the quarry, but it seemed an utter impossibility for anyone to hide amid those rocks.
They decided to remain in the vicinity and watch for Mr. Cooler, thinking he was in a place of hiding near at hand, and he would be forced to show himself sooner orlater. Having decided on this, they scattered somewhat, but were within call of each other. Then they settled down to watch for the man in gray.
It became ominously silent there amid the cedars and pines, save when the fitful wind made a rustling. Once a squirrel was heard chattering in the distance.
An hour passed, and then Diamond could stand it no longer. He called them together and said:
"Fellows, while we remain idle here, those villains may be completing the work of putting Merriwell out of the way. I think we are wasting our time."
"So do I," said Hodge.
"Und I vos some more," put in Hans.
Then they decided to scour the island. If hidden near at hand, Cooler knew they were watching for him, and it was not likely he would make a move.
Two hours were spent in wandering over the island, calling to the missing lad. They awoke the echoes in the dark woods, but the echoes were the only answers to their cries.
Disheartened and desperate, they returned to the cove in which the yacht lay. They were troubled by fears that something had happened to her while they were away, but when they obtained a view of her, she was seen riding peacefully at anchor.
The small boat was there, and Bart was the first to reach it. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation, and then called the attention of the others to a slip of paper that lay beneath a stone that had been placed on one of the seats. A moment later he secured the paper.
"There is writing upon it!" he declared.
"Read it!" exclaimed the others, pressing nearer.
On the paper, which seemed to be a leaf torn from a pocket account book, were scrawled the following words:
"You fellers Haid better git erway Frum Devul irelan in a Blame big Hurry or you will git used the saim as frank Merryfull did. you wunt Naver se no moar of Him."
"You fellers Haid better git erway Frum Devul irelan in a Blame big Hurry or you will git used the saim as frank Merryfull did. you wunt Naver se no moar of Him."
"That settles it!" said Diamond, bitterly. "Frank is done for this time! They have finished him—the devils!"
"Well, they'll never drive me away from this island till I have found out how they did it and who they are!" vowed Hodge. "Right here I swear I will spend the rest of my life in avenging Merry, if it is necessary."
"I am with you!"
"And I!"
"Yaw! Me, too!"
They shook hands on it, with bared heads. Never were four lads in more deadly earnest.
The sun was low in the western sky, tinting the rippling waters with golden light. The scene was a peaceful one, and it did not seem possible that an awesome and appalling tragedy had taken place on that quiet little island that day.
Despite their determination, the boys were stunned and at a loss to know what was to be done. They entered the boat and rowed off to the yacht.
It was plain no one had visited theWhite Wingswhile they were away, for nothing on board was molested.
Hans was hungry, but he was the only one of them all who seemed to have any appetite. They did not talk much, but all were thinking, and the Dutch boy cried softly over the food he ate.
Little had they dreamed when they started out on the cruise that anything so terrible could happen and that they would be so completely dazed and bewildered. Their hearts were full of sorrow, but on their faces were looks of resolution that told they did not mean to be driven away till they had fulfilled their oath.
The sun went down redly in the west and tinted twilight crept over the water. In the woods on shore darkness gathered swiftly. They stared away toward those woods, as if watching for the appearance of their missing friend.
All at once Jack caught hold of Hodge, hissing:
"Look there!"
"Where?"
"Down toward the point. See—back in the shadows beyond the two pines! Can you see them there?"
"I see something."
"Two figures?"
"Yes."
"I saw them move—saw them come out of the woods. They are men, and they are watching us!"
"That's right."
"And one of them is that snake, the little man in gray!"
"I believe it!"
"I know it! Get a rifle, Hodge!"
"What would you do?"
"Shoot him!" panted the hot-blooded Virginian. "Get a rifle! I will put a bullet through the villain!"
Although hot-blooded and reckless himself Bart realized that Diamond must not do anything of the kind. But he did not find it necessary to reason with Jack, for the two men turned and disappeared into the woods.
"They're gone!" exclaimed the Virginian, regretfully.
"But they may come back again. We must keep a close watch to-night. There is no telling what desperate deed they may attempt."
So the night was divided into watches, and each lad took his turn on deck.
The sky became overcast, so there was little light. The black shadow of the shore seemed potent with dangers.
Bart had his second watch on deck, and it was not far from midnight when he was startled to hear a voice hailing from the shore:
"Ahoy, the yacht!"
"What do you want?" asked Bart, gripping a revolver and staring toward the point from which the voice had seemed to come. "Who are you?"
"Caleb Cooler, at your service," came back the answer. "I thought I'd tell you something that may relieve your minds somewhat. Frank Merriwell is alive and unharmed."
Bart gasped.
"Why do you come to tell us that?" he asked.
"Because I know you are worrying about him. Don't worry. He will be with you to-morrow."
This angered Bart so that he lifted his revolver, being tempted to send a random shot toward the point from which the voice seemed to come, but he changed his mind and lowered the weapon.
"So long," called the voice of the queer old man. "Turn in and sleep. You won't be troubled."
"That is what they want us to do," thought Bart. "It is a trick. But they can't fool us that way."
No further sound was heard from the shore. Cooler did not answer, although Bart called to him several times.
Jack had heard Hodge speaking, and he came on deck. When Bart told Diamond what had happened, the latter was furious.
"If I had been here, I would have fired six shots in his direction," he declared.
Diamond took his turn on deck, and it was about two o'clock when he fancied he heard the sound of oars. The sound came nearer and nearer, till at last it seemed that the boat reached the island, and then the sound was heard no more.
Morning dawned, and Browning arose in a strangely agitated state of mind. Never had his companions seen him in such a condition. When asked about it, he said:
"Boys, I had a queer dream. I'm going to tell you what it was. I dreamed that Frank Merriwell is buried in the grave on the island. I thought him buried alive. We dug him out and restored him to life."
"It can't be that Merry is buried there, for the mound has not been disturbed lately," said Diamond.
"All the same," declared Browning, "I am going to open that grave. I am going to know the secret it holds."
Browning was determined, and it was not long before he had worked the others into a state of excitement over it. Without waiting for breakfast, they sprang into the boat and rowed ashore.
"I saw some tools in the sheds at the end of the railroad," said Bruce. "We will secure them."
The path was taken, and they passed through the old quarry and down the track to the sheds. There they found a pick and spade. With those in their possession, they hastened to the black glade in which lay the grave.
For once in his life Bruce Browning was filled with energy—he was aroused. But even as he reached the grave, he halted suddenly, his hand uplifted, hoarsely gasping:
"Listen!"
The boys were silent.
"Help!"
It was a smothered cry, and it seemed to come from the ground at their feet. It made the hair of the Dutch boy stand and his teeth chatter. It astonished and amazed them all.
"Help!"
Again that smothered cry seemed to come from the grave. What did it mean?
"Use the pick, Hodge!" hoarsely commanded Browning. "We will soon open it up. Go at it lively!"
Bart obeyed, and the ground gave back a strange, hollow sound as he struck his pick into it. Browning shoveled away the dirt, having torn off his coat to work with greater ease.
Soon something of a hole had been made in the mound.
All at once, with a cry of horror, Bart started back, pointing down into the hole they had made.
"Look!" he gasped. "That ring—that hand! It is Frank Merriwell's hand!"
And there before them they saw a human hand that seemed to be thrust up through the ground.
Hans began to pray.
The hand moved—it clawed desperately at the ground!
"It is Frank!" Diamond almost screamed. "He is down there! He has been buried alive! Dig, fellows—dig! But be careful not to hurt him!"
At that moment the ground caved in at their feet, and up out of it rose the dirt-covered head of Frank Merriwell. He rubbed the dirt out of his eyes, and then he cheerfully observed:
"Good-morning, fellows! It seems to be a pleasant morning outside, but it's a trifle close inside. If you will take hold and pull me out, I'll be much obliged."
They clutched him—they dragged him to the surface. Behind him lay a deep, dark hole that was not filled by the earth that had caved in.
"Well, of all things wonderful!" grunted Browning. "Never knew anything like this before—never heard of anything like this! I believe I am still dreaming!"
"Frank, are you hurt?" asked Diamond.
"Not much," answered Merry. "They trapped me without much trouble. I didn't have a chance to get hurt."
"But to be buried under the ground—to be in a grave!"
"Eh? A grave? Why, Great Scott! It is the grave—and the stone with my name on it! This is the spot where I was caught. I was standing right here. A man dropped down out of this tree and struck on my shoulders.He laid me out, and it wasn't hard to tie me up. Then I was towed away under ground, and a guard was placed over me. It's a close little hole down there, but the guard left me after he had watched till he was tired, and then I finally managed to get free, and I tried to dig out where they had closed up what once was the mouth of the cave."
"What's that?" asked Hodge. "A cave?"
"Exactly; and there was an opening into it here at one time. They closed it up and made this fake grave over the spot. That's just what they did."
"But your voice—we could hear it."
"Look at this headstone. There is a hole straight down through it. Below there is a tube that runs down into the cave. Anyone at the lower end of the tube can speak so they can be heard here. That is how those mysterious whispers reached our ears. Oh, it is a great scheme! It made the place seem haunted."
"But where is the other opening to the cave?"
"It must be near here, though I was blindfolded when I was taken in. Mr. Cooler was in the game. He came up suddenly a long, long time ago. Talked with the chap who was guarding me. Said he had been forced to dodge you chaps."
"That's when he gave us the slip," said Diamond. "I'd like to see the little whelp again!"
"Your wish shall be gratified," said a familiar voice, and Mr. Cooler walked into the glade, followed by three other men, all dressed in black. "I am here!"
"It's the gang!" cried Diamond. "We'll have to fight for it, fellows!"
"Don't fight," advised the man in gray, laughing. "It isn't necessary. We are not the gang, but we have the gang nicely corralled. You have known me as Caleb Cooler, but I am, in fact, Dustin Douglass, of the secret service.These gentlemen with me are deputies, and we have just captured a gang of counterfeiters who have been making all sorts of trouble for the government. If you think I am lying, young gentlemen, I will show you my credentials. I managed to get in with the gang myself by pretending to be a skillful shover of the queer, and that is why I have been seen with some of them. Last night my deputies came onto the island in a boat, and this morning we raked in all of the gang. We have them nicely ironed over at the old boarding house, where one of my men is watching over them. Among them, Mr. Merriwell, are your friends, Hicks and Wiley. Somehow they think you were concerned in their undoing, and they have expressed sincere regrets that they did not do you up, instead of capturing you and stowing you here in the old cave. The chap who was watching you came over to get his breakfast this morning, and now he is ironed with the others. There are four in all.
"I trust you will pardon me for the deception, young gentlemen," smiled the little secret service officer. "Had to do it, you know. Just came over to set Mr. Merriwell at liberty, but I see you are here ahead of me."
Bruce Browning leaned against a tree, looking tired and unnerved.
"This is too much for me!" he muttered. "I'm sure to go into brain fever! I can't comprehend it all."
Nor could the others just then, but every word the little man had spoken proved true. He showed them the skillfully concealed entrance to the cave, which was sometimes used in which to hide the bogus money. They understood how he had been able to give them the slip in such a remarkable manner.
Then all went over to the old boarding house, where the boys inspected the prisoners. Dan Hicks glared at Frank and cursed him, snarling:
"All I regret is that I didn't cut your throat!"
Beneath the building was a room the boys had not discovered, and there the "queer" had been made.
At last the mystery of the island was solved, and Frank Merriwell was satisfied. But the boys had been furnished with a topic for conversation and discussion that would be interesting for a long time to come.
And Frank was well satisfied to leave Devil Island at last.