Two days later, shortly after sunset, the party camped far in the depths of the Sierra Madre Mountains.
The words of Rodeo, the half-blood, had proved true, for they were pursued by the bandits, but, thanks to the skill of Bushnell, they had been able to give the desperadoes the slip.
"By ther end of another day we oughter be able ter clap our peepers on ther Silver Palace," declared the Westerner.
Professor Scotch was now as eager as any of them to see the wonderful palace, all his doubts having been dispelled by Bushnell's straightforward narrative of the discovery of the place by himself and Jack Burk.
"I wonder what causes that column of smoke we saw rising amid the mountains to the westward to-day?" said Frank.
Bushnell shook his head.
"Thet thar has troubled me some," he admitted. "It seems ter be fair an' squar' in ther direction of ther Silver Palace."
"Maype dose pandits peen aheadt uf us und purn der balace up," suggested Hans, with an air of very great wisdom.
"I scarcely think they would be able to burn a building made of stone, gold, and silver," smiled Frank.
"Wa'al, not much," said Bushnell. "Ther palace will be thar when we arrive. You needn't worry about thet."
They were very tired, and, feeling secure in the depths of a narrow ravine, they soon slept, with the exception of Frank, who had the first watch.
The moon came up over the mountain peaks, which stood out plainly in the clear light, every gorge and fissure being cut black as ink, and showing with wonderful distinctness.
The shadow was deep in the narrow ravine, and Franksat with his back to a wall of rock, looking upward, when he was startled to see a figure rise in the bright moonlight.
On the brink of the ravine above stood a man who seemed to be peering down at them.
"Awaken!" cried this man, in a loud voice. "You are in great danger!"
The cry aroused every sleeper, and Bushnell started up with his Winchester clutched ready for use.
"What is it?" he asked.
Frank clutched his arm, gasping:
"Merciful goodness! look there—look at that man's face! Can the dead return to life?"
He pointed at the man on the brink of the ravine above them. The light of the moon fell fairly on the face of this man, which was plainly revealed to every one of the startled and thunderstruck party.
"Move lively, down there!" cried the man, with a warning gesture.
"There have been spies upon you, and Pacheco knows where you have stopped for the night."
Bushnell dropped his rifle, clutching at the neck of his shirt, and gasping for breath.
"By ther livin' gods!" he shouted, "it's my pard, Jack Burk, or it's his spook!"
"Id vas a sbook!" gurgled Hans Dunnerwust, quivering with fear. "Id vos der sbook uf der man vot we seen deat as a toornail!"
In truth, the man on the brink of the ravine looked like Jack Burk, who had been declared dead in the adobe hut near Mendoza.
"It is a resemblance—it must be a resemblance!" muttered Frank.
Once more the man above uttered a warning:
"You were trailed by a spy," he declared. "The spy saw you camp here, and he has gone to bring Pacheco and the bandits. They will be here soon. If you escape, you must move without further delay."
"It not only looks like my pard," said Bushnell, hoarsely, "but it has ther voice of my pard! Ef Jack Burk is dead, thet shore is his spook!"
And then, as suddenly as he had appeared, the man above vanished from view.
"Gone!" gasped Professor Scotch, wiping the cold perspiration from his face. "I never took stock in ghosts before, but now——"
"Remember his warning," cut in Frank. "We had better heed it."
"Dot vos righd," nodded Hans.
"Yes, thet's right," agreed Bushnell. "We'll git out of hyar in a howlin' hurry. Ef Jack Burk is dead, then thet wuz his spook come to warn his old pard."
There was saddling and packing in hot haste, and the little party was soon moving along the ravine.
For at least thirty minutes they hastened onward, and then the Westerner found a place where the horses could climb the sloping wall of the ravine and get out of the gorge. It was no easy task to make the animals struggle to the top, but Bushnell succeeded in forcing them all up. When the party was out of the ravine every one breathed with greater freedom.
"There," said Frank, "I do not feel as if we might be caught like rats in a trap."
Frank was the last to move from the ravine, and, just as he was about to do so, he seemed to catch a glimpse of something moving silently in the darkness.
"Hist!" came the warning from his lips. "Come here, Bushnell—professor, Hans, stay with the horses. Be cautious, and come lively."
He flung himself on his face in the shadow of a great bowlder, and peered down into the darkness below.
The Westerner and the professor came creeping to his side.
"What is it?" asked Bushnell.
"Look," directed Frank. "What do you make of it?"
Peering down into the dark depths of the gorge, they saw black figures flitting silently past, men and horses, as they were able to make out.
"Horsemen!" breathed the professor. "They must be the bandits!"
"But look!" came cautiously from Frank's lips; "they are riding swiftly, yet the feet of their horses make no sound!"
"That's right!" gasped Scotch. "Great Jupiter! can they be more ghosts?"
"Mysteries are crowding each other," said Frank.
Bushnell was silent, but he was watching and listening.
Like a band of black phantoms, the silent horsemen rode along the ravine and disappeared. Frank could hear the professor's teeth chattering as if the man had a chill.
"This bub-bub-beats my tut-tut-tut-time!" confessed Scotch. "I rather think we'd better turn back and let the Silver Palace alone."
"Rot!" growled Bushnell. "Them varmints wuz Pacheco's gang, an' they hed the feet of their critters muffled, thet's all. Don't git leery fer thet. All ther same, ef Jack Burk or his spook hedn't warned us, them onery skunks w'u'd hed us in a consarned bad trap."
This was the truth, as they all knew, and they were decidedly thankful to the mysterious individual who had warned them.
Bushnell now resorted to the trick of "covering the trail," in order to do which it was necessary to muffle the feet of their horses and lead them over the rocky ground, where their bandaged hoofs could make no mark. At length he came to a stream, and he led the way into the water, following the course of the stream, and having the others trail along in single file directly behind him.
When they halted again Bushnell assured them that there was little danger that the bandits would be able to follow them closely, and they rested without molestation till morning.
At daybreak the Westerner was astir, being alive with eagerness and impatience, as he repeatedly declared they would behold the wonderful Silver Palace before another sunset.
Eating a hasty breakfast, they pushed forward, with the Westerner in the lead.
Once more the tower of smoke, which they had noted the day before, was before them, but now it seemed blacker and more ominous than on the previous day.
It was not far from midday when, away to the westward, they heard rumbling sounds, like distant thunder.
"Vot id vas, ain'd id?" asked Hans, in alarm. "I don'd seen no dunder shower coming up somevere, do I?"
"It did not seem like thunder," said Frank, soberly. "It was more like a rumbling beneath the ground, and I fancied the earth quivered a bit."
"Perhaps it is an earthquake," put in the professor, apprehensively. "I believe they have such convulsions of nature in this part of the world."
Bushnell said nothing, but there was a troubled look on his face, and he urged them all forward at a still swifter pace.
The smoke tower was now looming near at hand, and they could see it shift and sway, grow thin, and roll up in a dense, black mass. It cast a gloom over their spirits, and made them all feel as if some frightful disaster was impending.
Again and again, at irregular intervals, they heard the sullen rumbling, and once all were positive the earth shook.
It was noticed that directly after each rumbling the smoke rolled up in a thick, black mass that shut out the light of the sun and overcast the heavens.
The professor was for turning back, but Bushnell was determined to go forward, and Frank was equally resolute. Hans had very little to say, but his nerves were badly shaken.
"In less than an hour we shall be able to see the Silver Palace," assured Bushnell. "We would be fools to turn back now."
So they went on, and, at last, they climbed to the top of a rise, from which point the Westerner assured them that the palace could be seen.
An awe-inspiring spectacle met their gaze. They looked across a great gulf, from which the smoke was rolling upward in clouds, and out of which came the sullen mutterings they had heard.
"Merciful goodness!" cried Professor Scotch. "It must be the crater of a volcano!"
"Yah!" gasped Hans; "und der volcano vos doin' pusiness at der oldt standt alretty yet."
"The volcano may have been dormant for centuries," said the professor, "but it is coming to life now!"
"Where is the Silver Palace?" demanded Frank.
Bushnell clutched the boy's arm with a grip of iron,pointing straight through the smoke clouds that rose before them.
"Look!" he shouted, hoarsely; "it is thar! See—the smoke grows thinner, an' thar she am! See her glitter! In thet thar palace is stored enough treasure ter make us richer then ther richest men in ther world, an' ten thousand volcanoes ain't goin' ter keep me from it, you bet yer boots!"
True enough, through the parted smoke clouds gleamed the towers and turrets of the wonderful palace that had remained hidden in the heart of the mountains hundreds of years, jealously guarded by the fierce natives, who believed it sacred, and who had kept the secret well from the outside world.
Bushnell leaped from his horse and began tearing the packs from the backs of the led animals. He worked with mad haste, and there was an awesome, insane glare in his eyes.
"The man is crazy!" roared Professor Scotch. "The volcano is certain to break forth before long—it must be on the verge of breaking forth now. If we remain here we are doomed!"
"Oxcuse me!" fluttered Hans. "I vos retty to gone righd avay queek."
The professor turned to Frank with his appeal:
"Come, boy, let's get away before destruction comes upon us. We must not remain here."
Frank sprang down from his snorting horse, flung the rein to Hans, and leaped to Bushnell's side.
"You are mad to think of remaining here!" he said, swiftly. "Come away, and we will return when the volcano is at peace."
"No!" thundered the treasure-seeker, "I will not go! The Silver Palace is there, and I mean to have my share of the treasure. Go if you are afraid, but here I stay till the balloon is inflated, and I can cross the chasm. The wind is right for it, and nothing shall stop me!"
He picketed the horses, and began ripping open the packs.
Frank turned to Professor Scotch, saying, quietly:
"Bushnell will not go, and I shall stay with him. At the same time, I advise you to go. Take Hans with you, and get away from here. Leave a plain trail, and Bushnell will be able to follow it, if we succeed in reaching the palace and returning alive."
The professor entreated Frank to change his mind, but the lad was determined, and nothing could alter that determination.
At last Scotch gave up in despair, groaning:
"If you stay, I stay. I am your guardian, but you seem to have things all your own way. If this volcano cooks us all, you will be to blame for it."
Frank said no word, but went about the task of assisting Bushnell in the work of inflating the balloon.
The Westerner had a "gas generator," which he was getting in order. As soon as this was ready, the balloon was unrolled, spread out, drawn up by means of poles and lines, and then secured to the ground by one stout rope, which was hitched about the base of a great bowlder.
Then Bushnell built a fire and set the "gas generator" at work.
In the meantime the volcano had continued to mutter. At intervals the clouds of smoke parted, and they saw the wonderful Silver Palace standing on a plateau beyond the chasm.
The palace seemed to cast a spell over them all, and they felt the fever of the gold-hunter beginning to burn in their throbbing veins.
It was more than an hour after their arrival that the balloon began to fill with gas and Frank uttered a cheer as he saw the silk bulging like a bladder that is inflated with wind.
"Ha, ha!" laughed Bushnell, wildly. "In a few minutes we'll go sailin' over ther gulf, right through ther smoke, ter ther Silver Palace. Ha, ha, ha!"
The man's face was flushed till it was nearly purple, and his eyes were bloodshot. The fever had fastened itself firmly upon him.
More and more did the balloon expand. Bushnell had brought out a folding car, which he securely attached.
"In ten minutes more we'll be ready for the trip!" he shouted.
At that instant a series of wild cries reached their ears, and, turning swiftly, they saw a band of dark-faced men pouring through a fissure in the rocks to the north of them.
"Shimminy Gristmas!" cried Hans Dunnerwust, in terror. "Dot seddles us!"
"Who is it? Who are they?" fluttered the professor.
"They look like bandits," acknowledged Frank.
"It is Pacheco's band!" cried Bushnell, hastily securinghis rifle. "Ther pizen varmints hev come ten minutes too soon! Ther balloon would take us all over in another ten minutes, but now it won't carry more than two. We must hold ther skunks off till she fills."
"Right!" shouted Frank Merriwell. "And we must be ready to go the instant she does fill. We can't hold 'em back long, for we have no shelter here. Professor, Hans, into that car! Get in, I say, and be ready! We'll try to stand the whelps off till the balloon is inflated, but we must be ready to start at any instant."
Professor Scotch and Hans were hastily bundled into the car.
The bandits hesitated long enough to gather and prepare for the charge, with their chief in the lead. It was plain they saw the treasure-seekers had no shelter, and they meant to close in without delay.
"Reddy for 'em, Frank!" called Bushnell, dropping on one knee, his Winchester in his hands. "They're comin' right soon!"
This was true. With mad cries and a fusillade of shots, the bandits charged.
Bushnell opened fire, and Frank followed his example. Several of the bandits were seen to fall, but still the others came on.
"Lead won't stop 'em!" snarled the Westerner. "It'll be hand ter hand in a jiffy."
"And that means——"
"We'll get wiped out."
"The balloon——"
"Won't carry more'n two—possibly three. In with ye, boy! You may escape! It don't make any diffrunce 'bout an old coon like me."
"Not much will I get in and leave you!" cried Frank. "We are partners in this expedition, and partners we'll stay to the end!"
"But ther others—ther professor an' ther Dutch boy! They might escape if——"
"They shall escape!"
Out flashed a knife in Frank Merriwell's hand, and, with one sweeping slash, he severed the strong rope that held the tugging, tossing balloon to the earth. Away shotthe balloon, a cry of amazement and horror breaking from the lips of the professor and Hans.
"Mein gootness!" gasped the Dutch boy. "Vot vos happened?"
"I'll tell you," groaned the professor. "The balloon could not carry all four of us, and Frank Merriwell, like the noble, generous, hot-headed, foolish boy he is, refused to leave Bushnell. At the same time he would not doom us, and he cut the rope, setting the balloon free. He has remained behind to die at Bushnell's side."
"Led me git oudt!" sobbed Hans. "I vant to go pack und die mit him!"
"It was too late now. Look—see there! We are directly over the Silver Palace! What a beautiful——"
The professor's words were interrupted by a frightful rumbling roar that came up from the gulf surrounding the plateau on which the palace stood. All the way around that gulf a sheet of flame seemed to leap upward through smoke, and then, paralyzed, helpless, hypnotized by the spectacle, they saw the plateau and the palace sink and disappear into the blackness of a great void. Then, like a black funeral pall, the smoke rolled up about them and shut off their view.
But they knew that never again would the eyes of any human being behold the marvelous Silver Palace of the Sierra Madre Mountains.
When the balloon had ascended higher another current of air was encountered, and the course changed. Away they floated over the mountain peaks and out beyond the great range.
At last they came down, made a safe landing, and, to their satisfaction, found themselves within a mile of Huejugilla el Alto.
They had escaped the most frightful perils, but Professor Scotch's heart lay like lead in his bosom, and Hans Dunnerwust was not to be comforted, for they had left Frank Merriwell to his doom.
In Huejugilla el Alto they remained four days, neither of them seeming to have energy enough to do anything.
And, on the fourth day, Frank, Al Bushnell, and two others rode into town and stopped at the hotel.
Picture the meeting between Frank and his friends!Hans shed nearly a bucketful of joyful tears, and Professor Scotch actually swooned from sheer amazement and delight. When the professor recovered, he clung to Frank's hands, saying:
"This is the happiest moment of my life—if I am not dreaming! Frank, my dear boy, I never expected to see you again. How did you escape?"
"The eruption of the volcano broke the bandits up," explained Frank; "and, by the time they had recovered and were ready to come at us again, a band of natives, headed by Rodeo, Pacheco's brother, came down on them. A terrible battle ensued. The bandits were defeated, many of them slain, among the latter being the false Pacheco. And whom do you fancy the impostor proved tobe, professor?"
"I haven't the least idea."
"He was my villainous cousin, Carlos Merriwell."
"And he is dead?"
"Yes."
"That is a good thing. He will not trouble you any more."
"No, I shall never be troubled by him again. With Rodeo and the natives was Jack Burk——"
"Jack Burk! The man is dead!"
"Not quite, professor," declared a familiar voice, and Burk himself stepped forward. "I am still quite lively for a dead man."
"But—I saw you dead!" declared the astounded professor.
"You saw me nearly dead, but not quite. You remember I told you of a native who had found me in the hut, and how he had said it was not a fever that ailed me, but was a trouble brought on by drinking the water of the spring near the hut?"
"Yes, I remember."
"And I told you the native hastily left me—left me to die alone, as I supposed."
"I remember that."
"He did not leave me to die, but went for an antidote. While you were away he returned and administered some of the antidote for the poison, bringing me around, although but a feeble spark of life fluttered in my bosom.Then he took me on his shoulders, and carried me from the hut to another place of shelter, where he brought me back to my full strength in a remarkably brief space of time."
"I understand why we did not find you," said the professor.
"We followed the bandits," Jack Burk continued. "This native wasRodeo, the brother of the true Pacheco, and he is here."
Rodeo stepped forward, bowing with the politeness of a Spanish don.
"Rodeo made me swear to aid him in hunting down the murderer of his brother. That was the pay he asked for saving my life. I gave the oath, and it was his whim that I should not reveal myself to you till the right time came. But when I saw the spy tracking you, saw him locate you, and saw him hasten to tell the bandits, I was forced to appear and give a warning."
"We took you for a ghost."
"I thought it possible you might, and I fancied that might cause you to give all the more heed to the warning."
"Well, of all remarkable things that ever happened in my life, these events of the past few days take the lead," declared Scotch. "However, I have come through all dangers in safety, and I am happy, for Frank is alive and well."
"But the Silver Palace is gone, with all its marvelous treasure," said Frank.
"Thet's right, boy," nodded Bushnell, gloomily. "Ther palace has sunk inter ther earth, an' nary galoot ever gits ther benefit of all ther treasure it contained."
"Don't take it so hard, partner," said Jack Burk. "Mexico is the land of treasures, and we may strike something else before we cross the Death Divide."
"Vell," sighed Hans Dunnerwust, "you beoples can hunt for dreasure all you don'd vant to; but I haf enough uf dis pusiness alretty soon. I nefer vos puilt for so much oxcitemend, und I vos goin' to took der next drain for home as soon as I can ged to him. Uf I don'd done dot I vos afrait mein mutter vill nefer seen her leedle Hansie some more."
"I fancy I have had quite enough of Mexico for the present," smiled Frank. "The United States will do me a while longer, and so, if you are going home, Hans, Professor Scotch and myself will accompany you till we strike Uncle Sam's domain, at least."
A few days later, bidding their friends adieu, they left Mexico, taking their way northward to New Orleans, where new adventures awaited them, as the chapters to follow will prove.
It was the day before Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and the "Queen City of the South" was in her gayest attire, being thronged with visitors from the North and from almost every part of the world.
It was Monday, when Rex, king of the carnival, comes to town and takes possession of the city.
Early in the forenoon the river front in the vicinity of Canal Street was thronged with people seeking advantageous positions from which to witness the king's landing.
It was a jovial, good-natured gathering, such as is never seen in any other city. Every one seemed to have imbibed the spirit of the occasion, and there was no friction or unpleasantness. Every one was exceedingly polite and courteous, and all seemed to feel it a duty to make the occasion as pleasant for other folks as possible.
The shipping along the river was decorated, and flags flew everywhere. The sun never shone more brightly and New Orleans never presented more subtle allurements.
Seated in a private carriage that had stopped at a particularly favorable spot were Professor Scotch and Frank, who had arrived a few days before.
"Professor," said Frank, who was almost bursting with pent-up enthusiasm and youthful energy, "this makes a fellow feel that it is good to be living. In all the places we have visited, I have seen nothing like this. I am sorry Hans is no longer with us to enjoy it."
"And you will see nothing like it anywhere in this country but right here," declared the professor, who was also enthused. "Northern cities may get up carnivals, but they allow the spirit of commerce to crowd in and push aside the true spirit of pleasure. In all their pageants and processions may be seen schemes for advertising this, that or the other; but here you will see nothing of the kind. In the procession to-day and the parade to-morrow, you will see no trade advertisements, no schemes for calling attention to Dr. Somebody-or-other's cure for ingrowing corns, nothing but the beautiful and the artistic."
Frank laughed.
"It's seldom you speak like this, professor," he said. "You must be in love with the South."
"I am a Northerner, but I think the South very beautiful, and I admire the people of the South more than I can tell. I do not know as they are naturally more gentle and kind-hearted than Northerners, but they are certainly more courteous and chivalrous, despite their quick tempers and more passionate dispositions. Northerners are too brusque. If they ask pardon for rudeness, they do it as if they regretted the breath spent in uttering the words. It is quite the opposite with Southerners, for they seem——"
"Hold on, professor," interrupted Frank. "You may tell me all about that some other time. Hark! hear the whistles on the river? The king must be coming!"
"Yes, he is coming."
There was a stir among the people, a murmur ran over the great throng. Then the royal yacht, accompanied by more than a dozen other steamers, all gayly decorated, was seen approaching.
The great crowd began to cheer, hundreds of whistles shrieked and roared at the same instant, bands of music were playing, and, as the royal yacht drew near the levee at the foot of Canal Street, the booming of cannons added to the mad uproar of joy.
All over the great gathering of gayly dressed people handkerchiefs fluttered and hats were waved in the air, while laughing, excited faces were seen everywhere.
The mad excitement filled Frank Merriwell's veins, and he stood erect in the carriage, waving his hat and cheering with the cheering thousands, although there was such an uproar at that moment that he could scarcely hear his own voice.
The king, attired in purple and gold, was seen near the bow of the royal yacht, surrounded by courtiers and admirers.
To Frank's wonder, a dozen policemen had been ableto keep Canal Street open for the procession from the levee as far as could be seen. Elsewhere, and on each side of the street, the throng packed thickly, but they seemed to aid the police in the work of holding the street clear, so there was no trouble at all. Not once had Frank seen the pushing and swaying so often seen when great crowds assemble in Northern cities, and not once had the policemen been compelled to draw a club to enforce orders.
As the royal yacht drew into the jetty a gathering of city officers and leading citizens formed to greet and welcome him. These gentlemen were known as "dukes of the realm," and constituted the royal court. They were decorated with badges of gold and bogus jewels.
The yacht drew up at the levee, and King Rex, accompanied by his escort, landed, where he was greeted with proper ceremony by the dukes of the realm.
Then the king was provided with a handsomely decorated carriage, which he entered, and a procession was formed. The king's carriage somewhat resembled a chariot, being drawn by four mettlesome coal-black horses, all gayly caparisoned with gold and silver trimmings and nodding plumes.
A magnificent band of music headed the procession, and then came a barge that was piled high with beautiful and fragrant flowers. In this barge was a girl who seemed to be dressed entirely in flowers, and there was a crown of flowers on her head. She was masked, but did not seem to be more than sixteen or seventeen years of age.
She was known as "the Queen of Flowers," and other girls, ladies of the court, dressed entirely in white, accompanied her.
The king's carriage followed the flower barge, and, directed by the queen, who was seated on a throne of flowers, the girls scattered flowers beneath the feet of the horses, now and then laughingly pelting some one in the throng with them.
As the procession started, the cannons boomed once more, and the steam whistles shrieked.
And then, in less than a minute, there came a startling interruption. The cheering of the people on one of the side streets turned to shrieks of terror and warning, andthe crowd was seen to make a mad rush for almost any place of shelter.
"What's the matter, Frank?" asked Professor Scotch, in alarm.
"Don't know," was the reply, as Frank mounted to the carriage seat, on which he stood to obtain a view. "Why, it seems that there are wild cattle in the street, and they're coming this way."
"Good gracious!" gasped the professor. "Drive on, driver—get out of the way quickly!"
"That's impossible, sir," replied the driver, immediately. "If I drive on, we are liable to be overturned by the rushing crowd. It is safer to keep still and remain here."
"Those cattle look like Texas long-horns!" cried Frank.
"So they are, sir," assured the driver. "They have broken out of the yard in which they were placed this morning. They were brought here on a steamer."
"Texas long-horns on a stampede in a crowded city!" fluttered Frank. "That means damage—no end of it."
In truth, nearly half a hundred wild Texan steers, driven to madness by the shrieking whistles and thundering cannons, had broken out of the fraily constructed yard, and at least a dozen of them had stampeded straight toward Canal Street.
Persons crushed against each other and fell over each other in frantic haste to get out of the way for the cattle to pass. Some were thrown down and trampled on by the fear-stricken throng. Men shouted hoarsely, and women shrieked.
Mad with terror, blinded by dust, furious with the joy of sudden freedom, the Texan steers, heads lowered, horns glistening, eyes glowing redly and nostrils steaming, charged straight into the crowd.
It was a terrible spectacle.
"For Heaven's sake, is there no way of stopping those creatures?" cried Frank.
"We'll all be killed!" quavered Professor Scotch.
Into Canal Street rushed the crowd, and the procession was broken up in a moment. The one thought of everybody seemed to be to get out of the way of the steers.
The horses on the flower barge became unmanageable, turned short, snorting with terror, and upset the barge,spilling flowers, girls, and all into the street. Then, in some way, the animals broke away, leaving the wrecked barge where it had toppled.
The girls, with one exception, sprang up and fled in every direction.
The one exception was the Queen of Flowers, who lay motionless and apparently unconscious in the street, with the beautiful flowers piled on every side of her.
"She is hurt!" cried Frank, who was watching her. "Why doesn't some one pick her up?"
"They do not see her there amid the flowers," palpitated the professor. "They do not know she has not fled with the other girls!"
"The cattle—the steers will crush her!" shouted the driver.
"Not if I can save her!" rang out the clear voice of our hero.
Professor Scotch made a clutch at the lad, but too late to catch and hold him.
Frank leaped from the carriage, clearing the heads of a dozen persons, struck on his feet in the street, tore his way through the rushing, excited mob, and reached the side of the unconscious Flower Queen. He lifted her from the ground, and, at that very instant, a mad steer, with lowered head and bristling horns, charged blindly at them!
A cry of horror went up from those who beheld the peril of the brave boy and the Queen of Flowers, for it looked as if both must be impaled by the wicked horns of the mad steer.
Well it was that Frank was a lad of nerve, with whom at such a moment to think was to act. Well it was that he had the muscles and strength of a trained athlete.
Frank did not drop the girl to save himself, as most lads would have done. She felt no heavier than a feather in his arms, but it seemed that he would be unable to save himself, if he were unincumbered.
Had he leaped ahead he could not have escaped. With all the energy he possessed, he sprang backward, at the same time swinging the girl away from the threatening horns, so that his own body protected her in case he was not beyond reach of the steer.
In such a case and in such a situation inches count, and it proved thus in this instance.
One of the steer's horns caught Frank's coat sleeve at the shoulder, and ripped it open to the flesh as far as his elbow, the sharp point seeming to slit the cloth like a keen knife.
But Frank was unharmed, and the unconscious girl was not touched.
Then the steer crashed into the flower barge.
Frank was not dazed by his remarkable escape, and he well knew the peril might not be over.
Like a leaping panther, the boy sprang from the spot, avoiding other mad steers and frantic men and women, darted here and there through the flying throng, and reached a place where he believed they would be safe.
It was a brave and nervy act—the act of a true hero.
The stampeded steers dashed on, and the danger at that point was past. Men and women had been trampled and bruised, but, remarkable though it seemed, when the steerswere finally captured or dispatched, it was found that no person had been killed outright.
Men crowded about Frank and the Flower Girl. The lad had placed the girl upon some steps, and he called for water.
"Remove her mask," directed some one. "Give her air."
"Yes, remove her mask!" cried scores of voices.
They were eager to see her face, that they might again recognize the girl who had passed through such peril.
Frank hesitated, although he also longed to look on the face of the girl he had saved. She was most beautifully formed for a girl of her age, and that her face was pretty he had not a doubt.
He reached out his hand to unfasten the mask. As he did so his wrist was clutched by strong fingers, and a panting voice hissed in his ear:
"Would you do it? Well, you shall not! I will take charge of that young lady, if you please!"
Looking over his shoulder, Frank saw the dark, excited face of a youth of twenty or twenty-one. That face was almost wickedly handsome, although there was something decidedly repellent about it. The eyes were black as midnight, while the lips were full and red.
With a twisting snap Frank freed his wrist.
"You?" he said, calmly—"who are you?"
"One who knows this unfortunate young lady, and has a right to protect her."
"Which is ver' true, sah," declared a man with a bristling white mustache and imperial, who stood just behind the youth with the dark face. "I give you my word of honah, sah, that it is true."
The words were spoken with great suavity and politeness, and Frank noted that the speaker seemed to have a military air.
Frank hesitated, and then straightened up, stepping back and bowing, as he said:
"That settles it, gentlemen. If you know the young lady, I have nothing more to say."
The young man instantly lifted the Flower Queen in his arms. As he did so she opened her eyes, and Frank saw she was looking straight at his face.
Then came a staggering surprise for the boy from the North. He saw the girl's lips part, and he distinctly heard her faintly exclaim:
"Frank Merriwell!"
Frank fell back a step, then started forward.
"You—you know me?" he cried.
Quick as a flash, the youth with the dark face passed the girl to the man with the white mustache and imperial, and the latter bore her through the throng to a carriage.
Frank would have followed, but the dark-faced youth blocked the way, saying, harshly:
"Hold on! You did her a service. How much do I owe you?"
"Stand aside!" came sharply from Frank's lips. "She knows me—she spoke my name! I must find out who she is!"
"That you cannot do."
"Who will prevent it?"
"I will!"
Frank measured the other from head to heels with his eyes.
"Stand aside!"
"Now, don't go to putting on any airs with me, my smart youngster. By sheer luck, you were able to save her from possible injury. Like all Northerners, you have your price for every service. How much do I owe you?"
Frank's face was hot with anger.
"You say 'like all Northerners,' but it is well for the South that you are not a representative Southerner. You are an insolent cad and a puppy!"
"You have insulted me!"
"I simply returned what you gave."
"And it shall cost you dear!" hissed the youth with the dark face.
Quickly he leaned forward and struck Frank's cheek with his open hand.
Then something else happened.
Like a bolt, Frank's fist shot out and caught the other under the chin, hurling him backward into the arms of a man behind him, where he lay gasping and dazed.
Frank would have rushed toward the carriage, but he saw it move swiftly away, carrying the mysterious Queenof Flowers, and, with deep regret, he realized he was too late.
The man with the bristling white mustache and imperial did not depart in the carriage, but he again forced his way through the crowd, and found his companion slowly recovering from the stunning blow he had received.
"Mistah Raymon', sah, what does this mean?" he cried, in amazement.
"It means that I have been insulted and struck!" hissed the one questioned, quivering with unutterable anger.
"Struck, sah!" cried the man, in unbounded amazement. "You were struck! Impossible, sah—impossible!"
"It is true!"
"Who struck you, sah?"
"This young coxcomb of a Northern cur!"
The man glared at Frank, who, with his hands on his hips, was quietly awaiting developments, apparently not at all alarmed. He did not quail in the least before the fierce, fire-eating look given him by the man with the bristling mustache and imperial.
"If this—ah!—young gentleman struck you, Mistah Raymon', sah, there can be but one termination of the affaiah. He will have to meet you, sah, on the field, or humbly apologize at once."
"That's right!" blustered the young man, fiercely. "I'll have his life, or an instant apology!"
Frank smiled as if he were quite amused.
"As I happen to feel that I am the one to whom an apology is due, you will have to be satisfied with taking my life," he said.
The youth with the dark face drew out a handsome card case, from which he extracted an engraved card, which he haughtily handed to Frank, who accepted it, and read aloud:
"'Mr. Rolf Raymond.' A very pretty name. Allow me; my card, Mr. Raymond. I am stopping at the St. Charles Hotel. You will be able to find me without difficulty."
"Rest assured that a friend of mine will call on you without delay, Mr. Merriwell," stiffly said Raymond, thrusting Frank's card into his pocket.
Professor Scotch had forced his way through the crowdin time to catch the drift of this, and the full significance of it dawned upon him, filling him with amazement and horror.
"This will not do—it will never do!" he spluttered. "Dueling is a thing of the past; there is a law for it! I will not have it! Frank, you hot-headed young rascal, what do you mean by getting into such a scrape?"
"Keep cool, professor," said the boy, calmly. "If this young gentleman insists on forcing me into a duel, I cannot take water—I must give him satisfaction."
"I tell you I won't have it!" roared the little man, in his big, hoarse voice, his face getting very red. "I am your guardian. You are a minor, and I forbid you to fight a duel."
"If Mistah Merriwell will apologize, it is possible that, considering his age, sah, Mistah Raymon' will not press this mattah," smoothly said the man with the bristling mustache.
"What has he to apologize for?" asked Scotch.
"He struck Mistah Raymon', sah."
"Did you do that, Frank?"
"Yes; but he struck me first."
"He did, eh?" roared the professor, getting very red in the face. "Well, I don't think you'll apologize, Frank, and you're not going to fight. You're a boy; let him take a man. If he wants to fight anybody, I'm just his hairpin, and I'll agree to do him up with any kind of a weapon from a broad-ax to a bologna sausage!"
Frank looked at Professor Scotch in amazement, for he had never known the little man to use such language or show such spirit in the face of actual danger.
"I wonder if the professor has been drinking, and, if so, where he got his drinks?" was the thought that flashed through Frank's mind.
"Mistah Raymon', sah, has no quarrel with you, sah," said the individual with the bristling mustache. "If there is to be any further trouble, sah, I will attend to your case."
"You? Who are you?"
"I, sah, am Colonel La Salle Vallier, the ver' particular friend of Mistah Raymon'. If yo' say so, we will exchange cards, sah."
"Then we will exchange. Here is mine."
"And here, sah, is mine."
"This," said Colonel Vallier, "precludes yo' from interfering in this othah affair, Professor Scotch."
"Hey? It does! How's that, I'd like to know?"
"I am at your service, professor," bowed the colonel. "You shall make such arrangements as yo' choose. Pistols or swords make no difference to me, for I am a dead shot and an expert swordsman. I trust yo' will excuse us now, gentlemen. We will see yo' later. Good-day."
He locked arms with the young man, and they turned away, with a sweeping salute. The throng parted, and they passed through.
Professor Scotch stood staring after them till Frank tapped him on the shoulder, saying:
"Come, professor, we may as well get out of this."
"Excuse-a me, señors," said a soft, musical voice, and a young man with a Spanish face and pink cheeks was bowing before them. "I t'ink you need-a to be tole 'bout it."
"Told about what?" demanded Frank, who took an instant dislike to this softly smiling fellow with the womanish voice and gentle ways. "What do you mean?"
"Excuse-a me," repeated the stranger, who was gaudily dressed in many colors. "Yo' are strangar-a-rs from de Noath, an' yo' do not know-a de men what you have a de troub' wid. Excuse-a me; I am Manuel Mazaro, an' I know-a dem. De young man is son of de ver' reech Señor Roderick Raymon', dat everybody in New Orle'n know. He is ver' wile—ver' reckless. Ha! He love-a to fight, an' he has been in two duel, dough he is ver' young. But de odare, señors—de man wid de white mustache—ah!"
Manuel Mazaro threw up his hands with an expression that plainly said words failed him.
"Well, what of the other?" asked Frank, impatiently.
"Señors," purred Mazaro, "he is de wor-r-rst fightar ever leeve! He like-a to fight fo' de sport of keelin'. Take-a my advice, señors, an' go 'way from New Orle'n'. Yo' make ver' gre't mistake to get in troub' wid dem."
"Thank you for your kind advice," said Frank, quietly. "I presume it is well meant, but it is wasted. This is a free country, and a dozen fire-eaters like Colonel La Salle Vallier and Mr. Rolf Raymond cannot drive us out of New Orleans till we are ready to go. Eh, professor?"
"Well, I guess not!" rumbled the little man, stiffening up and looking as fierce as he could.
"Oh, ver' well, ver' well," said Mazaro, lifting his eyebrows, the ghost of a scornful smile on his face. "You know-a your own biz. Good-day, señors."
"Good-day, sir."
They passed through the crowd and sought their carriage, which was waiting for them, although the driver had begun to think they had deserted him.
The procession, which had been broken up by the stampeded steers, was again forming, making it evident that the pleasure-loving people were determined that the unfortunate occurrence should not ruin the day.
The Queen of Flowers and her subjects had vanished, and the flower barge was a wreck, so a part of the programme could not be carried out.
The procession formed without the flower barge, andwas soon on its way once more, the band playing its liveliest tune.
The way was lined with tens of thousands of spectators, while flags fluttered from every building. All along the line the king was greeted with cheers and bared heads. It was a most magnificent spectacle.
The carriage bearing Frank and the professor had found a place in the procession through the skill of the driver, and the man and boy were able to witness this triumphal entrance of King Rex to the Crescent City.
At the City Hall, the Duke of Crescent City, who was the mayor, welcomed Rex with great pomp and ceremony, presenting him the keys and the freedom of the city.
Shortly afterward, the king mysteriously disappeared, and the procession broke up and dispersed.
Frank and the professor returned to the St. Charles Hotel, both feeling decidedly hungry.
Frank had little to say after they had satisfied their hunger and were in their suite of rooms. He had seemed to be thinking all the while, and the professor again repeated a question that he had asked several times:
"What in the world makes you so glum, Frank? What are you thinking about?"
"The Queen of Flowers," was the reply.
"My boy," cried the professor, enthusiastically, "I am proud of you—yes, sir, proud! But, at one time, I thought you were done for. That steer was right upon you, and I could see no way for you to escape the creature's horns. I held my breath, expecting to see you impaled. And then I saw you escape with no further injury than the slitting of your coat sleeve, but to this minute I can't say how you did it."
Frank scarcely seemed to hear the professor's words. He sat with his hand to his head, his eyes fixed on a pattern in the carpet.
"She knew my name," he muttered. "She spoke it distinctly. There can be no doubt about that."
Professor Scotch groaned dismally.
"There you go again!" he exclaimed. "Now, what are you mumbling about?"
"The Queen of Flowers."
"Confound the Queen of Flowers!" exploded Scotch."You saved her life at the risk of your own, but you don't know her from Adam."
"She knows me."
"How is that?"
"She spoke my name."
"You must be mistaken."
"I am not."
ProfessorScotch looked incredulous.
"Why, she was unconscious."
"She was when I saved her from the steer."
"And she recovered afterward?"
"Yes; just as Colonel Vallier was taking her to the carriage."
"And she spoke your name then?"
"Yes. First I saw her open her eyes, and I noticed that she was looking straight at me; then I heard her distinctly but faintly pronounce my name."
The professor still looked doubtful.
"You were excited, my boy, and you imagined it."
"No, professor, it was no case of imagination; I know she called me Frank Merriwell, but what puzzles me is the fact that this young cad, Raymond, was determined I should not speak with her, and she was carried away quickly. Why should they wish to keep us from having a few words of conversation?"
"That is a question I cannot answer, Frank."
"There's a mystery here, professor—a mystery I mean to solve. I am going to find out who the Queen of Flowers really is."
"And get into more trouble, you hot-headed young rascal. I should think you were in trouble enough already, with a possible duel impending."
A twinkle of mischief showed in Frank's eyes.
"How about yourself, professor?"
"Oh, the young scoundrel won't dare to meet me," blustered Scotch, throwing out his chest and strutting about the room.
"But he is not the one you will have to meet. You exchanged cards with Colonel La Salle Vallier."
"As a mere matter of courtesy."
"That might go in the North, but you exchanged under peculiar circumstances, and, taking everythinginto consideration, I have no doubt but you will be waited on by a friend of Colonel Vallier. You will have to meet him."
"Hey!" roared the professor, turning pale. "Is it possible that such a result will come from a mere matter of politeness? Why, I'm no fighter, Frank—I'm no blood-and-thunder ruffian! I did not mean to hint that I wished to meet the colonel on the field of honor."
"But you have, and you can't back out now. You heard what Manuel Mazaro had to say about him. He is a dead shot and a skilled swordsman. Oh, professor, my heart bleeds for you! But you shall have a great funeral, and I'll plant tiddly-wink posies all over your grave."
"Cæsar's ghost!" groaned Scotch, collapsing on a chair, and looking very ill indeed. "This is a terrible scrape! I don't feel well. I fear I am going to be very ill."
Frank found it impossible to restrain his laughter longer, and he gave way to it.
"Ha, ha, ha!" he merrily shouted. "You surely look ill, professor! I'd like to have your picture now! Ha, ha, ha! It would make a first-rate picture for a comic paper."
"This is no laughing matter," came dolefully from Scotch. "I don't know how to fire a pistol, and I never had a sword in my hand in all my life. And to think of standing up and being shot full of holes or carved like a turkey by that fire-eater with the fierce mustache! It is awful, awful!"
"But you were eager to fight the young fellow."
"No, I was not. I was simply putting up a bluff, as you call it. I was doing my level best to get you out of the scrape, Frank. I didn't think he would fight me, and so I pretended to be eager to meet him. And now see what a scrape I am in! Oh, my soul and body! What can I do?"
"Fight."
"Never!"
"I don't see how you can get out of it."
"I'll run away."
In a moment Frank became very grave.
"That is impossible, professor," he said, with the utmost apparent sincerity. "Think of the disgrace! It would be in all the papers that Professor Scotch, a white-livered Northerner, after insulting Colonel La Salle Vallier and presenting his card, had taken to his heels in the most cowardly fashion, and had fled from the city without giving the colonel the satisfaction that is due from one gentleman to another. The Northern papers would copy, and you would find yourself the butt of ridicule wherever you went."
The professor let out a groan that was more dismal anddoleful than any sound that had previously issued from his lips.
"What can I do?" he gasped.
"There is one way to get out of the difficulty."
"Name it! name it!" shouted the wretched man. "I'll do anything!"
"Then commit suicide."
The professor collapsed again.
"Are you entirely heartless?" he moaned. "Can you joke when I am suffering such misery?"
His face was covered with perspiration, and he was all a-quiver, so that Frank was really touched.
"You can apologize, professor."
"Apologize for what? I don't know that I have done anything to apologize for; but then I'll apologize rather than fight."
"Well, I guess you'll be able to get out of it some way."
But it was no easy thing to reassure the agitated man, as Frank soon discovered.
"I'll tell you what, professor," said the boy; "you may send a representative—a substitute."
"I don't think it will be easy to find a substitute."
"Oh, I'll find one."
"Perhaps Colonel Vallier will not accept him."
"But you must be too ill to meet the colonel, and then he'll have to accept the substitute or nothing."
"But who will act as substitute? I don't know any one in New Orleans who'll go and be shot in my place."
"Barney Mulloy has agreed to join us here, and he may arrive on any train," went on Frank, mentioning an old school chum.
"That wild Irishman!" cried the professor, hopefully. "Why, he'd fight a pack of wildcats and think it fun!"
"Yes, Barney is happiest when in trouble. According to my uncle's will, I am at liberty to carry a companion besides my guardian on my travels, and so, when Hans Dunnerwust got tired of traveling and went home, I sent for Barney, knowing he'd be a first-class fellow to have with me. He finally succeeded in making arrangements to join us, and I have a telegram from him, stating that he would start in time to reach here before to-morrow.If you are forced into trouble, professor, Barney can serve as a substitute."
"That sounds very well, but Colonel Vallier would not accept a boy."
"Then Barney can disguise himself and pretend to be a man."
"I'm afraid it won't work. Not that Barney Mulloy will hesitate to help me out of the scrape, for he was the most dare-devil chap in Fardale Academy, next to yourself, Frank. You were the leader in all kinds of daring adventures, but Barney made a good second. But he can't pass muster as a man."
"Perhaps he can. But you have not yet received a challenge from Colonel Vallier; so don't worry about what may not happen."
"I can't help worrying. I shall not take any further pleasure in life till we get out of this dreadful city."
"Oh, brace up! Come on; let's go out and see the sights."
"No, Frank—no, my boy. I am indisposed—I am quite ill. Besides that, I might meet Colonel Vallier. I shall remain in my room for the present."
So Frank was obliged to go out alone, and, when he returned for supper, he found the professor in bed, looking decidedly like a sick man.
"I am very ill, Frank—very ill," Scotch declared. "I fear I am in for a protracted illness."
"Nonsense, professor! Why, you'll miss all the fun to-morrow, and we're here to see the sport."
"Confound the sport! I wish we had stayed away from this miserable place!"
"Why, you were very enthusiastic over New Orleans and the people of the South this morning."
"Hang the people of the South—hang them all! They're too hot-headed—they're altogether too ready to fight over nothing. Now, I'm a peaceable man, and I can't fight—I simply can't!"
"Well, well! I don't fancy you'll have to fight," said Frank, whose conscience was beginning to smite him.
"Then I'll have to apologize, and I'll be jiggered if I know what I'm going to apologize for!"
"What makes you so sure you'll have to apologize?"
"Look at this—read it!"
The professor drew an envelope from beneath his pillow and passed it to Frank. The envelope contained a note, which the boy was soon reading. It was from Colonel Vallier, and demanded an apology, giving the professor until the following noon in which to make it, and hinting that a meeting of honor would surely follow if the apology was not forthcoming.
"Whew!" whistled Frank. "This does seem like business. When did you receive this?"
"Shortly after you went out."
"I scarcely thought the colonel would press the affair."
"There's a letter for you on the table."
"From whom is it?"
"Don't know. Raymond, I suppose. The same messenger brought them both."
Frank picked up the letter and tore it open. It proved to be from Rolf Raymond, and was worded much like the note to Professor Scotch.
The warm blood of anger mounted to the boy's cheeks.
"This settles it!" he exclaimed. "Mr. Rolf Raymond shall have all the fight he wants. I am a good pistol shot and more than a fair swordsman. At Fardale I was the champion with the foils. If he thinks I am a coward and a greenhorn because I come from the North, he may find he has made a serious mistake."
The professor literally writhed in the bed.
"But you may be killed, and I'd never forgive myself," he moaned.
"Killed or not, I can't show the white feather!" cried Frank, warmly.
"I do not believe in duelling."
"Nor do I, but I have found it necessary to do some things I do not believe in. I am not going to run, and I am not going to apologize, for I believe an apology is due me, if any one. This being the case, I'll have to fight."
"Oh, what a scrape—what a dreadful scrape!" groaned Scotch, wringing his hands. "Why did we ever come here?"
"Oh, do brace up, professor!" cried Frank, impatiently. "We have been in worse scrapes than this, and you werenot so badly broken up. It was only a short time ago down in Mexico thatPacheco'sbandits hemmed us in on one side and there was a raging volcano on the other; but still we live and have our health. I'll guarantee we'll pull through this scrape, and I'll bet we come out with flying colors."
"You may feel like meeting Rolf Raymond, but I simply can't stand up before that fire-eating colonel."
"There seems to be considerable bluster about this business, and I'll wager something you won't have to stand up before him if you will put on a bold front and make-believe you are eager to meet him."
"Oh, my boy, you don't know—you can't tell!"
"Come, professor, get out of bed and dress. We want to see the parade this evening. They say it will be great."
"Oh, I wish the parades were all at the bottom of the sea!"
"We couldn't see them then, for we're not mermaids or fishes."
"Will you never be serious?"
"I don't know; perhaps I may, when I'm too sick to be otherwise. Are you going to get up?"
"No."
"Do you mean to stay in bed?"
"Yes."
"And miss the parade to-night?"
"I don't care for the old parade."
"Well, I do, and I'm going to see it."
"Will you see some newspaper reporters and state that I am very ill—dangerously ill—that I am dying. Do this favor for me, Frank. Colonel Vallier can't force a dying man to meet him in a duel."
"I am shocked and pained, professor, that you should wish me to tell a lie, even to save your life; but I'll see what I can do for you."