Kate grasped the assailant
"Kate grasped the assailant by the collar, and with astonishing strength, pulled him off the prostrate lad." (See page218)
The attack was so sudden and fierce that the boy was hurled to the ground before he could make a move to protect himself.
"You shall not have her!" hissed a voice in his ear.
A hand fastened on his throat, pinning him fast. The man's knee crushed into his stomach, depriving him of breath. The man's other hand snatched out something, and lifted it aloft.
A knife was poised above Frank's heart, and in another moment the blade would have been buried to the hilt in the lad's bosom.
Without uttering a sound, Kate Kenyon grasped the wrist of the murderous-minded man, gave it a wrench with all her strength, which was not slight, and forced him to drop the knife.
"You don't murder anybody, Wade Miller!" she panted.
"I'll choke ther life outen him!" snarled the fellow, as he tried to fasten both hands on Frank's throat.
By this time the boy had recovered from the surprise and shock, and he was ready to fight for his life.
Kate grasped the assailant by the collar, and, with astonishing strength, pulled him off the prostrate lad.
In the twinkling of an eye, Frank came to his feet, and he was ready for a new assault.
Snarling and growling like a mad dog, the man scrambled up and lunged toward the boy, trying to grasp him.
Frank was a skillful boxer, and now his skill came into play, for he dodged under the man's right arm, whirled like a cat, and struck the fellow behind the ear.
Spat! sounded the blow, sending the assailant staggering, and Frank followed it up by leaping after him and striking him again, the second blow having the force of the lad's strength and the weight of his body.
It seemed that the man was literally knocked "spinning," and he did not stop till he landed in the creek.
"Wal," exclaimed the girl, "I 'low you kin take keer o' yerself now!"
"I rather think so," came coolly from the boy. "He caught me foul, and I did not have a show at first."
"Look out fer his gun."
"I will. Who is he?"
"Wade Miller."
Frank whistled. It was a case of jealousy, and he had aroused the worst passions of the man who admired Kate Kenyon. Miller came scrambling and snorting from the water, and Barney Mulloy rushed toward the spot, crying:
"Pwhat's th' row, Frankie, me b'y? Do ye nade inny av me hilp?"
"I think not. So far, I am all right, thanks to Miss Kenyon."
"An' you kin fight!" breathed the mountain maid, in sincere admiration. "I didn't s'pose city chaps knowed how ter fight."
"Some do," laughed Frank, keeping his eyes on Miller.
"I'll have his life!" panted the man, springing toward Frank, and then halting suddenly, and throwing up his hand.
"Look out!" screamed the girl. "He's got a pistol!"
Frank knew this well enough, and he was expecting just such a move, so it happened that the words had scarcely left the girl's lips when the revolver was sent flying from Wade Miller's hand.
The boy had leaped forward, and, with one skillful kick, disarmed his foe by knocking the weapon out of his hand.
Miller seemed dazed for a moment, and then he started for Frank, once more grinding his teeth.
"Oh, let me take a hand in this!" cried Barney Mulloy, who was eager for a fight. "Me blud is gittin' shtagnant."
"Keep away!" ordered Frank. "I can look out for myself."
"I'll kill ye! I'll kill ye!" snarled the infuriated man.
"Well, you have tried that trick twice, but I do not see that you have succeeded to any great extent."
"I'll hammer yer life out o' yer carcass with my bare hands!"
"Possibly that will not be such a very easy trick to do."
The boy's coolness seemed to add to the fury of his assailant, and the man made another rush, which was easily avoided by Frank, who struck Miller a stinging blow.
"You'd better stop, Wade," advised the girl. "He-uns is too much fer you-uns, an' that's plain enough."
"Oh, I'll show ye—I'll show ye!"
There was no longer any reason in the man's head, and Frank saw that he must subdue the fellow some way. Miller was determined to grapple with the boy, and Frank felt that he would find the mountaineer had the strength of an ox, for which reason he must keep clear of those grasping hands.
For some moments Frank had all he could do to avoid Miller, who seemed to have grown stolid to the lad's blows. At last, Frank darted in, caught the man behind, lifted him over one hip, and dashed him headlong to the ground.
Miller lay still, stunned.
"Wal, that's the beatenest I ever saw!" cried Kate Kenyon, whose admiration for Frank now knew no bounds. "You-uns is jes' a terror!"
Barney laughed.
"Whoy, thot's fun fer Frankie," he declared.
Miller groaned, and sat up, lifting his hands to his head, and looking about him in a dazed way.
"What's happened ter me?" he asked, speaking thickly.
"Ye run ag'in' a fighter this time, Wade," said the girl. "He done ye, an' you-uns is ther bully o' these parts!"
"It was an accident," mumbled the man. "I couldn't see ther critter well, an' so he kinder got——"
"That won't go, Wade," half laughed the girl. "He done you fa'r an' squar', an' it's no us' ter squawk."
"An' ye're laffin' 'bout it, be ye, Kate? Wal, I ain't done with him."
The girl became serious instantly.
"Better let him erlone, Wade. You-uns has made fool enough o' yerself. Ye tried ter kill me, an'——"
"What I saw made me do it!" grated the man. "He war makin' love ter ye, Kate—an' you-uns liked it!"
"Wal, Wade Miller, what is that ter you-uns?" she haughtily demanded. "He has a right ter make love ter me ef he wants ter."
"Oh, yes, he has a right, but his throat'll be slit before long, mark what I say!"
"Ef anything o' that kind happens, Wade Miller, I'll know who done it, an' I swa'r I'll never rest till I prove it agin' ye."
"I don't keer, Kate," muttered the man, getting on his feet and standing there sulkily before them. "Ef I can't hev ye, I sw'ar no other critter shall!"
"Be keerful, Wade Miller! I've stood all I kin from you, an' from now on I don't stan' no more. Arter this you-uns an' me-uns ain't even friends."
He fell back a step, as if he had been struck a blow, and then he hoarsely returned:
"All right, Kate. But I'll stick ter my oath. I ain't ter be thrown aside so easy. As fer them city chaps, ther maountings ain't big enough ter hold them an' me. Wade Miller has some power, an' I wouldn't give a snap for their lives. The Black Caps don't take ter strangers much, an' they know them critters is hyar. I'm goin' now, but that don't need ter mean that I'll stay away fer long."
He turned, and, having picked up his revolver, strode away into the darkness, quickly disappearing.
Kate's trembling hand fell on Frank's arm, and she panted into his ear:
"You-uns must git out o' ther maountings quick as you kin, fer Wade Miller means what he says, an' he'll kill ye ef you stay hyar!"
Frank Merriwell's blood was aroused, and he did not feel like letting Wade Miller drive him like a hunted dog from the mountains.
"By this time I should think you would have confidence in my ability to take care of myself against this man Miller," he said, somewhat testily.
"Yo're ther best fighter I ever saw, but that won't 'mount ter anything agin' ther power Miller will set on yer. He's pop-ler, is Wade Miller, an' he'll have ther hull maountings ter back him."
"I shall not run for Miller and all his friends. Right is right, and I have as good right here as he."
"Hang me!" cried Kate, admiringly; "hang me ef I don't like you-uns' pluck. You may find that you'll need a friend afore yo're done with Wade. Ef ye do—wal, mebbe Kate Kenyon won't be fur off."
"Thank you," said Frank. "It is a good thing to know I shall have one friend in the mountains."
"Huah!" grunted a voice, and Mrs. Kenyon was seen stolidly standing in the dusk. "Mebbe you-uns will find my Kate ther best friend ye could have. Come, gal, it's time ter g'win."
So they entered the cabin, and Barney found an opportunity to whisper to Frank:
"She's a corker, me b'y! an' Oi think she's shtuck on yez. Betther be careful, lad. It's dangerous."
"Don't worry," returned Frank.
Shortly after entering the house, Mrs. Kenyon declared she was tired, and intended to go to bed. She apologized for the bed she had to give the boys, but they assured her that they were accustomed to sleeping anywhere, and that the bed would be a positive luxury.
"Such slick-tongued chaps I never did see before," declared the old woman. "They don't seem stuck up an'lofty, like most city fellers. Really, they make me feel right to home in my own house!"
She said this in a whimsical way that surprised Frank, who fancied Mrs. Kenyon had no sense of humor.
Kate bade them good-night, and they retired, which they were glad to do, as they were tired from the tramp of the day.
Frank was awakened by a sharp shake, and his first thought was of danger, but his hand did not reach the revolver he had placed beneath the pillow, for he felt something cold against his temple, and heard a voice hiss:
"Be easy, you-uns! Ef ye make a jowl, yo're ter be shot!"
Barney was awakened at the same time, and the boys found they were in the clutches of strong men. The little room seemed filled with men, and the lads instantly realized they were in a bad scrape.
Through the small window sifted the white moonlight, showing that every man wore a black, pointed cap and hood, which reached to his shoulders. In this hood arrangement great holes were cut for the eyes, and some had slits cut for their mouths.
"The Black Caps!" was the thought that flashed through Frank's mind.
The revolvers pressed against the heads of the boys kept them from defending themselves or making an outcry. They were forced to get up and dress, after which they were passed through the open window, like bundles, their hands having been tied behind them.
Other black-hooded men were outside, and horses were near at hand.
"Great Scott!" thought Frank Merriwell. "We are in for it! We should have been ready for them."
But when he thought how tired they had been, he did not wonder that both had slept soundly while the men slipped into the house by the window, which had been readily and noiselessly removed.
It did not take the men long to get out as they had entered. Then Frank and Barney were placed on horses, being tied there securely, and the party was soon ready to move.
They rode away, and the horses' feet gave out nosound, which explained why they had not aroused anybody within the cabin.
The hoofs of the animals were muffled.
Frank wondered what Kate Kenyon would think when morning came and she found her guests gone.
"She will believe we rose in the night, and ran away. I hate to have her believe me a coward."
Then he fell to wondering what the men would do with himself and Barney.
"We are harmless travelers. They will not dare to do anything more than run us out of this part of the country."
Although he told himself this, he was far from feeling sure that the men would do nothing else. He had heard of the desperate deeds perpetrated by the widely known "White Caps," and it was not likely that the Black Caps were any less desperate and reckless.
As they were leaving the vicinity of the cabin, one of the horses neighed loudly, causing the leader of the party to utter an exclamation of anger.
"Ef that 'rousts ther gal, she's li'bul ter be arter us in a hurry," one of the men observed.
The party hurried forward, soon passing from view of the cabin, and entering the shadow that lay blackly in the depths of the valley.
They rode about a mile, and then they came to a halt at a command from the leader, and Frank noticed with alarm that they had stopped beneath a large tree, with wide-spreading branches.
"This looks bad for us, old man," he whispered to Barney.
"Thot's pwhat it does, Frankie," admitted the Irish lad. "Oi fale throuble coming this way."
The horsemen formed a circle about the captives, moving at a signal from the leader, who did not seem inclined to waste words.
"Brothers o' ther Black Caps," said the leader, "what is ther fate we-uns gives ter revenues?"
"Death!"
Every man in the circle uttered the word, and they spoke all together. It sounded dismal and blood-chilling.
"Right," bowed the leader. "Now, why are we assembled ter-night?"
"Ter dispose o' spies," chorused the Black Caps.
"Where are they?"
"Thar!"
Each one of the black-hooded band extended a hand and pointed straight at the captive boys.
"How shall they be disposed uv?" asked the leader.
"They shall be hanged," solemnly said the men.
"Good!" cried the leader, as if well satisfied. "Produce ther rope."
In a moment one of the men brought forth a rope. This was long enough to serve for both boys, and it was quickly cut in two pieces, while skillful hands proceeded to form nooses.
"Frankie," said Barney Mulloy, sadly, "we're done for."
"It looks that way," Frank was forced to admit.
"Oi wouldn't moind so much," said the Irish lad, ruefully, "av we could kick th' booket foighting fer our loives; but it is a bit harrud ter go under widout a chance to lift a hand."
"That's right," cried Frank, as he strained fiercely at the cords which held his hands behind his back. "It is the death of a criminal, and I object to it."
The leader of the Black Caps rode close to the boys, leaned forward in his saddle, and hissed in Frank's ear:
"It's my turn now!"
"And you mean to murder us?" demanded Frank, passionately.
"Not murder," answered the man. "We-uns is goin' ter put two revenues out o' ther way, that's all!"
"It's murder," cried Frank, in a ringing tone. "You know we are not revenue spies! Men, we appeal to you. We can prove that we are what we claim to be—two boys who are tramping through the mountains for pleasure. Will you kill us without giving us a chance to prove our innocence?"
The leader laughed harshly.
"It's ther same ol' whine," he said. "Ther revenues alwus cry baby when they're caught. You-uns can't fool us, an' we ain't got time ter waste with ye. Git reddy, boys!"
About the boys' necks the fatal ropes were quickly adjusted.
"Stop!" Frank commanded. "If you murder us, you will find you have not killed two friendless boys. We have friends—powerful friends—who will follow this matter up—who will investigate it. You will be hunted down and punished for the crime. You will not be allowed to escape!"
Again the leader laughed.
"Pore fool!" he sneered. "Do you-uns think ye're stronger an' more po'erful than ther United States Gover'ment? Huah! Ther United States loses her spies, an' she can't tell who disposed o' 'em. We won't be worried by all yore friends."
He made another movement, and the rope ends were flung over a limb that was strong enough to bear both lads.
Hope was dying within Frank Merriwell's breast. At last he had reached the end of his adventurous life, which had been short and turbulent. He must die here amid these wild mountains, which flung themselves up against the moonlit sky, and the only friend to be with him at the end was the faithful friend who must die at his side.
Frank's blood ran cold and sluggish in his veins. The spring night had seemed warm and sweet, filled with the droning of insects; but now there was a bitter chill in the air, and the white moonlight seemed to take on a crimson tinge, as of blood.
The boy's nature rebelled against the thought of meeting death in such a manner. It was spring-time amid the mountains; with him it was the spring-time of life. He had enjoyed the beautiful world, and felt strong and brave to face anything that might come; but this he had not reckoned on, and it was something to cause the stoutest heart to shake.
Over the eastern mountains, craggy, wild, barren or pine-clad, the gibbous moon swung higher and higher. The heavens were full of stars, and every star seemed to be an eye that was watching to witness the consummation of the tragedy down there in that little valley, through which Lost Creek flowed on to its unknown destination.
How still it was!
The silence was broken by a sound that made every black-hooded man start and listen.
Sweet and mellow and musical, from afar through the peaceful night, came the clear notes of a bugle.
Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-tar! Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-tar!
A fierce exclamation broke from the lips of the leader of the Black Caps, and he grated:
"Muriel, by ther livin' gods! He's comin' hyar! Quick, boys—finish this job, an' git!"
"Stop, Wade Miller!" cried Frank, commandingly. "If that is Muriel, wait for him—let him pronounce our fate. He is the chief of you all, and he shall say if we are revenue spies."
"Bah! You-uns know too much, fer ye've called my name! That settles ye! Ye must hang anyway, now!"
Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-tar!
From much nearer, came the sound of the bugle, awakening hundreds of mellow echoes, which were flung from crag to crag till it seemed that the mountains were alive with buglers.
The clatter of a horse's iron-shod feet could be heard, telling that the rider was coming like the wind down the valley.
"Cut free ther feet o' ther pris'ners!" panted the leader of the Black Caps. "Work quick! Muriel will be here in a few shakes, an' we-uns must be done. All ready thar! Up with 'em!"
The fatal moment had arrived!
Ta-ra-tar! Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra-tar!
Through the misty moonlight a coal-black horse, bearing a rider who once more awakens the clamoring echoes with his bugle, comes tearing at a mad gallop.
"Up with 'em!" repeats Wade Miller, fiercely, as the black-hooded men seem to hesitate.
The ropes tighten.
"Stop!"
One of the men utters the command, and his companions hesitate.
"Muriel is death on revernues," says the one who had spoken, "an' thar ain't any reason why we-uns shouldn't wait fer him."
"That's so."
More than half the men agree with the one who has interrupted the execution, filling Wade Miller with unutterable rage.
"Fools!" snarled the chief ruffian of the party. "I am leadin' you-uns now, an' ye've gotter do ez I say. I order ye ter string them critters up!"
Nearer and nearer came the clattering hoof-beats.
"Av we can have wan minute more!" breathed Barney Mulloy.
"Half a minute will do," returned Frank.
"We refuse ter obey ye now," boldly spoke the man who had commanded his companions to stop. "Muriel has signaled ter us, an' he means fer us ter wait till he-uns arrives."
"Wait!" howled Miller. "They sha'n't escape!"
He snatched out a revolver, pointed it straight at Frank's breast, and fired!
Just as the desperate ruffian was pulling the trigger, the man nearest him struck up his hand, and the bullet passed through Frank's hat, knocking it to the ground.
Miller was furious as a maniac, but, at this moment, theblack horse and the dashing rider burst in upon the scene, plunged straight through the circle, halting at the side of the imperiled lads, the horse being flung upon its haunches.
"Wal, what be you-uns doin'?" demands a clear, ringing voice. "What work is this, that I don't know erbout?"
The men were silent. Wade Miller cowered before the chief of the moonshiners, trying to hide the revolver.
Muriel's eyes, gleaming through the twin holes of the mask he wore, found Miller, and the clear voice cried:
"You-uns has been lettin' this critter lead ye inter somethin'! An' it's fair warnin' I gave him ter keep clear o' meddlin' with my business."
The boys gazed at the moonshiner chief in amazement, for Muriel looked no more than a boy as he sat there on his black horse, and his voice seemed the voice of a boy instead of that of a man. Yet it was plain that he governed these desperate ruffians of the mountains with a hand of iron, and they feared him.
"We-uns war 'bout ter hang two revernues," explained Miller.
Muriel looked at the boys.
"Revernues?" he said, doubtfully. "How long sence ther gover'ment has been sendin' boys hyar ter spy on us?"
"They know what happens ter ther men they send," muttered Miller.
"Wal, 'tain't like they'd be sendin' boys arter men failed."
"That's ther way they hope ter fool us."
"An' how do you know them-uns is revernues?"
"We jest s'picions it."
"An' you-uns war hangin' 'em on s'picion, 'thout lettin' me know?"
"We never knows whar ter find ye, Muriel."
"That is nary excuse, fer ef you-uns had held them-uns a day I'd knowed it. It looks like you-uns war in a monstr'us hurry."
"It war he-uns," declared one of the black hoods, pointing to Miller. "He-uns war in ther hurry."
"We don't gener'ly waste much time in dinkerin' 'roun' with anybody we-uns thinks is revernues," said Miller.
"Wal, we ain't got ther record o' killin' innercent boys, an' we don't begin now. Take ther ropes off their necks."
Two men hastened to obey the order, while Miller sat and grated his teeth. As this was being done, Muriel asked:
"What war you-uns doin' with that revolver when I come? I heard ye shoot, an' I saw ther flash. Who did you-uns shoot at?"
Miller stammered and stuttered till Muriel repeated the question, his voice cold and hard, despite its boyish caliber.
"Wal," said Wade, reluctantly, "I'll have ter tell yer. I shot at he-uns," and he pointed at Frank.
"I thought so," was all Muriel said.
When the ropes were removed from the necks of the boys, Muriel directed that their feet be tied again, and their eyes blindfolded.
These orders were attended to with great swiftness, and then the moonshiner chief said:
"Follow!"
Out they rode from beneath the tree, and away through the misty moonlight.
Frank and Barney could not see, but they felt well satisfied with their lot, for they had been saved from death for the time being, and, somehow, they felt that Muriel did not mean to harm them.
"Frank," whispered Barney, "are yez there?"
"Here," replied Frank, close at hand.
"It's dead lucky we are to be livin', me b'y."
"You are quite correct, Barney. I feel like singing a song of praise and thanksgiving. But we're not out of the woods yet."
"Thot Muriel is a dandy, Frankie! Oi'm shtuck on his stoyle."
"He is no more than a boy. I wonder how he happened to appear at such an opportune moment?"
"Nivver a bit do Oi know, but it's moighty lucky fer us thot he did."
Frank fell to speculating over the providential appearance of the moonshiner chief. It was plain that Murielmust have known that something was happening, and he had signaled with the bugle to the Black Caps. In all probability, other executions had taken place beneath that very tree, for the young chief came there direct, without hesitation.
For nearly an hour they seemed to ride through the night, and then they halted. The boys were removed from the horses and compelled to march into some kind of a building.
After some moments, their hands were freed, and, tearing away the blindfolds, they found themselves in a low, square room, with no windows, and a single door.
With his back to the door, stood Muriel.
The light of a swinging oil lamp illumined the room.
Muriel leaned gracefully against the door, his arms folded, and his eyes gleaming where the lamplight shone on them through the twin holes in the sable mask.
The other moonshiners had disappeared, and the boys were alone in that room with the chief of the mountain desperadoes.
There was something strikingly cool and self-reliant in Muriel's manner—something that caused Frank to think that the fellow, young as he was, feared nothing on the face of the earth.
At the same time there was no air of bravado or insolence about that graceful pose and the quiet manner in which he was regarding them. Instead of that, the moonshiner was a living interrogation point, everything about him seeming to speak the question that fell from his lips.
"Are you-uns revernues?"
"Why do you ask us?" Frank quickly counter questioned. "You must know that we will lie if we are, and so you will hear our denial anyway. That can give you little satisfaction."
"Look hyar—she tol' me fair an' squar' that you-uns warn't revernues, but I dunno how she could tell."
"Of whom are you speaking?"
Frank fancied that he knew, but he put the question, and Muriel answered:
"Ther gal that saved yore lives by comin' ter me an' tellin' me ther boys had taken you outer her mammy's house."
"Kate Kenyon?"
"Yes."
"God bless her! She did save our lives, for if you had been one minute later you would not have arrived in time. Dear girl! I'll not forget her!"
Muriel moved uneasily, and he did not seem pleased by Frank's words, although his face could not be seen. It was some moments before he spoke, but his voice was strangely cold and hard when he did so.
"It's well ernough fer you-uns ter remember her, but ye'd best take car' how ye speak o' her. She's got friends in ther maountings—true friends."
Frank was startled, and he felt the hot blood rush to his face. Then, in a moment, he cried:
"Friends! Well, she has no truer friends than the boys she saved to-night! I hope you will not misconstrue our words, Mr. Muriel."
A sound like a smothered laugh came from behind that baffling mask, and Muriel said:
"Yo're hot-blooded. I war simply warnin' you-uns in advance, that's all. I thought it war best."
"It was quite unnecessary. We esteem Miss Kenyon too highly to say anything that can give a friend of hers just cause to strike against us."
"Wal, city chaps are light o' tongue, an' they're apt ter think that ev'ry maounting girl is a fool ef she don't have book learnin'. Some city chaps make their boast how easy they kin 'mash' such gals. Anything like that would count agin' you-uns."
Frank was holding himself in check with an effort.
"It is plain you do not know us, and you have greatly misjudged us. We are not in the mountains to make 'mashes,' and we are not the kind to boast of our conquests."
"Thot's right, me jool!" growled Barney, whose temper was started a bit. "An' it's mesilf thot loikes to be suspected av such a thing. It shtirs me foighting blud."
The Irish lad clinched his fist, and felt of his muscle, moving his forearm up and down, and scowling blackly at the cool chief of moonshiners, as if longing to thump the fellow.
This seemed to amuse Muriel, but still he persisted in further arousing the lads by saying, insinuatingly:
"I war led ter b'lieve that Kate war ruther interested in you-uns by her manner. Thar don't no maounting gal take so much trouble over strangers fer nothin'!"
Frank bit his lip, and Barney looked blacker than ever. It seemed that Muriel was trying to draw them into a trap of some sort, and they were growing suspicious. Had this young leader of mountain ruffians rescued them that he might find just cause or good excuse to put them out of the way?
The boys were silent, and Muriel forced a laugh.
"Wal, ye won't talk about that, an' so we'll go onter somethin' else. I judge you-uns know yo're in a po'erful bad scrape?"
"We have good reasons to think so."
"Begorra! we have thot!" exclaimed Barney, feeling of his neck, and making a wry face, as if troubled by an unpleasant recollection.
"It is a scrape that you-uns may not be able ter git out of easy," Muriel said. "I war able ter save yer from bein' hung 'thout any show at all, but ye're not much better off now."
"If you were powerful enough to save us in the first place, you should be able to get us out of the scrape entirely."
"You-uns don't know all about it. Moonshiners have laws an' regulations, an' even ther leader must stan' by them."
Frank was still troubled by the unpleasant suspicion that Muriel was their enemy, after all that had happened. He felt that they must guard their tongues, for there was no telling what expression the fellow might distort and turn against them.
Seeing neither of the lads was going to speak, Muriel went on:
"Yes, moonshiners have laws and regulations. Ther boys came nigh breakin' one o' ther laws by hangin' you-uns ter-night 'thout givin' ye a show."
"Then we are to have a fair deal?" eagerly cried Frank.
"Ez fair ez anybody gits," assured Muriel, tossing back a lock of his coal-black hair, which he wore long enoughto fall to the collar of his coat. "Ain't that all ye kin ask?"
"I don't know. That depends on what kind of a deal it is."
"Wall, ye'll be given yore choice."
"We demand a fair trial. If it is proven that we are revenue spies, we'll have to take our medicine. But if it is not proven, we demand immediate release."
"Take my advice; don't demand anything o' ther Black Caps. Ther more ye demand, ther less ye git."
"We have a right to demand a fair deal."
"Right don't count in this case; it is might that holds ther fort. You-uns stirred up a tiger ag'in' ye when you made Wade Miller mad. It's a slim show that ye escape ef we-uns lets yer go instanter. He'd foller yer, an' he'd finish yer somewhar."
"We will take our chances on that. We have taken care of ourselves so far, and we think we can continue to do so. All we ask is that we be set at liberty and given our weapons."
"An' ye'd be found with yer throats cut within ten miles o' hyar."
"That would not be your fault."
"Wal, 'cordin' to our rules, ye can't be released onless ther vote ur ther card sez so."
"The vote or the cards? What do you mean by that?"
"Wal, it's like this: Ef it's put ter vote, one black bean condemns you-uns ter death, an' ev'ry man votes black ur white, as he chooses. I don't judge you-uns care ter take yer chances that way?"
"Howly Sint Patherick!" gurgled Barney Mulloy. "Oi sh'u'd soay not! Ixchuse us from thot, me hearty!"
"That would be as bad as murder!" exclaimed Frank. "There would be one vote against us—one black bean thrown, at least."
Muriel nodded.
"I judge you-uns is right."
"Pwhat av th' carruds?"
"Yes, what of them?"
"Two men will be chosen, one ter hold a pack o' cards, and one to draw a card from them. Ef ther card is red,it lets you-uns off, fer it means life; ef it is black, it cooks yer, fer it means death."
The boys were silent, dumfounded, appalled.
It was a lottery of life and death.
Muriel stood watching them, and Frank fancied that his eyes were gleaming with satisfaction. The boy began to believe he had mistaken the character of this astonishing youth; Muriel might be even worse than his older companions, for he might be one who delighted in torturing his victims.
Frank threw back his head, defiance and scorn written on his handsome face.
"It is a clean case of murder, at best!" he cried, his voice ringing out clearly. "We deserve a fair trial—we demand it!"
"Wal," drawled the boy moonshiner, "I warned you-uns that ther more yer demanded, ther less yer got. Ye seem ter fergit that."
"We're in fur it, Frankie, me b'y!" groaned Barney.
"If we had our revolvers, we'd give them a stiff fight for it!" grated Frank, fiercely. "They would not murder us till a few of them had eaten lead!"
Muriel seemed to nod with satisfaction.
"You-uns has stuff, an' when I tell yer that ye'll have ter sta' ter vote ur take chances with ther cards, I don't judge you'll hesitate. It's one ur t'other."
"Then, make it the cards," said Frank, hoarsely. "That will give us an even show, if the draw is a fair one."
"I'll see ter that," assured Muriel. "It shall be fair."
Without another word, he turned and swiftly slipped out of the room. They heard him bar the door, and then they stood looking into each other's faces, speechless for a few moments.
"It's a toss-up, Barney," Frank finally observed.
"Thot's pwhat it is, an' th' woay our luck is runnin' Oi think it's a case av heads they win an' tails we lose."
"It looks that way," admitted Frank. "But there is no way out of it. We'll have to grin and bear it."
"Pwhat do yez think av thot Muriel?"
"He's an enigma."
"Worse than thot, me b'y—he's a cat's cradle toied in a hundred an' sivintane knots."
"It is impossible to tell whether he is friendly or whether he is the worst foe we have in these mountains."
"Oi wonder how Kate Kenyon knew where to foind him so quick?"
"I have thought of that. She must have found him in a very short time after we were taken from the cabin."
"An' she diskivered thot we hed been taken away moighty soon afther we wur gone, me b'y. Thot is sure."
"Remember one of the horses neighed. It may have aroused Kate and her mother, and caused them to investigate."
"Loikely thot wur th' case, fer it's not mesilf thot would think she'd kape shtill an' let ther spalpanes drag us away av she knew it."
"No; I believe her utterly fearless, and it is plain that Wade Miller is not the only one in love with her."
"Who ilse?"
"Muriel."
"Mebbe ye're roight, Frankie."
"It strikes me that way. The fellow tried to lead me into a trap—tried to get me to boast of a mash on her. I could see his eyes gleam with jealousy. In her eagerness to save us—to have him aid her in the work—she must have led him to suspect that one of us had been making love to her."
Barney whistled a bit, and then he shyly said:
"Oi wunder av wan of us didn't do a bit av thot?"
"Not I," protested Frank. "We talked in a friendly manner—in fact, she promised to be a friend to me. I may have expressed admiration for her hair, or something of the sort, but I vow I did not make love to her."
"Well, me b'y, ye have a thrick av gettin' all th' girruls shtuck on yez av ye look at thim, so ye didn't nade ter make love."
"It's not my fault, Barney."
"It's nivver a fault at all, at all, me lad. Oi wish Oi wur built th' soame woay, but it's litthle oice I cut wid th' girruls. This south av Oireland brogue thot Oi foind mesilf unable to shake counts against me a bit, Oi belave."
"I should think Miller and Muriel would clash."
"It's plain enough that Miller is afraid av Muriel."
"And Muriel intends to keep him thus. I fancy it was a good thing for us that Kate Kenyon suspected Wade Miller of having a hand in our capture, and told Muriel that we had been carried off by him, for I fancy that is exactly what happened. Muriel was angry with Miller, and he seized the opportunity to call the fellow down. But for that, he might not have made such a hustle to save us."
"Thin we should be thankful thot Muriel an' Miller do not love ache ither."
The boys continued to discuss the situation for some time, and then they fell to examining the room in which they were imprisoned. It did not seem to have a window anywhere, and the single door appeared to be the only means of entering or leaving the place.
"There's little show of escaping from this room," said Frank.
"Roight ye are," nodded Barney. "This wur built to kape iverything safe thot came in here."
A few minutes later there was a sound at the door, and Muriel came in, with two of the Black Caps at his heels.
"Ther boys have agreed ter give ye ther chance o' ther cards," said the boy moonshiner. "An' yo're goin' ter have a fair an' squar' deal."
"We will have to submit," said Frank, quietly.
"You will have ter let ther boys bind yer hands afore ye leave this room," said Muriel.
The men each held the end of a stout rope, and the boys were forced to submit to the inconvenience of having their hands bound behind them. Barney protested, but Frank kept silent, knowing it was useless to say anything.
When their hands were tied, Muriel said:
"Follow."
He led the way, while Frank came next, with Barney shuffling sulkily along at his heels. The two men came last.
They passed through a dark room and entered another room, which was lighted by three oil lamps. The room was well filled with the black-hooded moonshiners, whowere standing in a grim and silent circle, with their backs against the walls.
Into the center of this circle, the boys were marched.The door closed, and Muriel addressed the Black Caps.
"It is not often that we-uns gives our captives ther choice uv ther cards or ther vote, but we have agreed ter do so in this case, with only one objectin', an' he war induced ter change his mind. Now we mean ter have this fair an' squar', an' I call on ev'ry man present ter watch out an' see that it is. Ther men has been serlected, one ter hold ther cards an' one ter draw. Let them step forrud."
Two of the Black Caps stepped out, and Frank started a bit, for he believed one of them was Wade Miller.
A pack of cards was produced, and Muriel shuffled them with a skill that told of experience, after which he handed them to one of the men.
Miller was to draw!
Frank watched every move, determined to detect the fraud if possible, should there be any fraud.
An awed hush seemed to settle over the room.
The men who wore the black hoods leaned forward a little, every one of them watching to see what card should be drawn from the pack.
Barney Mulloy caught his breath with a gasping sound, and then was silent, standing stiff and straight.
Muriel was as alert as a panther, and his eyes gleamed through the holes in his mask like twin stars.
The man who received the pack from Muriel stepped forward, and Miller reached out his hand to draw.
Then Frank suddenly cried:
"Wait! That we may be satisfied we are having a fair show in this matter, why not permit one of us to shuffle those cards?"
Quick as a flash of light, Muriel's hand fell on the wrist of the man who held the cards, and his clear voice rang out:
"Stop! Unbind his hands. He shall shuffle."
Frank's hands were unbound, and he was given the cards. He shuffled them, but he did not handle them with more skill than had Muriel. He "shook them up"thoroughly, and then passed them back to the man who was to hold them.
"Bind him!"
Muriel's order was swiftly obeyed, and Frank was again helpless.
"Draw!"
The cards were extended. Wade Miller reached out, and quickly made the draw, holding the fateful card up for all to see.
It was the ace of spades!
"Death!"
From beneath the black hoods sounded the terrible word, as the man beheld the black card which was exposed to view.
The boys were doomed!
Frank's heart dropped like a stone into the depths of his bosom, but no sound came from his lips.
Barney Mulloy showed an equal amount of nerve. Indeed, the Irish lad laughed recklessly as he cried:
"It's nivver a show we had at all, at all, Frankie. Th' snakes had it fixed fer us all th' toime."
"Hold on thar!"
The words came from Muriel, and the boy chief of the moonshiners made a spring and a grab, snatching the card from Miller's hand.
"Look hyar!" he cried. "This won't do! Let's give ther critters a fair show."
"Do you mean ter say they didn't have a fair show?" demanded Wade Miller, fiercely. "Do you say that I cheated?"
"Not knowin' it," answered Muriel. "But ther draw warn't fair, jes' ther same."
"Warn't fair!" snarled Miller, furiously. "Why not?"
"Because two cards war drawed!" rang out the voice of the masked youth. "Look—hyar they be! One is ther ace o' spades, an' ther other is ther nine o' hearts."
Exclamations of astonishment came from all sides, and a ray of hope shot into Frank Merriwell's heart.
"Did I draw two cards?" muttered Miller, as if surprised. "Wal, what o' that? Ther black card war ther one exposed, an' that settles what'll be done with ther spies."
"It don't settle it!" declared Muriel, promptly. "Them boys is goin' ter have a squar' show."
It was with the greatest difficulty that Miller held himself in check. His hands were clinched, and Frank fancied that he longed to spring upon Muriel.
The boy chief was very cool as he took the pack of cards from the hand of the man who had held them.
"Release one of the prisoners," was his command. "The cards shall be shuffled again."
Once more Frank's hands were freed, and again the cards were given him to shuffle. He mixed them deftly, without saying a word, and gave them back to Muriel. Then his hands were tied, and he awaited the second drawing.
"Be careful an' not get two cards this time," warned Muriel as he faced Miller. "This draw settles ther business fer them-uns."
The cards were given to the man who was to hold them, and Miller stepped forward to draw.
Again the suspense became great, again the men leaned forward to see the card that should be pulled from the pack; again the hearts of the captives stood still.
Miller hesitated. He seemed to feel that the tide had turned against him. For a moment he was tempted to refuse to draw, and then, with a muttered exclamation, he pulled a card from the pack and held it up to view. Then, with a bitter cry of baffled rage, he flung it madly to the floor.
It was the queen of hearts!
Each man in the room seemed to draw a deep breath. It was plain that some were disappointed, and some were well satisfied.
"That settles it!" said Muriel, calmly. "They-uns won't be put out o' ther way ter-night."
"Settles it!" snarled Miller, furious with disappointment. "It war settled afore! I claim that ther first draw counts."
"An' I claim that it don't," returned the youthful moonshiner, without lifting his voice in the least. "You-uns all agreed ter ther second draw, an' that lets them off."
"Oh, you have worked it slick!" grated the disappointed Black Cap. "But them critters ain't out o' ther maountings yit!"
"By that yer mean—jes' what?"
"They're not liable ter git out alive."
"Ef they-uns is killed, I'll know whar ter look fer ther one as war at ther bottom o' ther job—an' I'll look!"
Muriel did not bluster, and he did not speak above an ordinary tone, but it was plain that he meant every word.
"Wal," muttered Miller, "what do ye mean ter do with them critters—turn 'em out, an' let 'em bring ther officers down on us?"
"No. I'm goin' ter keep 'em till they kin be escorted out o' ther maountings. Thar ain't time ter-night, fer it's gittin' toward mornin'. Ter-morrer night it can be done."
Miller said no more. He seemed to know it was useless to make further talk, but Frank and Barney knew that they were not yet out of danger.
The boys seemed as cool as any one in the room, for all of the deadly peril they had passed through, and Muriel nodded in a satisfied way when he had looked them over.
"Come," he said, in a low tone, "you-uns will have ter go back ter ther room whar ye war a bit ago."
They were willing to go back, and it was with no small amount of relief that they allowed themselves to be escorted to the apartment.
Muriel dismissed the two guards, and then he set the hands of the boys free.
"Thar ye are," he said. "Yo're all right fer now."
"Thanks to you," bowed Frank. "I want to make an apology."
"Fer what?"
"Suspecting you of double-dealing."
"You-uns did suspect me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"It looked that way once. It seemed that you had saved us from being hanged, but that you intended to finish us here."
"Ef that war my scheme, why did I take ther trouble ter save ye at all?"
"It looked as if you did so to please Miss Kenyon. You had saved us, and then, if the men disposed of us in the regular manner, you would not be to blame."
Muriel shook back his long, black hair, and his manner showed that he was angry. He did not feel at all pleased to know his sincerity had been doubted.
"Wal," he said, slowly, "ef it hadn't been fer me you-uns would be gone coons now."
"Begobs! we know thot!" exclaimed Barney.
"You-uns know I saved ye, but ye don't know how I done it."
There was something of bitterness and reproach in the voice of the youthful moonshiner. He continued:
"I done that fer you I never done before fer no man. I wouldn't a done it fer myself!"
Frank wondered what the strange youth could mean.
"Do you-uns want ter know what I done?" asked Muriel.
"Yes."
"I cheated."
"Cheated?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"When I snatched ther first card drawn from ther hand o' ther man what drawed it. It war ther ace o' spades, an' it condemned yer ter die."
"But there were two cards drawn."
"No! Thar war one card drawed, an' that war all!"
"But—but you showed two!"
Muriel nodded.
"That war whar I cheated," he said, simply. "I had ther red card in my hand ready ter do ther trick ef a black card war drawed. In that way I knowed I could give yer two shows ter escape death."
The boys were astounded by this revelation, but they did not doubt that Muriel spoke the truth. His manner showed that he was not telling a falsehood.
And this strange boy—this remarkable leader of moonshiners—had done such a thing to save them!
More than ever, they marveled at the fellow.
Once more Muriel's arms were folded over his breast, and he was leaning gracefully against the door, his eyes watching their faces.
For several moments both boys were stricken dumb with wonder and surprise. Frank was not a little confused, thinking as he did how he had misunderstood this mysterious youth. Even now Frank could not understand him. It seemed most unaccountable that he should do such a thing for two lads who were utter strangers to him.
A sound like a bitter laugh came from behind the sable mask, and Muriel flung out one hand, with an impatient gesture.
"I know what you-uns is thinkin' of," declared the young moonshiner. "Ye wonder why I done so. Wal, I don't jes' know myself, but I promised Kate ter do my best fer ye."
"You have kept your promise!" cried Frank, "kept it nobly! Muriel, you may be a moonshiner, you may be the leader of the Black Caps, but I am proud to know you! I believe you are white all the way through!"
"Thar!" exclaimed the youth, with a show of satisfaction, "that makes me feel better. But it war Kate as done it, an' she's ther one ter thank; but it ain't likely you-uns'll ever see her ag'in."
"Then, tell her," said Frank, swiftly, "tell her for us that we are very thankful—tell her we shall not forget her. I'll never forget her."
Muriel moved uneasily. He seemed about to speak, and then checked himself.
"You will tell her?" said Frank, appealingly.
"I'll tell her," nodded Muriel, his voice sounding a bit strange. "Is that all you-uns want me ter tell her?"
"Tell her I would give much to see her again," came swiftly from Frank's lips. "She's promised to be my friend, and right well has she kept that promise."
"That's all?" questioned the boy moonshiner.
"That is all."
"Then I'll have ter leave you-uns now. Take it as easy as yer kin. Breakfast will be brought ter ye, and when another night comes, a guard will go with yer out o' ther maountings. Good-by."
He was going.
"Wait!" cried Frank. "Will you shake hands before you go?"
He held out a hand, and Muriel seemed to hesitate. After a few moments, the masked lad shook his head, and, without another word, left the room.
"Begorra!" cried Barney, scratching his head, "thot felly is worse than Oi thought! Oi don't know so much about him now as Oi did bafore Oi met him at all, at all!"
The boys were given much food for conversation. They made themselves as comfortable as possible, and talked over the thrilling events of the night.
"If Kate Kenyon had not told me that her brother was serving time as a convict, I should think this Muriel must be her brother," said Frank.
"Av he's not her brither, it's badly shtuck on her he must be, Oi dunno," observed Barney. "An' av he be shtuck on her, pwhoy don't he git onter th' collar av thot Miller?"
That was a question Frank could not answer. Finally, when they had tired of talking, the boys lay down and tried to sleep.
Frank was beginning to doze when his ears seemed to detect a slight rustling in that very room, and his eyes flew open in a twinkling. He started up, a cry of wonder surging to his lips, and being smothered there.
Kate Kenyon stood within ten feet of him!
As Frank started up, the girl swiftly placed a finger on her lips, warning him to be silent.
Frank sprang to his feet, and Barney Mulloy sat up, rubbing his eyes and beginning to speak.
"Pwhat's th' matter now, me b'y? Are yez—— Howly shmoke!"
Barney clasped both hands over his mouth, having caught the warning gestures from Frank and the girl. Still the exclamation had escaped his lips, although it was not uttered loudly.
Swiftly Kate Kenyon flitted across the room, listening with her ear to the door to hear any sound beyond. After some moments, she seemed satisfied that the moonshiners had not been aroused by anything that had happened within that room, and she came back, standing close to Frank, and whispering:
"Ef you-uns will trust me, I judge I kin git yer out o' this scrape."
"Trust you!" exclaimed Frank, softly, as he caught her hand. "We have you to thank for our lives! Kate—your pardon!—Miss Kenyon, how can we ever repay you?"
"Don't stop ter talk 'bout that now," she said, withchilling roughness. "Ef you-uns want ter live, an' yer want ter git erway frum Wade Miller, git reddy ter foller me."
"We are ready."
"Begorra! we're waitin'!"
"But how are we to leave this room? How did you enter?"
She silently pointed to a dark opening in the corner, and they saw that a small trapdoor was standing open.
"We kin git out that way," she said.
The boys wondered why they had not discovered the door when they examined the place, but there was no time for investigation.
Kate Kenyon flitted lightly toward the opening. Pausing beside it, she pointed downward, saying:
"Go ahead; I'll foller and close ther door."
The boys did not hesitate, for they placed perfect confidence in the girl now. Barney dropped down in advance, and his feet found some rude stone steps. In a moment he had disappeared, and then Frank followed.
As lightly as a fairy, Kate Kenyon dropped through the opening, closing the door behind her.
The boys found themselves in absolute darkness, in some sort of a narrow, underground place, and there they paused, awaiting their guide.
She came in a moment. Her hand touched Frank as she slipped past, and he caught the perfume of wild flowers. To him she was like a beautiful wild flower growing in a wilderness of weeds. The touch of their hands was electric.
"Come."
The boys heard the word, and they moved slowly forward through the darkness, now and then feeling dank walls on either hand.
For a considerable distance they went on in this way, and then the passage seemed to widen out, and they felt that they had entered a cave.
"Keep close ter me," directed the girl.
"Here, give me your hands. Now you-uns can't git astray."
At last a strange smell came to their nostrils, seemingly on the wings of a light breath of air.
"What is that?" asked Frank.
"Ther mill whar ther moonshine is made."
"Oh!"
Now the boys recognized the smell.
Still she led them on through the darkness. Never for a moment did she hesitate; she seemed to have the eyes of an owl.
All at once they heard the sound of gently running water.
"Is there a stream near?" asked Frank.
"Lost Creek runs through har," answered the girl.
"Lost Creek? Why, we are still underground."
"An' Lost Creek runs underground. Have ye fergot that?"
So the mysterious stream flowed through this cavern, and the cave was near one of the illicit distilleries.
Frank cared to know no more, for he did not believe it was healthy to know too much about the makers of moonshine.
It was not long before they approached the mouth of the cave. They saw the opening before them, and then, of a sudden, a dark figure arose there—the figure of a man with a gun in his hands!