Frank Merriwell's Triumph; Or, The Disappearance of Felicia

by Burt L. Standish

  CHAPTER II.

  DAYS OF RETRIBUTION.

  When Merry had dismissed the men, he turned back into the cabin and satdown near the table.

  "Well, that's the end of that business, Bart," he said.

  "Yes," nodded Hodge, sitting opposite. "I congratulate you on the wayyou handled those men, Merry. No one else could have done it as well. Ifever I saw a collection of land pirates, it was that bunch."

  Frank smiled.

  "They were a pretty tough set," he confessed; "but they were just themen I needed to match the ruffians Sukes set against me."

  Milton Sukes was the chief conspirator against Frank in the schemes todeprive him of the Queen Mystery Mine.

  "Sukes will hire no more ruffians," said Hodge.

  "I should say not. He has perpetrated his last piece of villainy. He hasgone before the judgment bar on high."

  "And the last poor wretch he deluded is an imbecile."

  "Poor Worthington!" said Merry. "I fear he will never be right again. Itwas his bullet that destroyed Sukes, yet no man can prove it. What hesuffered after that during his flight into the desert, where he nearlyperished for water, completely turned his brain."

  "You want to look out for him, Frank. I think he is dangerous."

  Merry laughed.

  "Ridiculous, Hodge! He is as harmless as a child. When I let him, hefollows me about like a dog."

  Even as Frank said this, a crouching figure came creeping to the doorand peered in. It was a man with unshaven, haggard face and eyes fromwhich the light of reason had fled.

  "There he is!" exclaimed this man. "There is my ghost! Do you want me,ghost?"

  "Come in, Worthington!" called Frank.

  The man entered hesitatingly and stood near the table, never taking hiseyes from Merry's face for a moment.

  "What you command, ghost, I must obey," he said. "You own me, body andsoul. Ha! ha! body and soul! But I have no soul! I bartered it with awretch who deceived me! I was an honest man before that! Perhaps youdon't believe me, but I swear I was. You must believe me! It's aterrible thing to be owned by a ghost who has no confidence in you. Butwhy should my ghost have confidence! Didn't I deceive him? Didn't I killhim? I see it now. I see the fire! It is burning--it is burning there!He has found me as I am setting it. He springs upon me! He is strong--sostrong! Ha! his feet slip! Down he goes! His head strikes! He isunconscious!"

  The wretch seemed living over the terrible experiences through which hehad passed on a certain night in Denver, when he set fire to Merriwell'soffice and tried to burn Frank to death. He thought he had accomplishedhis purpose, and the appearance of his intended victim alive had turnedhis brain.

  As he listened Hodge shivered a little.

  "Never mind, Worthington," said Frank. "He is all right. He will escapefrom the fire."

  "No, no, no!" gasped the man, wringing his hands. "See him lying there!See the fire flashing on his face! See the smoke! It is coming thick. Imust go! I must leave him. It is a fearful thing to do! But if heescapes he will destroy me. He will send me to prison, and I must leavehim to die!"

  He covered his eyes with his hands, as if to shut out a terriblespectacle.

  "No one sees me!" he whispered. "Here are the stairs! It is alldark--all dark! I must get out quick, before the fire is discovered. Ihave done it! I am on the street! I mustn't run! If I run they willsuspect me. I will walk fast--walk fast!"

  Merry glanced at Hodge and sadly shook his head.

  "Now the engines are coming!" exclaimed the deranged man. "Hear them asthey clang and roar along the streets! See the people run! See thehorses galloping! They are coming to try to put out the fire. What ifthey do it in time to save him! Then he will tell them of my treachery!Then he will send me to prison! I must see--I must know! I must go backthere!"

  "He shall not send you to prison, Worthington," asserted Merrysoothingly. "He shall be merciful to you."

  "Why should he? Here is the burning building. Here are the engines,panting and throbbing. See! they pour streams of water on the building.No use! It is too late; you cannot save him. He is dead long beforethis. Who shall say I was to blame? What if they do find his charredbody? No man can prove I had a hand in it. I defy you to prove it!"

  Shaking his trembling hands in the air, the wretch almost shrieked thesewords.

  "This," muttered Bart Hodge, "is retribution."

  "I must go away," whispered Worthington. "I must hide where they can'tsee me. Look how every one stares at me! They seem to know I have doneit! These infernal lights betray me! I must hide in the darkness. Someone is following me everywhere. I am afraid of the darkness! I willalways be afraid of the darkness! In the darkness or in the light, thereis no rest for me--no rest! Did you hear that voice? Do you hear? Itaccuses me of murder! I am haunted! My God! Haunted, haunted!"

  With this heartbroken cry he sank on his knees and crept toward Frank.

  "You're the ghost that haunts me!" he exclaimed. "It is my punishment! Imust always be near you, and you must haunt me forever!"

  Merry touched him gently.

  "Get up, Worthington," he said regretfully. "Your punishment has beentoo much. Look at me. Look me straight in the eyes, Worthington. I amnot dead. You didn't kill me."

  "No use to tell me that; I know better."

  "It is hopeless now, Hodge," said Merry, in a low tone. "The only chancefor him is that time will restore his reason. You may go, Worthington."

  "I must stay near by, mustn't I?"

  "You may stay outside."

  With bowed head and unsteady steps the man left the cabin anddisappeared.

  Little Abe had remained speechless and frightened in a corner. Now hepicked up his fiddle, and suddenly from it came a weird melody. It was acrazy tune, filled with wild fancies and ghostly phantoms.

  "He is playing the music of that deranged soul," murmured Frank.

  The sound of the fiddle died in a wail, and the boy sat shivering andsilent in the corner.

  "This is a little too much of a ghostly thing!" exclaimed Merry as hearose and shook himself. "Let's talk of something else, Hodge. To-morrowwe start for the Mazatzals, and I have everything ready. If we canlocate that mine, one-half of it is yours."

  He took from his pocket a leather case and removed from it a torn andsoiled map, which he spread on the table. Together he and Bart examinedthe map once more, as they had done many times before.

  "There," said Frank, "is Clear Creek, running down into the Rio Verde.Somewhere to the northwest of Hawley Peak, as this fellow indicated hereon the map, in the valley shown by this cross, is Benson Clark's claim."

  "The location is vaguely marked," said Bart. "We may search for it ayear without discovering it."

  "That's true; but we know approximately somewhere near where it is."

  "Well," said Hodge, "we will do our best. That's all any one can do. Itis your fortune, Frank, to be lucky; and for that reason we may besuccessful."

  "Something tells me we shall be," nodded Merriwell.

  The start was made next day, and the journey continued until oneafternoon Merry and Bart Hodge stood looking down into a deep, oblongvalley in the heart of the Northern Mazatzals. With them was Cap'nWalter Wiley, a former seafaring man, who had been Frank's friend inmany thrilling adventures in the West. Little Abe had come with themfrom Mystery Valley, as had Worthington, but they were at the camp Merryhad established some distance behind.

  "I believe this valley is the one," Merry declared; "but how are wegoing to get into it? That's the question that bothers me."

  "There must be an inlet or outlet or something to the old valley," saidHodge. "It cannot be just a sink hole dropped down here like a huge ovalbasin in the mountains. There is a stream running through it, too. It iswooded and watered, and there is plenty of grass for grazing."

  "I am almost positive this valley is the one Benson Clark told me of. Iam almost positive it is the one marked on my map. Clark was shot anddying when I found him. He didn't have time
to tell me how to get intothe valley."

  "We seem to have struck something that impedes navigation andinvestigation and causes agitation," put in Cap'n Wiley. "I would trulylove to have the wings of a dove that I could fly from these heightsabove. Poetry just bubbles from me occasionally. I must set my colossalintellect at work on this perplexing problem and demonstrate myastounding ability to solve entangling enigmas. (Webster's Dictionarydoes contain the loveliest words!) Let me think a thought. Let allnature stand hushed and silent while I thunk a think."

  His companions paid little heed to him; but he continued to discuss theproblem of descending into the valley.

  "I have visited the northern end and the southern end," said Frank, "andI have explored this side and surveyed the other side through my fieldglasses. There seems no break in these perpendicular walls. This valleyseems like one of those Southwestern mesas inverted. They rise sheerfrom the plains, and it is impossible to reach the top of many of them.This drops straight down here, and it seems impossible to reach itsbottom."

  "The more difficult it is," said Bart, "the greater becomes my desire toget down there."

  "Same here," smiled Frank. "The difficulty makes it something of amystery. Scientific expeditions have spent thousands of dollars inreaching the top of the Mesa Encantada, in New Mexico. By Americans itis called the Enchanted Mesa. Now, the mere fact that we can't seem toget down into this valley throws an atmosphere of mystery over it, andto me it is an enchanted valley."

  "Hush!" whispered Wiley, with one finger pressed against his forehead."A mighty thought is throbbing and seething in my cohesive brain. If Ionly had my gravity destroyer here! Ha! Then I could simply jump downinto the valley and look around, and, when I got ready, jump back uphere. By the way, mates, did you ever know why it was that Santos-Dumontretired from this country in confusion and dismay? You know he came overhere with his old flying machine, and was going to do stunts to amazethe gaping multitudes. You know he suddenly packed his Kenebecca andtook passage to foreign shores. The secret of his sudden departure hasnever been told. If you will promise to whisper no word of it to theworld, I will reveal the truth to you.

  "Just before Santy arrived in the United States I succeeded inperfecting my great gravity destroyer. As I have on other occasionsexplained to you, it was about the size of an ordinary watch, and Icarried it about in my pocket. By pressing a certain spring Iimmediately destroyed the force of gravity so that, by giving an easy,gentle sort of a jump into the air, I could sail right up to the top ofa church steeple. When I got ready to come down, I just let go andsailed down lightly as a feather. When I heard that Santy was going toamaze this country with his dinky old flying machine, I resolved to havea little harmless amusement with him.

  "With this object in view, I had a flying machine of my own invented. Itwas made of canvas stretched over a light wooden frame, and along thebottom, to keep it upright, I had a keel of lead. My means of expulsionwas a huge paddle wheel that I could work with my feet. That was theonly thing about the machine that I didn't like. There was some workconnected with it. To the rear end of the arrangement I attached a hugefanlike rudder that I could operate with ropes running to the crosspieces, like on ordinary rowboats.

  "Mates, there never was a truer word spoken from the chest than that theprophet is not without honor save in his own country. I had this flyingmachine of mine constructed in Cap'n Bean's shipyard, down in Camden,Maine, my home. The villagers turned out in swarms, and stood around,and nudged each other in the ribs, and stared at my contrivance, andtried to josh me. Even Billy Murphy gave me a loud and gleeful ha-ha!They seemed to think I had gone daffy, but I kept right on about mybusiness, and one day the _Snowbird_, as I called her, was finished. Shewas a beauty, mates, as she lay there, looking so light and airy andfragile.

  "By that time I had become decidedly hot under the collar on account ofso much chaffing from the rustic populace. Says I to myself, says I:'Cap'n, these Rubes don't deserve to see you fly. If you let them seeyou fly you will be giving every mother's son of them two dollars' worthof entertainment free of charge.' Now, it isn't my custom to giveanything free of charge. Therefore I advertised in the _Herald_ that ona certain day I would sail the aerial atmosphere. I stated that beforedoing so I would pass around the hat, and I expected every personpresent to drop two dollars into it. I thought this was a clever idea ofmine.

  "On the day and date the people came from near and far. They journeyedeven from Hogansville, South Hope, and Stickney's Corner. When I sawthem massed in one great multitude in and around that shipyard and onthe steamboat wharf, I made merry cachinnation.

  "But alas! when I passed through that crowd with my hat and counted upthe collection, I found I had a lead nickel, a trousers button, and apeppermint lozenger. That was all those measly, close-fisted peopledonated for the pleasure of seeing me navigate the ambient air. AlthoughI am not inclined to be over-sensitive, I felt hurt, and pained, anddisappointed. I then made a little speech to them, and informed themthat over in Searsmont there was a man so mean that he used a wart onthe back of his neck for a collar button to save the expense of buyingone, but I considered him the soul of generosity beside them. I furtherinformed them that I had postponed sailing. I minded it not that theyguffawed and heaped derision upon me. I was resolute and unbending, andthey were forced to leave without seeing me hoist anchor that day.

  "In the soft and stilly hours of the night which followed I seatedmyself in the _Snowbird_, applied my feet to the mechanism, pressed thespring of the gravity destroyer, and away I scooted over Penobscot Bay.When the sun rose the following morning it found Cap'n Bean's shipyardempty and little Walter and his flying machine gone.

  "I was on hand when Santos-Dumont arrived in New York. I sought aninterview with him, and I told him I proposed making him look like aplugged quarter when he gave his exhibition. I challenged him to sailagainst me and told him I would show him up. Santy didn't seem to likethis, and he made remarks which would not look well in the _SabbathSchool Herald_. Indeed, he became violent, and, though I tried to soothehim, I discovered myself, when the interview ended, sitting on thesidewalk outside of the building and feeling of my person for bumps andsore spots.

  "You can imagine with what dignity I arose to my feet and strodehaughtily away. More than ever was I determined to make old Santy looklike an amateur in the flying business. However, he took particularpains while in New York to scoot around in his machine when he knew Iwas not informed that such was his intention. With a great deal of craftand skill he avoided coming in competition with me. One day some part ofhis jigger got out of gear and he had it removed into the country to fixit. I located him and followed him up. I have forgotten the name of thevillage where I found him; but the people were getting much excited, forhe had stated that at a certain time he would show them what he coulddo.

  "He had gathered scientific men from Oshkosh, Skowhegan, Chicago, andother centres of culture and refinement. Among them was ProfessorDeusenberry, of the Squedunk Elementary College of Fine Fatheads. Isucceeded in getting at Professor Deusenberry's ear. He had a generousear, and there was not much trouble in getting at it. I told him allabout my _Snowbird_, and informed him that I had her concealed near athand and proposed to show up Santos when he broke loose and sailed. Itook him around to see my craft; but when he looked her over he shookhis head and announced that she'd never rise clear of the skids on whichI had her elevated above the ground.

  "Well, mates, the great day came around, and promptly at the hour setSantos rose like a bird in the air. I was watching for him, and when Isaw him gliding about over the village I promptly started the _Snowbird_going. The moment I shut off the power of gravitation I scooted upwardlike a wild swan. I made straight for Dumont's old machine, and therebefore the wildly cheering people, whose shouts rose faint and sweet tomy ear, I proceeded to do a few stunts. I circled around Santos when hewas at his best speed. I sailed over him and under him, and I certaingave him an attack of nervous prostration. In his
excitement he didsomething wrong and knocked his machine out of kilter, so that hesuddenly took a collapse and fell into the top of a tree, where his oldcraft was badly damaged. I gently lowered myself to the ground, and as Istepped out of the _Snowbird_ Professor Deusenberry clasped me to histhrobbing bosom and wept on my breast.

  "'Professor Wiley!' he cried, 'beyond question you have solved theproblem of aerial navigation. Professor Wiley----' 'Excuse me, ProfessorDeusenberry' said I, 'but I am simply plain Cap'n Wiley, a salty old tarof modesty and few pretensions. I have no rightful claim to the title ofprofessor.'

  "'But you shall have--you shall have!' he earnestly declared. 'I willsee that you're made professor of atmospheric nullity at the SquedunkElementary College of Fine Fatheads. Your name shall go ringing downthrough the corridor of the ages. Your name shall stand side by side inhistory with those of Columbus, Pizarro, and Richard Croker.'

  "That night I was wined, and dined, and toasted in that town, whileSantos-Dumont stood outside and shivered in the cold. The scientific menand professors and men of boodle gazed on me in awe and wonderment andbowed down before me. Professor Deusenberry was seized with adetermination to own the _Snowbird_. He was fearful lest some one elseshould obtain her, and so he hastened to get me to set a price upon her.I was modest. I told him that I was modest. I told him that in the causeof science I was ready to part with her for the paltry sum of fivethousand dollars. In less than ten minutes he had gathered some of themoneyed fatheads of his college and bought my flying machine.

  "I suggested to them that the proper way to start her was to get heronto some eminence and have some one push her off. The following morningthey raised her to the flat roof of a building, and, with no smallamount of agitation, I saw that Professor Deusenberry himselfcontemplated making a trip in her. When they pushed her off he startedthe paddle wheels going, but without the effect of my little gravitydestroyer to keep her from falling. She dropped straight down to theground. When they picked the professor up, several of his lateral ribs,together with his dispendarium, were fractured. I thought his confidencein me was also broken. At any rate, I hastened to shake the dust of thattown from my feet and make for the tall timber.

  "Nevertheless, mates, my little experience with Santos-Dumont sodisgusted and discouraged him that he immediately left this country,which explains something that has been puzzling the people for a longtime. They wondered why he didn't remain and do the stunts he hadpromised to do. Even now I fancy that Santy often dreams in terror ofCap'n Wiley and his _Snowbird_."