CHAPTER I.
IN THE TRAP.
Millions of bright stars shone serenely through the clear Arizona night,shedding their soft white light on the great arid plains and themysterious mesas and mighty mountains.
Throughout the night Frank Merriwell lay ensconced behind somesheltering rocks in a deep ravine, where he had been trapped by theruffians in the employ of the mining trust, who were determined to wrestfrom him the precious papers they believed to be in his possession.
Old Joe Crowfoot, the aged Indian friend of Merriwell, who had beensnared with him, had, shortly after nightfall, taken the preciousoilskin package, containing the papers, and crept forth on his stomach,like a snake, from amid the rocks.
Joe had promised to take the papers to the nearest registry post-office,in case he escaped, and send them, according to directions, to RichardMerriwell, Frank's brother, at Fardale.
Frank had written a letter to Dick, and had securely tied up anddirected the package. He trusted the aged redskin, who declared that hemight find a method of escaping from the trap, yet could not take thewhite youth with him. He had made certain that Joe understood the matterof registering the package, in case he should reach the post-office withit in his possession.
Merriwell had become satisfied that this was the best course to pursue.It was plain that he was in a very bad trap, and he knew those ruffianscould soon starve him out. There was no water or food for himself or hishorse. A day of thirst behind those rocks must surely do for him.
If Joe carried out the plan successfully, the papers would be placedbeyond the reach of the ruffians, even though Frank fell into theirhands. And it was the papers they had been engaged to secure. Were theyto kill him, Dick would have the precious papers and be able to continuethe battle for his rights.
Merry watched old Joe wiggle silently away, wondering that the Indiancould slip along in that manner with so very little effort. The oldredskin lay flat on the ground and took advantage of every little coverhe could find, and soon he vanished amid the rocks and passed into theshadows, after which Merry saw him no more.
Down the ravine a great mass of rocks and earth had been blown down by amighty blast and blocked the passage.
Up the ravine armed and murderous men were waiting and watching, readyto shoot down the youth they had trapped.
There were also armed ruffians on the barrier to the southeast. They hadtrailed Merry with the persistence of bloodhounds.
A full hour passed. The men above were making merry in a boisterous way.One of them began to sing. He had a musical voice, which rang outclearly on the soft night air. Strangely enough he sang "Nearer My Godto Thee."
Could they be watching closely? It did not seem so.
Frank rigged his coat on the barrel of his rifle. On the muzzle of theweapon he placed his hat. Then, he lifted coat and hat above the rocks.
Crack! Ping!
The ringing report of a rifle and the singing of a bullet. The hat andcoat dropped. In the coat Merriwell found a bullet-hole. That settledit. There was no longer a doubt but that the desperadoes were watchinglike wolves.
Yet old Joe had been able to slip forth from the protection of thoserocks and creep away.
More than ever Merriwell admired the skill of the Indian. Thinking thatthe old fellow had instructed Dick in the craft which he knew so well,Frank believed such knowledge had not been acquired in vain. Some timeDick might find it very valuable to him.
There was a hoarse burst of laughter from the watching ruffians.
"Oh, Merriwell!" called a voice.
"Well," sang back Frank, "what do you want?"
"Stick that thing up again. We'd like a leetle target practise."
"You'll have to provide your own target," Merry retorted.
"Oh, we reckons not! We'll stand you up fer one sooner or later," wasthe assurance.
Still they had not discovered old Joe. It seemed marvelous.
The night passed on. Another hour was gone when there came a suddencommotion far up the ravine, as if on the further outskirts of theruffians. There were hoarse shouts, angry oaths, the rattle of shots,and then the clatter of iron-shod hoofs.
The ring and echo of those clattering hoofs receded into the night,coming back clear and distinct at first, but growing fainter andfainter.
Frank Merriwell laughed and lay still until the sound of the gallopinghorse had died out in the distance.
"Old Joe is on his way to the post-office," muttered Merry. "He took afancy to acquire one of their horses in order to make better time."
The ruffians were filled with more or less consternation. They continuedto wrangle angrily. At last, one cried:
"Oh, Merriwell!"
Frank lay perfectly still and made no answer.
"Oh, Merriwell!"
Peering forth from amid his rocky barrier, yet crouching where theshadows hid him, Frank cocked his rifle and pushed it forward for use.
There was a time of silence, during which he fancied the men wereconsulting in whispers. Finally his keen eyes saw something move intothe dim white light above some boulders. He laughed a little in asuppressed way and sent a bullet through the moving object.
"Put it up again!" he called cheerfully. "I don't mind a little targetpractise myself."
He knew the thing had been thrust up there to draw his fire and settlethe question if he still remained in the trap. But he had shown thoseruffians that he could shoot as accurately as the best of them.
After this he heard the men talking. He knew they were bewildered bywhat had happened. They could not believe it possible that a human beinghad crept forth from the snare. It seemed to them that the person whohad seized their horse and ridden away had come upon them from the rearand was in no way connected with Merriwell.
After a time they were silent.
They were satisfied that the trap held fast.
Then Frank found a comfortable place where he was perfectly hidden andcoolly went to sleep, with his hand on his cocked rifle.
Merriwell needed sleep, and he did not hesitate to take it. It spokewell for his nerves that he could sleep under such circumstances. It mayseem that it did not speak so well for his judgment. Still he knew thathe would awaken at any sound of an alarming nature, and he believedthose men would rest content, satisfied that they had him caged wherethere was no possibility that he could give them the slip.
After an hour or more, he awoke and demonstrated the fact that he wasstill behind the rocks by exchanging a challenge with the watchingruffians.
Then he slept again.
And so the night passed on.
Frank was wide-awake with the coming of dawn. He saw the stars pale anddie in the sky. He saw the gentle gray of morning and the flush ofsunrise. Far up the ravine rose the smoke of a camp-fire, telling wherethe ruffians were preparing breakfast.
"Oh, Merriwell!"
"Hello, yourself!"
"Are you hungry?"
"No, thank you. I have plenty to eat."
"Are you thirsty?"
"Not in the least. I have my canteen."
"That'll be empty right soon. How would you like some steamin' hotcoffee?"
"It wouldn't go bad. Send some in."
"We'll exchange a pot of coffee for sartin papers you has with yer."
"You're very kind!" laughed Merry derisively.
"It's a right good offer. We're goin' to have them papers anyhow, an'you may not even git coffee fer them."
"You're due for the greatest disappointment of your lives, gentlemen,"declared Frank. "If you're looking this way for papers, you're barkingup the wrong tree."
"Oh, you can't fool us!" was the answer. "We know you've got 'em, andwe'll have 'em."
"Ever gamble?" asked Frank.
"Oh, we sometimes take a chance."
"I'll go you my horse and outfit against that of any one in your partythat you don't get the papers."
"Done! It's a sure thing as far as we're consarned. We has yer foul, an'we'll stay
right yere till we starves ye out."
"Too bad to waste your valuable time so foolishly. But, say!"
"Say it."
"I see no particular reason why my horse here should go hungry andthirsty."
"Not the least. Bring the pore critter right out."
"Beg pardon if I seem a trifle lazy, but it's too much bother. However,I'll send him out, and I'll look to you to see that he's properly caredfor."
Without exposing himself, Frank managed to get the horse out from theniche in the wall where he had been placed, headed the animal through abreak in the rocky barrier and sent him off, with a sharp crack of thehand.
The horse galloped up the ravine, finally saw human beings, stopped,snorted, seemed about to turn back, but finally kept on anddisappeared.
Then Frank settled down to wait, being resolved to give old Joe plentyof time.
The day grew hot in the ravine, where there was little air. The sun beatdown with great fierceness from the unclouded sky. Those mountainsseemed bare and baked. Little wonder that their repelling fastnesses hadpresented little attraction for the prospector. Little wonder it hadoften been reported that they contained no gold.
But Frank Merriwell's "Queen Mystery" Mine lay in that range, and it haddeveloped so richly that the great Consolidated Mining Association ofAmerica was straining every nerve to get possession of it--to wrest itfrom its rightful owner.
So Frank baked in the sun, taking care to keep well hidden, for he knewthose men would gladly end the affair by filling him full of lead, ifthey were given the opportunity.
Once or twice he caught glimpses of them. Several times they challengedhim. He was prompt to answer every challenge, and he did not wish toshoot any of them.
He had fully decided on the course he would pursue; but he wasdetermined to give Joe Crowfoot plenty of time to perform his part ofthe program.
Frank smiled in grim irony over his position. He took itphilosophically, satisfied that that was the best he could do. He didnot worry, for worry would do him no good.
He was given plenty of time to reflect on the course pursued by thesyndicate, and it made him wonder that such high-handed things couldtake place in the United States.
It seemed rather remarkable that the head of the mighty syndicate, D.Roscoe Arlington, was the father of Chester Arlington, Dick Merriwell'sbitterest enemy at Fardale.
Frank had encountered Mr. Arlington. He had found him blunt, grim,obstinate, somewhat coarse, yet apparently not brutal. Being a cleverreader of human nature, which many are not who pride themselves thatthey are, Frank had become satisfied that there were many men in theworld who were far worse than D. Roscoe Arlington, yet were consideredmodels of virtue and justice. Arlington was not a hypocrite. He wasbluntly and openly himself. He had set out as a poor boy to make afortune, and now it seemed possible that he might become the richest manin America. Comfortable riches had first been the object for which hestrived; but when his scheming poured wealth upon him, he set the markhigher. He determined to be one of the very rich men of the UnitedStates. That goal he had now arrived at; but the mark had been liftedagain, and now he was determined to become the richest.
Arlington had not ordered those ruffians to take the papers from Frank.Still he was back of it all. He had turned the matter over into thehands of unscrupulous lieutenants, instructing them to employ any meanswithin their power to obtain possession of the Queen Mystery and SanPablo Mines. Those lieutenants were directing the operations of theruffians.
It is quite probable that Arlington did not wish to know the methodemployed by his lieutenants. All he desired was the result.
Frank had also met Mrs. Arlington, and he had seen in her a haughty,domineering, icy woman, ready to do anything to gain her ends. She wasproud and high-headed, although she had once been a poor girl. Shelooked down in scorn and contempt on all poor people.
But Merry had not forgotten June Arlington, who had a truly high-bredface of great attractiveness, and who was vivacious yet reserved, proudyet considerate, high-spirited yet kind. He had not forgotten the girl,and ever he thought of her with feelings of kindness, for with her ownhands she had restored to him the precious papers when they had beenstolen from him, by agents of the trust, assisted by her mother.
He knew Dick admired June, and he did not wonder at it, for about JuneArlington there was such fascination as few girls possess.
Still Merry could not help wondering if June would one day develop intoa woman like her mother. Such a result did not seem possible.
Midday passed, and the afternoon waned, yet without any diminishing ofthe scorching heat in the ravine.
Frank's water was gone, and he began to feel the torments of thirst.
He had counted the time as it passed. Finally he was satisfied thatCrowfoot had accomplished the task he had set out to perform. The paperswere mailed. Probably they were already on their way to Dick Merriwellat Fardale.
"Well," muttered Frank, "I think I'll go out and look these ruffiansover now."
Frank Merriwell's Backers; Or, The Pride of His Friends Page 3
