Frank Merriwell's Bravery

by Burt L. Standish

  CHAPTER XXXV.

  A PECULIAR GIRL.

  The remainder of the stop in Yellowstone Park proved a delightful time.

  "I wish I could sthay wid ye, Frankie, me b'y," said Barney, one day.

  "Stay with me? What do you mean?" asked Frank.

  "Oi have news from home. Oi must go back to Fardale to rasume mestudies."

  "I'll be sorry to lose you Barney." And Frank spoke the truth, for heloved his Irish chum a good deal.

  Just then Professor Scotch burst in on the pair, telegram in hand.

  "I must return East at once," he cried. "A relative of mine has died andI must settle up his affairs."

  "Two at once!" ejaculated Frank. "Then I'll be left to continue mytravels alone."

  "Not for long, my boy," answered the professor. "I will soon return tosee that you fall into no more danger."

  Two days later found Frank alone, the professor and Barney have takenthe eastbound train the evening before. Frank proceeded to Ogden, Utah,where he spent three days in sight-seeing.

  But he was anxious to go farther West, and one fine day found him apassenger on the Pacific Express, bound for San Francisco.

  Every seat in the parlor cars was taken, as Frank discovered, onendeavoring to obtain one. Then he decided that any kind of a seat woulddo, but nearly every one was occupied.

  As he passed through the train, he noticed a girl of seventeen oreighteen who seemed to be sitting alone. She was reading, and, as Frankcame along, she dropped the book in her lap, looked up, and smiled.

  Frank touched his hat, paused, and asked:

  "Is this seat taken, miss?"

  "No, sir."

  "Would you object----"

  He paused significantly, smiling back at her.

  "Not at all," was her immediate reply, as she drew a bit nearer thewindow, and he sat down.

  The book in the girl's lap was a noted one of detective tales. Frankcaught his breath in astonishment as he noted this.

  "Queer literature for such a girl to be perusing," was his mentalobservation.

  He cast a sly glance at her. She was looking out of the window, but theside of her face was toward him. Frank noted that she had a beautifulprofile, and that there was a most innocent and winsome expression abouther mouth. Her hair was golden and her eyes were blue.

  There was a refinement and delicacy about the girl which impressed Frankfavorably.

  Still, he wondered that a girl like her should be reading a book ofdetective tales. She was the sort of a girl he would have expected tosee perusing love stories of the "Bertha M. Clay" class.

  He longed to get into conversation with her, and yet, for all of thesmile with which she had seemed to greet him, something held him backand told him it was not wise to be too forward.

  At last she resumed reading again. She did not read long. With a faint,scornful laugh, she dropped the book in her lap.

  Frank fancied he saw an opportunity to "break the ice."

  "You do not seem to like those stories," he observed.

  "They are very amusing, and utterly improbable and impossible," shesaid.

  The boy laughed.

  "Then you fancy the author overdrew his hero?" he asked.

  "To be sure he did. There is no detective living who can do suchastonishing things as this one is credited with. No such detective everlived."

  "Possibly not."

  "Surely not. You cannot make me believe that a detective could come inhere, look me over, and then tell everything about me almost to my nameand the hour of my birth. Rubbish!"

  Frank's wonder at the girl was on the increase. She did not talk muchlike the ordinary girl of seventeen.

  "If you dislike the stories so much how does it happen you are readingthem?"

  "Oh, I do not dislike them. I confess that I found them very amusing,but I am beginning to weary of them."

  "I consider it remarkable that you attempted reading them."

  "Why?"

  "Young ladies like you seldom care for this kind of literature."

  "Oh, I see. I presume not. They are too sentimental--soft, some call it.Well, I am not sentimental."

  "Perhaps not."

  She lifted her eyebrows and pursed her lips a bit.

  "You say that as if you do not believe me. Never mind. It makes nodifference whether you believe me or not."

  She did not seem offended, and still she gave him to understand thatwhat he thought was of little consequence to her.

  "Well," laughed Frank, "I have never yet met a girl who did not declareshe was bound to be an old maid, and those are the very ones who getmarried first."

  "And you think, because of that, that I must be sentimental, as I havesaid that I am not, do you?"

  "Oh, well--you see--I--I----"

  She interrupted him with a merry laugh.

  "Do not be afraid to answer. I don't mind. We are strangers, and whyshould I be offended?"

  "It is true we are strangers," said Frank; "and, as we may be seatmatesfor some time to come, I will offer my card."

  He drew out a cardcase and gave her a delicate bit of cardboard, withhis name engraved upon it.

  "Frank Merriwell," she read. "Why, that is a splendid name, and it seemsto fit you so well! I like you all the better for your name."

  "Whew!" thought Frank. "That is point-blank, and still she says she isnot sentimental. She may not be, but she is decidedly complimentary onshort acquaintance."

  Aloud, he said:

  "I am happy there is something about me that you admire, if it is nomore than my name."

  She smiled, looking at him in a big-eyed, innocent way.

  "Why, I didn't say that was all. I have not known you long enough totell. I am no gifted detective, and I cannot read your character at aglance."

  "Well, supposing we say the detective was a freak or a myth, andrelegate him to the background."

  "That goes," she said.

  Then she clapped her hand over her mouth, with a little exclamation ofdismay, quickly exclaiming:

  "That is dreadful! I completely forgot myself! You see, I have been awayto school, and I caught on to some slang there, and I find I can't shakeit, although mamma doesn't like to have me make such breaks."

  She paused, a look of the utmost dismay coming to her face, as if shejust realized what she had been saying.

  It was with the utmost difficulty Frank restrained his laughter. At thesame time he felt his liking and admiration for the strange girl growingswiftly. The little slip into slang seemed to add to her innocence,especially when followed by such utter dismay.

  "I am bound to do it occasionally," she said, after a few moments. "Ican't seem to get out of the habit, although I have tried. I trust youwill pardon me."

  "Certainly."

  "Thank you. I'll keep this card. I have none of my own with me. My nameis Isa Isban."

  Somehow, that name was a shock to Frank. He could not have told why, tosave his life, but there was something unpleasant about it. It did notseem to fit the girl at all.

  However, this feeling soon passed, and they were chatting freely in ashort time. Their conversation drifted from topic to topic, and Frankwas delighted to find his fair companion wondrously well informed onsubjects such as are given little attention by most young girls. Shecould even talk politics rationally, and she rather worsted Frank on atariff discussion.

  "You are beyond my comprehension," he declared, admiringly. "Where youever learned so much is more than I can understand."

  "Do you fancy that young men are the only ones who know things? If youdo, you are sure to find there are others---- Oh, dear! there I goagain."

  Having become so well acquainted, Frank asked if she were bound for SanFrancisco, and, to his disappointment, she informed him that Carson Citywas her destination.

  The conductor came through the train for tickets. Frank had his ready,and the girl began searching for hers, but had not found it when theconductor came along.

  "Oh, dear!" s
he exclaimed, and Frank was about to offer to aid her, ifshe needed a loan, when she opened her purse and took out several bills,every one of them new and crisp, and of large denominations.

  "The smallest I have is fifty dollars," she said. "Papa gave me largebills, as he said they would not be so bulky."

  "I can't change a bill of that size," said the conductor.

  "I can," put in Frank, immediately producing his pocketbook. "I willbreak it for you."

  So he took the new bank-note, and gave her two twenties, a five and fiveones for it, enabling her to pay her fare without difficulty.

  The conductor gave the girl a rebate ticket and passed on.

  "Thank you so much!" she said to Frank. "I believe I may have trouble ingetting those large bills broken. Would you mind giving me small billsfor another fifty?"

  Frank did not mind, and he gave them.

  Thereby hangs a tale.