Frank Merriwell's Bravery

by Standish, Burt L

  "It does seem that way," admitted Frank.

  Our hero remembered seeing in a niche the night before a collection of sticks that he fancied were for torches, and so, lighting a match, he sought them. He had made no mistake, for one of them lighted readily.

  "Our weapons are all right," he said, having made an examination. "It is probable that Old Solitary will soon return."

  They waited an hour, but the strange man did not appear. Both grew restless, and finally started out to explore the cave.

  With the aid of the torch, they picked their way along one of the passages. They were surprised at the distance traveled, and wondered when and where they would come out.

  Finally, a gleam of light was seen ahead, and, as they came nearer, the torch was extinguished.

  Climbing up a steep slope, they lay on their stomachs and peered out into the depths of a circular pocket that was inclosed by mountains on three sides.

  An exclamation broke from the lips of both.

  "A camp!" cried Frank.

  "It's a town, me b'y!" Barney almost shouted. "We're all roight, afther all!"

  "Easy!" cautioned Merriwell, quickly. "Keep your voice down. It is a town, but it is not the kind of a town we care to enter."

  "Pwhat's th' matther wid it?"

  "It is the town of the Danites. This is their retreat, where they have hidden themselves from the rest of the world."

  Barney was soon convinced that Frank was right, and the boys drew back a bit, taking care not to be seen by anybody below them.

  There was a collection of eight buildings upon which the morning sun was shining, six of which were dwelling houses, and two of which seemed to be stables. Taken all together, they made quite a little village.

  The doors of many of the houses were open, and men were seen lounging about. Occasionally a woman could be seen, and there were a few children at play.

  "Here live the last of the terrible organization that has shed the blood of hundreds of Gentiles," said Frank. "These men were known to be leaders, and the fate of John D. Lee was a warning to them. They saw the church could no longer protect them, and so they fled here. It is possible that some of those old men down there were concerned in the Mountain Meadow Massacre."

  "It's the divvil's own set they are, to be sure."

  "They have never hesitated to shed blood, and our lives will not be worth a pinch of snuff if we fall into their hands."

  "Pwhat are we goin' to do?"

  "That remains to be seen. For the present, we seem to be safe where we are. It is plain this cave extends through a spur of the mountain, and we are looking out on a side far from where we entered. It is also possible that, even now, some of these creatures may be climbing to the other entrance."

  "Howly shmoke!"

  "I said possible, not probable. I am trusting much to Old Solitary."

  The boys lay there a long time, talking and peering down into the village of the Danites. They did not see a lithe, agile figure that was climbing in their direction. At length, having climbed as far as possible, this figure reached a stopping place, still below and at one side.

  "Great shnakes!" gasped Barney, clutching Frank's arm. "Will yez take a look at thot!"

  He pointed toward the figure.

  "Cæsar's ghost! It is Miskel!"

  "Pwhat is she doin' there, me b'y?"

  "She seemed to be looking this way. I wonder if she has seen us here?"

  "Oi dunno."

  "She acts as if she has."

  "Thot she does."

  "She is hidden from the camp below by that mass of bowlders beside her, and she acts as if she were trying to keep out of sight of them down there."

  "Pwhat's thot she has in her hand?"

  "A bow. That is a perfect picture of the nymph Diana."

  "Ay she ounly had some hounds an' a stag at hand."

  "See—she has taken an arrow from a quiver at her back, and she seems to be attaching something to it. By the way she looks up here I should say she is measuring the distance with her eye, to see if she can make the arrow reach."

  It certainly looked that way, and the boys watched her every movement with the keenest interest, still keeping as far concealed as possible.

  Once Miskel lifted the bow and drew it taut, but something did not satisfy her, and she lowered it. After some moments the bow was lifted again, and then the arrow sailed upward through the air.

  "It's coming!"

  Both boys dodged.

  Zip—click! The arrow cut through the air, sailed in at the opening of the cave, struck the face of the rock, and dropped to the ground.

  Frank quickly picked it up.

  "Ha!" he exclaimed. "Look, Barney—a bit of paper is attached here! There is writing on it! Ten to one it is a message!"

  Eagerly he removed the bit of paper that was tied to the arrow, and he soon read aloud what was written on it.

  "Frank Merriwell: It is known that you are there, but you are safe for the present, although still meshed and unable to escape. My father fears Old Solitary; but there are others who do not, and your refuge will not long continue a safe one. Your friends have arrived, and they are already in the snare, so it is not likely you will ever see either of them alive.

  Miskel."

  The last sentence filled both boys with the utmost wonder and perplexity.

  "What does it mean?" asked Frank.

  "Thot Oi'll nivver tell!" cried Barney.

  "My friends? Whom can she mean? Who is it that is already within the snare?"

  "Ax me something aisy!"

  "And the Danites know where we are hidden!"

  "Thot's pwhat she says, av ye read it roight."

  "It is very comforting to know it! Uric Dugan fears Old Solitary, but there are others who do not."

  "It's the others we nade to be afeared av, me lad."

  "You are right. We must be constantly on our guard. Both of us must not sleep at the same time; we must take turns at sleeping. In that way we should be able to know when they try to come upon us, and we will sell our lives as dearly as possible."

  "Av we've got to doie, Oi'd loike to wipe out the gang av spalpanes down there."

  "Were they other than the murderous wretches they are, I should feel pity for them; but, as it is, there is no pity in my heart. It is a just retribution that they are outcast from their fellow-creatures, are forced to hide like hunted beasts, that they live in terror each day and each night of their lives."

  "But this will nivver tell us who our friends are thot have entered th' snare, Frankie."

  "No; nor do I know how we are to find out."

  "Th' girrul——"

  "Is descending."

  It was true. Having accomplished her purpose in climbing up there, Miskel was descending. She was as sure-footed and agile as a mountain goat, and it was a pleasure to watch her.

  "Frankie, she is a jool! An' do yez soay her fayther is ould Uric Dugan hissilf?"

  "So she told me."

  "It's a shame! Av it weren't fer thot, Oi'd thry me hand at makin' a mash on th' loikes av her."

  Frank was silent; he seemed to be thinking.

  "I have it!" he finally cried, striking his hands together.

  "Kape it," advised Barney. "It's th' ounly thing ye're loikely to get around this place, my laddybuck."

  "By my friends she must have meant Walter Clyde and his companions, Graves and Kerney. They have had time to cruise down the river, and they are here. I'll wager that I am right!"

  "Ye may be. But soay! Look down there. So hilp me, there come some ay th' spalpanes, an' they have a prisoner!"

  Barney was right. Several Danites were entering the pocket, conducting in their midst a captive. He was a small man, with red hair and whiskers.

  "Heavens above!" gasped Frank, thunderstruck. "It's Professor Scotch!"

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXI.

  HUMAN BEASTS.

  It was indeed the little professor, who had, in some unacco
untable manner, fallen captive to the Danites.

  How it had happened the boys could not conceive.

  "Be jabez! thot bates me!" gurgled Barney Mulloy, his eyes bulging. "It's hundreds av moiles from here Oi thought th' professor wur this minute."

  "And I thought the same," said Frank. "How it comes that he is here I cannot understand."

  "It's a moighty bad scrape he is in, me b'y."

  "That is right. Now I know what Miskel meant when she said my friends had arrived and were already in the snare."

  "The profissor makes but wan, an' she said 'friends.'"

  "That is right. She must have meant Clyde and the others. That would make it appear that the professor came with them."

  "Sure."

  "In that case, where are Clyde and the two explorers, Graves and Kerney? Have they been killed already?"

  "It moight seem thot way."

  "It appears likely; but, if such is the case, I cannot understand why Professor Scotch was spared."

  "No more can Oi, Frankie."

  The boys were at their wits' end, and they were in an intensely agitated frame of mind.

  Suddenly Frank clutched Barney's arm, pointing down into the pocket, and crying:

  "Look! look! the professor has broken away! He is running for his life! But he cannot escape! They are hot after him."

  It was true. The little man had made a desperate break for liberty, but it was folly to do so, as the Danites soon overtook him. One of them, a stout man, with a short white beard, held a revolver in his hand. He reversed the weapon, grasping it by the barrel, and struck the professor down with the butt.

  The sight made Frank's blood boil.

  "I will remember that wretch!" grated the boy, his eyes glowing. "If we do not get out of here, I may be able to square a score with him!"

  Barney was scarcely less wrought up.

  "Poor profissor!" he exclaimed. "It's loikely the divvils will finish him now."

  The Danites stood over the man, who had fallen on his face, and lay in a huddled heap. They were talking loudly and making excited gestures. It was plain that they were discussing the advisability of dispatching Professor Scotch without delay, and, judging from his movements, the man with the short white beard was for finishing him without delay. Twice the man pointed his revolver at the prostrate figure, and twice a younger man seemed to urge him to spare the unlucky man's life.

  "If he shoots, I'll try a shot at him from here!" cried Frank. "I may not be able to reach him, but I'll try it."

  A third time the man pointed his revolver at the motionless form of the man who lay huddled on the ground. This time no one of the group interfered; all stood back, and the younger man, who had twice saved Scotch's life, turned away, plainly unwilling to witness the deed.

  "He's going to shoot!" panted Frank, pulling forward his rifle, and bringing it to his shoulder. "I will——"

  "Wait a bit, me b'y. Look there! Th' litthle girrul is thrying to save him."

  "God bless her!"

  Miskel had rushed into the midst of the men, and she was seen pleading with the man who seemed determined to kill the professor. At first, it seemed that she would fail, but she finally prevailed, and the man put up his weapon, with a gesture of angry impatience. Then he seemed to give some orders, and the unconscious captive was lifted and carried toward the camp.

  "He is saved for the time," breathed Frank, with relief; "but it is simply a respite."

  "Thot is betther than nothing, me b'y."

  "Yes, it is better than nothing. Barney, I have a scheme."

  "Spake out, Frankie. Me ears are woide open to-night."

  "If they spare Professor Scotch till to-night, we will go down there and attempt his rescue."

  "Oi'm wid yes, me b'y, to th' ind."

  They watched the men bear the unfortunate professor into the camp, and noted carefully the building into which the man was taken.

  "We must make no mistake to-night, Barney. It is our duty to do our best to save Professor Scotch."

  "An' we'll do our duty av we nivver do anything ilse, begorra!"

  "You are bold lads," said a voice behind them; "but you cannot save him from Uric Dugan."

  They whirled swiftly, and found Old Solitary had come up behind them, without being heard.

  "I found you had awakened," said the strange man; "and I wondered if you had come here."

  "And we wondered where you had gone."

  "I went forth to see what I should see," he said, in a peculiar manner. "Voices far away in empty space were calling to me—calling, calling, calling!"

  The boys shot hasty glances at each other, the same thought flitting through the minds of both.

  They had dealt with one maniac, and now was it possible that they were to encounter another?

  It had been dark when Old Solitary came upon them the night before, and so they were unable to study his face; but now they saw that his eyes were restless and filled with a shifting light, while his general appearance was that of a man deranged.

  Quickly leaning toward Barney, Frank whispered:

  "He must be humored; don't anger him."

  The man, although he could not have heard the words, noted that something was said, and he cried:

  "Why do you whisper together. Would you betray me? Is there no one in the wide world I can trust?"

  "Betray you?" said Frank. "To whom can we betray you? You have us in your power, and you can betray us to the Danites, if you choose. You need not fear that we shall betray you."

  "Then it must be that you are afraid of me. All the world seems to fear me. Why is it so? What have I ever done to make men afraid of me?"

  "Nothing evil, I am sure."

  "And you are right. It cuts me to have men shrink from me; but they do, and I have become an outcast. There is something wrong about me—I feel it here."

  His hand was lifted to his head, and his face wore a look of deep distress. He seemed to realize, in an uncertain way, that he was not quite right in his mind.

  "You have lived so much by yourself that you have grown unsocial," said Frank. "That must be the trouble."

  Old Solitary shook his head.

  "That is not it. Listen, and I will tell you something. Uric Dugan hates and fears me. I do not care for that; it gives me satisfaction. Still I do not know why it gives me satisfaction, for it pains me when others shrink away in fear. Dugan would kill me if he could, and still he seems to regard me as one risen from death. Can you tell me why?"

  He paused, looking at them in an inquiring way.

  "You can't tell," came swiftly from his lips, as Frank was about to speak. "No one can tell. I do not know myself. My memory is broken into a thousand fragments. Some things I remember well; some things I do not remember at all. There was a time when I was young, and I had friends. Who were my friends? What has happened to rob me of my memory? I believe Uric Dugan can tell me. If I had not believed so, Dugan should have died long ago. Scores of times I have held his life in the hollow of my hand. I have longed to slay him—to kill him for some wrong he has done me. My hand has been held by a power I could not see. A voice has whispered in my ear, 'Wait.' I have waited. For what? I do not know."

  He bowed his head on his breast, over which flowed his long white beard, and his attitude was one of intense dejection.

  The boys were silent, wondering at the strange man who had befriended them.

  Some moments passed.

  "By going forth early I saw many things," the man finally declared, speaking quietly. "You are not the only ones who have strayed into the net of the Danites."

  "We have been informed there are others," said Frank.

  "Informed? How?"

  Frank told how Miskel had shot the message into the mouth of the cave.

  "I have seen her hundreds of times," slowly spoke Old Solitary. "She has a good face. It does not seem possible that she is his daughter—the daughter of Uric Dugan. I think the memory of her face has spared his life a
t times. But it will not be ever thus. The time will come when I shall steel my heart."

  "We have just seen the Danites bear a captive into their village, and that captive is my guardian."

  "A small man with reddish hair and beard?"

  "Yes."

  "I saw him captured. He had wandered from others. From a height I saw them all."

  "How many are there?"

  "There were four, but two of them are Danites."

  "What's that?"

  "It is true. The man of the sandy beard and the boy came here with two of Uric Dugan's wretched satellites."

  "Howly saints!" gasped Barney.

  "He must mean the explorers, Graves and Kerney," said Frank.

  "They were not explorers; if they said so, they lied. Caleb Kerney is one of the old band of Danites, as bloodthirsty and relentless as the worst of them. Colton Graves is the son of Pascal Graves, once a leader of the Destroying Angels—a man whose hands were dyed with innocent blood. They went forth, with others, to bring provisions from the settlements. All of the others have returned before them."

  "And they led Walter Clyde and Professor Scotch into this snare!" said Frank. "They found out that Walter was coming this way to search for the retreat of the Danites, and they led him here, with the intention of destroying him."

  "Thot's roight, me b'y," nodded Barney.

  "Kerney slipped away, and hastened ahead to tell Uric Dugan who was coming," said Old Solitary, who seemed to know all that had taken place. "Graves remained to guide the victims to their doom."

  "Is it possible such monsters can continue to live and carry on their murderous work?" exclaimed Frank.

  "Some day Ko-pe-tah will find the way in here," laughed Old Solitary.

  "Who is Ko-pe-tah?"

  "A Navajo chief who hates Uric Dugan, and has tried to kill him. Twice within two years has Ko-pe-tah brought his braves into these mountains, searching for some access to this valley. The last time he was here, he found the passage by which you entered. Four of the Danites held the passage against a hundred warriors, and the Navajoes were repulsed. But Ko-pe-tah swore he would come again. If he ever gets in here, woe unto the Danites!"

  "How did it happen that we came through that passage without being stopped?"