Frank Merriwell's Bravery

by Standish, Burt L

  "You were alone, two boys. You were seen, and were allowed to enter, for they knew you could not escape. They made sure of you by letting you walk into the trap."

  "But Ko-pe-tah was held out."

  "Because he had a hundred warriors behind him, and he would destroy the Danites if he got inside."

  This was logical enough, and, at that moment Old Solitary scarcely seemed like a person deranged.

  Frank spent some moments in thought, and then asked:

  "Are Clyde and Graves still together?"

  "They are."

  "And Clyde has no knowledge that Graves is other than what he represented himself to be?"

  "It is not likely that he has."

  "He must be warned."

  "It is too late.'

  "Why?"

  "Before you can reach him the Danites will have him in their power."

  "That is not certain," cried Frank, starting up. "Come, we will try to save him. Lead us to him."

  "You shall see that what I say is true," said Old Solitary.

  He motioned for them to follow, and led the way back along the passage, the torch having been relighted.

  Through the main chamber they passed, and came to another passage, which finally brought them out far from the mountain pocket in which was the home of the Danites.

  "Look," directed Old Solitary, touching Frank's arm and pointing across the wide canyon. "Away there you see figures moving amid the rocks. They are human beings with hearts of beasts. They are Danites, and they are creeping like panthers upon their victim, the boy you call Walter Clyde."

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXII.

  PROFESSOR SCUDMORE RETURNS.

  "We must aid him!" cried Frank.

  "Thot's right," agreed Barney.

  "It's too late," declared Old Solitary.

  "Too late—why?"

  "Long before we can get down into the valley the boy will be killed or captured."

  "And must we remain idle and witness the butchery? It is terrible! I feel that I must do something."

  "An' Oi fale th' soame, Frankie, me b'y."

  "Look again," directed the strange man of the mountains. "The boy has discovered his enemies. See—he has leaped behind some rocks! Graves is with him. The man is playing his part still. It must be that the boy has called on his enemies to halt. They are hiding. See there! one of them is preparing to shoot at the boy. Watch! The boy will be killed! No, he has changed his position. The man fired too late."

  Frank and Barney were intensely excited as they watched what was taking place in the canyon. Clyde, after leaping to the shelter of the rocks, had changed his position just in time to save himself from being shot. One of the Danites took careful aim, a puff of smoke shot from the muzzle of his rifle, and, some time later, the report of the weapon reached the ears of the trio at the mouth of the cave.

  But Providence must have watched over Walter Clyde then, for the boy moved a moment before the rifle sent forth its dead messenger, and he escaped the bullet. Whirling swiftly, he brought the butt of his rifle to his shoulder, and fired straight into the midst of the puff of smoke.

  "Hurro!" shouted Barney.

  "He nailed the wretch!" cried Frank, with satisfaction.

  It was true, Clyde's bullet knocked the man over in a twinkling, and he lay writhing amid the rocks.

  "He is a brave boy," muttered Old Solitary. "It is a pity he cannot escape! He is but one of hundreds of brave hearts butchered by the Danites."

  There was a lull far across the canyon.

  "What is coming now?" speculated Frank. "The Danites seem dazed."

  "Look, and you shall see what is coming," said Old Solitary, his fingers again closing on our hero's arm. "You can see Clyde's companion, the treacherous Graves. Watch; ah! I knew it!"

  Graves was seen to rise behind Clyde, uplift some weapon in his hand, and strike the boy prostrate.

  Then, with a yell that faintly reached the ears of the watching three, the Danites scrambled over the rocks.

  "The tragedy is over," said Old Solitary, solemnly. "The deadly work is done. Poor boy!"

  "Poor boy!" echoed Frank.

  "It's dearly th' spalpanes will pay fer this noight!" grated Barney Mulloy. "It's nivver a bit will Oi hesitate about stoppin' wan av th' divvils from b'rathin' av Oi get a chance."

  "I do not think my conscience will trouble me much if I am forced to finish one of them," said Frank, huskily.

  "They are beasts—human beasts!" declared Old Solitary. "It is not a sin to place such where they can do no harm to the rest of the world."

  "Sin!" exclaimed Barney. "It's a deed av charity!"

  The Danites were seen leaning over their victim. In a few moments they lifted Clyde to his feet, and then it was evident that the boy had not been slain outright, but had been stunned long enough for them to make him their captive.

  "It were better if they had killed him quickly," said Old Solitary.

  "I don't know about that," panted Frank. "Where there is life there is hope."

  "All who enter this canyon may leave hope behind."

  "Av they let th' poor lad live till to-night, we'll do our bist fer him," said Barney.

  "That we will," nodded Frank.

  Clyde seemed to have recovered, and now he was marched along in the midst of his captors, who moved straight toward the pocket where the homes of the Danites were located.

  For all of their situation, Frank Merriwell had not given up hope. He was young, and he still believed that all evil things come to an evil end, and all good things eventually triumph. He had not grown cynical and pessimistic.

  Drawing back into the mouth of the cave, the trio watched the Danites march across the canyon with their captive.

  Graves was with the men, and he no longer pretended to be friendly to the boy. At last Clyde knew him for what he actually was.

  At length the entire party passed from view on their way to the pocket.

  Then Old Solitary led the boys back into the cave, where they ate breakfast, such as it was, and attempted to lay plans for the coming night.

  It was a long, dreary, wretched day they spent in the cave. Many times they went to the opening where they could look down into the Danite village. Once they saw Uric Dugan, and once they saw Miskel, his daughter.

  But the day passed on, and, to their intense relief, they saw nothing to indicate that the captives were executed.

  Night came at last.

  The boys were eager to be astir. Their blood was throbbing hotly in their veins, and they felt capable of any deed of daring.

  They looked to their weapons, making sure everything was ready for business, and then they followed Old Solitary from the cave.

  The descent was slow and tedious, fraught with much peril, and long in the accomplishment. To the eager boys, it seemed that they would never get down.

  The task was finally accomplished, and then they moved onward, with Old Solitary in the lead.

  They had not gone far when a gasp of astonishment came from Frank's lips, and he clutched Barney, softly crying:

  "Look up there! What do you make of that?"

  Barney looked upward, as directed, and, high in the air, he saw a bright light that was swiftly settling toward the earth.

  "It's a shooting shtar, begobs!" exclaimed the Irish lad.

  "Not much!" broke from Frank. "That is no star. It looks like a light, with a reflector behind it."

  "Well, who knows but thot's th' woay a shtar looks?"

  "It is not a star," said Old Solitary; "but what it is I cannot say."

  "I know!" cried Frank.

  "What is it, then?"

  "The Eagle."

  "What is the Eagle?"

  "An air ship."

  Old Solitary gave a muttered exclamation of incredulity.

  "Impossible!"

  "It is not impossible," asserted Frank. "It was in the Eagle that we came here from Blake."

  "Thot's roight," agreed Barn
ey.

  Then in a few words Frank told the man of their trip from Blake, how Professor Scudmore had gone mad, and how they had captured the ship from the professor, who afterward escaped and got away with the Eagle in the night.

  The boy's apparent sincerity convinced Old Solitary that he spoke the truth, and by the time Frank had finished, the air ship had settled close to the earth. They could see its outlines through the darkness, and could see a man in the car.

  The Eagle came down gently, and the man stepped out.

  "It was somewhere amid these mountains that I left those poor boys," he murmured. "There is not one chance in ten thousand that I shall ever find them again."

  "You have stumbled on that one chance," said Frank, speaking distinctly, and advancing fearlessly toward the man.

  "Eh!"

  Professor Scudmore seemed on the point of leaping into the air ship and taking to flight, but he suddenly changed his mind.

  "Can't get away quick enough to escape," he said. "Have let off enough gas so the ballast brought her down, and I could not throw out the rest of the ballast and get away. If enemies come, I am lost."

  "We are not enemies," assured Frank. "We are the boys you left not many miles from here."

  "It can't be possible!" cried the lank professor, in the greatest surprise and delight. "Then this is the work of Providence—it must be!"

  His joy was almost boundless.

  "I was mad at the time," he explained; "I must have been. Otherwise, I'd never done such a thing. I came to my sober senses after a time, and then I resolved to come back here, hoping to find you, but not expecting to."

  "Begorra! ye done a great thrick thot toime!" put in Barney Mulloy. "Frankie, me b'y we'll get away in th' 'Agle, an' th' Danite thot catches us will have to have wings."

  "That is right," said Frank. "This will provide a means of escape for us, if the professor will take us along."

  "I am here to take you along," assured Scudmore.

  "But we cannot go till we have done our best to rescue Professor Scotch and Walter Clyde."

  "Roight, me lad."

  They then explained to Scudmore what had happened to the professor and the boy.

  "If my gas generator is all right, so I can inflate the Eagle to its full extent, I shall be able to take four persons with me," said the tall professor. "While you are doing your best to rescue the captives, I will remain here and try to put the ship in condition to sail at short notice."

  He seemed perfectly sane, and there was nothing to do but to trust him, and so this plan was agreed to by the boys.

  Old Solitary kept in the background, saying nothing.

  When everything was arranged, Frank and Barney left the professor, and once more followed the strange man of the canyon on their way to the village of the Danites.

  They urged Old Solitary to lose no time, for they were eager to do their best in the effort to save Professor Scotch and Walter Clyde and get away from the canyon.

  It was not long before they drew near the pocket, and they advanced with great caution, although it was not thought absolutely necessary, as there was not one chance in a hundred that the Danites would expect them to make such an audacious attempt.

  Deep in the canyon the shadows lay thick, which was to their advantage. They succeeded in entering the pocket without being challenged.

  Lights twinkled from two or three windows. Somewhere in the village a beautiful but untrained voice was singing the chorus of a love song.

  "That is Miskel," whispered Frank.

  They lay in the darkness, watching and waiting.

  Of a sudden an unexpected thing happened. The door of the very building into which Professor Scotch had been carried was flung wide open, allowing a broad bar of light to shine out. Then, out of this lighted doorway streamed a dozen men, and a bell began to clang in a doleful manner.

  "What does it mean?" whispered Frank, wonderingly.

  "It means that the tribunal of death has pronounced doom upon the captives," answered Old Solitary. "The session has just broken up, and the captives will be executed without delay."

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  LAST OF THE DANITES.

  "How do you know?"

  "I have witnessed other executions here."

  "Then no time is to be lost."

  "What would you do?"

  "I do not know—something, anything to save them!"

  Old Solitary held Frank back.

  "Do not throw your life away," he said. "Wait a while. See, they are lighting two bonfires, the piles of wood having been prepared in advance."

  "What is that for?"

  "That there may be plenty of light for the execution, which the entire camp will witness. See, a few moments ago the place seemed asleep, but now it is all astir with life."

  "I see," groaned the wretched boy; "and it seems to me that there is very little chance for us to get in there and save Scotch and Clyde."

  "Not one chance in a hundred. See those two posts in the full glare of light? Well, to those posts the captives are to be tied. It is plain that the tribunal have doomed them to death by shooting. What a farce!"

  "That's right!" grated Frank; "it is a farce! As well might they have killed them in the first place. There was no chance for them to escape."

  "Not the least."

  "Look, Frankie," whispered Barney, "there comes th' poor profissor, an' Cloyde is clost behindt him."

  The Danites were marching their captives out to execution!

  In a very few moments the professor and the boy were tied to the death-posts.

  Uric Dugan directed the movements of the Danites.

  "Where is Miskel?" hoarsely breathed Frank. "Will she do nothing to prevent this?"

  "She has done all she could," muttered Old Solitary. "It is probable she was not aware the tribunal was in progress. She will be prevented from interfering now."

  And now six men, with rifles in their hands, formed a line in front of the prisoners.

  Everything was done with startling swiftness.

  Frank Merriwell was trembling with eagerness and excitement, and he appealed to Old Solitary:

  "Are we to remain inactive and see this frightful deed? Are we to do nothing now that we are here?"

  "We will do what we can," declared the strange man. "The time has come for Dugan's career to end! I feel that I must strike. He shall never give the fatal signal!"

  The man lifted his old rifle, and the hammer clicked as he cocked it.

  Dugan stepped forth to give the signal, and his harsh voice rang out distinctly:

  "Ready!"

  The firing squad lifted their rifles.

  "Take aim!"

  The fatal moment was at hand.

  The butt of Old Solitary's rifle came to the man's shoulder. He was resting on one knee, and the weapon was held as steady as the hills. "One!" counted Dugan.

  It was the last word he ever uttered, for a spout of flame leaped from the muzzle of Old Solitary's weapon, and the bullet sped on its fatal mission.

  Without a cry or a groan, Dugan flung up his hands and plunged headlong upon his face.

  There was a wild shriek, and the form of a girl rushed into the firelight. Down beside the fallen man she dropped, lifting his head and staring wildly into his face.

  It was Miskel, but she could not save her wicked father, for the aim of Old Solitary had been accurate.

  The Danites were thrown into the greatest confusion, and Frank Merriwell held back no longer.

  "Come on, Barney!" he shouted.

  "Oi'm wid yez!" assured the undaunted Irish lad.

  Forward they rushed, each firing a shot as they did so, and adding to the dismay of the Danites.

  Straight up to Professor Scotch ran Frank, and, with one slash of a sharp knife he had drawn, he released the man.

  Barney did the same thing for Walter Clyde, and the two were set at liberty before the Danites realized what was happening. Then bullets
began to whistle around them.

  At that moment a wild, strange cry cut the night air, filling the hearts of the Danites with the utmost terror.

  It was the war cry of the Navajoes!

  A hundred dusky forms seemed to materialize from the darkness, and a hundred savage warriors, deadly enemies of the Danites, came charging into the camp.

  Old Solitary had rushed to the side of Uric Dugan, into whose face he glared, as he cried:

  "Look, Dugan, look! You robbed me of reason, of memory, of everything I held dear; but I have been avenged, for it was my hand that laid you low!"

  "He is dead!" screamed Miskel, and she fainted on her father's body.

  "Yes, he is dead!" said the avenger, in a half-regretful tone. "And he never knew who killed him."

  Then he suddenly caught up the girl and rushed away into the darkness, with her flung over his shoulder.

  How Frank and his companions escaped from that spot without falling before the Danites or the savages they scarcely knew. A dozen times they fancied all was lost. They emptied their weapons, they struck down every one who blocked their way, and they finally succeeded in getting out of the pocket.

  That they did so at all was due to the fact that the Navajoes, who had surprised and overcome the guard in the pass, believed they held the only exit from the canyon, which made it impossible for any one to get away, even though they might escape temporarily. If two or three were to escape for the time, the Indians felt that it was impossible for them to get away entirely.

  But Professor Septemas Scudmore, with his air ship, was in the canyon, and the boys, half lugging the exhausted Professor Scotch, found him waiting for them, greatly alarmed and excited by the sounds of the battle.

  "What does it mean?" cried the lank professor, as the party rushed up. "What is all that shooting and yelling?"

  "There is no time to explain now," said Frank. "Get in, everybody, and let's get out of this infernal place as soon as we can! There is not a moment to lose."

  "I am bewildered," declared Scudmore. "A moment ago an old man with white hair and beard rushed up to me, bearing a girl in his arms. She had fainted, and he thrust her into the car, telling me to wait for you, and take her away with us."