Frank Merriwell's Bravery

by Standish, Burt L

  "It was Old Solitary, and the girl must be Miskel. Is she in the car now?"

  "Yes."

  "And the man?"

  "He is gone."

  "It was Old Solitary, sure enough, and he will be able to hide from the savages. We cannot wait for him."

  "The Eagle would not carry so many, even if we could wait. I have her inflated, and she is tied down. Get in, get in! We'll throw out every bit of ballast, and make the attempt to rise out of the canyon. It may be a failure, but I think it will succeed, if we can get high enough to strike the strong wind which is blowing above us. We can try."

  They got into the car, and the bags of ballast were tossed overboard. Then the ropes were cut, and the air ship rose slowly with its heavy burden.

  * * *

  Four days later five persons were seated in a room in the town of Loa, which is located amid the mountains of Southern Utah. The five were Professors Scotch and Scudmore, and the three boys, Frank, Barney and Walter Clyde.

  "Then you are determined to go back to Water Pocket Canyon and the place where the camp of the Danites was, are you, Clyde?" asked Frank.

  "I shall not be satisfied till I do so," was the answer. "I must find Old Solitary, if he is living, for I believe he is my father."

  "I have thought that such might be the case," said Frank. "In some way he has been wronged by Uric Dugan. He did not seem to know exactly how, but he was sure of it. It was only at times that he seemed deranged, but he did not remember much of his past."

  "It would be most remarkable if he should turn out to be my father, whom I have believed dead all these years."

  "It would be a miracle," declared Professor Scotch. "But do you know you can find Water Pocket Canyon again?"

  "Yes, for I have Ben Barr to guide me. He will take me there."

  "Well," said the little professor, "I wish you success, but I would not go back there for the worlds, and I absolutely refuse to let my boys go."

  "I suppose we'll have to humor the professor in this instance," laughed Frank. "Our last escapade came near being fatal for all of us."

  "You owe your salvation to Professor Septemas Scudmore," declared that individual, importantly. "But for his marvelous invention, the Eagle, you would have fallen victims to untamed savages."

  "Begorra, thot's roight!" nodded Barney. "Th' 'Agle is a great birrud."

  "It is bound to make me famous the world over, and send my name ringing down the corridors of time."

  "But what of poor Miskel?" asked Frank. "She is heartbroken over the death of her father. She knows nothing of the world at large, and——"

  "Under the circumstances," said Walter, "I feel that it is my duty to see that she does not come to harm. As long as she wants it, she shall have a home with my folks, if she will accept."

  "Be aisy, me b'y!" chuckled Barney, roguishly. "It's a swate purty face she has, an' Oi'm thinkin' ye're a bit shtuck on her."

  "Oh, come!" protested Walter, blushing. "I have known her but four days, and——"

  "Ye've made good progress, me lad. Oi notice thot you have done firrust-rate comfortin' her. It's an invoite to th' weddin' Oi warnt, an' Oi think Frankie would look foine as th' bist man."

  "If the wedding ever takes place, you shall be invited."

  The mystery of Old Solitary remains still, for he was never found; although Walter and Ben Barr did make their way into Water Pocket Canyon once more. The ruins of the Danite village were found, also human bones, picked clean by wolves and vultures. No living thing seemed to remain in the vicinity, and the silence and shadow of death hung over the place.

  Old Solitary's cave was deserted. It is possible that, after all, the strange man fell a victim to the savages; but it is more likely that, being deranged, he was spared by them, and they made him a great medicine man among them. Perchance he is living with them to-day on the Navajo reservation.

  "I think we are well out of that," said Frank, when it was all over. "I want no more of the murderous Danites."

  "Humph, I told you to keep off," grunted Professor Scotch. "But you'll soon run into equal peril, I'll warrant."

  "No, professor—only sight-seeing in the future."

  "And where?"

  "Yellowstone Park, the great National reservation."

  "Hurro!" cried Barney. "Just the sphot Oi've been wantin' to see."

  "Yes, I'd like to see the park myself," said the professor. "We'll be safe there."

  But were they? Let us wait and see.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXIV.

  YELLOWSTONE PARK.

  "Hurro!"

  "What is it, Barney?"

  "Boofaloes, Frankie!"

  "Buffalo?"

  "Sure, me b'y!"

  "Where?"

  Frank scrambled eagerly to the crest of the ridge on which his friend was perched.

  They were in the heart of that picturesque wonderland about the head waters of the Yellowstone River, known as the National Park.

  Frank had a camera slung at his back, and for three days he had been trying to get a "shot" with it at a buffalo, having been told there was a small herd of the nearly extinct creatures somewhere in that region.

  Neither of the boys had the least desire to kill one of the animals, and a "shot" with the camera at close range would have satisfied them.

  And now, in the grassy valley below them, at a distance of half a mile, they could see five of the animals they sought. The creatures were grazing, with the exception of the largest of the herd, which seemed to be standing on guard, now and then snuffing the wind.

  The moment Frank saw them he clutched his companion, drawing him backward and down behind some bowlders.

  "Pwhat's th' matther wid yez?" spluttered Barney, in surprise.

  "If we expect to get near enough to photograph those creatures, we must get out of this right away."

  "Whoy?"

  "Did you observe the old fellow who is standing on guard? Peer out and you can see him. He is headed this way."

  "Pwhat av thot? He can't see us, me b'y."

  "He might not see us, but he is liable to smell us."

  "At this distance? Go on wid yer foolin', Frankie!"

  "I am not fooling; I am in earnest when I say he is liable to smell us. We are on the wrong side of that herd, if so few may be called a herd."

  "Whoy on th' wrong soide?"

  "We are to windward."

  "Not doirectly."

  "No, not directly. If we had been, those creatures would be scampering off already. Their sense of scent is remarkable."

  "Is it a jolly ye're givin' us?"

  "Not a bit of it, Barney; I am in earnest. Their power of sight is not particularly acute, but it is said that they 'can smell a man a mile.'"

  "Thin how can we ivver induce th' bastes to sit fer their photygrafs?"

  "We'll have to get on the other side of them, and creep up behind that small clump of timber."

  "It will take an hour to get round there, me b'y."

  "All of that; but I shall be well repaid if I can obtain a picture of some real wild buffalo. What a sight it must have been to behold one of those immense herds which once covered the plains 'from horizon to horizon,' as we are told. Now it is a known fact that there are less than fifty wild buffaloes in existence. A little more than fifteen years ago it was said that about three hundred thousand Indians subsisted almost entirely on the flesh of the buffalo."

  "An' is thot roight?"

  "It is right, Barney. The hide-hunter has destroyed the buffalo. The creatures were slaughtered by thousands, stripped of their hides, and their carcasses left to rot and make food for wolves and vultures."

  "An' wur there no law to stop th' killin' av thim?"

  "No. If there had been, it could not have been enforced on the great plains. The railroad, civilization, and the white man's lust for killing, which he calls sport, doomed the buffalo.

  "But this is not getting a picture of 'real wild buffalo.' I have pictures of
Golden Gate Pass, Fire Hole Basin, Union Geysers, and almost everything else but wild buffalo, and I have vowed I would not leave the park till I had one of the latter. Come on."

  He backed from the crest of the ridge and down the slope, Barney following. In a few moments the boys could rise to their feet and make their way along.

  Both were armed, for it was not known what danger they might encounter, and wild animals of all kinds were plentiful enough, from the beaver to the grizzly bear, thanks to the very effective policing of the park by two troops of United States Cavalry. Two regiments could not entirely prevent poaching, but two troops were very successful, and the boys had found sections of the American Wonderland exactly as primitive as when the lonely trapper Coulter made his famous journey through it.

  Frank and Barney had taken care not to slaughter any of the game they saw, although they had been tempted by wild geese, which were so tame they would hardly get out of the way, and by deer and bears innumerable.

  The lads believed in the laws which protected these creatures, and knew that this great game preserve and breeding-ground, if not disturbed, must always give an overflow into Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho, which will make big game shooting there for years to come.

  Frank led the way at a swift pace, keeping the ridge between them and the buffalo for a time, and then making use of other shelter.

  It was nearly an hour before they came round to the windward side of the herd and began working in upon it.

  All at once, with a low exclamation, Frank stopped, shifted his position quickly, and hissed:

  "Down, Barney!"

  "Pwhat is it, Frankie?"

  "Be careful! Look there by the base of that bluff. Can you see them?"

  "Oi see something moving. Pwhat is it?"

  "Hunters, I reckon."

  "Afther th' boofalo?"

  "Yes. They are nearer than we are, and they will be taking a shot at the creatures in a minute. It's a shame! If the soldier-police were only here!"

  "Nivver a bit do Oi loike th' oidea av seein' thim boofalo shot onliss Oi can do th' shootin'."

  "No more do I, and I am not going to stand it! Come on, Barney. We'll get after those fellows. We may be able to stop them before they shoot, and then get a picture of the buffalo afterward. Lively now."

  The boys sprang to their feet and went running toward the spot near the base of the bluff, where they had seen men moving. As they ran, they crouched low, holding their rifles at their sides, and taking great pains not to be seen by the buffalo. In fact, they paid so much attention to this that they did not note how near they were to the bluff, till they almost ran upon the very men they had seen moving there.

  Then there was a shock and a surprise, for they found themselves face to face with a dozen Blackfeet Indians!

  "Howly shmoke!" gurgled Barney, as he came to a sudden halt.

  "Jupiter!" muttered Frank, also stopping quickly.

  The Indians stared at them, and grunted:

  "How, how! Ugh!"

  One of them, a villainous-looking half-blood, spoke up:

  "What white boys do? shoot buffalo?"

  "No," answered Frank, promptly, "we are not here to shoot them, but we want to get a picture of them."

  "Pic'ter? Hugah! No good!"

  The half-blood was doubtful; he believed they had intended to shoot the buffalo, and his eyes glittered with greed as he noted the handsome rifles carried by the lads.

  "Lemme looker gun," he said, stepping toward Frank, and holding out a hand, nearly one-half of which had been torn away by some accident.

  Now Frank knew there would not be one chance in a thousand of getting back his rifle if he let the fellow have it, and so he decisively said:

  "No, I will not let you look at it. Keep off! The soldiers will have you for killing game in this park if you do not make tracks back to your reservation."

  "Ha! Soldiers fools! Half Hand not afraid of soldier. He watch up. They be way off there to north, ten, twenty, thirty mile. No soldiers round—nobody round. White boy lemme looker gun."

  Again he advanced, his manner aggressive, and the boys realized they were in a decidedly perilous situation.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXV.

  FAY.

  "Th' spalpane manes ter kape it av he gits his hand on it," whispered Barney. "It's murther he has in his oies."

  Frank knew well enough that Barney was right, and he had no intention of relinquishing his hold on his rifle for a moment. He fell back a step, lifting the weapon in a suggestive manner, and Half Hand halted, scowling blackly and smiling craftily by turns.

  "Hold up!" came sharply from the lips of the boy. "Keep your distance, or you will get damaged."

  "Ha! White boy threaten Half Hand! Be careful! Half Hand good when him not threatened; heap bad when him threatened. White boys two; Injuns big lot more. White boys make Injuns mad, then where um be?"

  "I have no desire to make you mad, but this is my rifle, and I mean to keep it."

  "Half Hand want to look."

  "You may look at a distance, but you can't lay a hand on it."

  "White boy heap 'fraid. Give gun back pretty quick bimeby."

  "I fancy it would be bimeby. No, you cannot take it, and that settles it."

  "Mebbe Half Hand trade with boy."

  "I do not wish to trade."

  "Mebbe Half Hand give um heap good trade."

  "Possibly, but that makes no difference."

  "White boy fool!" snarled the half-blood. "If um don't lemme take gun, Half Hand take it anyhow, and then white boy no git a thing for it."

  This was quite enough to startle Frank, and he sharply declared:

  "If you attempt to take this rifle, you will get a pill out of it in advance! That is straight business, Mr. Half Hand."

  "Hurro!" cried Barney, his fighting blood beginning to rise. "Av it's foight ye want, ye red nagurs, jist wade roight inter us! We'll give ye all th' foight ye want, begobs!"

  The Blackfeet jabbered among themselves a minute, and it was plain that they were not all of one mind. Some seemed to be for attacking the boys, while others opposed it. Half Hand hotly urged them on.

  "Fall back," said Frank, speaking softly to the Irish lad. "Be ready for a rush. If they come, give it to them. I will take Half Hand myself. You take the fellow with the red feather. If they kill us, we'll have the satisfaction of getting two or three of them in advance."

  The boy's voice was cool and steady, and his nerves seemed of iron. He glanced over his shoulder in search of some place of shelter, but could discover none near by, much to his disappointment.

  Barney was also cool enough, although the hot blood was rushing swiftly through his veins. He was holding himself in check, in imitation of his friend and comrade.

  In truth, the two lads were in a tight corner. It was plain that the Indian poachers were made up of rebellious Blackfeet, who could not be kept on the reservation, and their faces showed they were the very worst sort. Having been caught almost in the act of killing game within the park, and believing the two lads had no friends near by, the dusky villains might not hesitate at outright murder spurred on by their greed for plunder, lust for blood, and a desire to keep the boys from notifying the soldiers of the presence of Indians on forbidden ground.

  Frank fully understood their peril, and he felt that they would be lucky indeed if they escaped with their lives.

  He blamed himself for running into the trap in such a blind manner, and still he felt that he was not to blame. He had seen moving figures at a distance, and, as the Indians were keeping under cover, in order to creep upon the buffalo, he had no more than caught a glimpse of them. They were dressed in clothes they had obtained by trade or plunder from white men, and so, at a distance and under such circumstances, it was not remarkable that Frank had not noted they were savages.

  In a few moments Half Hand seemed to bring the most of the Indians to his way of thinking, and he again turned on the boys.

&n
bsp; "Good white boys," he croaked, craftily. "Don't be 'fraid of Injuns. Injuns won't hurt um."

  "We are not afraid of you," returned Frank; "but you want to keep your distance, or you will get hurt by us."

  "Thot's roight, begorra!" cried Barney, fingering his Winchester. "It's stoofed to th' muzzle, this ould shootin' iron is, wid grapeshot an' canister, an' av Oi leggo wid it, there won't be a red nagur av yez left on his pins."

  "Injuns want to talk with white boys," said the half-blood, edging nearer, inch by inch. "Injuns want to hold powwow."

  "We are not at all anxious to hold a powwow with you. Stand where you are!"

  Up came Frank's rifle a bit.

  It was plain that the red ruffians meant to make an assault, and the moment was at hand. They were handling their weapons in a way that told how eager some of them were to shed the blood of the boys.

  Barney, in his characteristic, devil-may-care manner, began to hum, "My Funeral's To-morrow." He seemed utterly unable to take matters seriously, however great the danger.

  A moment before the rush and encounter must have taken place, all were startled to hear a merry, childish laugh, and a voice saying:

  "I knowed I'd find tomebody tomewhere. I wants to tome down. Tate me down, please."

  On the top of the bluff, forty feet above the heads of the Indians, stood a little girl, dressed in white. She had golden hair and blue eyes, and, on her lofty perch, she looked like a laughing fairy.

  "Mother av Mowses!" gurgled Barney.

  "A child!" exclaimed Frank, astonished. "Here!"

  The Indians muttered and hesitated. Half Hand still urged them on, but it was plain that they believed there was a party of white persons near at hand, and they feared to attack the boys. The urging of the half-blood was in vain, and he was forced to give it up.

  Then he turned fiercely on the boys, snarling:

  "Good thing for you your friends come! They no come, we kill you and take your guns! Mebbe we see you 'gain some time bimeby."

  Then the Indians turned and quickly scudded away, soon disappearing from view amid some pines.

  Frank drew a breath of relief.