Frank Merriwell's Backers: or, The Pride of His Friends

CHAPTER IX.

FRANK MAKES A DECISION

Frank leaned against the door-jamb of his cabin and looked out into the sunny valley. To his ears came the roar of the stamp-mills of the mine, which was in full blast. Before him lay the mine-buildings about the mouth of the tunnel, from which rich ore was being brought to be fed to the greedy stamps.

It was now something like ten days since the ruffians under Cimarron Bill tried to carry the mine by assault.

Frank had remained watchful and alert, well knowing the nature of Cimarron Bill and believing he would not be content to abandon the effort thus easily. Still the second attack, which he had so fully expected, had not come.

He was wondering now if the ruffians had given it up. Or had they been instructed by the trust to turn their attention to the San Pablo Mine?

If the latter was the case, Frank felt that they would find the San Pablo prepared. He had taken pains before hastening to the Queen Mystery to fortify his mine in Mexico, leaving it in charge of a man whom he fully trusted.

Nevertheless, Frank felt that it would be far better were he able to personally watch both mines at the same time. Just now he was meditating on the advisability of leaving the Queen Mystery and journeying southward to the San Pablo.

As he thought this matter over, something seemed to whisper in his ear that such an action on his part was anticipated by the enemy, who were waiting for him to make the move. Then, while he was away, they would again descend on the Queen Mystery.

Again the old Indian, Crowfoot, had disappeared, after his usual manner, without telling Frank whither he was going. Merry knew he might be in the vicinity, or he might be hundreds of miles away. Still, Joe had a remarkable faculty of turning up just when he was most needed.

Merry turned back into the little cabin, leaving the door open. He had been feeling of his chin as he stood in the doorway, and now he thought:

"A shave will clean me up. Great Scott! but I'm getting a beard! This shaving is becoming a regular nuisance."

Indeed, Frank was getting a beard. Every day it seemed to grow heavier and thicker, and he found it necessary to shave frequently to maintain that clean appearance in which he so greatly delighted.

Frank could wear old clothes, he could rough it with joy, he minded neither wind nor weather, but personal cleanliness he always maintained when such a thing was in any manner possible. To him a slovenly person was offensive. He pitied the man or boy who did not know the pleasure of being clean, and he knew it was possible for any one to be clean, no matter what his occupation, provided he could obtain a cake of soap and sufficient water.

So Frank was shaving every day when possible. He now turned back into the cabin and brought out his shaving-set. On the wall directly opposite the open door hung a small square mirror, with a narrow shelf below it.

Here Merry made preparations for his shaving. Over a heater-lamp he prepared his water, whistling the air of the Boola Song. This tune made him think of his old friends of Yale, some of whom he had not heard from for some time.

A year had not yet passed since he had gathered them and taken his baseball-team into the Mad River region to play baseball. In that brief space of time many things had occurred which made it evident that never again could they all be together for sport. The days of mere sport were past and over; the days of serious business had come.

Frank thought, with a sense of sadness, of Old Eli. Before him rose a vision of the campus buildings, in his ears sounded the laughter and songs, and he saw the line of fellows hanging on the fence, smoking their pipes and chaffing good-naturedly.

With some men it is a sad thing that they cannot look back with any great degree of pleasure on their boyhood and youth. They remember that other boys seemed to have fine times, while they did not. Later, other youths chummed together and were hail-fellow-well-met, while they seemed set aloof from these jolly associates. With Frank this was not so. He remembered his boyhood with emotions of the greatest pleasure, from the time of his early home life to his bidding farewell to Fardale. Beyond that even unto this day the joy of life made him feel that it was a million fold worth living.

There are thousands who confess that they would not be willing to go back and live their lives over. Had the question been put to Frank Merriwell he would have said that nothing could give him greater pleasure.

When the water was hot, Frank carefully applied his razor to the strop and made it sharp enough for his purpose. Then he arranged everything needed on the little shelf beneath the mirror.

Now, it is impossible to say what thing it was that led him to remove his revolver from the holster and place it on the shelf with the other things, but something caused him to do so.

Then he applied the lather to his face, and was about to use the razor, when he suddenly saw something in the mirror that led him to move with amazing quickness.

Behind him, at the open door, was a man with a rifle. This man, a bearded ruffian, had crept up to the door with the weapon held ready for use.

But for the fact that the interior of the cabin seemed somewhat gloomy to the eyes of the man, accustomed as they were to the bright glare of the sun outside, he might have been too swift for Frank.

Another thing added to Frank's fortune, and it was that he had drawn his revolver and placed the weapon on the little shelf in front of him. For this reason it was not necessary for him to reach toward the holster at his hip, an action which must have hurried the ruffian to the attempted accomplishment of his murderous design. For Merriwell had no doubt of the fellow's intention. He saw murder in the man's eyes and pose.

The rifle was half-lifted. In another moment Frank Merriwell would have been shot in the back in a most dastardly manner.

He snatched the revolver from the little shelf and fired over his shoulder without turning his head, securing such aim as was possible by the aid of the mirror into which he was looking. Frank had learned to shoot in this manner, and he could do so as skilfully as many of the expert marksmen who gave exhibitions of fancy shooting throughout the country.

His bullet struck the hand of the man, smashing some of the ruffian's fingers and causing him to drop the rifle.

Merry wheeled and strode to the door, his smoking revolver in his hand, a terrible look in his eyes.

The wretch was astounded by what had happened. Blood was streaming from his wounded hand. He saw Merriwell confront him with the ready pistol.

"You treacherous cur!" said Frank indignantly. "I think I'll finish you!"

He seemed about to shoot the man down, whereupon the ruffian dropped on his knees, begging for mercy.

"Don't – don't shoot!" he gasped, holding up his bleeding hand, "Don't kill me!"

"Why shouldn't I? You meant to kill me."

"No, no – I swear – "

"Don't lie! Your soul may start on its long trail in a moment! Don't lie when you may be on the brink of eternity!"

These stern words frightened the fellow more than ever.

"Oh, I'm telling you the truth – I sw'ar I am!" he hastened to say.

"You crept up to this door all ready to fill me full of lead."

"No, no! Nothing of the sort! I was not looking for you! It – it was some one else! I swear it by my honor!"

A bitter smile curled the lips of the young man.

"Honor!" he said – "your honor! Never mind. How much were you to receive for killing me?"

"It was not you; it was another man."

"What other?"

"Tracy."

"My foreman?"

"Yes."

"You were looking for him?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Him and me have had a fallin' out, and he cussed me. He threatened to shoot me, too."

"What was the matter?"

"Oh, he didn't like the way I done my work. It's true; ask him. I swore I'd fix him."

"Well, what brought you here to my cabin to shoot the foreman?"

"I thought I saw him coming this way."

Frank pressed his lips together and looked the man over. Somehow he believed the ruffian was lying, in spite of all these protests.

"See here, Anson," he said, "you were hired by the mining trust, or by some of its tools, to shoot me, and you tried to earn your money. Don't deny it, for you can't fool me. Just own up to the truth and it will be better for you. Tell me who made the deal with you and how much you were to receive. If you come out honestly and confess all, I'll spare you. Your hand is bleeding pretty bad, and it should be attended to at once. I'll see to that, but upon condition that you confess."

Still the ruffian continued to protest, insisting that it was Tracy he was looking for. In the midst of this he suddenly stopped, seeming to be badly frightened.

"Oh, Lord!" he choked. "Here comes Tracy! Don't tell him! I can't defend myself! Don't tell him, or he'll sure shoot me up and finish me!"

Jim Tracy was coming with long strides. He saw Frank and the wretch with the bleeding hand.

"Whatever is this?" he demanded. "I heard the shooting. What has this yaller dog been up to?"

"I shot him," said Frank quietly. "He came walking into my door in a careless manner with his rifle in his hand, and I shot him in a hurry. He was foolish; he should have been more careful. It's dangerous to walk in on me that way, even with the most peaceable intentions."

There was a strange look on Tracy's face.

"So that's how it happened?" he exclaimed, in a harsh voice. "Well, it's pretty certain that Hop Anson needs to have his worthless neck stretched, and all I ask is permission to attend to the job. I'll dispose of him very quickly."

"I told you, Mr. Merriwell!" muttered the wounded man.

"You have had some trouble with him, have you, Tracy?" asked Frank.

"Confound his hide! yes, I have. He has no business here at this time. His place is discharging the rock as it comes out. The fact that he's here counts against him. Turn him over to me."

"Instead of that," said Frank, thrusting his revolver into his holster, "I think I'll take care of him. Come in here, Anson."

Tracy seemed astonished and disgusted.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"I'm going to see if I can't dress that hand and keep him from bleeding to death," was Merriwell's answer.

"Well, by thunder!" muttered the foreman.

CHAPTER X.

MERRIWELL'S METHOD

It was not easy for such men to understand Frank Merriwell. Hop Anson was as much astonished as was Jim Tracy. He entered the cabin at Frank's command, and Merriwell proceeded to wash and examine the wound.

"You'll have to lose two fingers and part of another one," said Merriwell. "I can do the job for you right here, if you say so. Or I'll patch them up, stop the bleeding, and let you get to a regular saw-bones."

"You go ahead," said Anson.

So Frank opened a trunk which sat behind a curtain in one corner of the room, bringing out a case, which, on being opened, revealed a complete set of surgical instruments. These he spread out on the rough table, and soon he was ready to operate on Hop Anson's mangled hand.

Jim Tracy, his hands on his hips and his feet rather wide apart, stood looking on in silence.

Frank spent the greater part of an hour about his task, impressing Tracy as an assistant, and when he had finished two of the ruffian's fingers and a part of the third were gone, but the amputation and dressing had been done in a manner that was anything but bungling. Frank had been as careful as possible to preserve cleanliness about his work.

"Well, you're certain a wonder!" exclaimed Tracy admiringly. "But you makes a big mistake in wastin' so much trouble on a dog like this."

Anson did not retort, save with a sullen flash of his treacherous eyes in the direction of the foreman.

"Permit me to know my business, Tracy," said Merry shortly. "You may go now, Anson."

"What? You're not going to let him go where he likes?"

"Yes."

So Hop Anson walked out of the cabin, picked up his rifle, and disappeared.

"I don't want to criticise you, Mr. Merriwell," said the foreman. "You know I am devoted to your interests. But I feel confident that you will be very sorry you treated that man in such a decent way and then let him off. He's a snake. I still believe he crept up to the door to shoot you in the back."

"Perhaps he did," nodded Frank, cleansing his instruments with the utmost coolness. "If so, he got the worst of it."

"But would you let him off like that if you knew it was so?"

"No. He swore it was not. I had no proof, so I let him go."

"You're altogether too easy with your enemies," asserted Tracy. "Just you turn them over to me. I'll take care of them, and they'll never bother you again, be right sure of that."

"I'll think about it," smiled Frank, returning the instruments to the case.

"You came mighty near being killed by that greaser because you were easy with him."

"And my life was saved by Big Monte because I had been easy with him. That balances things, I fancy. In fact, for me, it more than balances things. I'd rather let a dozen bad men escape punishment than strike one who is innocent."

"But neither Big Monte nor Pinto Pede was innocent."

"And Pinto Pede provided a subject with which to start a graveyard here. Big Monte seemed repentant. Pede would have knifed me, but Monte shot him just as he was ready to strike."

"Well, where's Big Monte now?"

"I don't know," confessed Frank.

"He skipped out."

"Sure thing. He took a walk the first chance he got."

"And it's certain he's gone back to his pals. When they strike at you ag'in, if they do, Monte will be with 'em."

"All right. Perhaps he has an idea he'll be fighting fair that way."

"And he may kill you yet."

"Possibly."

"Well," said Tracy, "I must admit that I don't understand you none whatever! Hop Anson left his work, got a rifle and came sneakin' up to your door. You shoots him in the hand, then doctors him and lets him go. That's right peculiar. But I have him to deal with somewhat, and I propose to deal. If you hear before night that Hop has hopped the divide don't be any surprised."

Tracy seemed about to depart.

"Look here," said Frank, "before you go, I have some things to say. Unless Hop Anson gives you good and sufficient cause, you are not to lift your hand against him. I don't want any shooting to get started here at the mine. I want these men to dwell together peaceably. The first shooting is likely to lead to other work in the same line."

"You're too much against such things," said Tracy; "and still I notice you don't hesitate any whatever to use a gun at times."

"When forced to it; never at any other time. I am decidedly against it. It would be dead easy to start an affair here that would lead to disturbances that might get the men to quarreling. That would put the men in condition to revolt, and an assault upon the mine would find us weakened. I trust you, Tracy, to be careful about this matter. Much depends on you. You have proved satisfactory in every way."

"Thankee," said the foreman, somewhat awkwardly. "I've tried to do my best, sir."

"That is all I ask of any man. That is all any man can do. You should understand why I wish no disturbance. But, at the same time, let me warn you to watch Hop Anson closely – for your own benefit. If you have to do any shooting, well and good."

"I think I understand," said Tracy, as he walked out. At the door he paused and half-turned, as if to say something more. Already Frank was facing the little mirror on the wall, ready to resume his shaving. He stood exactly as he had stood when he shot at Anson, and his revolver lay on the shelf beneath the mirror.

Tracy went on.

CHAPTER XI.

SMOKE SIGNALS AND A DECOY

Frank grew restless. On the day following the shooting of Anson he called Tracy and said:

"Tracy, I want you to keep your eyes open and be on your guard while I am away."

"Are you going away, sir?" asked the foreman.

"Yes."

"For a long time?"

"That is uncertain. I may return by night, and I may not be back for several days."

The foreman looked as if he wished to ask where Frank thought of going, but held himself in check.

"I wish to satisfy myself if any of my enemies are in this vicinity," said Merriwell. "I leave things in your hands here, and I believe I can trust you."

"You can, sir, fully."

Merry attended to the saddling of his horse. When he rode forth from the mine he was well armed and prepared for almost anything. Behind him the roar of the ore-crushers died out, and he passed into the silence of the mountains.

Not an hour had passed when he was somewhat surprised to see before him from an elevated point a big, ball-like cloud of dark smoke rising into the sky.

"That's odd," was his immediate decision.

He stopped his horse and watched the smoke as it ascended and grew thinner. It was followed by another ball of smoke as he watched, and after this came still another.

Then Frank turned in the saddle, looking in various directions. Some miles behind him three distinct and separate clouds of smoke seemed to be mounting into the sky from another high elevation.

"If those are not smoke signals," said Frank, "I'm a chump! In that case, it's likely I'll have Indians to deal with if I keep on. Perhaps I'd better turn back."

For something told him that he was the object of those signals, and this was an Indian method of communication. He sat still for some time, watching the smoke fade in the upper air, which it did slowly. At last, however, it was gone, and the clear atmosphere held no black signal of danger.

Frank's curiosity was aroused. He longed to know the meaning of those signals. Having looked to his weapons, he rode on slowly, keenly on the alert.

Coming through a narrow gorge into a valley that looked barren enough, he suddenly snatched forth a revolver and cried:

"Halt, there! Stop, or – Why, it's a woman!"

For he had seen a figure hastily seeking concealment amid some boulders. At sound of his voice the figure straightened up and turned toward him.

Then he was more amazed than ever, for he saw a dark-faced Mexican girl, wearing a short skirt and having about her neck a scarlet handkerchief. Her head was bare, and her dark hair fell over her shoulders. She looked like a frightened fawn.

No wonder he was astonished to behold such a vision in that desolate part of the mountains. She seemed trembling, yet eager, and she started to advance toward him.

"Oh, señor!" she said, in a voice that was full of soft music, "eet mus' be you are good man! Eet mus' be you are not bad an' weeked. You would not hurt Gonchita?"

"Not on your life!" exclaimed Merry, at once putting up his revolver.

At which she came running and panting up to him, all in a flutter of excitement.

"Oh,

Madre de Dios

! I am so much happeeness! I have de great fear when you I do see. Oh, you weel come to heem? You weel do for heem de saveeng?"

The girl was rather pretty, and she was not more than eighteen or nineteen years of age. She was tanned to a dark brown, but had white teeth, which were strangely pointed and sharp.

"Who do you mean?"

"My fadare.

Ay-de mi

! he ees hurt! De bad men shoot heem. They rob heem! He find de gold. He breeng me with heem here to de mountain, all alone. He theenk some time he be vera reech. He have de reech mine. Then de bad men come. They shoot heem. They take hees gold. He come creep back to me. What can I to do?

Ay-de mi

!"

"Your father – some bad men have shot him?" said Merry.

"

Si, si, señor

!"

"It must have been Cimarron Bill's gang," thought Merry.

The girl was greatly excited, but he continued to question her, until he understood her quite well.

"Is he far from here?" he asked.

"No, not de very far. You come to heem? Mebbe you do for heem some good. Weel you come?"

She had her brown hands clasped and was looking most beseechingly into Frank's face.

"Of course I'll come," he said. "You shall show me the way. My horse will carry us both."

He assisted her to mount behind him, and told her to cling about his waist.

Frank continued to question Gonchita, who sometimes became almost unintelligible in her excitement and distress. They passed through the valley and turned into a rocky gorge. Frank asked if it was much farther.

"We be almost to heem now," assured Gonchita.

Almost as the words left her lips the heads of four or five men appeared above some boulders just ahead, and as many rifles were leveled straight at Frank's heart, while a well-known, triumphant voice shouted:

"I've got you dead to rights, Merriwell! If you tries tricks you gits soaked good and plenty!"

At the same moment the girl threw her arms about Frank's body, pinning his arms to his sides, so that he could make no move to draw a weapon.

Merry knew on the instant that he had been trapped. He realized that he had been decoyed into the snare by the Mexican girl. He might have struggled and broken her hold, but he realized the folly of such an attempt.

"Be vera steel, señor!" hissed the voice of Gonchita in his ear. "Eet be bet-are."

"You have betrayed me," said Frank reproachfully. "I did not think it of you. And I was ready to do you a service."

He said no more to her.

Out from the rocks stepped Cimarron Bill.

"So we meet again, my gay young galoot," said the chief of the ruffians. "An' I reckon you'll not slip me so easy this time. That old Injun o' yours is food fer buzzards, an' so he won't give ye no assistance whatever."

"Old Joe – " muttered Merry, in dismay.

"Oh, we finished him!" declared Bill. "That's why you ain't seen him fer some time. Set stiddy, now, an' don't make no ruction.

"Gonchita, toss down his guns."

The Mexican girl obeyed, slipping to the ground with a laugh when she had disarmed Frank.

The ruffians now came out from the shelter of the rocks and gathered about the youth, grinning at him in a most provoking manner. He recognized several of the same fellows who had once before acted as guard over him. Red Sam was there, and nodded to him.

"You're a right slick poker-player," said the sandy rascal; "but we 'lowed a girl'd fool ye easy. Goncheeter done it, too."

Frank nodded.

"She did," he confessed. "I was taken off my guard. But you want to look out for Indians."

"Why for?"

Merry then told them of the smoke signals, whereupon they grinned at one another knowingly.

"That'll be all right," said Bill. "Them signals told us when you was comin', an' which way."

"Then you were doing the signaling?"

"Some o' the boys."

Frank was then ordered down and searched. He appeared utterly fearless. He observed that Gonchita was watching him closely, a strange look in her eyes, her lips slightly parted, showing her milky, pointed teeth.

When the men were satisfied that no weapon remained in the possession of their captive, two or three of them drew aside to consult, while the others guarded Frank.

Cimarron Bill patted Gonchita's cheek with his hand.

"Well done, leetle gal!" he said. "You fooled him powerful slick."

She smiled into Bill's eyes, but in another moment, the chief, having turned away, she was watching Frank again.

The result of the consultation led to the placing of Merry on his own horse, and he was guarded by the armed men who escorted him along the gorge until they came to a place where two men were watching a number of waiting horses.

Then there was mounting and riding away, with Frank in the midst of his triumphant enemies. Gonchita rode with them, having a wiry little pony that seemed able to cope with any of the other horses.

Frank was not a little disgusted because he had been decoyed into the trap, but he did his best to hide his feelings.

It was some hours later that they halted to rest until the heat of the day should pass. A fire was built, and a meal prepared, Gonchita taking active part in this work.

Frank sat near and watched all that was passing. He had not been bound, and his manner was that of one free amid the scoundrels by whom he was surrounded. It was Gonchita who found an opportunity to whisper in his ear:

"Be vera careful! Dey mean to shoot you eef you try de escape."

He did not start or betray any emotion whatever. It hardly seemed that he had heard her whispered words. Later, however, he gave her a look which conveyed to her the assurance that he had not failed to understand.

As she worked about the fire she called upon him to replenish it with more fuel, which he did. He was putting wood on the fire when she again whispered to him:

"I weel drop by you a peestol. Tak' eet; you may need eet."

He made no retort, but watched for her to keep her promise, which she afterward found opportunity to do.

Merry was lying carelessly on the ground when the weapon, a tiny revolver, was dropped at his side. Immediately he rolled over upon his stomach, in a lazy fashion, hiding the weapon, and shortly after he succeeded in slipping it into his pocket.

Frank wondered how this strange girl happened to be with those ruffians. It seemed a most remarkable and mysterious thing. He also wondered why she had been led to give him the pistol. Having led him into the trap, she had suddenly changed so that she now seemed to wish him to escape without harm.

The truth was that his coolness and nerve, together with his handsome, manly appearance, had quite won Gonchita's heart. She was a changeable creature, and had quickly come to regret leading this handsome youth into such a snare.

When the food was prepared all partook heartily. Two of the men, a big fellow with an evil face, called Brazos Tom, and a thick-shouldered brute hailed as Mike Redeye, had been drinking freely from a flask. Brazos Tom was given to chaffing the others in a manner that some of them did not appreciate, and this inclination grew upon him with the working of the liquor. Redeye was a sullen, silent fellow, and Frank regarded him as a very dangerous man.

Once or twice Cimarron Bill gave Tom a look, and, at last, the big fellow seemed to quiet down.

After the meal, while the men were yet resting, Bill had his horse saddled for some reason, and rode away, having left the men in charge of Red Sam.

As soon as the chief was gone, Brazos Tom brought forth his flask, which was now nearly emptied.

"Gents," he said, "while we is waitin' we'll finish this an' try a hand at poker. Wot d'yer say?"

"Oh, blazes!" growled one. "You an' Mike has purt' near finished that. Thar ain't enough left fer a drap apiece if we pass it around."

"Drink up your stuff," said Red Sam. "It's poor firewater, anyhow. I'm fer the poker. Does you come inter this yere game, young gent, same as ye did oncet before?"

This question was addressed to Frank, but Merry already "smelled a mouse," and so it did not need the warning look from Gonchita and the slight shake of her head to deter him.

"Excuse me," he s