Around the shore of the cove the two boys went toward the hut. As they approached it Frank placed his hands to his mouth in the form of a horn, and shouted:
“Oh, Gabe! Oh, Mr. Blake!”
His voice came back in a distinct echo from a distant rocky steep, but that was all the answer he received. The rising breeze stirred the open door, seeming to wave it at the boys in derision, but the air of loneliness about the place was oppressive.
“There’s no one about,” said Frank.
“Not a soul,” agreed Harry.
They reached the cabin and looked in. It had not been occupied for two months, at least.
“Big Gabe is dead or gone,” said Merriwell, with sincere regret. “I hoped to find him here.”
“Well, let’s see if his boat is all right,” came anxiously from Rattleton. “That is what we want to know most.”
Leaving their wheels leaning against a tree, they hastened to the spot where the boat lay moored at a short distance from the shore.
“We’ll have to swim to get it,” said Frank. “It is plain that other boat in which we saw Belmont and the dwarf was used by Gabe to get from the shore to the sailboat.”
Frank stripped off quickly and plunged into the lake, although the water was cold, as he well knew from recent experience.
Out to the boat he swam, came up by her stern, and got in without difficulty, which was a very neat thing to do, as the average boy would have tried to crawl in over the side, with the probable result of upsetting the boat.
“How’s she look, Merry?” called Harry, anxiously.
“O. K.,” answered Frank. “There’s some water in her, but it is a small amount, and the sails are well reefed. They may be somewhat rotten, but we’ll be careful of them.”
“How are we to get our wheels on board?”
Frank stood up and surveyed the bottom, which he could do with ease, because of the unruffled surface of the cove, as the wind did not touch it there.
“There’s a channel leading up to that large rock,” he said. “I’ll bring the boat up there.”
“Look out to not get her aground so she can’t be brought off,” warned Harry. “That would be a scrape.”
“I’ll look out.”
Frank did not find it difficult to get up the anchor, and then, with the aid of a long oar, he guided the boat to the rock.
In the meantime, Harry had hastened to bring the bicycles down to the cove, and they were all ready to be taken on board. This was accomplished, and Harry followed them.
“Now away, away,” he cried. “We’ll set our course for yonder shore.”
“Of course,” punned Frank, and Rattleton made a grimace.
“Bad—very bad,” he said. “That habit has been the cause of more sudden deaths than anything else of which I know.”
Frank laughed, and they pushed the boat from the great rock.
Rattleton set about unfurling the sails and getting them ready for hoisting.
“Are you a sailor, Merry?” he asked, as if struck by a new thought.
“Am I?” cried Frank. “Ha! ha! also ho! ho! Wait a wee, and you shall see what you shall see.”
“Then you have been to sea?”
Frank gave the other boy a look of reproach.
“And you had the nerve to do that after saying what you did about the bad pun I made a short time ago!” he cried. “Rattleton, your crust is something awful!”
They made preparations for running up the sail, saw that the tiller was all right and the rudder worked properly, and looked after other things. The bicycles were in the way, but that could not be helped.
Harry aided Frank in setting the sail, and, with the aid of the oar, the boat was worked out to a point where they could feel the breeze.
“By Jove! this is rather jolly,” commented Rattleton, as they began to make headway. “With a fair wind, we’ll run over there in a short time, and then—then if we can find that girl!”
“My boy, your face is aglow with rapture at the thought,” smiled Frank. “You have been hit a genuine heart blow. Look out that it doesn’t knock you out.”
Away they went, making fair speed, although the boat was decidedly crude and cumbersome.
The mountainous region beyond the lake was wild and picturesque, but, fortunately, the boys found a cut that led down to the very shore of the lake.
They reached a spot where they could run up close to the shore, which enabled them to take their bicycles off without trouble.
The boat was made fast, the sails having been reefed once more, and then the lads deliberately mounted their wheels and attempted to ride into the cut.
This was not so difficult as might be thought, for they found what seemed to be an antelope “run” that led from the shore, and they pedaled along that path.
“It was somewhere in this region that we found the retreat of the gang of money makers when I was here before,” said Frank.
“What’s that? A gang that made money?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose they had some kind of an old hut here-abouts in which they did the work?”
“They had a cave—a most wonderful cave it was said to be. That cave had never been fully explored, and—— By Jove!”
Frank interrupted himself with the exclamation, a strange look having come to his face.
“What is it?” asked Harry.
“I have an idea.”
“Put us on.”
“That cave, my boy—that cave!”
“What about it?”
“It is said that Carter Morris, the queer old miner, lives in some sort of an underground place.”
“That’s right!” cried Rattleton, catching Frank’s meaning, and growing excited.
“He has some sort of mysterious mine.”
“Sure, old man!”
“And he wrote Bernard Belmont that Mildred Morris was buried from the sight of the world.”
“Now, you believe——”
“I do—I believe it possible that man may be occupying the very cave once occupied by the counterfeiters.”
Rattleton was following Frank along the path, and he nearly ran Merriwell down in his excitement.
“You know the way to that cave?” he shouted. “You can find it?”
“I might be able to do so, although I am not sure of it. I can try. Even if we find the cave, we may not find the man and girl there.”
“It is a chance, anyway. It’s the best we can do.”
After they had proceeded into the mountains some distance, Frank began to look for a slope they could scale, so they might get out of the pass.
It was finally found, and, with their wheels on their backs, they labored to the top. Getting down on the other side was even more difficult, but they succeeded.
Then Frank led Harry a wild chase, till Rattleton was pretty well played out. His head had ceased to bleed, and he had removed the handkerchief, but he could feel that the blow had taken not a little of the stamina out of him.
“How long are you going to keep this up, Merry?” he asked.
“We must be somewhere near that cave,” declared Frank. “It is getting toward night. I hoped to be fortunate and find it before dark.”
“If we don’t——”
“There’s another day coming. We have hard bread and smoked beef in the carriers, and we can find water here. We’re not nearly as bad off as we were on the Utah desert.”
“That’s right. That was a bad fix, but we pulled out of it all right. If our clothes were somewhat drier I could regard the approach of night with greater complaisance.”
“Our clothes are nearly dry, and they will be much more so in two hours.”
They continued the restless search, Frank seeming utterly tireless. Rattleton admired him for his resistless energy and unwavering determination and confidence.
Fortune must have smiled on them, for, as they were making their way along a narrow cut, they turned a short corner and beheld the dark mouth of a cave just ahead of them.
Both lads stopped and stood beside their wheels, uttering exclamations of satisfaction.
“Is that it, Frank?” asked Harry.
“It may be one of the entrances to the old cave of the counterfeiters,” answered Merry. “That cave has several mouths. This is not the one I saw, but——”
“It is a cave, and it may be the one we are searching for. Come on!”
“What are you going to do?”
“Go in.”
“We can’t go in without torches.”
“That’s right—dead right! Was so excited I didn’t think of that. But—hooray!—we have found it!”
“Don’t be so sure yet. We’ll go up and look in.”
They approached the mouth of the cave.
Suddenly, as they came near, there was a roar from within, and out of the cave rushed a man whose long hair and beard were white, and whose clothes were rude and worn.
The boys halted in amazement, staring at this man, who also stopped.
Frank spoke to Harry:
“It must be Carter Morris!”
“It is!” cried the old man, whose ears had caught the words. “How do you know me? What right have you to know my name? I am buried—buried from the world!”
“Crazy as a bedbug!” whispered Rattleton.
“Oh, crazy, am I!” sneered the man, much to Harry’s astonishment, for it had not seemed possible he could hear that whisper. “That’s what they think—the fools!”
Rattleton clutched Frank’s wrist.
“Look,” he panted; “she is coming! There she is!”
Out of the darkness within the mouth of the cave advanced the strange girl they had seen in the canoe. She was hatless, and she looked marvelously pretty with her golden hair hanging about her ears and reaching down upon her shoulders.
“Well, she is a fairy!” admitted Merriwell. “If you win that, you’ll be a lucky lad, Rattles.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” harshly laughed the man, without a trace of mirth in face or voice. “That is all they think of, the fools! That is what brings them here! They know you are rich, my dear—they know it! And they seek to win you! But you are dead to the world—dead and buried!”
“Mr. Morris,” said Frank, speaking quietly, “we have a message for the young lady.”
“Bah!” cried the man.
“It is from her brother,” said Frank.
“Bah!” repeated the hermit.
But the girl started forward, crying:
“My brother—what do you know of him?”
The man put out his hand and held her back.
“It is a trick,” he declared—“a shallow trick! They think to fool you that way. Don’t listen to them, child! Let me talk to them.”
Then he turned on the boys, his face dark with anger.
“Go away from here!” he cried. “Every moment you remain here your lives are in danger! If you care to live, go away at once!”
The girl looked frightened.
“We can’t go away till we have delivered our message,” said Frank, calmly, as he started forward.
“Back!” cried the strange old man, flinging out his hand with a warning gesture. “It means death if you advance another step!”
The girl looked more frightened than ever, and the boys halted again.
“The old pirate!” whispered Harry. “We must save her from him somehow, Frank! I know he is detaining her against her will.”
Again that harsh, mirthless laugh.
“You know a great deal,” sneered the man; “but you do not know enough to go away and save your lives! You do not know my power, but you shall feel it!”
The girl cried out and started to lift a hand. Then the man stepped to the right and touched the wall of stone.
To Frank and Harry it seemed that the mountains fell on them and beat them down with a great blow that stretched them helpless and senseless on the ground!
With a feeling of numbness and pain in every limb and every part of his body, Frank Merriwell stirred and tried to sit up. His strength seemed to be gone, and he wondered at his weakness.
“What—what does it mean?” he asked himself, puzzled.
There was a cloud on his brain, and, for the time, he did not remember what had happened. He realized he was lying on the ground, and he wondered if he had been there long.
After a time he turned his head a bit, and close beside him he saw Harry Rattleton, stretched on his back, his arms outspread, his face ghastly pale.
A chill of horror seized upon Merriwell’s heart.
Why didn’t Harry move? Why were his eyes closed? Why was his face so white?
There was something horrible and awe-inspiring about those rigid limbs and that ghastly face.
“He is dead!”
He succeeded in speaking the words aloud, although his voice was weak and faint. The sound startled him, and, with a mighty effort, he lifted himself to one elbow.
“Harry!” he panted, thickly—“Harry, wake up!”
Still no stir.
“Harry, Harry, are you asleep?”
Rattleton remained motionless.
Holding himself thus, Frank watched, but he could not see that the bosom of his friend rose and fell at all—he could not see that Harry breathed.
Surely that pallid face was not the face of a living person! It had the stamp of death upon it!
“Merciful goodness!” whispered Frank, as he dragged himself nearer. “I know—I am sure some frightful thing has happened to us! But I do not seem to remember.”
He paused and stared about. Sunset light was on the snow-capped peaks of the Sierras, and away up there they were dazzling to the eye; but there were deep shadows below—black shadows in the heart of Frank Merriwell.
“The mountains!” he faintly murmured—“they are all around us! This is not the desert—no, no! We were not overcome by hunger and thirst. Something—something else struck us down!”
He lifted one hand to his head, which was so numb and felt so lifeless. What was the trouble?
Concentrating all his faculties, he forced himself to think. Then he seemed to remember.
“The girl!” he faintly exclaimed—“we were searching for her! We were trying to find the cave, and—we found it!”
He remembered at last. He remembered the appearance of the old man of the white hair and beard; he remembered that the girl had come forth from the mouth of the cave; he remembered the warning of the strange man and the frightful shock that had followed.
“Jingoes!” he said. “I believe we were struck by lightning! I’m not completely knocked out, but Harry seems to be.”
Then he reached Rattleton and touched his face, felt for his pulse, sought to discover if his heart beat.
Close to the breast of his friend Frank placed his ear, and what he heard caused him to utter a cry of satisfaction.
“Not dead!” he exclaimed. “He still lives! There is a chance for him.”
The thought that Harry’s life might depend on his efforts aroused him still more. He loosened Harry’s sweater and the collar about his throat, he chafed his wrists and temples, he fanned him, called to him, sought in many ways to arouse him.
At last he saw signs of success. Rattleton’s breast rose and fell, and he gave a great sigh.
“That’s right, old man!” cried Frank, with satisfaction. “Just open your peepers and let us know you are recovering.”
Harry opened his eyes.
“Where—what—why——”
He seemed unable to ask the questions that sought for utterance.
“I was thinking the same things a few moments ago,” said Frank. “We were knocked out in the first round with the old hermit.”
“Hermit—what hermit?”
“That’s it,” nodded Merry. “You’re as bad off as I was. Why, Carter Morris, the uncle of the girl with the golden hair, who has hit you so hard.”
A light of understanding came to Harry’s face, and he revived with wonderful swiftness.
“I remember it all now!” he faintly exclaimed. “But I do not know what happened to us. It seemed to me that something struck me.”
“Something did.”
“What was it?”
“I don’t know, but something knocked us both out. You remember that the old man warned us not to advance another step—said it would mean instant death if we did.”
“Yes; but I thought the old duffer was bluffing.”
“So did I. I have since decided that he wasn’t.”
“You think he gave us the knock-out?”
“I do.”
“How could he?”
“Some way. He has some mysterious power, with the aid of which he guards the mouth of that cave.”
“And that power must be——”
“Electricity!”
“It’s a dead-sure thing!” cried Harry. “We were given an electric shock. When the man touched the wall with his hand, he turned on the current.”
“I believe it.”
“But how did the shock reach us?”
“Don’t know. I saw no wires.”
“Nor I.”
“There must have been wires.”
“I presume so.”
“Well, where are we now?”
They looked around, but there was nothing about their surroundings that they remembered having seen before.
“We are not in front of the cave,” said Frank.
“No, we are not where we fell, that is sure.”
“We must have been removed to this spot.”
“Sure.”
“The bicycles—where are they?”
With no small difficulty they got upon their feet, and then they saw their wheels leaning against the face of a black rock near by.
At first their legs seemed scarcely able to support their weight, but they grew stronger as the moments passed, and they approached the wheels.
Then it was they saw something drawn with white chalk on the smooth surface of the black rock.
It was the representation of a human hand, with the index finger pointing in a certain direction.
Beneath the hand were these words:
“THIS WAY—GO!”
“It is a warning!” cried Frank.
“You boot your bets—I mean bet your boots! It tells us to git.”
“Well?”
With that word Frank turned on Harry sharply.
“You may go if you want to,” said Rattleton; “but I never knew you to run away. You are not easily scared.”
“How about you?”
“I am here to find that girl, and I am going to stay till I find her or croak! That’s how about me!”
“Good stuff!” cried Merry, approvingly, as he grasped the hand of his comrade. “We’ll both stay till we find her.”
In a short time the boys began to feel like themselves once more. Taking their wheels along, they sought for a spring, and were able to find one.
There they stopped and made a meal from the hard bread and jerked beef, which was washed down with clear water from the spring.
“Now I am all right,” Harry declared. “A feed was what I needed.”
They discussed matters a few minutes, and then, carefully observing the surroundings, decided to conceal the bicycles in the vicinity of the spring and seek for the mouth of the cave once more.
They found a good hiding place for the wheels, and there the machines were stowed away.
“We can’t be so awfully far from that cave,” Frank decided. “One man and a girl would not be able to bring us a long distance.”
But the cave was not easy to find, and the more they searched the more bewildered they became.
Meanwhile night was coming on swiftly.
“Hist!” warned Harry, suddenly grasping Frank’s wrist and drawing him down behind some bowlders. “Look there!”
“What is it?”
“Moving figures! I saw them distinctly over there.”
“The man and the girl?”
“Couldn’t tell. There they are again. Look!”
“I see! It is not the man and the girl. It is two men.”
“That is right—or, at least, a man and something that resembles a man.”
“It is Bernard Belmont and his gorilla man!”
“You are right, Merry, my boy; and they, too, are searching for the mouth of the cave. It will be a good scheme to watch them.”
The boys followed Belmont and Apollo, being aided in doing so without danger of discovery by the gathering darkness; but they knew very well that, in a short time it would become so dark that they might lose track of the two.
Apollo seemed to be guiding his master to some spot, and they clambered over the rocks with haste that indicated a desire to reach the place without delay.
At last the dwarf paused and swept aside some matted vines from the face of what seemed to be a cliff of solid stone.
A black opening, large enough to admit a man in a stooping posture, was revealed.
Apollo urged Belmont to follow, and then they disappeared beyond the vines, which fell down and hid the opening again.
“It’s a cave, Merry!” whispered Rattleton.
“Yes,” nodded Frank; “it may be one of the many entrances to the great cavern of the ‘queer’ makers. This may lead into the cave occupied by Carter Morris!”
“Then let’s get in there quick!” exclaimed Harry, eagerly. “If we don’t, we may lose track of those men.”
“We must use something like caution, my boy. If we were to rush in after them, it might do us up, for they may be laying for us.”
So the mouth of the cave was approached with caution.
When they had reached it, Frank listened.
From a distance inside he could hear voices, and, peering through the vines, he caught the glimmer of a light.
“Come in quickly after me, Harry,” he directed. “Be ready to fight for your life if attacked.”
Rattleton’s heart was in his throat, and he felt that they were plunging into unknown and terrible danger, but he said:
“Go ahead. I am with you to the end.”
Gently and swiftly Frank made the opening in the vines larger, and then he quickly stepped through, holding them aside for his friend to follow.
The vines fell back into place, and the lad crouched close to the ground.
“There,” said Frank, “see that light? It is not a torch.”
“No. It seems to be some sort of lamp.”
“It is a miner’s lamp. Look—another is being lighted.”
A match flared up, and its bright glow revealed the pale and terrible face of the gorilla man, who was lighting the lamp.
The lamps were arranged to be placed in the hats of those who carried them, and this was what the two men did with them.
When everything was arranged to their satisfaction, Belmont and the dwarf started onward into the cave.
“We’ll follow them, Harry,” said Frank.
The light from the lamps made it a comparatively easy task for the boys to accomplish their purpose.
Deeper and deeper into the great cave went the two men. Once or twice they stopped and listened. Once the boys distinctly heard Apollo say:
“Master, I think I heard a step.”
“Nonsense!” returned the man, sharply. “You heard nothing.”
“I am sure I heard something,” the dwarf insisted.
“Then it was a rat, or, if there are no rats here, it was a piece of falling stone.”
“It may have been,” acknowledged Apollo.
Onward they went.
Frank and Harry had stopped and were listening. Harry’s hands grasped Merriwell’s arm, and he was filled with excitement. He drew a breath of relief when the men moved on.
“Jy bove—no, by Jove!” he gasped. “I thought the trick was up then!”
“Still!” cautioned Frank. “We must not alarm that dwarf too much. He has wonderfully keen ears.”
The passage, in places, broadened into great chambers, while in other places it narrowed till they were forced to make their way along one at a time.
“If we lose sight of those lights we may have some trouble getting out,” whispered Harry.
“That’s so,” confessed Merriwell. “I have seen other passages besides the one taken by them.”
The thought of being lost underground in that great cave was enough to turn them cold with fear.
And then, without the least warning, the lights in advance suddenly vanished.
“Down!” whispered Merriwell. “I believe they have discovered we are after them. Close to the ground and listen!”
Down they crouched, their hearts beating riotously in their bosoms.
Not a sound seemed to break the deathlike stillness of the cave.
“What’s happened?” whispered Harry. “Where have they gone?”
“Give it up,” answered Frank. “They have disappeared, but that is as much as I know.”
“Perhaps they are laying for us.”
But, although they waited a long time, not a sound could they hear save those sounds made by themselves.
“I am going ahead,” declared Merriwell.
“We may run into them.”
“Got to chance it, old man. That might be better than to have them run away from us. Come on.”
“I’m with you.”
Keeping close together, they crept forward slowly, not knowing but they might be attacked at any moment.
Of a sudden, Frank gave a gasp and cry. Harry tried to grasp his companion, and then he found himself slipping, sliding, falling.
Down they went, getting hold of each other, but being unable to stop their descent. It was impossible to see anything there in that frightful darkness, and that made their peril seem awful indeed.
Fortunately their fall was not always direct. There were times when they seemed to be sliding down a steep slope, while dust filled their eyes and mouths, and they were bruised and scratched and robbed of breath.
Finally, when it had seemed they would never cease falling, they stopped with a great thump and lay panting side by side.
“Great humping misery!” gasped Rattleton, weakly. “Are we diving or are we lead—I mean are we living or are we dead?”
“We seem to be living,” said Frank, “but we might be better off if we were dead. I think we are in a bad scrape.”
“What happened to us, anyway?”
“We fell.”
“Or were we pushed?”
“There was no pushing about it. We took the tumble ourselves.”
“You don’t suppose the chaps we were following fell down here ahead of us?”
“No.”
“Then what could have become of them?”
“They must have turned off into a side passage we did not see. That is the only way I can explain it.”
“Well, we may not be able to get out of this.”
“We’ll have to get out.”
“What if we can’t?”
“We mustn’t think of that.”
“All right; but I can’t help it.”
They sat up and felt of themselves, finding no bones were broken, although they had been bruised somewhat.
Harry was about to get on his feet, but Frank would not allow that till he had lighted a match, as there was danger of taking another mad tumble.
Frank always carried matches in a watertight case, and he produced and struck one. By the aid of the tiny blaze they first satisfied themselves that they were not on the brink of another descent, and there was no immediate danger of falling again. Then they tried to look around.
“Murder!” gasped Harry. “We are in it—bad!”
Frank felt that Rattleton was right; without doubt they were in a very bad scrape. But it was Merry’s policy to keep up his courage and put on a front, so he joked and laughed as if it were a matter to be made light of.
“I don’t know how you do it, old man,” said Harry, gloomily; “but I can’t laugh while we are in this sort of a hole.”
“We’ve both been in bad scrapes before. Keep a stiff upper lip. We’ll pull out all right. First, we must see if we can scale this place where we fell.”
Another match was lighted, and they made an examination. It was not long before they were convinced that it was utterly useless to think of trying to get out that way.
“Can’t be done!” groaned Harry.
“Not that way,” admitted Frank. “But we’ll find a way.”
“We came here to find the buried heiress, and now we are buried ourselves. That’s what I call hard lines.”
With the aid of their matches, they made their way along slowly, both fearing they might take another fall, and that it might be fatal.
“Perhaps it would be the best thing that could happen to us,” said Rattleton, dolefully. “It would be a great deal better than starving down here underground.”
Frank said nothing. He saw their matches were running out, and the thought of being left there in the darkness of that great cavern, with no means of procuring a light of any sort, was overcoming him and making it impossible for him to assume an air of carelessness and merry spirits.
Finally, when there were but a few matches left, Frank said:
“We’ll have to feel our way along and take chances, Harry. I am not going to use up all these matches, for there is no telling how valuable they may be later on.”
So, clinging to each other, they crept along inch by inch, lost in the Stygian darkness of the great cavern of the Sierras.
“There’s a light ahead, Harry!”
Frank uttered the words in an excited whisper, after they had been groping their way through the darkness of the great cavern for what seemed to be many hours.
Rattleton was greatly agitated.
“It is a light, sure!” he panted. “Frank, we’re all right at last!”
For some time they had heard a strange puffing sound that seemed smothered and far away, like the panting breathing of some subterranean monster. This was accompanied by a singular buzzing roar that sounded very uncanny.
“What is it?” asked Rattleton, in awe—“what can it be?”
“Give it up,” confessed Frank. “Let’s find out. Come on.”
They moved toward the light, and soon they found themselves looking down into a round chamber of the great cavern from a height of many feet.
What they saw filled them with inexpressible astonishment.
The place was lighted with electric lamps, and down there in the chamber was a steam engine and a small electric dynamo.
The engine was running steadily, and the dynamo hummed with a sound about which there now was nothing uncanny.
Near the engine, watching it with interest, was the girl of the golden hair.
Harry clutched Frank’s arm.
“There she is!” he panted. “We have found her at last!”
They stood in silence for several moments, watching the girl, who looked very pretty beneath the light of the electric lamps.
Suddenly a cry came from Harry, and he clutched Merriwell’s arm with quivering fingers, pointing with his other hand.
“Look! look!” he exclaimed. “The dwarf—there he is!”
Sure enough, the crouching figure of Apollo was seen emerging from the darkness of a black opening and advancing toward the girl with swift, catlike steps.
The girl had heard Harry’s exclamation, and, startled, she looked up toward where the boys were standing.
Then the dwarf rushed upon her and clutched her with his iron hands.
A scream of terror came from the lips of the frightened girl, and rang in weird echoes through the cave.
The hand of Apollo was pressed over her mouth.
But that scream had been heard, and there was an answering shout from not very far away.
The girl struggled, but the dwarf dragged her along toward the dark opening.
“How can we get down there, Frank? We must take a hand! How can we do it? It is too far to jump!”
Rattleton was frantic.
Frank was looking for some way of getting down into the chamber.
Before either of them could discover a means of going to the assistance of the girl, Carter Morris, the strange old hermit, rushed into the cavern.
Morris sprang to the aid of the girl, but it seemed Bernard Belmont had been waiting for such a thing to happen, for he leaped out of the darkness and grappled with the hermit.
Then a savage battle took place before the eyes of the boys.
“Furies!” roared the man of the cave, writhing to break the grasp of his assailant. “Who are you?”
The girl got her mouth free from Apollo’s hand and screamed:
“It is my stepfather—it is Bernard Belmont!”
It seemed that those words filled the hermit with a mad frenzy. He struggled furiously, and Belmont was forced to exert all his strength to prevent himself from being overcome, although he was the assailant.
“We must go to the rescue, Frank—we must!” palpitated Rattleton.
The boys were determined to find a way of getting down into the round chamber, and Frank fancied he saw a manner of descending. It would be necessary to drop at least fifteen feet, but he started to make the attempt and Harry followed.
The battle between Belmont and Carter Morris continued with great fury, and Morris seemed to become perfectly mad with rage when he was unable to overcome his assailant.
Bit by bit the hermit dragged the man toward the buzzing dynamo, his eyes glowing with an awful purpose.
Suddenly he tried to hurl Belmont upon the dynamo.
Belmont realized the intention of the man, and a scream of fear escaped him.
A moment later both men went down upon the machine!
A second they seemed to cling there, and then they were flung off, falling upon the rocky floor of the cavern and lying still, holding fast to each other in death!
The girl screamed, and the dwarf seemed overcome with sudden fear. He stared at the contorted face of his dead master, seeming unable to realize what had happened in the twinkling of an eye.
Down from the heights above dropped two boys.
“Give it to him, Frank!” screamed Harry.
They rushed at the dwarf, but, for once in his life, at least, Apollo was mastered by terror, for, with a shout of dismay, he released the girl and fled, disappearing in a hopping, bounding manner into the darkness.
Rattleton caught the half-fainting girl in his arms, crying:
“Hurrah, Merry, we have found her, and we’ve saved her!”
But she had fainted.
When another morning dawned the two boys and the girl left the great cave and started for Carson City.
Already had Mildred explained to them how it happened that the steam engine and the dynamo were found in the cavern. The coiners who had occupied that retreat years before had discovered a valuable vein of ore, and they had devised a scheme of mining with the aid of electricity. The engine was brought there to run the dynamo. As a certain portion of the cave yielded coal in liberal quantities, it was not difficult to find fuel for the engine.
Carter Morris, being somewhat of an electrician, had put the abandoned machinery in running order when he took possession of the cave.
It had been his intention to protect himself from intruders by the aid of electric currents, and he had given Frank and Harry a frightful shock at the mouth of the cavern by means of hidden wires.
The electric current had caused his death when he fell upon the dynamo in struggling with Bernard Belmont.
The graves of both men were made in the cave, and Little Milly shed tears over the body of her mad uncle, who had sought to befriend her by “burying” her.
The hidden bicycles were found, and the sailboat was discovered where the boys had left it.
After setting sail to cross the lake, Frank touched Harry’s arm and pointed to an object that was floating in the water, at the same time pressing a finger to his lips and shaking his head, with a look toward Milly.
Harry looked and started, for he saw the ghastly, upturned face of Apollo, the dwarf, the scar on his cheek having turned a purplish blue.
The girl did not see this object, and the boys believed it far better to leave the dwarf than to horrify her by letting her see the body.
Carson was reached without further adventure, and there a joyous surprise awaited Mildred Morris.
Jack Diamond met the little party outside the hotel.
“Where are Toots and Bruce?” asked Frank, in a low voice.
“Standing guard, as you directed,” said Jack. “We have taken turns since you went away, and he has not been left alone a moment.”
“How is he?”
“Better—much better. The doctor says he thinks he’ll come around all right.”
Then Frank and Harry accompanied Milly to a certain room of the hotel. Browning and the colored boy were called out of the room, and Merriwell said to the girl:
“Go in, Miss Morris. There’s some one in there who will be glad to see you.”
He held the door open, and urged her gently into the room.
A moment later there was a cry of joy—two cries—a rush. Then, peering in at the door for a moment, the delighted lads saw Milly spring toward the bed and clasp her living brother in her arms.
Frank closed the door.
Immediately Toots danced a wild cancan of delight.
“Golly sakes teh goodness!” he chuckled. “Dat gal sho’ am a peach. I’d jes’ lek teh take dat sick boy’s place ’bout five minutes. Yah! yah! yah! Oh, mommer!”
The boy whom Mildred had rushed to meet was her brother, George, who was not dead, but had fainted at sight of his cruel stepfather and the dwarf. Belmont had thought the boy dead, and had left Carson without delay, much to the satisfaction of Frank Merriwell.
And now the doctor who was attending George said the boy had a fair show to recover.
“Say,” observed Diamond, suddenly, “the buried heiress is out of sight! I think I will——”
“If you try it,” spluttered Rattleton, menacingly, “I’ll hake your bread—I mean I’ll break your head! I saw her first, and I have first claim there!”
“Break away, there, you chumps,” laughed Frank. “We have business first, you know. We must speed on toward California and bring this wonderful trip of ours to a successful finish. Onward is the cry.”
That afternoon they bade farewell to George and Mildred, and rode away, sorry indeed at the parting.
|
“We are a set of jolly, jolly lads, As we ride—as we ride away! You bet we’re up to date, but are no cads, As we ride—as we ride away! We’ve crossed the plains and scaled the Rockies high, And now hurrah! for ’Frisco’s town is nigh; We sing as toward that port we swiftly fly, As we ride—as we ride away!” |
Through a California forest of monster trees our five boys were riding, and they sang as they rode, their voices blending beautifully and making the old woods echo with sweet music.
To them it seemed that all the perils of the trip were past and San Francisco was in view, although in truth, it was more than two hundred miles away by the route they would be compelled to follow.
It was a perfect day, with the sun shining from a cloudless sky, as it always seems to shine in California. It was warm, but not too hot for comfort, and the road through the forest was fairly good, winding to the right and then to the left beneath the shadows of the great trees.
“If this road wasn’t so crooked, we wouldn’t have to travel so far,” groaned Browning, his manner being so dismal that the others broke into a shout of laughter.
“You shouldn’t kick about this road,” smiled Frank. “I’ve seen a road much more crooked than this.”
“It must have been pretty crooked.”
“It was so crooked that when you started to ride on it you’d meet yourself coming back.”
“Yow!” whooped Rattleton. “That’s the worst I ever heard! A man should be put behind bars for perpetrating anything like that.”
“I don’t think I’d like to be put behind bars,” confessed Merry.
“Huah!” grunted Bruce. “There are others. Why, I know fellows who want to be in front of bars all the time.”
“You mean they drink incessantly?”
“No, I mean they drink whiskey.”
“Yah! yah! yah!” shouted Toots, his shrill laugh awaking the echoes. “Nebber heard Mistah Brownin’ say nuffin’ funny as dat befo’! Dat teks de cake!”
“I wouldn’t mind taking a small cake,” said the big fellow. “This California air makes me hungry.”
“Land ob wartermillions! yo’s alwus hungry, Mistah Brownin’, sar. Yo’s been eatin’ all de way ’crost de country.”
“That’s right,” was Browning’s confession. “And there was one strip of country where they didn’t seem to have anything to eat but corn beef and cabbage. I actually ate so much corn beef and cabbage that I was ashamed to look a cow in the face.”
“Well, we’ll soon be in San Francisco, the greatest city in all this Western land,” put in Frank. “There we can get almost any kind of feed we like. Why, I know a restaurant where we’ll be able to get ‘genuine Boston baked beans.’”
“You know a place?” questioned Diamond. “You know? Look here, Frank Merriwell, what is there you don’t know about? Have you been everywhere and seen everything?”
“Not by a long distance, but I have been in San Francisco.”
“Well, it seems to me that we never mention a place that you don’t know all about. You were perfectly familiar with Carson City.”
“Yes, I had been there before, and it is a place I shall not soon forget, for it was there I last saw my old chum of Fardale, Bart Hodge.”
“You have spoken of him often of late.”
“Yes; I have been thinking of him very much. It is natural, as I am near where I saw him last. Dear old fellow! How we fought in the old days when we first met! And, after that, what firm friends we became! Hodge had his failings, but he was white at heart. He would lay down his life for a friend. His parents were wealthy, and they had indulged him in everything he desired, till he was completely spoiled and they could do nothing with him. Fardale was noted as a place where just such fellows were taken and broken into the traces, and so his father sent him there. Hodge didn’t do a thing at first—oh, no! not a thing! He raised merry thunder, and he hated me with a virulent hatred. He tried to injure me in every way he could devise, but when I pulled him out of several bad scrapes, incidentally saving his life, he began to see that he was in the wrong. He had a fierce battle to overcome his natural inclination to do dirty things, but overcome it he did, and he became fairly popular in time, although no one knew him and understood him like myself. Between us there was a perfect understanding, and I could control him when he would not listen to reason from any other person.”
“I believe you were stuck on Hodge!” said Diamond, somewhat piqued.
“No more than I am on any of my true friends,” answered Frank.
“It seems you put yourself to lots of trouble with him.”
“I did; but I fancied there was the making of a fine man in him, and I felt that it was a shame to see a chap go to the dogs. Several times he came near being fired from Fardale, for they could do nothing with him. If he had been fired, his father would have forced him to hustle for himself. With a boy of Hodge’s nature that must have meant ruin, as he would have fallen in with fast companions, would have required money, and would have obtained it by some means or other. If his companions had been crooked, Hodge, although his nature would have rebelled against anything dishonest, would have become crooked also. He told me that, and he said I was his good angel.”
“Hang it, Merry!” spluttered Rattleton; “you’ve been a good angel for lots of us. It seems that every fellow who sticks by you gets on better than he ever did before.”
“I’m a mascot,” laughed Frank. “Follow me and you’ll wear diamonds—or something else.”
“There’s no doubt about it,” grunted Browning. “We’ll be arrested if we don’t. Can’t go naked in this country.”
“Yah!” cried Toots. “Don’ yo’ try so hard to say somefin’ funny, Mistah Brownin’, fo’ dat is where yo’ meks a mistook, sar. Yo’ falls do’n on yo’se’f, an’ yo’ don’ get funny at all.”
“Thanks, my colored counsellor,” murmured the big fellow. “You have a shocking habit of giving advice when it isn’t asked. I wouldn’t do it so much if I were you.”
“Choke off, Toots,” advised Frank.
“All right, sar—all right,” muttered the colored boy; “but I knows what I knows—yes, sar. It done do some of de crowd good if dey took mah advice, sar.”
The boys admired the trees and the weather, and they were supremely happy. All were hearty and healthy, with muscles as hard as iron and eyes clear as the eagle’s.
Browning, although still stout and sturdy, had worked himself down to a hard, healthy condition, and was really a stunningly handsome fellow. There was about him a suggestion of great strength, and almost any man might have hesitated about facing him in anger.
As Merriwell was one who constantly kept himself in perfect condition, it cannot be said that he was looking better than when the party left New York, although he, like the others, was tanned by exposure to all sorts of weather.
As the party came around a bend of the road, they saw another young bicyclist, who was standing beside his wheel, somewhat uneasily regarding their approach.
“Hello!” exclaimed Diamond. “Here’s a fellow traveler.”
Frank took off his cap and waved it about his head, but the stranger did not answer the salute.
“Some way he doesn’t seem at all pleased to see us,” said Rattleton.
“It may be the way with Californians,” said Diamond.
“Anyhow we’ll stop and ask him a few questions,” Merriwell said. “At least, he can’t refuse to answer us, if we are civil.”
So, as the boys came up, they slackened their speed and prepared to dismount. To their surprise the stranger made preparations to mount, as if he contemplated riding away if they stopped.
“He’s going to run away,” grunted Bruce, in disgust.
“Hold on,” urged Merriwell, addressing the stranger. “We want to talk with you.”
Then the boys sprang off their wheels.
To their surprise, the stranger suddenly held out his hand, almost shouting:
“It is Frank Merriwell, or my eyes can’t see straight!”
“Bart Hodge, as I live!” cried Frank, grasping the outstretched hand.
It was Bart Hodge!
How they did shake hands! Strangely enough, neither of them laughed, but there was a look of joy on their faces that told of satisfaction and delight too great for laughter.
“Merriwell, old man,” said Hodge, his voice unsteady with emotion, “I can scarcely believe it is true! It seems too good to be true!”
“Hodge!” exclaimed Frank, “there is fate in this. I was speaking of you not more than ten minutes ago.”
“Speaking of me?”
“Sure.”
“Then you had not forgotten me?”
“Forgotten you?” came reproachfully from Frank—“you should know I am not the kind of fellow to forget my friends.”
“That’s right,” nodded Bart, quickly; “you always did stick to your friends through thick and thin.”
“Yes, through thick and thin, old chum.”
“But it is most astonishing to see you away out here in this part of the country. Where did you drop from?”
“Oh, we are on a little run across the country,” smiled Merry. “We started from New York, and we’re bound for San Francisco. Permit me to introduce my friends.”
Then he presented the others of the party in turn, and Bart shook hands with them all, expressing his satisfaction at meeting them, but seeming rather reserved and uneasy. Frank observed that Hodge turned his head to glance down the road now and then as if expecting the appearance of some one or something.
“So you’re Hart Bodge—I mean Bart Hodge?” said Harry, as he was introduced. “Well, I’m glad to know you. Merry has talked about you ever since I first met him at Yale. He has told everything about you.”
“If that is true, I’m afraid you have not formed a very good opinion of me,” said Hodge, somewhat gloomily.
“On the contrary, I have formed a very good opinion of you,” assured Rattleton.
“Then it can’t be Merry has told you everything.”
Frank was not a little surprised by Bart’s manner, for Hodge had been a fellow who could not easily suppress his self-conceit, and it had always been his desire to impress strangers with the idea that he was something quite out of the ordinary.
A vague feeling that something was wrong with Bart seized upon Merriwell.
“You’re not well, old man,” he said. “I know it. Don’t say you are.”
“Never was better in all my life.”
“But something is the trouble—I can see that.”
“Oh, no!” assured Bart; “you are mistaken, I assure you.”
But, for all of these words, Frank was not satisfied, as Bart’s manner had plainly betrayed the fact that he was trying to conceal something.
“Which way are you traveling?” Frank asked.
“East.”
“Too bad! We are going the other way, and I hoped you’d go along.”
“Oh, no! it is impossible,” Hodge quickly asserted.
“Business important?”
“Well, it is—er—somewhat so.”
“Where are you from last?”
“Oh, I’ve been traveling—yes, traveling,” answered Bart, vaguely.
“Now, look here!” cried Merry, decisively; “you’ve got to travel with us, old man. I won’t take no for an answer, for I believe you can do it. You’ll turn about and go to San Francisco with us.”
“That’s right; come on,” cried the others.
Bart shook his head.
“Can’t do it—I can’t. You don’t know—I can’t explain—now.”
“Do you think this is using me just right?” asked Frank, reproachfully. “You’ll find us a jolly crowd, and we’ll have dead loads of sport. We’ve made a quick run across, and we can take our time going back. None of the fellows are obliged to hurry home. Come along with us, Bart, and we’ll do you good.”
Something like a smile flitted over Hodge’s serious face.
“You are the same old Merriwell,” he said. “It has done me good to see you a little while, Frank.”
“It will do you more good to see me longer, and it’ll do me good to have you come with me. Come along.”
Bart wavered. It was plain enough that he longed to go, but, for some reason, he hesitated.
Frank passed an arm about Hodge’s shoulders, saying, gently but firmly:
“You’ve got to do it; you can’t get out of it, old chum.”
A wave of feeling fled across Hodge’s face, and there was something like a suspicious quiver of his sensitive chin.
“You do not understand,” he slowly murmured. “I’d like to have a talk with you, Frank. I—I might tell you——”
“That’s right,” said Harry, heartily. “Old friends like you chaps want a chance to talk over old matters and things. Excuse us. We’re going to find a chance to stretch our weary limbs on the ground. Browning has an attack of that tired feeling, and he will fall asleep in his tracks if he doesn’t recline without delay.”
“Huah!” grunted Bruce.
Then the boys withdrew, leaving Hodge and Merriwell together.
Bart seemed embarrassed and uneasy. He glanced at Frank slyly, as if in doubt, which Merry did not fail to note, although pretending not to observe it.
They sat down near the foot of a monster tree, against which they could lean in a comfortable position as they chatted. The great forest of redwood trees was all about them, and a Sabbath peace brooded over the gentle slope of the Sierras.
“Well, Bart,” said Frank, insinuatingly, “I trust things are going well with you?”
A sudden change came over Hodge. A fierce look of rage came to his face and his eyes blazed, while his voice was harsh and unpleasant, as he cried:
“Things are not going well with me! Everything has gone wrong! Oh, I’ve had infernal luck! I know I was born under an unlucky star, and the only time I ever did get along was when you and I were together at Fardale.”
“Then stick by me, and change your luck again.”
“I’d like to do it, but you are going the wrong way.”
“What’s the odds? There is no reason why you should not turn back and——”
“There is a reason.”
“Of course I do not know about that, but——”
“Listen, Frank; you remember Isa Isban?”
“Yes, and Vida Milburn, Isa’s half-sister, with whom you were in love. I distinctly remember that Vida was a beautiful and charming girl.”
Hodge’s teeth ground together with a nerve-tingling, grating sound, and his face was set as stone, although his eyes still blazed.
“Yes, a beautiful girl—a charming girl!” he admitted, but with sarcasm that could not be mistaken.
“What’s the matter? Where is Vida now?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care a rap!”
“Oh, say! I think I tumble. It is a case of lovers’ quarrel. Now, now, now! Don’t be foolish, my boy! It will come out all right. You know true love persistently refuses to run smooth. You’ll make it all up in time.”
Hodge grinned, but there was nothing of mirth in the expression. It seemed to Frank as if some wild animal had shown its teeth.
“Oh, yes, it will come out all right!” he sneered. “We’ll make it all up in time! It’s too late, Merriwell.”
“You think so, that’s all.”
“I know so. She’s married!”
Frank gasped.
“Married?”
“Yes.”
“Married? Why, she is a mere girl! And you—where do you come in?”
“I’m not in it, and I think I’m lucky. That’s not worrying me.”
“But how—how did it happen? Why did you throw her over? or why did she go back on you?”
“I’m not going to tell the whole story now, Frank; but the fact is that she lacked faith in me. I rather think I’m dead lucky to get out of it, for she was rather weak and fickle. You know her half-sister, Isa Isban, although stunningly handsome, is wild and reckless. She was married to a gambler and maker of crooked money.”
“But he is dead—was shot, and Isa disappeared.”
“Well, she has reappeared, but I’ll tell you about that later. It’s Vida I wish to tell you about now. You know Vida’s old uncle and aunt never did have a high opinion of me.”
“Not till they discovered that you were a brave and honorable fellow. Then they seemed to turn about and think you one of the finest chaps in the world.”
“They got over it,” Hodge sneered. “They came to think me anything but brave and honorable. They believed me a drunkard, a gambler and a thief!”
Frank was shocked, and he showed it.
“Impossible!” he cried. “How could they think such a thing of you? They had no reason to think so!”
Bart turned crimson till it extended all over his face and neck.
“You don’t know, Merry,” he muttered, positively showing shame. “I’m not like you—I make a bad break sometimes. It is hard for me to resist temptation, and—well, I was tempted, and I succumbed. That’s all.”
“Succumbed? What do you mean? I know your heart is right, old fellow, and you did not do anything wrong intentionally.”
“Appearances were against me—I confess it. First—well, I was seen drunk. That is, I seemed to be drunk, but I swear to you that I had not taken but one drink, and that was not enough to knock out a ten-year-old boy. It was drugged, Frank—I know it!”
“Drugged? Who did such a villainous trick?”
“My enemy—a young fellow who loved Vida. He has a father who’s got the rocks. He’s older than I, and I thought him my friend. I met him at her home. His name is Hart Davis.”
“The whelp! But did Vida see you?”
“Yes. I had been out with Davis that night. In the morning I was found on the steps of Vida’s home, apparently dead drunk.”
“How came you there?”
“I didn’t know at the time. Since then—well, it is settled in my mind. Davis said I left him to go to the place where I was boarding in Carson City. He said I seemed to be all right when I left him, and so he let me go. He appeared very shocked to think such a misfortune had happened me: but—burn him!—I believe he gave me knock-out drops—I believe he carried me to that house—I believe he left me on the steps, where I was found!”
Frank’s eyes were blazing now, and the look on his expressive face told how he felt toward Mr. Hart Davis.
“And did Vida throw you over for that?” he asked, in an indignant manner.
“Not entirely for that. She was very shocked and cold toward me, but when I was arrested——”
“Arrested?” gasped Frank. “Arrested for what?”
“For stealing a watch.”