Professor Scotch was now as eager as any of them to see the wonderful palace, all his doubts having been dispelled by Bushnell's straightforward narrative of the discovery of the place by himself and Jack Burk.

"I wonder what causes that column of smoke we saw rising amid the mountains to the westward to-day?" said Frank.

Bushnell shook his head.

"Thet thar has troubled me some," he admitted. "It seems ter be fair an' squar' in ther direction of ther Silver Palace."

"Maype dose pandits peen aheadt uf us und purn der balace up," suggested Hans, with an air of very great wisdom.

"I scarcely think they would be able to burn a building made of stone, gold, and silver," smiled Frank.

"Wa'al, not much," said Bushnell. "Ther palace will be thar when we arrive. You needn't worry about thet."

They were very tired, and, feeling secure in the depths of a narrow ravine, they soon slept, with the exception of Frank, who had the first watch.

The moon came up over the mountain peaks, which stood out plainly in the clear light, every gorge and fissure being cut black as ink, and showing with wonderful distinctness.

The shadow was deep in the narrow ravine, and Frank sat with his back to a wall of rock, looking upward, when he was startled to see a figure rise in the bright moonlight.

On the brink of the ravine above stood a man who seemed to be peering down at them.

"Awaken!" cried this man, in a loud voice. "You are in great danger!"

The cry aroused every sleeper, and Bushnell started up with his Winchester clutched ready for use.

"What is it?" he asked.

Frank clutched his arm, gasping:

"Merciful goodness! look there—look at that man's face! Can the dead return to life?"

He pointed at the man on the brink of the ravine above them. The light of the moon fell fairly on the face of this man, which was plainly revealed to every one of the startled and thunderstruck party.

"Move lively, down there!" cried the man, with a warning gesture.

"There have been spies upon you, and Pacheco knows where you have stopped for the night."

Bushnell dropped his rifle, clutching at the neck of his shirt, and gasping for breath.

"By ther livin' gods!" he shouted, "it's my pard, Jack Burk, or it's his spook!"

"Id vas a sbook!" gurgled Hans Dunnerwust, quivering with fear. "Id vos der sbook uf der man vot we seen deat as a toornail!"

In truth, the man on the brink of the ravine looked like Jack Burk, who had been declared dead in the adobe hut near Mendoza.

"It is a resemblance—it must be a resemblance!" muttered Frank.

Once more the man above uttered a warning:

"You were trailed by a spy," he declared. "The spy saw you camp here, and he has gone to bring Pacheco and the bandits. They will be here soon. If you escape, you must move without further delay."

"It not only looks like my pard," said Bushnell, hoarsely, "but it has ther voice of my pard! Ef Jack Burk is dead, thet shore is his spook!"

And then, as suddenly as he had appeared, the man above vanished from view.

"Gone!" gasped Professor Scotch, wiping the cold perspiration from his face. "I never took stock in ghosts before, but now——"

"Remember his warning," cut in Frank. "We had better heed it."

"Dot vos righd," nodded Hans.

"Yes, thet's right," agreed Bushnell. "We'll git out of hyar in a howlin' hurry. Ef Jack Burk is dead, then thet wuz his spook come to warn his old pard."

There was saddling and packing in hot haste, and the little party was soon moving along the ravine.

For at least thirty minutes they hastened onward, and then the Westerner found a place where the horses could climb the sloping wall of the ravine and get out of the gorge. It was no easy task to make the animals struggle to the top, but Bushnell succeeded in forcing them all up. When the party was out of the ravine every one breathed with greater freedom.

"There," said Frank, "I do not feel as if we might be caught like rats in a trap."

Frank was the last to move from the ravine, and, just as he was about to do so, he seemed to catch a glimpse of something moving silently in the darkness.

"Hist!" came the warning from his lips. "Come here, Bushnell—professor, Hans, stay with the horses. Be cautious, and come lively."

He flung himself on his face in the shadow of a great bowlder, and peered down into the darkness below.

The Westerner and the professor came creeping to his side.

"What is it?" asked Bushnell.

"Look," directed Frank. "What do you make of it?"

Peering down into the dark depths of the gorge, they saw black figures flitting silently past, men and horses, as they were able to make out.

"Horsemen!" breathed the professor. "They must be the bandits!"

"But look!" came cautiously from Frank's lips; "they are riding swiftly, yet the feet of their horses make no sound!"

"That's right!" gasped Scotch. "Great Jupiter! can they be more ghosts?"

"Mysteries are crowding each other," said Frank.

Bushnell was silent, but he was watching and listening.

Like a band of black phantoms, the silent horsemen rode along the ravine and disappeared. Frank could hear the professor's teeth chattering as if the man had a chill.

"This bub-bub-beats my tut-tut-tut-time!" confessed Scotch. "I rather think we'd better turn back and let the Silver Palace alone."

"Rot!" growled Bushnell. "Them varmints wuz Pacheco's gang, an' they hed the feet of their critters muffled, thet's all. Don't git leery fer thet. All ther same, ef Jack Burk or his spook hedn't warned us, them onery skunks w'u'd hed us in a consarned bad trap."

This was the truth, as they all knew, and they were decidedly thankful to the mysterious individual who had warned them.

Bushnell now resorted to the trick of "covering the trail," in order to do which it was necessary to muffle the feet of their horses and lead them over the rocky ground, where their bandaged hoofs could make no mark. At length he came to a stream, and he led the way into the water, following the course of the stream, and having the others trail along in single file directly behind him.

When they halted again Bushnell assured them that there was little danger that the bandits would be able to follow them closely, and they rested without molestation till morning.

At daybreak the Westerner was astir, being alive with eagerness and impatience, as he repeatedly declared they would behold the wonderful Silver Palace before another sunset.

Eating a hasty breakfast, they pushed forward, with the Westerner in the lead.

Once more the tower of smoke, which they had noted the day before, was before them, but now it seemed blacker and more ominous than on the previous day.

It was not far from midday when, away to the westward, they heard rumbling sounds, like distant thunder.

"Vot id vas, ain'd id?" asked Hans, in alarm. "I don'd seen no dunder shower coming up somevere, do I?"

"It did not seem like thunder," said Frank, soberly. "It was more like a rumbling beneath the ground, and I fancied the earth quivered a bit."

"Perhaps it is an earthquake," put in the professor, apprehensively. "I believe they have such convulsions of nature in this part of the world."

Bushnell said nothing, but there was a troubled look on his face, and he urged them all forward at a still swifter pace.

The smoke tower was now looming near at hand, and they could see it shift and sway, grow thin, and roll up in a dense, black mass. It cast a gloom over their spirits, and made them all feel as if some frightful disaster was impending.

Again and again, at irregular intervals, they heard the sullen rumbling, and once all were positive the earth shook.

It was noticed that directly after each rumbling the smoke rolled up in a thick, black mass that shut out the light of the sun and overcast the heavens.

The professor was for turning back, but Bushnell was determined to go forward, and Frank was equally resolute. Hans had very little to say, but his nerves were badly shaken.

"In less than an hour we shall be able to see the Silver Palace," assured Bushnell. "We would be fools to turn back now."

So they went on, and, at last, they climbed to the top of a rise, from which point the Westerner assured them that the palace could be seen.

An awe-inspiring spectacle met their gaze. They looked across a great gulf, from which the smoke was rolling upward in clouds, and out of which came the sullen mutterings they had heard.

"Merciful goodness!" cried Professor Scotch. "It must be the crater of a volcano!"

"Yah!" gasped Hans; "und der volcano vos doin' pusiness at der oldt standt alretty yet."

"The volcano may have been dormant for centuries," said the professor, "but it is coming to life now!"

"Where is the Silver Palace?" demanded Frank.

Bushnell clutched the boy's arm with a grip of iron, pointing straight through the smoke clouds that rose before them.

"Look!" he shouted, hoarsely; "it is thar! See—the smoke grows thinner, an' thar she am! See her glitter! In thet thar palace is stored enough treasure ter make us richer then ther richest men in ther world, an' ten thousand volcanoes ain't goin' ter keep me from it, you bet yer boots!"

True enough, through the parted smoke clouds gleamed the towers and turrets of the wonderful palace that had remained hidden in the heart of the mountains hundreds of years, jealously guarded by the fierce natives, who believed it sacred, and who had kept the secret well from the outside world.



CHAPTER XII.

DOOM OF THE SILVER PALACE.

Bushnell leaped from his horse and began tearing the packs from the backs of the led animals. He worked with mad haste, and there was an awesome, insane glare in his eyes.

"The man is crazy!" roared Professor Scotch. "The volcano is certain to break forth before long—it must be on the verge of breaking forth now. If we remain here we are doomed!"

"Oxcuse me!" fluttered Hans. "I vos retty to gone righd avay queek."

The professor turned to Frank with his appeal:

"Come, boy, let's get away before destruction comes upon us. We must not remain here."

Frank sprang down from his snorting horse, flung the rein to Hans, and leaped to Bushnell's side.

"You are mad to think of remaining here!" he said, swiftly. "Come away, and we will return when the volcano is at peace."

"No!" thundered the treasure-seeker, "I will not go! The Silver Palace is there, and I mean to have my share of the treasure. Go if you are afraid, but here I stay till the balloon is inflated, and I can cross the chasm. The wind is right for it, and nothing shall stop me!"

He picketed the horses, and began ripping open the packs.

Frank turned to Professor Scotch, saying, quietly:

"Bushnell will not go, and I shall stay with him. At the same time, I advise you to go. Take Hans with you, and get away from here. Leave a plain trail, and Bushnell will be able to follow it, if we succeed in reaching the palace and returning alive."

The professor entreated Frank to change his mind, but the lad was determined, and nothing could alter that determination.

At last Scotch gave up in despair, groaning:

"If you stay, I stay. I am your guardian, but you seem to have things all your own way. If this volcano cooks us all, you will be to blame for it."

Frank said no word, but went about the task of assisting Bushnell in the work of inflating the balloon.

The Westerner had a "gas generator," which he was getting in order. As soon as this was ready, the balloon was unrolled, spread out, drawn up by means of poles and lines, and then secured to the ground by one stout rope, which was hitched about the base of a great bowlder.

Then Bushnell built a fire and set the "gas generator" at work.

In the meantime the volcano had continued to mutter. At intervals the clouds of smoke parted, and they saw the wonderful Silver Palace standing on a plateau beyond the chasm.

The palace seemed to cast a spell over them all, and they felt the fever of the gold-hunter beginning to burn in their throbbing veins.

It was more than an hour after their arrival that the balloon began to fill with gas and Frank uttered a cheer as he saw the silk bulging like a bladder that is inflated with wind.

"Ha, ha!" laughed Bushnell, wildly. "In a few minutes we'll go sailin' over ther gulf, right through ther smoke, ter ther Silver Palace. Ha, ha, ha!"

The man's face was flushed till it was nearly purple, and his eyes were bloodshot. The fever had fastened itself firmly upon him.

More and more did the balloon expand. Bushnell had brought out a folding car, which he securely attached.

"In ten minutes more we'll be ready for the trip!" he shouted.

At that instant a series of wild cries reached their ears, and, turning swiftly, they saw a band of dark-faced men pouring through a fissure in the rocks to the north of them.

"Shimminy Gristmas!" cried Hans Dunnerwust, in terror. "Dot seddles us!"

"Who is it? Who are they?" fluttered the professor.

"They look like bandits," acknowledged Frank.

"It is Pacheco's band!" cried Bushnell, hastily securing his rifle. "Ther pizen varmints hev come ten minutes too soon! Ther balloon would take us all over in another ten minutes, but now it won't carry more than two. We must hold ther skunks off till she fills."

"Right!" shouted Frank Merriwell. "And we must be ready to go the instant she does fill. We can't hold 'em back long, for we have no shelter here. Professor, Hans, into that car! Get in, I say, and be ready! We'll try to stand the whelps off till the balloon is inflated, but we must be ready to start at any instant."

Professor Scotch and Hans were hastily bundled into the car.

The bandits hesitated long enough to gather and prepare for the charge, with their chief in the lead. It was plain they saw the treasure-seekers had no shelter, and they meant to close in without delay.

"Reddy for 'em, Frank!" called Bushnell, dropping on one knee, his Winchester in his hands. "They're comin' right soon!"

This was true. With mad cries and a fusillade of shots, the bandits charged.

Bushnell opened fire, and Frank followed his example. Several of the bandits were seen to fall, but still the others came on.

"Lead won't stop 'em!" snarled the Westerner. "It'll be hand ter hand in a jiffy."

"And that means——"

"We'll get wiped out."

"The balloon——"

"Won't carry more'n two—possibly three. In with ye, boy! You may escape! It don't make any diffrunce 'bout an old coon like me."

"Not much will I get in and leave you!" cried Frank. "We are partners in this expedition, and partners we'll stay to the end!"

"But ther others—ther professor an' ther Dutch boy! They might escape if——"

"They shall escape!"

Out flashed a knife in Frank Merriwell's hand, and, with one sweeping slash, he severed the strong rope that held the tugging, tossing balloon to the earth. Away shot the balloon, a cry of amazement and horror breaking from the lips of the professor and Hans.

"Mein gootness!" gasped the Dutch boy. "Vot vos happened?"

"I'll tell you," groaned the professor. "The balloon could not carry all four of us, and Frank Merriwell, like the noble, generous, hot-headed, foolish boy he is, refused to leave Bushnell. At the same time he would not doom us, and he cut the rope, setting the balloon free. He has remained behind to die at Bushnell's side."

"Led me git oudt!" sobbed Hans. "I vant to go pack und die mit him!"

"It was too late now. Look—see there! We are directly over the Silver Palace! What a beautiful——"

The professor's words were interrupted by a frightful rumbling roar that came up from the gulf surrounding the plateau on which the palace stood. All the way around that gulf a sheet of flame seemed to leap upward through smoke, and then, paralyzed, helpless, hypnotized by the spectacle, they saw the plateau and the palace sink and disappear into the blackness of a great void. Then, like a black funeral pall, the smoke rolled up about them and shut off their view.

But they knew that never again would the eyes of any human being behold the marvelous Silver Palace of the Sierra Madre Mountains.

When the balloon had ascended higher another current of air was encountered, and the course changed. Away they floated over the mountain peaks and out beyond the great range.

At last they came down, made a safe landing, and, to their satisfaction, found themselves within a mile of Huejugilla el Alto.

They had escaped the most frightful perils, but Professor Scotch's heart lay like lead in his bosom, and Hans Dunnerwust was not to be comforted, for they had left Frank Merriwell to his doom.

In Huejugilla el Alto they remained four days, neither of them seeming to have energy enough to do anything.

And, on the fourth day, Frank, Al Bushnell, and two others rode into town and stopped at the hotel.

Picture the meeting between Frank and his friends! Hans shed nearly a bucketful of joyful tears, and Professor Scotch actually swooned from sheer amazement and delight. When the professor recovered, he clung to Frank's hands, saying:

"This is the happiest moment of my life—if I am not dreaming! Frank, my dear boy, I never expected to see you again. How did you escape?"

"The eruption of the volcano broke the bandits up," explained Frank; "and, by the time they had recovered and were ready to come at us again, a band of natives, headed by Rodeo, Pacheco's brother, came down on them. A terrible battle ensued. The bandits were defeated, many of them slain, among the latter being the false Pacheco. And whom do you fancy the impostor proved to be, professor?"

"I haven't the least idea."

"He was my villainous cousin, Carlos Merriwell."

"And he is dead?"

"Yes."

"That is a good thing. He will not trouble you any more."

"No, I shall never be troubled by him again. With Rodeo and the natives was Jack Burk——"

"Jack Burk! The man is dead!"

"Not quite, professor," declared a familiar voice, and Burk himself stepped forward. "I am still quite lively for a dead man."

"But—I saw you dead!" declared the astounded professor.

"You saw me nearly dead, but not quite. You remember I told you of a native who had found me in the hut, and how he had said it was not a fever that ailed me, but was a trouble brought on by drinking the water of the spring near the hut?"

"Yes, I remember."

"And I told you the native hastily left me—left me to die alone, as I supposed."

"I remember that."

"He did not leave me to die, but went for an antidote. While you were away he returned and administered some of the antidote for the poison, bringing me around, although but a feeble spark of life fluttered in my bosom. Then he took me on his shoulders, and carried me from the hut to another place of shelter, where he brought me back to my full strength in a remarkably brief space of time."

"I understand why we did not find you," said the professor.

"We followed the bandits," Jack Burk continued. "This native was Rodeo, the brother of the true Pacheco, and he is here."

Rodeo stepped forward, bowing with the politeness of a Spanish don.

"Rodeo made me swear to aid him in hunting down the murderer of his brother. That was the pay he asked for saving my life. I gave the oath, and it was his whim that I should not reveal myself to you till the right time came. But when I saw the spy tracking you, saw him locate you, and saw him hasten to tell the bandits, I was forced to appear and give a warning."

"We took you for a ghost."

"I thought it possible you might, and I fancied that might cause you to give all the more heed to the warning."

"Well, of all remarkable things that ever happened in my life, these events of the past few days take the lead," declared Scotch. "However, I have come through all dangers in safety, and I am happy, for Frank is alive and well."

"But the Silver Palace is gone, with all its marvelous treasure," said Frank.

"Thet's right, boy," nodded Bushnell, gloomily. "Ther palace has sunk inter ther earth, an' nary galoot ever gits ther benefit of all ther treasure it contained."

"Don't take it so hard, partner," said Jack Burk. "Mexico is the land of treasures, and we may strike something else before we cross the Death Divide."

"Vell," sighed Hans Dunnerwust, "you beoples can hunt for dreasure all you don'd vant to; but I haf enough uf dis pusiness alretty soon. I nefer vos puilt for so much oxcitemend, und I vos goin' to took der next drain for home as soon as I can ged to him. Uf I don'd done dot I vos afrait mein mutter vill nefer seen her leedle Hansie some more."

"I fancy I have had quite enough of Mexico for the present," smiled Frank. "The United States will do me a while longer, and so, if you are going home, Hans, Professor Scotch and myself will accompany you till we strike Uncle Sam's domain, at least."

A few days later, bidding their friends adieu, they left Mexico, taking their way northward to New Orleans, where new adventures awaited them, as the chapters to follow will prove.



CHAPTER XIII.

A STAMPEDE IN A CITY.

It was the day before Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and the "Queen City of the South" was in her gayest attire, being thronged with visitors from the North and from almost every part of the world.

It was Monday, when Rex, king of the carnival, comes to town and takes possession of the city.

Early in the forenoon the river front in the vicinity of Canal Street was thronged with people seeking advantageous positions from which to witness the king's landing.

It was a jovial, good-natured gathering, such as is never seen in any other city. Every one seemed to have imbibed the spirit of the occasion, and there was no friction or unpleasantness. Every one was exceedingly polite and courteous, and all seemed to feel it a duty to make the occasion as pleasant for other folks as possible.

The shipping along the river was decorated, and flags flew everywhere. The sun never shone more brightly and New Orleans never presented more subtle allurements.

Seated in a private carriage that had stopped at a particularly favorable spot were Professor Scotch and Frank, who had arrived a few days before.

"Professor," said Frank, who was almost bursting with pent-up enthusiasm and youthful energy, "this makes a fellow feel that it is good to be living. In all the places we have visited, I have seen nothing like this. I am sorry Hans is no longer with us to enjoy it."

"And you will see nothing like it anywhere in this country but right here," declared the professor, who was also enthused. "Northern cities may get up carnivals, but they allow the spirit of commerce to crowd in and push aside the true spirit of pleasure. In all their pageants and processions may be seen schemes for advertising this, that or the other; but here you will see nothing of the kind. In the procession to-day and the parade to-morrow, you will see no trade advertisements, no schemes for calling attention to Dr. Somebody-or-other's cure for ingrowing corns, nothing but the beautiful and the artistic."

Frank laughed.

"It's seldom you speak like this, professor," he said. "You must be in love with the South."

"I am a Northerner, but I think the South very beautiful, and I admire the people of the South more than I can tell. I do not know as they are naturally more gentle and kind-hearted than Northerners, but they are certainly more courteous and chivalrous, despite their quick tempers and more passionate dispositions. Northerners are too brusque. If they ask pardon for rudeness, they do it as if they regretted the breath spent in uttering the words. It is quite the opposite with Southerners, for they seem——"

"Hold on, professor," interrupted Frank. "You may tell me all about that some other time. Hark! hear the whistles on the river? The king must be coming!"

"Yes, he is coming."

There was a stir among the people, a murmur ran over the great throng. Then the royal yacht, accompanied by more than a dozen other steamers, all gayly decorated, was seen approaching.

The great crowd began to cheer, hundreds of whistles shrieked and roared at the same instant, bands of music were playing, and, as the royal yacht drew near the levee at the foot of Canal Street, the booming of cannons added to the mad uproar of joy.

All over the great gathering of gayly dressed people handkerchiefs fluttered and hats were waved in the air, while laughing, excited faces were seen everywhere.

The mad excitement filled Frank Merriwell's veins, and he stood erect in the carriage, waving his hat and cheering with the cheering thousands, although there was such an uproar at that moment that he could scarcely hear his own voice.

The king, attired in purple and gold, was seen near the bow of the royal yacht, surrounded by courtiers and admirers.

To Frank's wonder, a dozen policemen had been able to keep Canal Street open for the procession from the levee as far as could be seen. Elsewhere, and on each side of the street, the throng packed thickly, but they seemed to aid the police in the work of holding the street clear, so there was no trouble at all. Not once had Frank seen the pushing and swaying so often seen when great crowds assemble in Northern cities, and not once had the policemen been compelled to draw a club to enforce orders.

As the royal yacht drew into the jetty a gathering of city officers and leading citizens formed to greet and welcome him. These gentlemen were known as "dukes of the realm," and constituted the royal court. They were decorated with badges of gold and bogus jewels.

The yacht drew up at the levee, and King Rex, accompanied by his escort, landed, where he was greeted with proper ceremony by the dukes of the realm.

Then the king was provided with a handsomely decorated carriage, which he entered, and a procession was formed. The king's carriage somewhat resembled a chariot, being drawn by four mettlesome coal-black horses, all gayly caparisoned with gold and silver trimmings and nodding plumes.

A magnificent band of music headed the procession, and then came a barge that was piled high with beautiful and fragrant flowers. In this barge was a girl who seemed to be dressed entirely in flowers, and there was a crown of flowers on her head. She was masked, but did not seem to be more than sixteen or seventeen years of age.

She was known as "the Queen of Flowers," and other girls, ladies of the court, dressed entirely in white, accompanied her.

The king's carriage followed the flower barge, and, directed by the queen, who was seated on a throne of flowers, the girls scattered flowers beneath the feet of the horses, now and then laughingly pelting some one in the throng with them.

As the procession started, the cannons boomed once more, and the steam whistles shrieked.

And then, in less than a minute, there came a startling interruption. The cheering of the people on one of the side streets turned to shrieks of terror and warning, and the crowd was seen to make a mad rush for almost any place of shelter.

"What's the matter, Frank?" asked Professor Scotch, in alarm.

"Don't know," was the reply, as Frank mounted to the carriage seat, on which he stood to obtain a view. "Why, it seems that there are wild cattle in the street, and they're coming this way."

"Good gracious!" gasped the professor. "Drive on, driver—get out of the way quickly!"

"That's impossible, sir," replied the driver, immediately. "If I drive on, we are liable to be overturned by the rushing crowd. It is safer to keep still and remain here."

"Those cattle look like Texas long-horns!" cried Frank.

"So they are, sir," assured the driver. "They have broken out of the yard in which they were placed this morning. They were brought here on a steamer."

"Texas long-horns on a stampede in a crowded city!" fluttered Frank. "That means damage—no end of it."

In truth, nearly half a hundred wild Texan steers, driven to madness by the shrieking whistles and thundering cannons, had broken out of the fraily constructed yard, and at least a dozen of them had stampeded straight toward Canal Street.

Persons crushed against each other and fell over each other in frantic haste to get out of the way for the cattle to pass. Some were thrown down and trampled on by the fear-stricken throng. Men shouted hoarsely, and women shrieked.

Mad with terror, blinded by dust, furious with the joy of sudden freedom, the Texan steers, heads lowered, horns glistening, eyes glowing redly and nostrils steaming, charged straight into the crowd.

It was a terrible spectacle.

"For Heaven's sake, is there no way of stopping those creatures?" cried Frank.

"We'll all be killed!" quavered Professor Scotch.

Into Canal Street rushed the crowd, and the procession was broken up in a moment. The one thought of everybody seemed to be to get out of the way of the steers.

The horses on the flower barge became unmanageable, turned short, snorting with terror, and upset the barge, spilling flowers, girls, and all into the street. Then, in some way, the animals broke away, leaving the wrecked barge where it had toppled.

The girls, with one exception, sprang up and fled in every direction.

The one exception was the Queen of Flowers, who lay motionless and apparently unconscious in the street, with the beautiful flowers piled on every side of her.

"She is hurt!" cried Frank, who was watching her. "Why doesn't some one pick her up?"

"They do not see her there amid the flowers," palpitated the professor. "They do not know she has not fled with the other girls!"

"The cattle—the steers will crush her!" shouted the driver.

"Not if I can save her!" rang out the clear voice of our hero.

Professor Scotch made a clutch at the lad, but too late to catch and hold him.

Frank leaped from the carriage, clearing the heads of a dozen persons, struck on his feet in the street, tore his way through the rushing, excited mob, and reached the side of the unconscious Flower Queen. He lifted her from the ground, and, at that very instant, a mad steer, with lowered head and bristling horns, charged blindly at them!



CHAPTER XIV.

THE HOT BLOOD OF YOUTH.

A cry of horror went up from those who beheld the peril of the brave boy and the Queen of Flowers, for it looked as if both must be impaled by the wicked horns of the mad steer.

Well it was that Frank was a lad of nerve, with whom at such a moment to think was to act. Well it was that he had the muscles and strength of a trained athlete.

Frank did not drop the girl to save himself, as most lads would have done. She felt no heavier than a feather in his arms, but it seemed that he would be unable to save himself, if he were unincumbered.

Had he leaped ahead he could not have escaped. With all the energy he possessed, he sprang backward, at the same time swinging the girl away from the threatening horns, so that his own body protected her in case he was not beyond reach of the steer.

In such a case and in such a situation inches count, and it proved thus in this instance.

One of the steer's horns caught Frank's coat sleeve at the shoulder, and ripped it open to the flesh as far as his elbow, the sharp point seeming to slit the cloth like a keen knife.

But Frank was unharmed, and the unconscious girl was not touched.

Then the steer crashed into the flower barge.

Frank was not dazed by his remarkable escape, and he well knew the peril might not be over.

Like a leaping panther, the boy sprang from the spot, avoiding other mad steers and frantic men and women, darted here and there through the flying throng, and reached a place where he believed they would be safe.

It was a brave and nervy act—the act of a true hero.

The stampeded steers dashed on, and the danger at that point was past. Men and women had been trampled and bruised, but, remarkable though it seemed, when the steers were finally captured or dispatched, it was found that no person had been killed outright.

Men crowded about Frank and the Flower Girl. The lad had placed the girl upon some steps, and he called for water.

"Remove her mask," directed some one. "Give her air."

"Yes, remove her mask!" cried scores of voices.

They were eager to see her face, that they might again recognize the girl who had passed through such peril.

Frank hesitated, although he also longed to look on the face of the girl he had saved. She was most beautifully formed for a girl of her age, and that her face was pretty he had not a doubt.

He reached out his hand to unfasten the mask. As he did so his wrist was clutched by strong fingers, and a panting voice hissed in his ear:

"Would you do it? Well, you shall not! I will take charge of that young lady, if you please!"

Looking over his shoulder, Frank saw the dark, excited face of a youth of twenty or twenty-one. That face was almost wickedly handsome, although there was something decidedly repellent about it. The eyes were black as midnight, while the lips were full and red.

With a twisting snap Frank freed his wrist.

"You?" he said, calmly—"who are you?"

"One who knows this unfortunate young lady, and has a right to protect her."

"Which is ver' true, sah," declared a man with a bristling white mustache and imperial, who stood just behind the youth with the dark face. "I give you my word of honah, sah, that it is true."

The words were spoken with great suavity and politeness, and Frank noted that the speaker seemed to have a military air.

Frank hesitated, and then straightened up, stepping back and bowing, as he said:

"That settles it, gentlemen. If you know the young lady, I have nothing more to say."

The young man instantly lifted the Flower Queen in his arms. As he did so she opened her eyes, and Frank saw she was looking straight at his face.

Then came a staggering surprise for the boy from the North. He saw the girl's lips part, and he distinctly heard her faintly exclaim:

"Frank Merriwell!"

Frank fell back a step, then started forward.

"You—you know me?" he cried.

Quick as a flash, the youth with the dark face passed the girl to the man with the white mustache and imperial, and the latter bore her through the throng to a carriage.

Frank would have followed, but the dark-faced youth blocked the way, saying, harshly:

"Hold on! You did her a service. How much do I owe you?"

"Stand aside!" came sharply from Frank's lips. "She knows me—she spoke my name! I must find out who she is!"

"That you cannot do."

"Who will prevent it?"

"I will!"

Frank measured the other from head to heels with his eyes.

"Stand aside!"

"Now, don't go to putting on any airs with me, my smart youngster. By sheer luck, you were able to save her from possible injury. Like all Northerners, you have your price for every service. How much do I owe you?"

Frank's face was hot with anger.

"You say 'like all Northerners,' but it is well for the South that you are not a representative Southerner. You are an insolent cad and a puppy!"

"You have insulted me!"

"I simply returned what you gave."

"And it shall cost you dear!" hissed the youth with the dark face.

Quickly he leaned forward and struck Frank's cheek with his open hand.

Then something else happened.

Like a bolt, Frank's fist shot out and caught the other under the chin, hurling him backward into the arms of a man behind him, where he lay gasping and dazed.

Frank would have rushed toward the carriage, but he saw it move swiftly away, carrying the mysterious Queen of Flowers, and, with deep regret, he realized he was too late.

The man with the bristling white mustache and imperial did not depart in the carriage, but he again forced his way through the crowd, and found his companion slowly recovering from the stunning blow he had received.

"Mistah Raymon', sah, what does this mean?" he cried, in amazement.

"It means that I have been insulted and struck!" hissed the one questioned, quivering with unutterable anger.

"Struck, sah!" cried the man, in unbounded amazement. "You were struck! Impossible, sah—impossible!"

"It is true!"

"Who struck you, sah?"

"This young coxcomb of a Northern cur!"

The man glared at Frank, who, with his hands on his hips, was quietly awaiting developments, apparently not at all alarmed. He did not quail in the least before the fierce, fire-eating look given him by the man with the bristling mustache and imperial.

"If this—ah!—young gentleman struck you, Mistah Raymon', sah, there can be but one termination of the affaiah. He will have to meet you, sah, on the field, or humbly apologize at once."

"That's right!" blustered the young man, fiercely. "I'll have his life, or an instant apology!"

Frank smiled as if he were quite amused.

"As I happen to feel that I am the one to whom an apology is due, you will have to be satisfied with taking my life," he said.

The youth with the dark face drew out a handsome card case, from which he extracted an engraved card, which he haughtily handed to Frank, who accepted it, and read aloud:

"'Mr. Rolf Raymond.' A very pretty name. Allow me; my card, Mr. Raymond. I am stopping at the St. Charles Hotel. You will be able to find me without difficulty."

"Rest assured that a friend of mine will call on you without delay, Mr. Merriwell," stiffly said Raymond, thrusting Frank's card into his pocket.

Professor Scotch had forced his way through the crowd in time to catch the drift of this, and the full significance of it dawned upon him, filling him with amazement and horror.

"This will not do—it will never do!" he spluttered. "Dueling is a thing of the past; there is a law for it! I will not have it! Frank, you hot-headed young rascal, what do you mean by getting into such a scrape?"

"Keep cool, professor," said the boy, calmly. "If this young gentleman insists on forcing me into a duel, I cannot take water—I must give him satisfaction."

"I tell you I won't have it!" roared the little man, in his big, hoarse voice, his face getting very red. "I am your guardian. You are a minor, and I forbid you to fight a duel."

"If Mistah Merriwell will apologize, it is possible that, considering his age, sah, Mistah Raymon' will not press this mattah," smoothly said the man with the bristling mustache.

"What has he to apologize for?" asked Scotch.

"He struck Mistah Raymon', sah."

"Did you do that, Frank?"

"Yes; but he struck me first."

"He did, eh?" roared the professor, getting very red in the face. "Well, I don't think you'll apologize, Frank, and you're not going to fight. You're a boy; let him take a man. If he wants to fight anybody, I'm just his hairpin, and I'll agree to do him up with any kind of a weapon from a broad-ax to a bologna sausage!"



CHAPTER XV.

MYSTERY OF THE FLOWER QUEEN.

Frank looked at Professor Scotch in amazement, for he had never known the little man to use such language or show such spirit in the face of actual danger.

"I wonder if the professor has been drinking, and, if so, where he got his drinks?" was the thought that flashed through Frank's mind.

"Mistah Raymon', sah, has no quarrel with you, sah," said the individual with the bristling mustache. "If there is to be any further trouble, sah, I will attend to your case."

"You? Who are you?"

"I, sah, am Colonel La Salle Vallier, the ver' particular friend of Mistah Raymon'. If yo' say so, we will exchange cards, sah."

"Then we will exchange. Here is mine."

"And here, sah, is mine."

"This," said Colonel Vallier, "precludes yo' from interfering in this othah affair, Professor Scotch."

"Hey? It does! How's that, I'd like to know?"

"I am at your service, professor," bowed the colonel. "You shall make such arrangements as yo' choose. Pistols or swords make no difference to me, for I am a dead shot and an expert swordsman. I trust yo' will excuse us now, gentlemen. We will see yo' later. Good-day."

He locked arms with the young man, and they turned away, with a sweeping salute. The throng parted, and they passed through.

Professor Scotch stood staring after them till Frank tapped him on the shoulder, saying:

"Come, professor, we may as well get out of this."

"Excuse-a me, senors," said a soft, musical voice, and a young man with a Spanish face and pink cheeks was bowing before them. "I t'ink you need-a to be tole 'bout it."

"Told about what?" demanded Frank, who took an instant dislike to this softly smiling fellow with the womanish voice and gentle ways. "What do you mean?"

"Excuse-a me," repeated the stranger, who was gaudily dressed in many colors. "Yo' are strangar-a-rs from de Noath, an' yo' do not know-a de men what you have a de troub' wid. Excuse-a me; I am Manuel Mazaro, an' I know-a dem. De young man is son of de ver' reech Senor Roderick Raymon', dat everybody in New Orle'n know. He is ver' wile—ver' reckless. Ha! He love-a to fight, an' he has been in two duel, dough he is ver' young. But de odare, senors—de man wid de white mustache—ah!"

Manuel Mazaro threw up his hands with an expression that plainly said words failed him.

"Well, what of the other?" asked Frank, impatiently.

"Senors," purred Mazaro, "he is de wor-r-rst fightar ever leeve! He like-a to fight fo' de sport of keelin'. Take-a my advice, senors, an' go 'way from New Orle'n'. Yo' make ver' gre't mistake to get in troub' wid dem."

"Thank you for your kind advice," said Frank, quietly. "I presume it is well meant, but it is wasted. This is a free country, and a dozen fire-eaters like Colonel La Salle Vallier and Mr. Rolf Raymond cannot drive us out of New Orleans till we are ready to go. Eh, professor?"

"Well, I guess not!" rumbled the little man, stiffening up and looking as fierce as he could.

"Oh, ver' well, ver' well," said Mazaro, lifting his eyebrows, the ghost of a scornful smile on his face. "You know-a your own biz. Good-day, senors."

"Good-day, sir."

They passed through the crowd and sought their carriage, which was waiting for them, although the driver had begun to think they had deserted him.

The procession, which had been broken up by the stampeded steers, was again forming, making it evident that the pleasure-loving people were determined that the unfortunate occurrence should not ruin the day.

The Queen of Flowers and her subjects had vanished, and the flower barge was a wreck, so a part of the programme could not be carried out.

The procession formed without the flower barge, and was soon on its way once more, the band playing its liveliest tune.

The way was lined with tens of thousands of spectators, while flags fluttered from every building. All along the line the king was greeted with cheers and bared heads. It was a most magnificent spectacle.

The carriage bearing Frank and the professor had found a place in the procession through the skill of the driver, and the man and boy were able to witness this triumphal entrance of King Rex to the Crescent City.

At the City Hall, the Duke of Crescent City, who was the mayor, welcomed Rex with great pomp and ceremony, presenting him the keys and the freedom of the city.

Shortly afterward, the king mysteriously disappeared, and the procession broke up and dispersed.

Frank and the professor returned to the St. Charles Hotel, both feeling decidedly hungry.

Frank had little to say after they had satisfied their hunger and were in their suite of rooms. He had seemed to be thinking all the while, and the professor again repeated a question that he had asked several times:

"What in the world makes you so glum, Frank? What are you thinking about?"

"The Queen of Flowers," was the reply.

"My boy," cried the professor, enthusiastically, "I am proud of you—yes, sir, proud! But, at one time, I thought you were done for. That steer was right upon you, and I could see no way for you to escape the creature's horns. I held my breath, expecting to see you impaled. And then I saw you escape with no further injury than the slitting of your coat sleeve, but to this minute I can't say how you did it."

Frank scarcely seemed to hear the professor's words. He sat with his hand to his head, his eyes fixed on a pattern in the carpet.

"She knew my name," he muttered. "She spoke it distinctly. There can be no doubt about that."

Professor Scotch groaned dismally.

"There you go again!" he exclaimed. "Now, what are you mumbling about?"

"The Queen of Flowers."

"Confound the Queen of Flowers!" exploded Scotch. "You saved her life at the risk of your own, but you don't know her from Adam."

"She knows me."

"How is that?"

"She spoke my name."

"You must be mistaken."

"I am not."

Professor Scotch looked incredulous.

"Why, she was unconscious."

"She was when I saved her from the steer."

"And she recovered afterward?"

"Yes; just as Colonel Vallier was taking her to the carriage."

"And she spoke your name then?"

"Yes. First I saw her open her eyes, and I noticed that she was looking straight at me; then I heard her distinctly but faintly pronounce my name."

The professor still looked doubtful.

"You were excited, my boy, and you imagined it."

"No, professor, it was no case of imagination; I know she called me Frank Merriwell, but what puzzles me is the fact that this young cad, Raymond, was determined I should not speak with her, and she was carried away quickly. Why should they wish to keep us from having a few words of conversation?"

"That is a question I cannot answer, Frank."

"There's a mystery here, professor—a mystery I mean to solve. I am going to find out who the Queen of Flowers really is."

"And get into more trouble, you hot-headed young rascal. I should think you were in trouble enough already, with a possible duel impending."

A twinkle of mischief showed in Frank's eyes.

"How about yourself, professor?"

"Oh, the young scoundrel won't dare to meet me," blustered Scotch, throwing out his chest and strutting about the room.

"But he is not the one you will have to meet. You exchanged cards with Colonel La Salle Vallier."

"As a mere matter of courtesy."

"That might go in the North, but you exchanged under peculiar circumstances, and, taking everything into consideration, I have no doubt but you will be waited on by a friend of Colonel Vallier. You will have to meet him."

"Hey!" roared the professor, turning pale. "Is it possible that such a result will come from a mere matter of politeness? Why, I'm no fighter, Frank—I'm no blood-and-thunder ruffian! I did not mean to hint that I wished to meet the colonel on the field of honor."

"But you have, and you can't back out now. You heard what Manuel Mazaro had to say about him. He is a dead shot and a skilled swordsman. Oh, professor, my heart bleeds for you! But you shall have a great funeral, and I'll plant tiddly-wink posies all over your grave."

"Caesar's ghost!" groaned Scotch, collapsing on a chair, and looking very ill indeed. "This is a terrible scrape! I don't feel well. I fear I am going to be very ill."



CHAPTER XVI.

PROFESSOR SCOTCH FEELS ILL.

Frank found it impossible to restrain his laughter longer, and he gave way to it.

"Ha, ha, ha!" he merrily shouted. "You surely look ill, professor! I'd like to have your picture now! Ha, ha, ha! It would make a first-rate picture for a comic paper."

"This is no laughing matter," came dolefully from Scotch. "I don't know how to fire a pistol, and I never had a sword in my hand in all my life. And to think of standing up and being shot full of holes or carved like a turkey by that fire-eater with the fierce mustache! It is awful, awful!"

"But you were eager to fight the young fellow."

"No, I was not. I was simply putting up a bluff, as you call it. I was doing my level best to get you out of the scrape, Frank. I didn't think he would fight me, and so I pretended to be eager to meet him. And now see what a scrape I am in! Oh, my soul and body! What can I do?"

"Fight."

"Never!"

"I don't see how you can get out of it."

"I'll run away."

In a moment Frank became very grave.

"That is impossible, professor," he said, with the utmost apparent sincerity. "Think of the disgrace! It would be in all the papers that Professor Scotch, a white-livered Northerner, after insulting Colonel La Salle Vallier and presenting his card, had taken to his heels in the most cowardly fashion, and had fled from the city without giving the colonel the satisfaction that is due from one gentleman to another. The Northern papers would copy, and you would find yourself the butt of ridicule wherever you went."

The professor let out a groan that was more dismal and doleful than any sound that had previously issued from his lips.

"What can I do?" he gasped.

"There is one way to get out of the difficulty."

"Name it! name it!" shouted the wretched man. "I'll do anything!"

"Then commit suicide."

The professor collapsed again.

"Are you entirely heartless?" he moaned. "Can you joke when I am suffering such misery?"

His face was covered with perspiration, and he was all a-quiver, so that Frank was really touched.

"You can apologize, professor."

"Apologize for what? I don't know that I have done anything to apologize for; but then I'll apologize rather than fight."

"Well, I guess you'll be able to get out of it some way."

But it was no easy thing to reassure the agitated man, as Frank soon discovered.

"I'll tell you what, professor," said the boy; "you may send a representative—a substitute."

"I don't think it will be easy to find a substitute."

"Oh, I'll find one."

"Perhaps Colonel Vallier will not accept him."

"But you must be too ill to meet the colonel, and then he'll have to accept the substitute or nothing."

"But who will act as substitute? I don't know any one in New Orleans who'll go and be shot in my place."

"Barney Mulloy has agreed to join us here, and he may arrive on any train," went on Frank, mentioning an old school chum.

"That wild Irishman!" cried the professor, hopefully. "Why, he'd fight a pack of wildcats and think it fun!"

"Yes, Barney is happiest when in trouble. According to my uncle's will, I am at liberty to carry a companion besides my guardian on my travels, and so, when Hans Dunnerwust got tired of traveling and went home, I sent for Barney, knowing he'd be a first-class fellow to have with me. He finally succeeded in making arrangements to join us, and I have a telegram from him, stating that he would start in time to reach here before to-morrow. If you are forced into trouble, professor, Barney can serve as a substitute."

"That sounds very well, but Colonel Vallier would not accept a boy."

"Then Barney can disguise himself and pretend to be a man."

"I'm afraid it won't work. Not that Barney Mulloy will hesitate to help me out of the scrape, for he was the most dare-devil chap in Fardale Academy, next to yourself, Frank. You were the leader in all kinds of daring adventures, but Barney made a good second. But he can't pass muster as a man."

"Perhaps he can. But you have not yet received a challenge from Colonel Vallier; so don't worry about what may not happen."

"I can't help worrying. I shall not take any further pleasure in life till we get out of this dreadful city."

"Oh, brace up! Come on; let's go out and see the sights."

"No, Frank—no, my boy. I am indisposed—I am quite ill. Besides that, I might meet Colonel Vallier. I shall remain in my room for the present."

So Frank was obliged to go out alone, and, when he returned for supper, he found the professor in bed, looking decidedly like a sick man.

"I am very ill, Frank—very ill," Scotch declared. "I fear I am in for a protracted illness."

"Nonsense, professor! Why, you'll miss all the fun to-morrow, and we're here to see the sport."

"Confound the sport! I wish we had stayed away from this miserable place!"

"Why, you were very enthusiastic over New Orleans and the people of the South this morning."

"Hang the people of the South—hang them all! They're too hot-headed—they're altogether too ready to fight over nothing. Now, I'm a peaceable man, and I can't fight—I simply can't!"

"Well, well! I don't fancy you'll have to fight," said Frank, whose conscience was beginning to smite him.

"Then I'll have to apologize, and I'll be jiggered if I know what I'm going to apologize for!"

"What makes you so sure you'll have to apologize?"

"Look at this—read it!"

The professor drew an envelope from beneath his pillow and passed it to Frank. The envelope contained a note, which the boy was soon reading. It was from Colonel Vallier, and demanded an apology, giving the professor until the following noon in which to make it, and hinting that a meeting of honor would surely follow if the apology was not forthcoming.

"Whew!" whistled Frank. "This does seem like business. When did you receive this?"

"Shortly after you went out."

"I scarcely thought the colonel would press the affair."

"There's a letter for you on the table."

"From whom is it?"

"Don't know. Raymond, I suppose. The same messenger brought them both."

Frank picked up the letter and tore it open. It proved to be from Rolf Raymond, and was worded much like the note to Professor Scotch.

The warm blood of anger mounted to the boy's cheeks.

"This settles it!" he exclaimed. "Mr. Rolf Raymond shall have all the fight he wants. I am a good pistol shot and more than a fair swordsman. At Fardale I was the champion with the foils. If he thinks I am a coward and a greenhorn because I come from the North, he may find he has made a serious mistake."

The professor literally writhed in the bed.

"But you may be killed, and I'd never forgive myself," he moaned.

"Killed or not, I can't show the white feather!" cried Frank, warmly.

"I do not believe in duelling."

"Nor do I, but I have found it necessary to do some things I do not believe in. I am not going to run, and I am not going to apologize, for I believe an apology is due me, if any one. This being the case, I'll have to fight."

"Oh, what a scrape—what a dreadful scrape!" groaned Scotch, wringing his hands. "Why did we ever come here?"

"Oh, do brace up, professor!" cried Frank, impatiently. "We have been in worse scrapes than this, and you were not so badly broken up. It was only a short time ago down in Mexico that Pacheco's bandits hemmed us in on one side and there was a raging volcano on the other; but still we live and have our health. I'll guarantee we'll pull through this scrape, and I'll bet we come out with flying colors."

"You may feel like meeting Rolf Raymond, but I simply can't stand up before that fire-eating colonel."

"There seems to be considerable bluster about this business, and I'll wager something you won't have to stand up before him if you will put on a bold front and make-believe you are eager to meet him."

"Oh, my boy, you don't know—you can't tell!"

"Come, professor, get out of bed and dress. We want to see the parade this evening. They say it will be great."

"Oh, I wish the parades were all at the bottom of the sea!"

"We couldn't see them then, for we're not mermaids or fishes."

"Will you never be serious?"

"I don't know; perhaps I may, when I'm too sick to be otherwise. Are you going to get up?"

"No."

"Do you mean to stay in bed?"

"Yes."

"And miss the parade to-night?"

"I don't care for the old parade."

"Well, I do, and I'm going to see it."

"Will you see some newspaper reporters and state that I am very ill—dangerously ill—that I am dying. Do this favor for me, Frank. Colonel Vallier can't force a dying man to meet him in a duel."

"I am shocked and pained, professor, that you should wish me to tell a lie, even to save your life; but I'll see what I can do for you."



CHAPTER XVII.

LED INTO A TRAP.

Frank ate alone, and went forth alone to see the parade. The professor remained in bed, apparently in a state of utter collapse.

The night after Mardi Gras in New Orleans the Krewe of Proteus holds its parade and ball. The parade is a most dazzling and magnificent spectacle, and the ball is no less splendid.

The streets along which the parade must pass were lined with a dense mass of people on both sides, while windows and balconies were filled.

Shortly after the appointed time the parade started.

It consisted of a series of elaborate and gorgeous floats, the whole forming a line many blocks in length.

Hundreds of flaring torches threw their lights over the moving tableau, and it was indeed a splendid dream.

Never before had Frank seen anything of the kind one-half as beautiful, and he was sincerely glad they had reached the Crescent City in time to be present at Mardi Gras.

The stampede of the Texan steers and the breaking up of the parade that day had made a great sensation in New Orleans. Every one had heard of the peril of the Flower Queen, and how she was rescued by a handsome youth who was said to be a visitor from the North, but whom nobody seemed to know.

Now, the Krewe of Proteus was composed entirely of men, and it was their policy to have nobody but men in their parade. These men were to dress as fairies of both sexes, as they were required to appear in the tableau of "Fairyland."

But the managers of the affair had conceived the idea that it would be a good scheme to reconstruct the wrecked flower barge and have the Queen of Flowers in the procession.

But the Queen of Flowers seemed to be a mystery to every one, and the managers knew not how to reach her. They made many inquiries, and it became generally known that she was desired for the procession.

Late in the afternoon the managers received a brief note, purporting to be from the Flower Queen, assuring them that she would be on hand to take part in the evening parade.

The flower barge was put in repair, and piled high with the most gorgeous and dainty flowers, and, surmounting all, was a throne of flowers.

Before the time for starting the mysterious masked queen and her attendants in white appeared.

When the procession passed along the streets the queen was recognized everywhere, and the throngs cheered her loudly.

But, out of the thousands, hundreds were heard to say:

"Where is the strange youth who saved her from the mad steer? He should be on the same barge."

Frank's heart leaped as he saw the mysterious girl in the procession.

"There she is!" was his thought. "How can I follow her? How can I trace her and find out who she is?"

As the barge came nearer, he forced his way to the very edge of the crowd that lined the street, without having decided what he would do, but hoping she would see and recognize him.

When the barge was almost opposite, he stepped out a little from the line and lifted his hat.

She saw him!

In a moment, as if she had been looking for him, she caught the crown of flowers from her head and tossed them toward him, crying:

"For the hero!"

He caught them skillfully with his right hand, his hat still in his left. And the hot blood mounted to his face as he saw her tossing kisses toward him with both hands.

"What's it mean?" asked a spectator.

"Don't know," answered another.

But a third cried:

"I'll tell you what it means! That young fellow is the one who saved the Queen of Flowers from the mad steer! I know him, for I saw him do it, and I observed his face."

"That explains why she flung her crown to him and called him the hero."

"Yes, that explains it."

"Three cheers for the hero!"

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"

The crowd burst into wild cheering, and there was a general struggle to get a fair view of Frank Merriwell, who had suddenly become the object of attention, the splendors of the parade being forgotten for the time.

Frank was confused and bewildered, and he sought to get away as quickly as possible, hoping to follow the Queen of Flowers. But he found his way blocked on every hand, and a hundred voices seemed to be asking:

"What's your name?"

"Where do you belong?"

"Won't you please tell us your name?"

"Haven't I seen you in New York?"

"Aren't you from Chicago?"

Somewhat dazed though he was, Frank noted that, beyond a doubt, the ones who were so very curious and who so rudely demanded his name were visitors in New Orleans. More than that, from their appearance, they were people who would not think of such acts at home, but now were eager to know the Northern lad who by one nervy and daring act had made himself generally talked about in a Southern city.

Some of the women declared he was "So handsome!" and "So manly!" to Frank's increasing dismay.

"I'd give a hundred dollars to get out of this!" he thought.

He must have spoken the words aloud, although he was not aware of it, for a voice at his elbow, low and musical, said:

"Come dis-a-way, senor, an' I will tek yo' out of it."

Frank saw Manuel Mazaro close at hand. The Spaniard—for such Mazaro was—bowed gracefully, and smiled pleasantly upon the boy from the North.

A moment Frank hesitated, and then he said:

"Lead on; I'll follow."

Quickly Mazaro skirted the edge of the throng for a short distance, plunged into the mass, made sure Frank was close behind, and then forced his way through to a doorway.

"Dis-a way," he invited.

Frank hesitated.

"Where does it lead?"

"Through a passage to annodare street, senor."

Frank felt his revolver in his pocket, and he knew it was loaded for instant use.

"I want to get ahead of this procession—I want to see the Queen of Flowers again."

"I will tek yo' there, senor."

"Lead on."

Frank passed his hand through the crown of flowers, to which he still clung. Without being seen, he took his revolver from his pocket, and held it concealed in the mass of flowers. It was a self-cocker, and he could use it skillfully.

As Mazaro had said, the doorway led into a passage. This was very narrow, and quite dark.

No sooner were they fairly in this place than Frank regretted that he had come, for he realized that it was a most excellent chance for assassination and robbery.

His one fear was of being attacked behind. He was quite ready for any that might rise in front.

"Dis-a way, senor," Mazaro kept repeating. "Dis-a way."

Frank fancied the fellow was speaking louder than was necessary. In fact, he could not see that it was necessary for Mazaro to speak at all.

And then the boy was sure he heard footsteps behind them!

He was caught between two fires—he was trapped!

Frank's first impulse was to leap forward, knock Mazaro down, and take to his heels, keeping straight on through the passage.

A second thought followed the first quite swiftly.

He knew not where the passage led, and he knew not what pitfalls it might contain.

At that moment Frank felt a thrill of actual fear, nervy though he was; but he understood that he must not let fear get the best of him, and he instantly flung it off.

His ears were open, his eyes were open, and every sense was on the alert.

"Let them come!" he almost exclaimed, aloud. "I will give them a warm reception!"

Then he noticed that they passed a narrow opening, like a broken door, and, the next moment he seemed to feel cat-like footfalls at his very heels.

In a twinkling Frank whirled about, crying:

"Hold up where you are! I am armed, and I'll shoot if crowded!"

He had made no mistake, for his eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness of the passage, and he could see three dark figures blocking his retreat along the passage.

For one brief second his eyes turned the other way, and it seemed that Manuel Mazaro had been joined by two or three others, for he saw several forms in that direction.

This sudden action of the trapped boy had filled these fellows with surprise and dismay, and curses of anger broke from their lips, the words being hissed rather than spoken.

Frank knew he must attract attention in some way, and so of a sudden he fired a shot into the air.

The flash of his revolver showed him several dark, villainous faces.

"Upon him!" cried Mazaro, in Spanish. "Be quick about it!"

"Back!" shouted Frank, lifting the revolver. "I'll not waste another bullet!"

"Thot's th' talk, me laddybuck!" rang out a familiar voice. "Give th' spalpanes cold lead, an' plinty av it, Frankie! O'im wid yez!"

"Barney Mulloy!" Frank almost screamed, in joyous amazement.



CHAPTER XVIII.

BARNEY ON HAND.

"Thot's me name, an' this is me marruck!" cried the Irish lad, from the darkness.

There was a hurrying rush of feet, and then—smack! smack!—two dark figures were seen flying through the darkness as if they had been struck by battering-rams.

"Hurrah!" cheered Frank, thrusting the revolver into his pocket, and hastening to leap into the battle. "Give 'em glory, Barney!"

"Hurro!" shouted the Irish youth. "Th' United Shtates an' Ould Oireland foriver! Nothing can shtand against th' combination!"

This unexpected assault was too much for Manuel Mazaro and his satellites.

"Car-r-r-ramba!" snarled the Spaniard. "Dis treek is spoiled! We will have to try de odare one, pardnares."

"We're reddy fer yer thricks, ye shnakes!" cried Barney.

"Are you armed?" asked Frank.

"To th' muzzle wid grape-shot an' canister!" was the reply.

But the boys were not compelled to resort to deadly weapons, for the Spaniard and his gang suddenly took to their heels, and seemed to melt away in the darkness.

"Musha! musha!" gasped Barney. "Where hiv they gone, Oi dunno?"

"They've skipped."

"An' lift us widout sayin' good-avenin'?"

"So it seems."

"Th' impoloight rascals! They should be ashamed av thimsilves!"

"Barney!"

"Frankie!"

"At school you had a way of always showing up just when you were needed most, and you have not gotten over it."

"It's harrud to tache an ould dog new thricks, Frankie."

"You don't want to learn any new tricks; the old ones you know are all right. Barney, give me your hand."

"Frankie, here it is, an' I'm wid yez, me b'y, till Oi have ter lave yez, which won't be in a hurry, av Oi know mesilf."

The two lads clasped hands in the darkness of the passage.

"Now," said Frank, "to get out of this place."

"Th' sooner th' quicker."

"Which way shall we go?"

"Better go th' way we came in."

"Right, Barney. But how in the world did you happen to appear at such an opportune moment? That sticks me."

"Oi saw yez, me b'y, whin th' crowd was cheerin' fer yez, but Oi couldn't get to yez, though Oi troied me bist."

"And you followed."

"Oi did, but it's lost yez Oi would, av ye wasn't sane to come in here by thim as wur watchin' av yez."

"Which was dead lucky for me."

"Thot it wur, me darlint, unliss ye wanter to shoot th' spalpanes ye wur wid. Av they'd crowded yez, Oi reckon ye'd found a way to dispose av th' lot."

"They were about to crowd me when I fired into the air."

"An' th' flash av th' revolver showed me yer face."

"That's how you were sure it was me, is it?"

"Thot wur wan way. Fer another, Oi hearrud yer voice, an' ye don't suppose Oi wouldn't know thot av Oi should hear it astraddle av th' North Pole, do yez?"

"Well, I am sure I knew your voice the moment I heard it, and the sound gave no small amount of satisfaction."

The boys now hurried back along the narrow passage, and soon reached the doorway by which they had entered.

The procession had passed on, and the great crowd of people had melted from the street.

As soon as they were outside the passage, Barney explained that he had arrived in town that night, and had hurried to the St. Charles Hotel, but had found Professor Scotch in bed, and Frank gone.

"Th' profissor was near scared to death av me," said Barney. "He wouldn't let me in th' room till th' bellboy had described me two or thray toimes over, an' whin Oi did come in, he had his head under th' clothes, an', be me soul! I thought by th' sound that he wur shakin' dice. It wuz the tathe av him chattering togither."

Frank was convulsed with laughter, while Barney went on:

"'Profissor,' sez Oi, 'av it's doice ye're shakin', Oi'll take a hand at tin cints a corner.'"

"What did he do then?"

"He looked out at me over the edge av th' bed-sprid, an' he sez, sez he, 'Are ye sure ye're yersilf, Barney Mulloy? or are ye Colonel Sally de la Vilager'—or something av th' sort—'in disguise?'"

Frank laughed harder than before.

"What did you do then, Barney?"

"Oi looked at him, an' thot wur all Oi said. Oi didn't know what th' mon mint, an' he samed to be too broke up to tell. Oi asked him where yo wur, an' he said ye'd gone out to see th' parade. Whin Oi found out thot wur all Oi could get out av him, Oi came out an' looked fer yez."

When Frank had ceased to laugh, he explained the meaning of the professor's strange actions, and it was Barney's turn to laugh.

"So it's a duel he is afraid av, is it?"

"Yes."

"An' he wants a substitute?"

"Yes."

"Begobs, it's niver a duel was Oi in, but the profissor wuz koind to me at Fardale, an' it's a debt av gratitude Oi owe him, so Oi'll make me bluff."

"I do not believe Colonel Vallier will meet any one but Professor Scotch, but the professor will be too ill to meet him, so he will have to accept a substitute, or go without a fight."

"To tell ye th' truth, Frankie, Oi'd rather he'd refuse to accept, but it's an iligant bluff Oi can make."

"You're all right, Barney."

"Tell me what brought this duel aboit."

So Frank told the whole story about the rescue of the Flower Queen, the appearance of Rolf Raymond and Colonel Vallier, and how the masked girl had called his name just as they were taking her away, with the result already known to the reader.

Barney was intensely interested.

"An' thot wur her Oi saw in th' parade to-noight?"

"Yes."

"She flung ye some flowers?"

"She did. It was her crown of flowers. I still have it here, although it is somewhat crushed."

"Ah, Frankie, me b'y, it's a shly dog ye are! Th' girruls wur foriver getting shtuck on yez, an' Oi dunno what ye hiv been doin' since l'avin' Fardale. It's wan av yer mashes this must be."

"I've made no mashes, Barney."

"Not m'anin' to, perhaps, but ye can't hilp it, laddybuck, fer they will get shtuck on yez, av ye want thim to or not. Ye don't hiv ter troy to catch a girrul, Frankie."

"But I give you my word that I cannot imagine who this can be. All the curiosity in my nature is aroused, and I am determined to know her name before I rest."

"Well, b'y, Oi'm wid yez. What shall we do?"

"Go to the place where the Krewe of Proteus holds its ball."

"Lade on."

As both were strangers in New Orleans, they did not know how to make the shortest cut to the ballroom, and Frank found it impossible to obtain a carriage. They were delayed most exasperatingly, and, when they arrived at the place where the ball was to be held, the procession had broken up, and the Queen of Flowers was within the ballroom.

"This is most unfortunate!" cried Frank, in dismay. "I meant to get here ahead of the procession, so that I could speak to her before she got inside."

"Well, let's go in an' spake to her now."

"We can't."

"Whoy not?"

"This is a very exclusive affair."

"An' we're very ixclusive paple."

"Only those having invitations can enter the ballroom."

"Is thot so? Thin it's outsoide we're lift. What can we do about thot?"

"Nothing."

"Is it too late to git invoitations?"

"They can't be bought, like tickets."

"Well, what koind av a shindig do ye call this, Oi dunno?"

Barney was thoroughly disgusted.

Frank explained that Professor Scotch had been able to procure invitations, but neither of them had fancied they would care to attend the ball, so the opportunity had been neglected.

"Whinever Oi can get something fer nothing, Oi take it," said Barney. "It's a use Oi can make fer most things Oi get."

The two boys lingered outside the building. Frank hoped the Flower Queen would come out, and he would be able to speak to her before she entered a carriage and was carried away.

Sweet strains of music floated down to the ears of the restless lads, and, with each passing moment, Frank grew more and more disgusted with himself.

"To think that I might be in there—might be waltzing with the Queen of Flowers at this moment, if I had asked the professor to obtain the invitations!" he cried.

"It's harrud luck!" said Barney; "but ye'll know betther next toime."

"Next time will be too late. In some way, I must meet this girl and speak to her. I must, and I will!"

"That's th' shtuff, me b'y! Whiniver ye say anything loike thot, ye always git there wid both fate. Oi'll risk yez."

Two men in dress suits came out to smoke and get a breath of air. They stood conversing within a short distance of the boys.

"She has been the sensation of the day," said one. "The whole city is wondering who she is."

"She seems determined to remain a mystery."

"Yes, for she has vanished from the ballroom in a most unaccountable manner. No one saw her take her departure."

"Not even Rolf Raymond."

"No. He is as much mystified as anybody. The fellow knows her, but he positively refuses to disclose her identity."

Frank's hand had fallen on Barney's arm with a grip of iron, and the fingers were sinking deeper and deeper into the Irish lad's flesh as these words fell on their ears.

"It is said that the young fellow who saved her from the steer to-day does not know her."

"No. She saw him in the crowd to-night, and flung him her crown, calling him a hero. He was nearly mobbed by the crowd, that was determined to know his name, but he escaped in some way, and has not been seen since."

"That settles it!" Frank hissed in Barney's ear. "They are speaking of the Flower Queen."

"Sure," returned the Irish lad; "an' av yersilf, Frankie, b'y."

"She is no longer in the ballroom."

"No."

"We are wasting our time waiting here."

"Roight ye are."

"Then we will wait no longer. Come, we'll go to the hotel."



CHAPTER XIX.

A HUMBLE APOLOGY.

Barely were they in their apartments at the hotel when there came a knock on the door, and a boy entered, bearing a salver on which were two cards.

"Colonel La Salle Vallier and Mr. Rolf Raymond," read Frank. "Bring them up."

"What's that?" roared Professor Scotch, from the bed. "Are you crazy?"

Frank hustled the boy out of the room, whispering:

"Bring them up, and admit them without knocking."

He slipped a quarter into the boy's hand, and the little fellow grinned and hurried away.

Frank turned back to find Professor Scotch, in his night robe, standing square in the middle of the bed, wildly waving his arms, and roaring:

"Lock the door—barricade it—keep them out! If those desperadoes are admitted here, this room will run red with gore!"

"That's right, professor," agreed Frank. "We'll settle their hash right here and at once. We'll cook 'em."

"Whoop!" shouted the little professor, in his big, hoarse voice. "This is murder—assassination! Lock the door, I say! I am in no condition to receive visitors."

"Be calm, professor," chirped Frank, soothingly.

"Be calm, profissor," echoed Barney, serenely.

"Be calm!" bellowed the excited little man. "How can I be calm on the eve of murder and assassination? I am an unarmed man, and I am not even dressed!"

"Niver moind a little thing loike thot," purred the Irish lad.

"It's of no consequence," declared Frank, placidly.

"No consequence!" shouted Scotch. "Oh, you'll drive me crazy! You want me to be killed! It is a plot to have me murdered! I see through the vile scheme! I'll call the police!"

He rushed into the front room, and flung up a window, from which he howled:

"Fire! Police!"

He would have shrieked murder and several other things, but Frank and Barney dragged him back and closed the window.

"Great Scott!" gasped Frank. "It'll be a wonder if the whole police force of the city does not come rushing up here."

"Perhaps they'll not be able to locate th' spot from which th' croy came," said Barney. "Let us hope not."

"Yes, let us hope not."

The professor squirmed out of the grasp of the two boys, and made a wild dash for the door.

Just before he reached it, the door was flung open, and Colonel Vallier, followed by Rolf Raymond, strode into the room.

The colonel and the professor met just within the doorway.

The collision was violent, and both men recoiled and sat down heavily upon the floor, while Rolf Raymond barely saved himself from falling astride the colonel's neck.

Sitting thus, the two men glared at each other, the colonel being in a dress suit, while the professor wore a night robe.

Frank and Barney could not restrain their laughter.

Then a most remarkable thing happened.

Professor Scotch became so angry at what he considered the unwarranted intrusion of the visitors that he forgot how he was dressed, forgot to be scared, and grew fierce as a raging lion. Without rising, he leaned forward, and shook his fist under Colonel Vallier's nose, literally roaring:

"What do you mean by entering this room without knocking, you miserable old blowhard? You ought to have your face thumped, and, by thunder! I believe I can do it!"

"Sah!" gasped the colonel, in the greatest amazement and dismay.

"Don't 'sah' me, you measly old fraud!" howled Scotch, waving his fists in the air. "I don't believe in fighting, but this is about my time to scrap. If you don't apologize for the intrusion, may I be blown to ten thousand fragments if I don't give you a pair of beautiful black eyes!"

"Sah, there seems to be some mistake, sah," fluttered Colonel Vallier, turning pale.

"You made the mistake!" thundered Scotch, leaping to his feet like a jumping jack. "Get up here, and let me knock you down!"

"I decline to be struck, sah."

"You don't dare to get up!" howled the excited little man, growing still worse, as the colonel seemed to shrink and falter. "Why, I can lick you in a fraction of no time! You've been making lots of fighting talk, and now it's my turn. Get up and put up your fists."

"Will somebody kindly hold this lunatic?" palpitated Colonel Vallier. "I am no prize-fightah, gentlemen."

"That isn't my lookout," said the professor, who was forcing things while they ran his way. "Get up and take off your coat! We'll settle this affair without delay."

"With pistols, sah?"

"Yes, with pistols, if you want to!" cried the professor, to the amazement of the boys. "I am ready, sir. We will settle it with pistols, at once, in this room."

"But this is no place foh a duel, sah; yo' should know that, sah."

"This is just the place."

"The one who survives will be arrested, sah."

"There won't be a survivor, so you needn't fear arrest."

"No survivah, sah?"

"No."

"How is that?"

"I'll tell you how it is. You are such a blamed coward that you won't fight me with your fists, for fear I will give you the thumping you deserve; but you know you are a good pistol shot, and you think I am not, so you hope to shoot me, and escape without harm to yourself. Well, I am no pistol shot, but I am not going to miss you. We'll shoot across that center table, and the width of the table is the distance that will divide us. In that way, I'll stand as good a show as you do, and I'll agree to shoot you through the body very near to the heart, so you'll not linger long in agony. Come, sir, get ready."

Colonel Vallier actually staggered.

"Sah—sah!" he fluttered; "you're shorely crazy!"

"Not a bit of it. Come, get ready!"

"This is murder, sah!"

"It is a square deal. One has as good show as the other."

"But I—I never heard of such a duel—never!"

"There are many things you have never heard about, Colonel Vallier."

"But, sah, I can't fight that way! You'll have to excuse me, sah."

"What's that!" howled the little professor, dancing about in his night robe. "Do you refuse to give me satisfaction?"

"I refuse to be murdered."

"Then you'll apologize?"

The colonel gasped.

"Apologize! Why, I can't——"

"Then I'm going to give you those black eyes just as sure as my name is Scotch! Put up your fists!"

The colonel retreated, holding up his hands helplessly, while the professor pranced after him like a fighting cock.

"This is disgraceful!" snapped Rolf Raymond, taking a step, as if to interfere. "It must be stopped at once!"

"Hold on!" came sternly from Frank. "Don't chip in where you're not wanted, Mr. Raymond. Let them settle this matter themselves."

"Thot's roight, me laddybuck," said Barney Mulloy. "If you bother thim, it's a pair av black oies ye may own yersilf."

"We did not come here to be bullied."

"No," said Frank; "you came to play the bullies, and the tables have been turned on you. Take it easy."

The two boys placed themselves in such a position that they could prevent Raymond from interfering between the colonel and the professor.

"Don't strike me, sah!" gasped Vallier, holding up his open hands, with the palms toward the bantam-like professor.

"Then do you apologize?"

"You will strike me if I do not apologize?"

"You may bet your life that I will, colonel."

"Then I—ah—I'll have to apologize, sah."

"And this settles the entire affair between us?"

"Eh—I don't know about that."

"Well, you had better know. Does this settle the entire affair?"

"I suppose so, sah."

"You apologize most humbly?"

"I do."

"And you state of your own free will that this settles all trouble between us?"

The colonel hesitated, and Scotch lifted his fists menacingly.

"I do, sah—I do!" Vallier hastened to say.

"Then that's right," said Professor Scotch, airily. "You have escaped the worst thumping you ever received in all your life, and you should congratulate yourself."

Frank felt like cheering with delight. Surely Professor Scotch had done himself proud, and the termination of the affair had been quite unexpected by the boys.



CHAPTER XX.

THE PROFESSOR'S COURAGE.

Colonel Vallier seemed utterly crestfallen and subdued, but Rolf Raymond's face was dark with anger, as he harshly said:

"Now that this foolishness is over, we will proceed to business."

"That's right," bowed Frank. "The quicker you proceed the better satisfied we will be. Go ahead."

Rolf turned fiercely on Frank, almost snarling:

"You must have been at the bottom of it all! Where is she?"

Frank was astonished, as his face plainly showed.

"Where is she?" he repeated.

"Whom do you mean, sir?"

"It is useless to pretend that you do not know. You must have found an opportunity to communicate with her somehow, although how you accomplished it is more than I understand."

"You are speaking in riddles. Say what you mean, man."

"I will. If you do not immediately tell us where she is, you will find yourself in serious trouble. Is that plain enough?"

A light came to Frank.

"Do you mean the Queen of Flowers?" he eagerly asked.

"You know I mean the Queen of Flowers."

"And you do not know what has become of her?"

"How can we? She disappeared mysteriously from the ballroom. No one saw her leave, but she went."

"She must have returned to her home."

"That will not go with us, Merriwell, for we hastened to the place where she is stopping with her father, and she was not there, nor had he seen her. He cannot live long, and this blow will hasten the end. You will be responsible. Take my advice and give her up at once, unless you wish to get into trouble of a most serious nature."

Frank saw that Raymond actually believed he knew what had become of the Flower Queen.

"Look here," came swiftly from the boy's lips, "it is plain this is no time to waste words. I do not know what has become of the Flower Queen, that is straight. I did know she had disappeared from the ballroom, but I supposed she had returned to her home. I do not know her name as yet, although she knows mine. If anything has happened to her, I am not responsible; but I take a great interest in her, and I am ready and eager to be of assistance to her. Tell me her name, as that will aid me."

Rolf Raymond could not doubt Frank's words, for honesty was written on the boy's face.

"Her name," he said—"her name is—for you to learn."

His taunting laugh brought the warm blood to Frank's face.

"All right!" cried the boy from the North. "I'll learn it, no thanks to you. More than that, if she needs my aid, she shall have it. It strikes me that she may have fled of her own accord to escape being persecuted by you. If so——"

"What then?"

"We'll meet again."

"That we will! Colonel Vallier may have settled his trouble with Professor Scotch, but mine is not settled with you."

"You are right."

"We may yet meet on the field of honor."

"I shall be pleased to accommodate you," flashed Frank; "and the sooner, the better it will satisfy me."

"Thot's th' talk!" cried Barney Mulloy, admiringly. "You can do th' spalpane, Frankie, at any old thing he'll name!"

"The disappearance of Miss ——, the Flower Queen, prevents the setting of a time and place," said Raymond, passionately; "but you shall be waited on as soon as she is found. Until then I must let nothing interfere with my search for her."

"Very good; that is satisfactory to me, and I will do my best to help find her for you. Now, if your business is quite over, gentlemen, your room would give us much more pleasure than your company."

Not another word did Raymond or Vallier say, but they strode stiffly to the door and bowed themselves out. Barney closed the door after them.

Then both the boys turned on Professor Scotch, to find he had collapsed into a chair, and seemed on the point of swooning.

"Professor," cried Frank, "I want to congratulate you! That was the best piece of work you ever did in all your life."

"Profissor," exclaimed Barney, "ye're a jewil! Av inny wan iver says you lack nerve, may Oi be bitten by th' wurrust shnake in Oireland av Oi don't break his head!"

"Boys!" gasped the professor, "fan me! I can't seem to get my breath! How did I do it? It scares me to think of it."

"You were a man, professor, and you showed Colonel Vallier that you were utterly reckless. You seemed eager for a fight."

"Fight!" groaned the little man. "I couldn't fight a child! I never fought in my life. I don't know how to fight."

"Colonel Vallier didn't know that. It was plain, he believed you a desperate slugger, and he wilted immediately."

"But I can't understand how I came to do such a thing. Till their unwarranted intrusion—till I collided with the colonel—I was in terror for my life. The moment we collided I seemed to forget that I was scared, and I remembered only that I was mad."

"And you seemed more than eager for a scrap."

"Ye samed doying fer a bit av a row, profissor."

"What if he had struck me!" palpitated the little man. "Oh, gracious! It would have been terrible!"

"For him. If he'd struck you, you'd been so mad that nothing could have stopped you. You would have waded into him, and given him the worst thrashing he ever received."

"Thot's pwhat ye would, profissor, sure as fate."

Scotch began to revive, and the words of the boys convinced him that he was really a very brave man, and had done a most daring thing. Little by little, he began to swell, like a toad.

"I don't know but you're right," he said, stiffening up. "I was utterly reckless and desperate at the time."

"That's right, professor."

"Profissor, ye're a bad mon ter buck against."

"That is a fact that has not been generally known, but, having cowed one of the most desperate duelists in the South, and forced him to apologize, I presume I have a right to make some pretensions."

"That's a fact."

"Ye've made a riccord fer yersilf."

"And a record to be proud of," crowed the little man, getting on his feet and beginning to strut, forgetful of the fact that he was in his night robe and presented a most ludicrous appearance. "The events of this evening shall become a part of history. Future generations shall regard me as one of the most nervy and daring men of my age. And really, I don't know but I am. What's the use of being a coward when you can be a hero just as well. Boys, this adventure has made a different man of me. Hereafter, you will see that I'll not quail in the face of the most deadly dangers. I'll even dare to walk up to the mouth of a cannon—if I know it isn't loaded."

The boys were forced to laugh at his bantam-like appearance, but, for all of the queer twist he had given his last expression, the professor seemed very serious, and it was plain that he had begun to regard himself with admiration.

"Think, boys," he cried—"think of my offer to fight him with pistols across yonder narrow table!"

"That was a stroke of genius, professor," declared Frank. "That broke Colonel Vallier up more than anything else."

"He wilted at that."

"Of course you did not mean to actually fight him that way?"

"Well, I don't know," swelled the little man. "I was reckless then, and I didn't care for anything."

Suddenly Frank grew grave.

"This other matter they spoke of worries me," he said. "I can't understand what has happened to the Queen of Flowers."

"Ye mustn't let thot worry yez, me b'y."

"I can't help it."

"She may be home by this toime."

"And she may be in desperate need of a helping hand."

"Av she is, Oi dunno how ye can hilp her, Frankie."

"Nor do I know of any way. Why should any one kidnap her?"

"Oi dunno."

"It would be a most daring thing to do, as she is so well known; but there are daring and desperate ruffians in New Orleans."

"Oi think ye're roight, me b'y."

"It may be that she has been persecuted so that she fled of her own accord, and yet I hardly think that is true."

"No more do Oi, Frankie."

"If it is not true, surely she is in trouble."

"Well?"

"Oh, I can't remain quietly here, knowing she may need aid!"

"Pwhat will yez do?"

"I am going out."

"Where?"

"Somewhere—anywhere! Will you come along?"

"Sure, me b'y, Oi'm wid yez firrust, larrust, an' all th' toime!"



CHAPTER XXI.

FRANK'S BOLD MOVE.

The professor declined to go out. He returned to bed, and the boys left the hotel.

"Where away, Frankie?" asked Barney.

"I don't know," replied Frank, helplessly. "There is not one chance in millions of finding the lost Flower Queen, but I feel that I must move about. We'll visit the old French quarter by night. I have been there in the daytime, and I'd like to see how it looks at night. Come on."

And so they made their way to the French quarter, crossing Canal Street and turning into a quiet, narrow way, that soon brought them to a region of architectural decrepitude.

The streets of this section were not overlighted, and seemed very silent and lonely, as, at this particular time, the greater part of the inhabitants of the quarter were away to the scenes of pleasure.

The streets echoed to the boys' feet. There were queer balconies on every hand, the stores were mere shops, all of them now closed, and many windows were nailed up. Rust and decay were on all sides, and yet there was something impressive in the almost Oriental squalor of the place.

"It sames loike we'd left th' city intoirely for another place, so it does," muttered Barney.

"That is true," admitted Frank. "New Orleans seems like a human being with two personalities. For me this is the most interesting part of the city; but commerce is beginning to crowd in here, and the time is coming when the French quarter will cease to be an attraction for New Orleans."

"D'ye think not, Frankie?"

"It is a certain thing."

"Well, we'll get our look at it before it is gone intoirely."

A few dark figures were moving silently along the streets. The night was warm, and the shutters of the balcony windows were opened to admit air.

At a corner they halted, and, of a sudden, Frank clutched the arm of his companion, whispering:

"Look—see that man?"

"Yes, me b'y."

"Did you see his face?"

"Nivver a bit."

"Well, I did, and I do not believe I am mistaken in thinking I have seen it before."

"Whin?"

"To-night."

"Pwhere?"

"In the alley where I was trapped by Manuel Mazaro and his gang."

"It wur darruk in there, Frankie."

"But I fired my revolver, and by the flash I saw a face."

"So ye soay."

"It was the face of the man who just passed beneath this light."

"An' pwhat av thot, Frankie?"

"He might lead me to Manuel Mazaro."

"Pwhat do yez want to see thot spalpane fer?"

"Mazaro knows a good deal."

"Fer instance, pwhat?"

"Why I was attacked, and the object of the attack. He might be induced to tell."

"It sure wur a case av intinded robbery, me b'y."

"Perhaps so, perhaps not. But he knows more. He knows all about Rolf Raymond and Colonel Vallier."