"Well?"

"Rolf Raymond and Colonel Vallier know a great deal about the lost Flower Queen. It is possible Mazaro knows something of her. Come on, Barney; we'll follow that man."

"Jist as ye say, me lad."

"Take the other side of the street, and keep him in sight, but do not seem to be following him."

They separated, and both kept in sight of the man, who did not seem to fear pursuit or dream any one was shadowing him.

He led them straight to an antiquated story and a half Creole cottage, shaded by a large willow tree, the branches of which touched the sides and swept the round tiles of the roof. The foliage of the old tree half concealed the discolored stucco, which was dropping off in many places.

Over the door was a sign which announced that it was a cafe. The door was open, and, in the first room could be seen some men who were eating and drinking at a table. There was another room beyond.

The man the boys had followed entered the cottage, passed through the first room, speaking to the men at the table, and disappeared into the room beyond.

Frank and Barney paused outside.

"Are yez goin' to folly him, Frankie, b'y?" asked the Irish lad.

"To be sure I am."

"There's no tellin' pwhat koind av a nest ye will get inther."

"I'll have to take my chances on that."

"Thin Oi'm wid yez."

"No, I want you to remain outside, so you will be on hand in case I need air."

"How'll I know ye nade it?"

"You'll hear me cry or shoot."

"Av Oi do, you'll see Barney Mulloy comin' loike a cyclone."

"I know I may depend on you, and I know this may be a nest of assassins. These Spaniards are hot-blooded fellows, and they make dangerous rascals."

Frank looked at his revolver, to make sure it was in perfect working order, dropped it into the side pocket of his coat, and walked boldly into the cottage cafe.

The men in the front room stared at him in surprise, but he did not seem to give them a glance, walking straight through into the next room.

There he saw two Spanish-looking fellows talking in low tones over a table, on which drinks were setting.

One of them was the man he had followed.

They were surprised to see the boy coolly walk into the room, and advance without hesitation to their table.

The one Frank had followed seemed to recognize the lad, and he appeared startled and somewhat alarmed.

With the greatest politeness, Frank touched his cap, asking:

"Senor, do you know Manuel Mazaro?"

The fellow scowled, and hesitated, and then retorted:

"What if I do?"

"I want to see him."

"And you have come here for that?"

"Yes."

"I will see if he be here. Wait."

At one side of the room was a door, opening on a dark flight of stairs. Through this doorway and up the stairs the fellow disappeared.

Frank sat down at the table, feeling the revolver in the side pocket of his coat.

The other man did not attempt to make any conversation.

In a few minutes the one who had ascended the stairs reappeared.

"Senor Mazaro will soon be down," he announced.

Then he sat at the table, and resumed conversation with his companion, speaking in Spanish, and not even seeming to hear the "thank you" from Frank.

It was not long before Mazaro appeared, and he came forward without hesitation, smiling serenely, as if delighted to see the boy.

"Oh, senor!" he cried, "yo' be not harm in de scrape what we run into?"

"I was not harmed, no, thanks to you, Mazaro," said the boy, coolly. "It is a wonder that I came out with a whole skin."

"Senor, you do not blame me fo' dat? I deed not know-a it—I deed not know-a de robbares were there."

"Mazaro, you are a very good liar, but it will not work with me."

The Spaniard showed his teeth, and fell back a step.

"De young senor speak-a ver' plain," he said.

"It is my way. Mazaro, we may as well understand each other first as last. You are a scoundrel, and you're out for the dollars. Now, it is possible you can make more money by serving me than in any other way. If you can help me, I will pay you well."

Mazaro looked ready to sink a knife into Frank's heart a moment before, but he suddenly thawed. With the utmost politeness, he said:

"I do not think-a I know what de senor mean. If he speak-a litt'l plainer, mebbe I ondarstan'."

"Sit down, Mazaro."

The Spaniard took a seat at the table.

"Now," said Frank, quietly, "order what you wish to drink, and I will pay for it. I never drink myself, and I never carry much money with me nights, but I have enough to pay for your drink."

"De senor is ver' kind," bowed Manuel, and he ordered a drink, which was brought by a villainous-looking old woman.

Frank paid, and, when Mazaro was sipping the liquid, he leaned forward and said:

"Senor Mazaro, you know Rolf Raymond?"

"Si, senor."

"And Colonel Vallier?"

"Si, senor."

"And the Queen of Flowers?"

"I know of her, senor; I see her to-day."

"You know more. She has disappeared, and you know what has become of her."

It was a chance shot, but Frank saw it went home.



CHAPTER XXII.

THE QUEEN IS FOUND.

Mazaro changed color, and then he regained his composure.

"Senor," he said, smoothly, "I know-a not what made you t'ink dat."

"I do not think; I know."

"Wondareful—ver' wondareful," purred the Spaniard, in mock admiration. "You give-a me great s'prise."

Frank was angry, but he held himself in restraint, appearing cool.

"Your face betrayed it."

"Ah! Dat show yo' have-a ver' gre't eye, senor."

"You do not deny it?"

"Why should I do dat when you know-a so much?"

"You dare not deny it."

"Dare, senor? I dare ver' many thing you do not know."

Mazaro was exasperatingly cool.

"Look here, man," said Frank, leaning toward the Spaniard; "are you aware that you may get yourself into serious trouble? Are you aware that kidnaping is an offense that makes you a criminal of the worst sort, and for which you might be sent up for twenty years, at least?"

The Spaniard smiled.

"It is eeze to talk, but dat is not proof," he said.

"You scoundrel!" exclaimed the boy, his anger getting the better of him for the moment. "I have a mind to convey my suspicions to the police, and then——"

"An' den what, senor? Ah! you talk ver' bol' fo' boy like you. Do you know-a what? Well, see; if I snappa my fingare, quick like a flash you get a knife 'tween your shouldares. Den you not tell-a the police."

Frank could not repress a shiver. He looked swiftly around, and saw the black eyes of the other two men were fastened upon him, and he knew they were ready to obey Mazaro's signal.

"W'at yo' t'ink-a, senor?" smiled Manuel, insolently.

"That is very well," came calmly from Frank's lips. "If I were to give the signal my friends would rush in here to my aid. If you stab me, make sure the knife goes through my heart with the first stroke, so there will be little chance that I'll cry out."

"Den you have-a friends near, ha? I t'ink so mebbe. Call-a dem in."

"No, thank you. They will remain outside till they are needed."

"Ver' well. Now we undarestan' each odder. Yo' have-a some more to say?"

"Yes."

"Say him."

"I have told you that you might find it profitable to serve me."

"I hear dat."

"I meant it."

"W'at yo' want done?"

"No dirty work—no throat-cutting. I want information."

"Ha! W'at yo' want-a know?"

"I want to know who the Queen of Flowers is."

"Any more?"

"Yes; I want to know where she is, and you can tell me."

"Yo' say dat, but yo' can't prove it. I don't say anyt'ing, senor. 'Bo't how much yo' pay fo' that info'mation, ha?"

"Good money, and a fair price."

"Fair price notting; I want good-a price. Undarestand-a?"

"I understand."

"W'at yo' gif?"

"To know where she is? A hundred dollars."

Mazaro smiled scornfully.

"Dat notting. Yo' don' talk de biz. Yo' don' have-a de mon' enough."

"Wait," urged Frank. "I am a Yankee, from the North, and I will make a trade with you."

"All-a right, but I don't admit I know anyt'ing."

Manuel leaned back in his chair, lazily and deftly rolling a cigarette, which he lighted. Frank watched this piece of business, thinking of the best manner of approaching the fellow.

And then something happened that electrified every one within the cafe.

Somewhere above there came the sound of blows, and a crashing, splintering sound, as of breaking wood. Then a shriek ran through the building.

"Help! Help! Save me!"

It was the voice of a female in great terror and distress.

Mazaro ground a curse through his white teeth, and leaped to his feet, but Frank was on his feet quite as quickly.

Smack! Frank's arm had shot out, and his hard fist struck the Spaniard under the ear, sending the fellow flying through the air and up against the wall with terrible force. From the wall Mazaro dropped, limp and groaning, to the floor.

Like a flash, the nervy youth flung the table against the downcast wretch's companions, making them reel.

Then Frank leaped toward the stairs, up which he bounded like a deer.

"Where are you?" he cried. "I am here to help you! Call again!"

No answer.

Near the head of the stairs a light shone out through a broken panel in a door, and on this door Frank knew the blows he had heard must have fallen.

Within this room the boy fancied he could hear sounds of a desperate struggle.

Behind him the desperadoes were rallying, cursing hoarsely, and crying to each other. They were coming, and the lad on the stairs knew they would come armed to the teeth.

All the chivalry in his nature was aroused. His blood was leaping and tingling in his veins, and he felt able to cope with a hundred foes.

Straight toward the broken door he leaped, and his hand found the knob, but it refused to yield at his touch.

"Fast!" he panted. "Well, I'll try this!"

He hurled himself against the door, but it remained firm.

There were feet on the stairs; the desperadoes were coming.

At that moment he looked into the room through the break in the panel, and he saw a girl struggling with all her strength in the hands of a man. The man was trying to hold a hand over her mouth to keep her from crying out again, while a torrent of angry Spanish words poured in a hissing sound from his bearded lips.

As Frank looked the girl tore the fellow's hand from her lips, and her cry for help again rang out.

The wretch lifted his fist to strike her senseless, but the blow did not fall.

Frank was a remarkably good shot, and his revolver was in his hand. That hand was flung upward to the opening in the panel, and he fired into the room.

The burst of smoke kept him from seeing the result of the shot, but he heard a hoarse roar of pain from the man, and he knew he had not missed.

He had fired at the fellow's wrist, and the bullet had shattered it.

But now the ruffians who were coming furiously up the stairs demanded his attention.

"Halt!" he shouted. "Stop where you are, or I shall open fire on you!"

He could see them, and he saw the foremost lift his hand. Then there was a burst of flame before Frank's eyes, and he staggered backward, feeling a bullet near his cheek.

Not till that moment did he realize what a trap he was in, and how desperate was his situation.

"It is a fight for life!" he muttered, as he lifted his revolver.

The smell of burned powder was in his nostrils, the fire of battle gleamed from his eyes.

The weapon in Frank's hand spoke again, and once more he found his game, for the leading ruffian, having almost reached the head of the stairs, flung up his arms, with a gurgling sound, and toppled backward upon those who were following.

Down the stairs they all tumbled, falling in a heap at the bottom, where they struggled, squirmed, and shouted.

"So far everything is very serene!" half laughed the daring boy. "This has turned out to be a real lively night."

Frank was a lad who never deliberately sought danger for danger's sake, but when his blood was aroused, he entirely forgot to be afraid, and he felt a wild thrill of joy when in the greatest peril.

For the time, he had entirely forgotten the existence of Barney Mulloy, but now he remembered that the Irish lad had waited outside the cottage cafe.

"He has heard the rumpus," said Frank, aloud. "I wonder where Barney can be?"

"Whist, be aisy, me lad!" retorted the familiar voice of the Irish youth. "Oi'm wid yez to th' ind!"

Barney was close behind Frank!

"How in the world did you get here?" cried our hero, in great astonishment.

"Oi climbed the tray, me b'y."

"The tree? What tree?"

"Th' willey tray as shtands forninst th' corner av th' house, Frankie."

"But that does not explain how you came here at my side."

"There was a windy open, an' Oi shlipped in by th' windy."

"Well, you're a dandy, Barney!"

"An' ye're a birrud, Frankie. What koind av a muss hiv ye dhropped into now, Oi'd loike ter know?"

"A regular ruction. I heard a girl shout for help, and I knocked over two or three chaps, Mazaro included, on my way to her aid."

"Where is she now, b'y?"

"In here," said Frank, pointing through the broken panel. "She is the missing Queen of Flowers! There she is, Barney! See here!"

Then Frank obtained a fair look at the girl's face, staggered, clutched Barney, and shouted:

"Look! By heavens! It is not strange she knew me, for we both know her! She is Inza Burrage!"



CHAPTER XXIII.

FIGHTING LADS.

While attending school at Fardale Military Academy, Frank had met and become acquainted with a charming girl by the name of Inza Burrage. They had been very friendly—more than friendly; in a boy and girl way, they were lovers.

After leaving Fardale and starting to travel, Frank had written to Inza, and she had answered. For a time the correspondence had continued, but, at last, Frank had failed to receive any answers to his letters. He wrote again and again, but never a line came from Inza, and he finally decided she had grown tired of him, and had taken this method of dropping him.

Frank was proud and sensitive, and he resolved to forget Inza. This was not easy, but he thought of her as little as possible, and never spoke of her to any one.

And now he had met her in this remarkable manner. Some fellow had written him from Fardale that Mr. Burrage had moved from the place, but no one seemed to know whither he had gone. Frank had not dreamed of seeing Inza in New Orleans, but she was the mysterious Queen of Flowers, and, for some reason, she was in trouble and peril.

Although dazed by his astonishing discovery, the boy quickly recovered, and he felt that he could battle with a hundred ruffians in the defense of the girl beyond the broken door.

Barney Mulloy seemed no less astonished than Frank.

"Be me soul! it is thot lassie!" he cried.

"Inza! Inza!" shouted Frank, through the broken panel.

She heard him.

"Frank! Frank! Save me!"

"I will!"

The promise was given with the utmost confidence.

At that moment, however, the ruffian whose wrist Frank had broken, leaped upon the girl and grasped her with his uninjured arm.

"Carramba!" he snarled. "You save-a her? Bah! Fool! You never git-a out with whole skin!"

"Drop her, you dog!" cried Frank, pointing his revolver at the fellow—"drop her, or I'll put a bullet through your head, instead of your wrist!"

"Bah! Shoot! You kill-a her!"

He held the struggling girl before him as a shield.

Like a raging lion, Frank tore at the panel.

The man with the girl swiftly moved back to a door at the farther side of the room. This door he had already unfastened and flung open.

"Adios!" he cried, derisively. "Some time I square wid you for my hand-a! Adios!"

"Th' spalpanes are comin' up th' shtairs again, Frankie!" cried Barney, in the ear of the desperate boy at the door.

Frank did not seem to hear; he was striving to break the stout panel so that he could force his way through the opening.

"Frank! Frank! they're coming up th' shtairs!"

"Let them come!"

"They'll make mince mate av us!"

"I must follow her!"

"Well, folly, av ye want to!" shouted the Irish lad. "Oi'm goin' to shtop th' gang!"

Crack! The panel gave. Crack! splinter! smash! Out came a long strip, which Frank flung upon the floor.

Barney caught it up and whirled toward the stairs.

The desperadoes were coming with a rush—they were well up the stairs. In another moment the leading ruffian would have reached the second floor.

"Get back, ye gossoons! Down, ye haythen! Take thot, ye bloody pirates!"

The strip of heavy wood in Barney's hands whirled through the air, and came down with a resounding crack on the head of the leader.

The fellows had not learned caution by the fate of the first man to climb the stairs, and they were following their second leader as close as possible.

Barney had a strong arm, and he struck the fellow with all his power. Well it was for the ruffian that the heavy wood was not very thick, else he would have had a broken head.

Back he toppled upon the one behind, and that one made a vain attempt to support him. The dead weight was too much, and the second fell, again sweeping the whole lot to the foot of the stairs.

"Hurro!" shouted the Irish boy, in wild delight. "This is th' koind av a picnic pwhat Oi admire! Come on, ye nagurs! It's Barney Mulloy ye're runnin' up against, an' begobs! he's good fer th' whole crowd av yez!"

At the foot of the stairs there was a writhing, wrangling, snarling mass of human beings; at the head of the stairs was a young Irishman who laughed and crowed and flourished the cudgel of wood in his hands.

Barney, feeling his blood leaping joyously in his veins, felt like singing, and so he began to warble a "fighting song," over and over inviting his enemies to come on.

In the meantime Frank had made an opening large enough to force his body through.

"Come on, Barney!" he cried, attracting the other boy's attention by a sharp blow.

"Pwhere?"

"In here—somewhere."

"Frankie, ye're muddled, an' Oi nivver saw yez so before."

"What do you mean?"

"Nivver a bit would it do for us both to go in there, fer th' craythers moight hiv us in a thrap."

"You're right, Barney. I will go. You stay here and hold the ruffians back. Here—take my revolver. You'll need it."

"G'wan wid yez! Quit yer foolin', Frankie! Oi hiv an illigant shillaly here, an' thot's all Oi nade, unliss ye have two revolvers."

"This is the only one I have."

"Thin kape it, me b'y, fer ye'll nade it before ye save the lass, Oi think."

"I think you may be right, Barney. Here goes! Hold them back. I'll not desert you."

"It's nivver a bit Oi worry about thot, Frankie. G'wan!"

Through the panel Frank forced his way. As soon as he was within the room he ran for the door through which the ruffian had dragged Inza.

Frank knew that the fellow might be waiting just beyond the door, knife in hand, and he sprang through with his revolver held ready for instant use.

There was no light in the room, but the light from the lamp in the adjoining room shone in at the doorway.

Frank looked around, and, to his dismay, he could see no one.

"Are they gone?" he asked himself. "If so, whither?"

It was not long before he was convinced that the room was empty of any living being save himself.

The Spanish ruffian and the unfortunate girl had disappeared.

"Oh, confound the infernal luck!" raved the boy. "He has escaped with her! But I did my best, and I followed as soon as possible."

Then he remembered that he had promised Inza he would save her, and it wrung a groan from his lips.

"Which way have they gone?" he cried, beginning to look for a door that led from the room.

By this time he was accustomed to the dim light, and he saw a door. In a twinkling he had tried it, but found it was locked or bolted on the farther side.

"The fellow had little time and no hands to lock a door. He may not have gone this way. He must, for this is the only door to the room, save the one by which I entered. He went out this way, and I will follow!"

Retreating to the farther side of the room, Frank made a run and plunged against the door.

It was bolted on the farther side, and the shock snapped the iron bolt as if it had been a pipe stem.

Bang! Open flew the door, and Frank went reeling through, revolver in hand, somewhat dazed, but still determined and fierce as a young tiger.

At a glance he saw he was in a small room, with two doors standing open—the one he had just broken down and another. Through this other he leaped, and found himself in a long passage, at the farther end of which Barney Mulloy was still guarding the head of the stairs, once more singing the wild "fighting song."

Not a trace of the ruffian or the kidnaped girl could Frank see.

"Gone!" he palpitated, mystified and awe-stricken. "Gone—where?"

That was a question he could not answer for a moment, and then——

"The window in that room! It is the one by which Barney entered! It must be the one by which the wretch fled with Inza!"

Back into the room he had just left he leaped. Two bounds carried him to the window, against which brushed the branch of the old willow tree.

He looked out.

"There they are!"

The exultant words came in a panting whisper from his lips as he saw some dark figures on the ground beneath the tree. He was sure he saw a female form among them, and his ears did not deceive him, for he heard at last a smothered appeal for help.

Then two other forms rushed out of the shadows and fell upon the men beneath the tree, striking right and left!

There was a short, fierce struggle, a woman's shriek, the death groan of a stricken man, a pistol shot, and scattering forms.

Without pausing to measure the distance to the ground, Frank sprang over the window sill and dropped.



CHAPTER XXIV.

END OF THE SEARCH.

Like a cat, Frank alighted on his feet, and he was ready for anything the moment he struck the ground.

There was no longer any fighting beneath the tree. The struggling mass had melted to two dark figures, one of which was stretched on the ground, while the other bent over it.

Frank sprang forward and caught the kneeling one by the shoulder.

"What has become of her?" he demanded, fiercely.

The man looked up, astonished.

It was Colonel La Salle Vallier!

"Yo', sah?" he exclaimed.

"You?" cried Frank.

Then the boy recovered, again demanding:

"What has become of Miss Burrage? She was here a moment ago."

The colonel looked around in a dazed way, slowly saying:

"Yes, sah, she was here, fo' Mistah Raymon' heard her voice, and he rushed in to save her."

"Raymond? Where is he?"

"Here, sah."

The colonel motioned toward the silent form on the ground, and Frank bent forward to peer into the white, ghastly face.

It was, indeed, Rolf Raymond.

"Dead?" fluttered Frank.

"Dead!" replied Colonel Vallier.

"He was killed in the struggle?"

"He was stabbed at the ver' start, sah. The knife must have struck his heart."

"Merciful goodness!" gasped the boy, horrified. "And how came he here?"

"We were searching fo' Manuel Mazaro, sah. Mistah Raymon' did not trus' the rascal, and he believed Mazaro might know something about Miss Burrage. Mazaro is ready fo' anything, and he knew big money would be offered fo' the recovery of the young lady, so he must have kidnaped her. We knew where to find Mazaro, though he did not suppose so, and we came here. As we approached, we saw some figures beneath this tree. Then we heard a feminine cry fo' help, and we rushed in here, sah. That's all, except that Mistah Raymon' rushed to his death, and the rascals have escaped."

"They have escaped with the girl—carried her away!"

"But they will not dare keep her now, sah."

"Why not?"

"Because they are known, and the entire police of the city will be after them."

"What will they do with her?"

"I don't know, but I do not think they will harm her, sah."

"What was she to Rolf Raymond?"

"His affianced bride, sah."

"Well, she will not marry him now," said Frank; "but I am truly sorry that the fellow was killed in such a dastardly manner."

"So am I, sah," confessed the queer colonel. "He has been ver' valuable to me. It will be a long time before I find another like him."

Frank did not understand that remark then, but he did afterward, when he was told that Colonel Vallier was a professional card sharp, and had bled Rolf Raymond for many thousands of dollars. This explained the singular friendship between the sharp old rascal and the young man.

More than that, Frank afterward learned that Colonel Vallier was not a commissioned officer, had never been such, but had assumed the title.

In many ways the man tried to imitate the Southern gentleman of the old school, but, as he was not a gentleman at heart, he was a sad failure.

All at once Frank remembered Barney, and that he had promised to stand by the Irish lad.

"Great Scott!" he cried. "Barney Mulloy is in there with that gang of raging wolves!"

"Nivver a bit av it, Frankie," chirped a cheerful voice. "Oi am here."

Down from the tree swung the fighting Irish lad, dropping beside his comrade.

"Th' craythers didn't feel loike comin' up th' shtairs inny more," Barney explained. "They seemed to hiv enough sport fer wan avenin'. Somebody shouted somethin' to thim, an' away they wint out doors, so I took to lookin' fer yez, me b'y."

"And you found me?"

"Oi looked out av th' windy, an' hearrud yer voice. Thot's whoy Oi came down. Phat has happened out here, Oi dunno?"

Frank hastily explained.

"Well, it's the avil wan's oun luck!" exclaimed Barney. "But av we shtay here, Frankie, it's pinched we'll be by the police as will be afther getting around boy and boy. We'd betther take a sneak."

"Inza——"

"She ain't here inny more, me lad, an' so ye moight as well go."

"You are right. Come on."

Swiftly and silently they slipped away, leaving Colonel Vallier with the dead youth.

Frank was feeling disgusted and desperate, and he expressed himself freely as they made their way along the streets.

"It is voile luck," admitted Barney; "but we did our bist, an' it's a jolly good foight we had. Frankie, we make a whole tame, wid a litthle yaller dog under th' waggin."

"Oh, I can't think of anything but Inza, Inza, Inza! She——"

"Frank!"

Out of a dark shadow timidly came a female figure.

With a cry of joy, Frank sprang forward, and clasped her in his arms, lifting her off her feet and covering her face, eyes and mouth with kisses, while he cried:

"Inza, girl! at last! at last! We fought like fiends to save you, and we thought we had failed. But now——"

"You did your best, Frank, but that dreadful wretch dragged me to the window and dropped me into the arms of a monster who was waiting below. I did not faint—I would not! I made up my mind that I would keep my senses and try to escape. The man jumped after me, and then a signal was given that brought the others from the building. They were going to wrap something about my head when I got my mouth free and cried out. After that I scarcely know what happened. There was fighting, and I caught a glimpse of the face of Rolf Raymond. How he came there I do not know. I felt myself free, and I ran, ran, ran, till I fell here from exhaustion, and here I lay till I heard your voice. I knew it, and I replied."

"Frankie, me b'y!" cried Barney, "it's a bit ago we were ravin' at our luck: It's givin' thanks we should be this minute."

"True, Barney, true! It is all right at last. Inza is safe, Rolf Raymond is dead, and——"

A cry broke from the lips of the girl.

"Rolf Raymond dead?" she exclaimed, wildly. "Are you sure?"

"Sure," replied Frank, coldly. "You will not marry him now."

"I should not have married him anyway."

"But you were affianced to him?"

"By my father—yes. My father and Roderick Raymond, who is a cripple and has not many more years to live, were schoolmates and friends in their younger days. Roderick Raymond has made a vast fortune, and in his old age he set his heart upon having his son marry the daughter of his former friend and partner. It seems that, when they first got married, father and Raymond declared, in case the child of one was a boy, and that of the other was a girl, that their children should marry. Rolf was Mr. Raymond's only son, as I am an only daughter. Believing himself ready to die, Roderick Raymond sent to my father and reminded him of their agreement. As you know, father is not very wealthy, and he is now an invalid. His mind is not strong, and he became convinced that it was his duty to see that I married Rolf Raymond. He set his mind on it, and all my pleadings were in vain. He brought me here to the South, and I saw Rolf. I disliked him violently the moment my eyes rested on him, but he seemed to fall madly in love with me. He was fiercely jealous of me, and watched me as a dog watches its mistress. I could not escape him, and I was becoming entangled deeper and deeper when you appeared. I knew you, and I was determined to see you again—to ask you to save me. I took part in the parade to-night, and went to the ballroom. Rolf followed me about so that I became disgusted and slipped from the room, intending to return home alone. Barely had I left the room when a fellow whispered in my ear that he had been sent there by you—that I was to go with him, and he would take me to you. I entered a closed carriage, and I was brought to the place where you found me a captive in the hands of those ruffians."

Frank had listened with eager interest to this explanation, and it made everything clear.

"It was ordained by fate that we should find you there," he declared. "It was known the Queen of Flowers had disappeared, and we were searching for you. Something led us straight to that place. Rolf Raymond came there, also, and he came to his death. But, Inza, explain one thing—why didn't you answer my letters?"

"I answered every one I received. You stopped writing."

"I did not; but I received no answers."

"Then," cried the girl, "your letters must have been intercepted. You were constantly changing about. I did not know your address, so I could not ask for an explanation."

"Well, it has come out right at last. We'll find a carriage and take you home. To-morrow I will see you."

They reached Canal Street, and found a carriage.

Inza's invalid father was astounded when he saw Frank and Barney Mulloy appear with his daughter, and he was more than ever astounded and agitated when he knew what had happened.

But Inza was safe, and Rolf Raymond was dead.

It was a lively tale the boys related to Professor Scotch that night. The little man fairly gasped for breath as he listened.

"Well! well! well!" was all he could say.

In the morning the police had taken hold of the affair, and they were hot after the fellows who had killed Rolf Raymond. Frank and Barney were called on to tell their story, and were placed under surveillance.

But the cottage cafe was deserted, and the Spanish rascals were not captured. They disappeared from New Orleans, and, to this day, the law has never avenged the death of Roderick Raymond's only son.

The murder of his boy was too much for Raymond to endure, and he died of a broken heart on the day of the son's funeral. Knowing he was dying, he had a new will swiftly made, and all his wealth was left to his old friend Burrage.

Frank and Barney thoroughly enjoyed the rest of their stay in New Orleans. In the open carriage with them, at Frank's side, rode the "Queen of Flowers" as they went sight-seeing.

In the throng of spectators, with two detectives near at hand, they saw Colonel La Salle Vallier. He lifted his hat and bowed with the utmost courtesy.

"The auld chap is something of a daisy, after all, Frankie," laughed Barney. "Oi kinder admire th' spalpane."

"Ha, hum!" coughed Professor Scotch, at Barney's side. "He is a great duelist—a great duelist, but he quailed before my terrible eye—he was forced to apologize. Hum, ha!"

Frank leaned toward Inza.

"If anything happens when we are again separated that you should fail to receive my letters, you will not doubt me, will you?" he asked, in a whisper.

And she softly replied:

"No, Frank, but——"

"But what?"

"You—you must not forget Elsie Bellwood."

"I haven't heard from her in a long time," said Frank. And there the talk ended.

But Frank was to hear from his other girl friend soon and in a most unexpected manner.



CHAPTER XXV.

THE MYSTERIOUS CANOE.

From New Orleans Frank, Barney and the professor journeyed to Florida.

Frank was anxious to see the Everglades and do some hunting.

Our hero was particularly anxious to shoot a golden heron, of which he had heard not a little.

One day a start was made in a canoe from a small settlement on the edge of the great Dismal Swamp, and on went our three friends deeper and deeper into the wilds.

At last the professor grew tired of the sameness of the journey.

"How much further into this wild swamp do you intend to go, Frank?" he asked.

"I am going till I get a shot at a golden heron."

"Nonsense! There is no golden heron."

"You think so?"

"I know it. The golden heron is a myth. White hunters have searched the remote fastnesses of the Florida swamps for a golden heron, but no such bird have they ever found. The Indians are the only ones to see golden herons."

"If the Indians can see them, white men may find them. I shall not be satisfied till I have shot one."

"Then you'll never be satisfied."

"Oh, I don't know about that, professor. I am something of an Indian myself. You know the Seminoles are honest and peaceable, and——"

"All Indians are liars. I would not take the word of a Seminole under any condition. Come, Frank, don't be foolish; let's turn round and go back. We may get bewildered on these winding waterways which twist here and there through swamps of cypress and rushes. We were foolish to come without a guide, but——"

"We could not obtain one until to-morrow, and I wished to come to-day."

"You may be sorry you did not wait."

"Now, you are getting scared, professor," laughed Frank, lifting his paddle from the water and laying it across the bow of the canoe. "I'll tell you what we'll do."

"All right."

"We'll leave it to Barney, who has not had a word to say on the matter. If he says go back, we'll go back."

Professor Scotch hesitated, scratched his fingers into his fiery beard, and then said:

"Well, I'll have to do as you boys say, anyway, so we'll leave it to Barney."

"All right," laughed Frank, once more. "What do you say, Barney, my boy?"

Barney Mulloy was in the stern of the canoe that had been creeping along one of the sluggish water courses that led through the cypress swamp and into the heart of the Everglades.

"Well, gintlemin," he said, "Oi've been so busy thrying to kape thrack av th' twists an' turruns we have been makin' thot Oi didn't moind mutch pwhat ye wur soaying. It wur something about turning back. Plaze repate it again."

So the matter was laid before him, and, when he had heard what Frank and the professor had to say, he declared:

"Fer mesilf it's nivver a bit do Oi care where we go ur pwhat we do, but, as long as we hiv come so fur, an' Frankie wants to go furder, Oi'd soay go on till he is sick av it an' reddy to turn back."

"There, professor!" cried Frank; "that settles it!"

"As I knew it would be settled," growled Professor Scotch, sulkily. "You boys combine against me every time. Well, I suppose I'll have to submit."

So the trio pushed on still farther into the great Dismal Swamp, a weird section of strange vegetable and animal life, where great black trees stood silent and grim, with Spanish moss dangling from their branches, bright-plumaged birds flashed across the opens, ugly snakes glided sinuously over the boggy land, and sleepy alligators slid from muddy banks and disappeared beneath the surface of the dead water.

The professor continued to grumble.

"If we should come upon one of these wonderful golden herons, Frank could not come within a hundred yards of it with that old bow and arrow," he said.

"Couldn't I?" retorted Frank. "Perhaps not, but I could make a bluff at it."

"I don't see why you won't use a gun."

"Well, there are two reasons. In the first place, in order to be sure of killing a heron with a shotgun I'd have to use fairly large shot, and that might injure the bird badly; in the second place, there might be two, and I'd not be able to bag more than one of them with a gun, as the report would scare the other. Then there is the possibility that I would miss with the first shot, and the heron would escape entirely. If I miss with an arrow, it is not likely the bird will be alarmed and take to flight, so I'll have another chance at it. Oh, there are some advantages in using the primitive bow and arrow."

"Bosh!" exploded Scotch. "You have a way of always making out a good case for yourself. You won't be beaten."

"Begobs! he is a hard b'y to bate, profissor," grinned Barney. "Av he wurn't, it's dead he'd been long ago."

"That's right, that's right," agreed Scotch, who admired Frank more than he wished to acknowledge. "He's lucky."

"It's not all luck, profissor," assured the Irish boy. "In minny cases it's pure nerve thot pulls him through."

"Well, there's a great deal of luck in it—of course there is."

"Oh, humor the professor, Barney," laughed Frank. "Perhaps he'll become better natured if you do."

They now came to a region of wild cypress woods, where the treetops were literally packed with old nests, made in the peculiar heron style. They were constructed of huge bristling piles of cross-laid sticks, not unlike brush heaps of a Western clearing.

Here for years, almost ages, different species of herons had built their nests in perfect safety.

As the canoe slowly and silently glided toward the "rookeries," white and blue herons were seen to rise from the reed-grass and fly across the opens in a stately manner, with their long necks folded against their breasts, and their legs projecting stiffly behind them.

"Pwoy don't yez be satisfoied wid a few av th' whoite wans, Frankie?" asked Barney, softly. "Shure, they're handsome enough."

"They're handsome," admitted Frank; "but a golden heron is worth a large sum as a curiosity, and I mean to have one."

"All roight, me b'y; have yer own way, lad."

"He'll do that, anyhow," mumbled Professor Scotch, gruffly.

They could now see long, soldier-like lines of herons stretched out along the reedy swales, standing still and solemn, like pickets on duty.

They were not particularly wary or wild, for they had not been hunted very much in the wild region which they inhabited.

Little green herons were plentiful, and they kept flying up before the canoe constantly, scaring the others, till Frank grew very impatient, declaring:

"Those little rascals will scare away a golden heron, if we are fortunate enough to come upon one. Confound them!"

"Let me shoot a few of th' varmints," urged Barney, reaching for one of the guns in the bottom of the canoe.

"Not much!" returned Frank, quickly. "Think what the report of a gun would do here. Keep still, Barney."

"All roight!" muttered the Irish lad, reluctantly relinquishing his hold on the gun. "Av ye soay kape still, kape still it is."

Frank instructed the professor to take in his paddle, and Barney was directed to hold the canoe close to the edge of the rushes. In this manner, with Frank kneeling in the prow, an arrow ready notched on the string, he could shoot with very little delay.

Beyond the heron rookery the waterway wound into the depths of a dark, forbidding region, where the Spanish moss hung thick, and the great trees leaned over the water.

They had glided past one side of the rookery and were near this dark opening when an exclamation of surprise came from Frank Merriwell's lips.

"Phat is it, me b'y?" asked Barney, quickly.

"A canoe."

"Phere?"

"See it yonder."

"Yes, Oi see it now. It's white."

"There must be other hunters near at hand," said the professor.

"The canoe is not drawn up to the bank," said Frank, in a puzzled way. "It seems to be floating at some distance from the shore."

"Perhaps it is moored out there."

"Why should it be moored in such a place? There are no tides here, and alligators are not liable to steal canoes."

"Do ye see inny soign av a camp, Frankie?"

"Not a sign of a camp or a human being. This is rather strange."

A strange feeling of wonder that swiftly changed to awe was creeping over them. The canoe was snowy white, and lay perfectly motionless on the still surface of the water. It was in the dark shadow beneath the trees.

"Perhaps the owner of the canoe is lying in the bottom," suggested the professor.

"We'll see about that," said Frank, putting down the bow and arrow and taking up a paddle. "Head straight for her, Barney."

With the very first stroke in that direction a most astonishing thing happened.

The white canoe seemed to swing slightly about, and then, with no visible occupant and no apparent motive power, it glided smoothly and gently toward the dark depths of the black forest!

"She's floating away from us!" cried the professor. "There must be a strong current there!"

"Nivver a bit is she floating!" gasped Barney Mulloy. "Will ye look at her go! Begobs! Oi fale me hair shtandin' on me head!"

"She is not floating!" Frank said. "See—she gains speed! Look at the ripple that spreads from her prow!"

"But—but," spluttered Professor Scotch, "what is making her move—what is propelling her?"

"That's a mystery!" came from Frank, "but it's a mystery I mean to solve! Get out your paddle, professor. Keep straight after that canoe, Barney. We'll run her down and look her over."

Then a strange race began, canoe against canoe, the one in the lead apparently empty, the one pursuing containing three persons who were using all their strength and skill to overtake the empty craft.



CHAPTER XXVI.

STILL MORE MYSTERIOUS.

"Pull!" panted Frank.

"Pull!" mumbled the professor.

"Pull!" snorted Barney, in disgust, great drops of perspiration rolling down his face. "As if we wurn't pullin'!"

"We're not gaining."

"The white canoe keeps just so far ahead."

"Begobs! it's not our fault at all, at all."

Indeed, no matter how hard they worked, no matter how fast they made the canoe fly through the water, they could not gain on the mysterious white canoe. The distance between the two canoes seemed to remain just the same, and the one in advance slipped through the water without a sound, following the winding water course beneath the dark trees and going deeper and deeper into the heart of the swamp.

Other water courses were passed, running away into unknown and unexplorable wilds. It grew darker and darker, and the feeling of awe and fear fell more heavily upon them.

At last, exhausted and discouraged, the professor stopped paddling, crying to his companions, in a husky voice:

"Stop, boys, stop! There is something supernatural about that fiendish boat! It is luring us to some frightful fate!"

"Nonsense, professor!" retorted Frank. "You are not superstitious—you have said so at least a score of times."

"That's all right," returned Scotch, shaking his head. "I do not take any stock in rappings, table tippings, and that kind of stuff, but I will confess this is too much for me."

"Begobs! Oi don't wonder at thot," gurgled Barney Mulloy, wiping the great drops of perspiration from his forehead. "It's the divvil's own canoe, thot is sure!"

"Oh, it's simple enough!" declared Frank, nettled.

"Thin ixplain it fer me, me b'y—ixplain it."

"Oh, I won't say that I can explain it, for I do not pretend to understand it; but I'll wager that the mystery would be readily solved if we could overtake and examine that canoe."

"Mebbe so; but I think it nades a stameboat to overtake it."

Professor Scotch shook his head in a most solemn manner.

"Boys," he said, "in all my career I have never seen anything like this, and I shall never dare tell this adventure, for people in general would not believe it—they'd think I was lying."

"Without doubt," admitted Frank. "And, still I will wager that the explanation of the whole matter would seem very simple if we could overtake that canoe and examine it."

"Perhaps so."

"You speak as if you doubted it."

"Possibly I do."

"I am surprised at you, professor—I am more than surprised."

"I can't help it if you are, my boy."

"I am afraid your mind is beginning to weaken."

"Soay, Frankie," broke in Barney. "Oi loike fun as well as th' nixt wan, but, be jabbers! it's nivver a bit av it can Oi see in this!"

"See that infernal canoe?" cried the professor, pointing at the mystic craft. "It has stopped out there in the shadows."

"And seems to be waiting for us to pursue again."

"That's what it's doing."

"I'm ready!" exclaimed Frank.

"I am not," decisively declared Professor Scotch.

"Nayther am Oi!" almost shouted the Irish youth. "It's enough av this koind av business Oi've been in!"

"We'll turn about," said Scotch, grimly. "That canoe will lure us into this dismal swamp so far that we'll never find our way out. We'll turn about at once."

Frank laughed.

"All right," he said. "I suppose I'll have to give up, but I do dislike to leave without solving the mystery of that canoe."

"It may be thot we're so far in thot we can't foind our way out at all, at all," said the Irish lad.

"I'm afraid we'll not be able to get out before nightfall," confessed the professor. "I have no fancy for spending a night in this swamp."

Barney promptly expressed his dislike for such an adventure, but Frank was silent.

The canoe turned about, and they set about the task of retracing the water courses by which they had come far into the swamp.

It was not long before they came to a place where the courses divided. Frank was for following one, while both Barney and the professor insisted that the other was the right way.

Finally, Frank gave in to them, although it was against his better judgment, and he felt that he should not submit.

They had not proceeded far before, as they were passing round a bend, a cry of astonishment fell from Barney's lips.

"Howly shmoke!" he shouted. "Thot bates th' band!"

"What's the matter?" asked Frank and the professor, together.

"Thot whoite canoe!"

"What of it?"

"Look back! Th' thing is afther follying av us!"

They looked back, and, sure enough, there was the mysterious canoe, gliding after them, like a most uncanny thing!

"Well, I like that!" said Frank, in a tone that plainly indicated he did not like it. "This is very pleasant!"

"Pull, pull!" throbbed the professor, splashing his paddle into the water and very nearly upsetting them all. "Don't let the thing overtake us! Pull, pull!"

"Oi think it's a foine plan to be gettin' out av this," muttered Barney, in an agitated tone of voice.

"Steady, there, professor," called Frank, sharply. "What do you want to do—drown us all? Keep cool."

"It's coming!" fluttered the little man, wildly.

"Let it come. As long as we could not overtake it, let it overtake us. That is a very good scheme."

"Th' skame won't worruck, me b'y. Th' ould thing's shtopped."

It was true; the white canoe had stopped, and was lying calmly on the inky surface of the shadowed water.

"Well, I can't say that I like this," said Frank.

"And I scarcely think I like it more than you do," came from the professor.

"An' th' both av yez loike it as well as mesilf," put in the Irish youth.

"What are we to do?"

"Go on."

Go on they did, but the white canoe still followed, keeping at a distance.

"I can't stand this," declared Frank, as he picked up a rifle from the bottom of the canoe. "I wonder how lead will work on her?"

"Pwhat are yez goin' to do, me b'y?" cried Barney, in alarm.

"Shoot a few holes in that craft," was the deliberate answer. "Swing to the left, so that I may have a good chance."

"Don't shoot!" palpitated the professor.

"Don't shoot!" gurgled Barney.

"What is the matter with you?" demanded Frank, sharply. "You both appear like frightened children!"

"No telling what'll come of it if you shoot."

"I'll simply put a few holes through that canoe."

"It may be the destruction of us!"

"It may sind us all to glory by th' farrust express."

"Nonsense! Don't be foolish! Swing her to the left, I say. I am going to shoot, and that settles it."

It was useless for them to urge him not to fire; he was determined, and nothing they could say would change his mind. The canoe drifted round to the left, and the rifle rose to Frank's shoulder.

Spang! The clear report rang out and echoed through the cypress forest.

The bullet tore through the white canoe, and the weird craft seemed to give a leap, like a wounded creature.

"Hit it!" cried Frank, triumphantly.

"Hit it!" echoed the professor, quivering with terror.

"Hit it!" groaned Barney Mulloy, his face white and his eyes staring. "May all the saints defind us!"

"Look!" shouted Frank. "She is turning about—she is going to leave us! But I'll put another bullet through her!"

Up the rifle came, but, just as he pressed the trigger, Professor Scotch pushed the weapon to one side, so the bullet did not pass within twenty feet of the white canoe.

"Why did you do that?" demanded Frank, angrily.

"I couldn't see you shoot into that canoe again," faltered the agitated professor. "It was too much—too much!"

"What do you mean by that?"

Professor Scotch shook his head. He could not explain, and he was ashamed of his agitation and fears.

"Well, you fellows lay over anything I ever went up against!" said Frank, in disgust. "I didn't suppose you could be so thoroughly childish."

"All right, Frank," came humbly from the professor's lips. "I can't help it, and I haven't a word to say."

"But I will take one more shot at that canoe!" vowed Frank.

"Not this day," chuckled Barney Mulloy. "She's gone!"

It was true. The mysterious canoe had vanished from view while they were speaking.



CHAPTER XXVII.

IN THE EVERGLADES.

"Gone!"

"Disappeared!"

The exclamations came from Frank and Professor Scotch.

Barney's chuckle changed to a shiver, and his teeth chattered.

"Th' Ould B'y's in it!" he chatteringly declared.

"The Old Boy must have been in that canoe," agreed the professor.

Frank was puzzled and disappointed. He still refused to believe there was anything supernatural about the mysterious, white canoe, but he was forced to acknowledge to himself that the craft had done most amazing things.

"It simply slipped into some branch waterway while we were not looking," he said, speaking calmly, as if it were the most commonplace thing imaginable.

"Well, it's gone," said Scotch, as if greatly relieved. "Now, let's get out of this in a great hurry."

"I am for going back to see what has become of the white canoe," said Frank, with deliberate intent to make his companions squirm.

Barney and the professor raised a perfect howl of protest.

"Never!" shouted Scotch, nearly upsetting the boat in his excitement, and wildly flourishing his arms in the air.

"Nivver!" squealed the Irish lad. "Oi'll joomp overboard an' swim out av this before Oi'll go back!"

Frank laughed.

"You are most amusing," he declared. "I suppose I'll have to give in to you, as you are two to one."

"Come on," fluttered the professor; "let's be moving."

So Frank put down the rifle, and picked up his paddle, and they resumed their effort to get out of the swamp before nightfall.

But the afternoon was well advanced, and night was much nearer than they had thought, as they were soon to discover.

At last, Barney cried:

"Oi see loight enough ahead! We must be near out av th' woods."

Frank said nothing. For a long time he had been certain they were on the wrong course, but he hoped it would bring them out somewhere. He had noted the light that indicated they were soon to reach the termination of the cypress swamp, but he held his enthusiasm in check till he could be sure they had come out somewhere near where they had entered the dismal region.

Professor Scotch grew enthusiastic immediately.

"Ha!" he cried, punching Frank in the back. "What do you think now, young man? Do you mean to say that we don't know our business? What if we had accepted your way of getting out of the swamp! We'd been in there now, sir."

"Don't crow till you're out of the woods," advised Frank.

"Begobs! Oi belave he'd be plazed av we didn't get out at all, at all!" exclaimed Barney, somewhat touched.

In a short time they came to the termination of the cypress woods, but, to the surprise of Barney and the professor, the swamp, overgrown with tall rushes and reed-grass, continued, with the water course winding away through it.

"Pwhat th' ould boy does this mane?" cried the Irish lad.

"It means," said Frank, coolly, "that we have reached the Everglades."

"Th' Ivirglades? Well, pwhat do we want iv thim, Oi dunno?"

"They are one of the sights of Florida, Barney."

"It's soights enough I've seen alreddy. Oi'd loike ter git out av this."

"I knew you wouldn't get out this way, for we have not passed the rookeries of the herons, as you must remember."

"That's true," sighed the professor, dejectedly. "I hadn't thought of that. What can we do, boys?"

"Turn about, and retrace our steps," said Frank.

But Barney and the professor raised a vigorous protest.

"Nivver a bit will yez get me inther thot swamp again th' doay!" shouted the Irish lad, in a most decisive manner.

"If we go back, we'll not be able to get out before darkness comes on, and we'll have to spend the night in the swamp," said Scotch, excitedly. "I can't do that."

"Well, what do you propose to do?" asked Frank, quietly. "I don't seem to have anything to say in this matter. You are running it to suit yourselves."

They were undecided, but one thing was certain; they would not go back into the swamp. The white canoe was there, and the professor and the Irish lad did not care to see that again.

"Whoy not go on, Frankie?" asked Barney. "We're out av th' woods, an', by follyin' this strame, we ought to get out av th' Iverglades."

"What do you say, professor?" asked Frank, who was rather enjoying the adventure, although he did not fancy the idea of spending a night on the marsh.

"Go on—by all means, go on!" roared the little man.

"Go on, it is, then. We'll proceed to explore the Everglades in company with Professor Scotch, the noted scientist and daring adventurer. Go ahead!"

So they pushed onward into the Everglades, while the sun sank lower and lower, finally dropping beneath the horizon.

Night was coming on, and they were in the heart of the Florida Everglades!

The situation was far from pleasant.

Barney and the professor fell to growling at each other, and they kept it up while Frank smiled and remained silent.

At length, Scotch took in his paddle in disgust, groaning:

"We're lost!"

"I am inclined to think so myself," admitted Frank, cheerfully.

"Well, who's to blame, Oi'd loike to know?" cried the Irish lad.

"You are!" roared the professor, like a wounded lion.

"G'wan wid yez!" exploded Barney. "It's yersilf thot is to blame! Frankie wanted to go the other woay, but ye said no."

"Me! me! me!" howled the professor. "Did I? You were the one! You insisted that this was the proper course to pursue! You are to blame for it all!"

"Profissor, ye're a little oulder thin Oi be, but av ye wur nigh me age, Oi'd inform ye thot ye didn't know how to spake th' truth."

"Do you mean to call me a liar, you impudent young rascal?"

"Not now, profissor; but I would av ye wur younger."

"It's all the same! It's an insult, sir!"

"Well, pwhat are yez goin' to do about it?"

"I'll make you swallow the words, you scoundrel!"

"Well, thot would be more av a male thin the rist av ye are loikely to get th' noight, so it is!"

"Come, come," laughed Frank; "this is no time nor place to quarrel."

"You're right, Frank; but this ungrateful young villain makes me very tired!"

"Careful, professor—slang."

"Excuse me, but you know human beings are influenced by their surroundings and associates. If I have——"

"Professor!" cried Frank, reproachfully. "You would not accuse me of having taught you to use slang?"

"Ah—ha—ahem! No, no—that is, you see—er—well, er, that Dutch boy was always saying something slangy."

"Hans?"

"Yes."

"Professor! professor! He's not here to defend himself."

"Oh, well! Oh, well! Ha! ha! ha! Quite a joke—quite a little joke, you know! You always appreciate a joke, Frank. You are full of fun yourself."

As under the circumstances there was nothing else to do, they finally paddled slowly forward, looking for a piece of dry land, where they could stop and camp for the night.

They approached a small cluster of trees, which rose above the rushes, and it was seen that they seemed to be growing on land that was fairly high and dry.

"We'll stop there," decided Frank. "It's not likely we'll find another place like that anywhere in the Everglades."

As they came nearer, they saw the trees seemed to be growing on an island, for the water course divided and ran on either side of them.

"Just the place for a camp!" cried Frank, delightedly. "This is really a very interesting and amusing adventure."

"It may be for you," groaned the professor; "but you forget that it is said to be possible for persons to lose themselves in the Everglades and never find their way out."

"On the contrary, I remember it quite well. In fact, it is said that, without a guide, the chances of finding a way out of the Everglades is small, indeed."

"Well, what do you feel so exuberant about?"

"Why, the possibility that we'll all perish in the Everglades adds zest to this adventure—makes it really interesting."

"Frank, you're a puzzle to me. You are cautious about running into danger of any sort, but, once in it, you seem to take a strange and unaccountable delight in the peril. The greater the danger, the happier you seem to feel."

"Thot's roight," nodded Barney.

"When I am not in danger, my good judgment tells me to take no chances; but when I get into it fairly, I know the only thing to be done is to make the best of it. I delight in adventure—I was born for it!"

A dismal sound came from the professor's throat.

"When your uncle died," said Scotch, "I thought him my friend. Although we had quarreled, I fancied the hatchet was buried. He made me your guardian, and I still believed he had died with nothing but friendly feelings toward me. But he knew you, and now I believe it was an act of malice toward me when he made me your guardian. And, to add to my sufferings, he decreed that I should travel with you. Asher Dow Merriwell deliberately plotted against my life! He knew the sort of a career you would lead me, and he died chuckling in contemplation of the misery and suffering you would inflict upon me! That man was a monster—an inhuman wretch!"

"Look there!" cried Barney, pointing toward the small, timbered island.

"What is it?"

"May Ould Nick floy away wid me av it ain't a house!"



CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE HUT ON THE ISLAND.

"A house?"

"A cabin!"

"A hut amid the trays."

In a little clearing on some rising ground amid the trees they could see the hut.

"Is it possible any one lives here?" exclaimed the professor.

"It looks as if some one stops here at times, at least," said Frank.

"Av this ain't a clear case av luck, Oi dunno mesilf!"

"We'll get the man who lives there to guide us out of the Everglades!" shouted the professor, in a relieved tone.

Then Frank cast a gloom over their spirits by saying:

"This may be a hunter's cabin, inhabited only at certain seasons of the year. Ten to one, there's no one living in it now."

"You'd be pleased if there wasn't!" almost snarled Professor Scotch. "You're a boy without a heart!"

Frank laughed softly.

"We'll soon find out if there's any one at home," he said, as the canoe ran up to the bank, and he took care to get out first.

As soon as Frank was out, the professor made a scramble to follow him. He rose to his feet, despite Barney's warning cry, and, a moment later, the cranky craft flipped bottom upward, with the swiftness of a flash of lightning.

The professor and the Irish lad disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

Barney's head popped up in a moment, and he stood upon his feet, with the water to his waist, uttering some very vigorous words.

Up came the professor, open flew his mouth, out spurted a stream of water, and then he wildly roared:

"Help! Save me! I can't swim! I'm drowning!"

Before either of the boys could say a word, he went under again.

"This is th' firrust toime Oi iver saw a man thot wanted to drown in thray fate av wather," said Barney.

Frank sat down on the dry ground, and shouted with laughter.

Up popped the professor a second time.

"Help!" he bellowed, after he had spurted another big stream of water from his mouth. "Will you see me perish before your very eyes? Save me, Frank!"

But Frank was laughing so heartily that he could not say a word, and the little man went down once more.

"Hivins! he really manes to drown!" said Barney, in disgust.

"Grab him!" gasped Frank. "Don't let him go down again. Oh, my! what a scrape! This beats our record!"

For the third time the professor's head appeared above the surface, and the professor's voice weakly called:

"Will no one save me? This is a plot to get me out of the way! Oh, Frank, Frank! I never thought this of you! Farewell! May you be happy when I am gone!"

"Stand up!" shouted Frank, seeing that the little man had actually resigned himself to drown. "Get your feet under you. The water is shallow there."

The professor stood up, and an expression of pain, surprise, and disgust settled on his face, as he thickly muttered:

"May I be kicked! And I've been under the water two-thirds of the time for the last hour! I've swallowed more than two barrels of this swamp-water, including, in all probability, a few dozen pollywogs, lizards, young alligators, and other delightful things! If the water wasn't so blamed dirty here, and I wasn't afraid of swallowing enough creatures to start an aquarium, I'd just lie down and refuse to make another effort to get up."

Then he waded out, the look on his face causing Frank to double up with merriment, while even the wretched Barney smiled.

Barney would have waded out, but Frank said:

"Don't attempt to land without those guns, old man. They're somewhere on the bottom, and we want them."

So Barney was forced to plunge under the surface and feel around till he had fished up the rifles and the shotgun.

Frank had taken care of his bow and arrows, the latter being in a quiver at his back, and the paddles had not floated away.

After a time, everything was recovered, the canoe was drawn out and tipped bottom upward, and the trio moved toward the cabin, Frank leading, and the professor staggering along behind.

Reaching the cabin, Frank rapped loudly on the door.

No answer.

Once more he knocked, and then, as there was no reply, he pushed the door open, and entered.

The cabin was not occupied by any living being, but a glance showed the trio that some one had been there not many hours before, for the embers of a fire still glowed dimly on the open hearth of flat stones.

There were two rooms, the door between them being open, so the little party could look into the second.

The first room seemed to be the principal room of the hut, while the other was a bedroom. They could see the bed through the open doorway.

There were chairs, a table, a couch, and other things, for the most part rude, home-made stuff, and still every piece showed that the person who constructed it had skill and taste.

Around the walls were hung various tin pans and dishes, all polished bright and clean.

What surprised them the most was the wire screens in the windows, a screen door that swung inward, and a mosquito-bar canopy over the bed and the couch.

"By Jove!" cried Frank; "the person who lives here is prepared to protect himself against mosquitoes and black flies."

"It would be impossible to live here in the summer," gravely declared Professor Scotch, forgetting his own misery for the moment. "The pests would drive a man crazy."

"Oh, I don't know about that," returned Frank. "If a man knew how to defend himself against them he might get along all right. They can't be worse than the mosquitoes of Alaska in the warm months. Up there the Indians get along all right, even though mosquitoes have been known to kill a bear."

"Pwhat's thot?" gurgled Barney. "Kill a bear? Oh, Frankie, me b'y, Oi nivver thought that av you!"

"It's true," affirmed Professor Scotch. "Sometimes bears, lured by hunger, will come down into the lowlands, where mosquitoes will attack them. They will stand up on their hind legs and strike at the little pests with their forward paws. Sometimes a bear will do this till he is exhausted and falls. Then the mosquitoes finish him."

"Thot's a harrud yarn to belave, profissor; but it goes av you soay so," said Barney, thinking it best to smooth over the late unpleasantness.

"Up there," said Frank, "the Indians smear their faces and hands with some kind of sticky stuff that keeps the mosquitoes from reaching their flesh. In that way they get along very well."

But they had something to talk about besides the Indians of Alaska, for the surprises around them furnished topics for conversation.

Exploring the place, they found it well stocked with provisions, which caused them all to feel delighted.

"I'm actually glad we came!" laughed Frank. "This is fun galore."

"It will be all right if we are able to get out of the scrape," said Scotch.

Barney built a fire, while Frank prepared to make bread and cook supper, having found everything necessary for the accomplishment of the task.

The professor stripped off his outer garments, wrung the water out of them, and hung them up before the fire to dry.

His example was followed by the Irish boy.

They made themselves as comfortable as possible, and night came on, finding them in a much better frame of mind than they had expected to be.

Frank succeeded in baking some bread in the stone oven. He found coffee, and a pot bubbled on the coals, sending out an odor that made the trio feel ravenous.

There were candles in abundance, and two of them were lighted. Then, when everything was ready, they sat down to the table and enjoyed a supper that put them in the best of moods.

The door of the hut was left open, and the light shone out upon the overturned canoe and the dark water beyond.

After supper they cleaned and dried the rifles and shotgun.

"By jingoes!" laughed Frank; "this is a regular picnic! I'm glad we took the wrong course, and came here!"

"You may change your tune before we get out," said the professor, whose trousers were dry, and who was now feeling of his coat to see how that was coming on.

"Don't croak, profissor," advised Barney. "You're th' firrust mon Oi iver saw thot wuz bound ter drown himsilf in thray fate av wather. Ha! ha! ha!"

"Oh, laugh, laugh," snapped the little man, fiercely. "I'll get even with you for that some time! What fools boys are!"

After supper they lay around and took things easy. Barney and Frank told stories till it was time to go to bed, and they finally turned in, first having barred the door and made sure the windows were securely fastened.

They soon slept, but they were not to rest quietly through the night. Other mysterious things were soon to follow those of the day.



CHAPTER XXIX.

A WILD NIGHT IN THE SWAMP.

Clang! clang! clang!

"Fire!"

"Turn out!"

The boys leaped to their feet, and the professor came tearing out of the bedroom, ran into the table, which he overturned with a great clatter of dishes, reeled backward, and sat down heavily on the floor, where he rubbed his eyes, and muttered:

"I thought that fire engine was going to run me down before I could get out of the way."

"Fire engine!" cried Frank Merriwell. "Who ever heard of a fire engine in the heart of the Florida Everglades?"

"Oi herrud th' gong," declared Barney.

"So did I," asserted the professor.

"I heard something that sounded like a fire gong," admitted Frank.

"Pwhat was it, Oi dunno?"

"It seemed to come from beneath the head of the bed in there," said Scotch.

"An' Oi thought I herrud it under me couch out here," gurgled Barney.

"We will light a candle, and look around," said Frank.

A candle was lighted, and they looked for the cause of the midnight alarm, but they found nothing that explained the mystery.

"Whist!" hissed the Irish boy. "It's afther gettin' away from here we'd better be, mark me worrud."

"What makes you think that?" demanded Frank, sharply.

"It's spooks there be around this place, ur Oi'm mistaken!"

"Oh, I've heard enough about spooks! It's getting tiresome."

The professor was silent, but he shook his head in a very mysterious manner, as if he thought a great many things he did not care to speak about.

They had been thoroughly awakened, but, after a time, failing to discover what had aroused them, they decided to return to bed.

Five minutes after they lay down, Frank and the professor were brought to their feet by a wild howl and a thud. They rushed out of the bedroom, and nearly fell over Barney, who was lying in the middle of the floor, at least eight feet from the couch.

"What is the matter with you?" cried Frank, astonished.

"Oi was touched!" palpitated the Irish lad, thickly.

"Touched?"

"Thot's pwhat!"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Oi wur jist beginning to get slapy whin something grabbed me an' threw me clan out here in th' middle av th' room."

"Oh, say! what are you trying to make us believe!"

"Oi'll swear to it, Frankie—Oi'll swear on a stack av Boibles."

"You dreamed it, Barney; that's what's the matter."

"Nivver a drame, me b'y, fer Oi wasn't aslape at all, at all."

"But you may have been asleep, for you say you were beginning to get sleepy. There isn't anything here to grab you."

"Oi dunno about thot, Frankie. Oi'm incloined to belave th' Ould B'y's around, so Oi am."

"Oh, this is tiresome! Go back to bed, and keep still."

"Nivver a bit will Oi troy to slape on thot couch again th' noight, me b'y. Oi'll shtay roight here on th' flure."

"Sleep where you like, but keep still. That's all."

Frank was somewhat nettled by these frequent interruptions of his rest, and he was more than tempted to give Barney cause to believe the hut was really haunted, for he was an expert ventriloquist, and he could have indulged in a great deal of sport with the Irish boy.

But other things were soon to take up their attention. While they were talking a strange humming arose on every side and seemed to fill the entire hut. At first, it was like a swarm of bees, but it grew louder and louder till it threatened to swell into a roar.

Professor Scotch was nearly frightened out of his wits.

"It is the end of everything!" he shrieked, making a wild dash for the door, which he flung wide open.

But the professor did not rush out of the cabin. Instead, he flung up his hands, staggered backward, and nearly fell to the floor.

"The white canoe!" he faintly gasped, clutching at empty air for support.

Frank sprang forward, catching and steadying the professor.

"The white canoe—where?"

"Out there!"

Sure enough, on the dark surface of the water, directly in front of the hut, lay the mysterious canoe.

And now this singular craft was illuminated from stem to stern by a soft, white light that showed its outlines plainly.

"Sint Patherick presarve us!" panted Barney Mulloy.

"I am getting tired of being chased around by a canoe!" said Frank, in disgust, as he hastily sought one of the rifles.

"Don't shoot!" entreated the professor, in great alarm.

"Av yer do, our goose is cooked!" fluttered Barney.

Frank threw a fresh cartridge into the rifle, and turned toward the open door, his mind fully made up.

And then, to the profound amazement of all three, seated in the canoe there seemed to be an old man, with white hair and long, white beard. The soft, white light seemed to come from every part of his person, as it came from the canoe.

Frank Merriwell paused, with the rifle partly lifted.

"It's th' spook himsilf!" gasped Barney, covering his face with his hands, and clinging to the professor.

"That's right!" faintly said Scotch. "For mercy's sake, don't shoot, Frank! We're lost if you do!"

Frank was startled and astonished, but he was determined not to lose his nerve, no matter what happened.

The man in the canoe seemed to be looking directly toward the cabin. He slowly lifted one hand, and pointed away across the Everglades, at the same time motioning with the other hand, as if for them to go in that direction.

"I'll just send a bullet over his head, to see what he thinks of it," said Frank, softly, lifting the rifle.

Then another startling thing happened.

Canoe and man disappeared in the twinkling of an eye!

The trio in the hut gasped and rubbed their eyes.

"Gone!" cried Frank.

"Vanished!" panted the professor.

"An' now Oi suppose ye'll say it wur no ghost?" gurgled Barney.

It was extremely dark beneath the shadow of the cypress trees, and not a sign of the mysterious canoe could they see.

"It is evident he did not care to have me send a bullet whizzing past his ears," laughed Frank, who did not seem in the least disturbed.

"What are your nerves made of?" demanded Professor Scotch, in a shaking tone of voice. "They must be iron!"

"Hark!"

Frank's hand fell on the professor's arm, and the three listened intently, hearing something that gave them no little surprise.

From far away through the night came the sound of hoarse voices singing a wild, doleful song.

"Hamlet's ghost!" ejaculated the professor.

"Pwhat the Ould Nick does thot mane?" cried Barney.

"Hark!" Frank again cautioned. "Let's see if we can understand the words they are singing. Be still."

"We sailed away from Gloucester Bay, And the wind was in the west, yo ho! And her cargo was some New England rum; Our grog it was made of the best, yo ho!"

"A sailor's song," decided Frank, "and those are sailors who are singing. We are not alone in the Everglades."

"They're all drunk," declared the professor. "You can tell that by the sound of their voices. Drunken men are dangerous."

"They're a blamed soight betther than none, fer it's loikely they know th' way out av this blissed swamp," said Barney.

"They may bub-bub-be pup-pup-pup-pirates!" chattered the professor.

"What sticks me," said Frank, "is how a party of sailors ever made their way in here, for we are miles upon miles from the coast. Here is another mystery."

"Are ye fer takin' a look at th' loikes av thim, Frankie?"

"Certainly, and that without delay. Come, professor."

"Never!"

"What do you mean?"

"I am not going near those ruffianly and bloodthirsty pirates."

"Then you may stay here with the spooks, while Barney and I go."

This was altogether too much for the professor, and, when he found they really intended to go, he gave in.

Frank loaded the rifles and the shotgun, and took along his bow and arrows, even though Barney made sport of him for bothering with the last.

They slipped the canoe into the water, and, directed by Frank, the professor succeeded in getting in without upsetting the frail affair.

"Oi hope we won't run inther the ghost," uttered the Irish boy.

"The sound of that singing comes from the direction in which the old man seemed to point," said Frank.

This was true, as they all remembered.

The singing continued, sometimes sinking to a low, droning sound, sometimes rising to a wild wail that sounded weirdly over the marshland.

"Ready," said Frank, and the canoe slipped silently over the dark surface of the water course.

The singing ceased after a time, but they were still guided by the sound of wrangling voices.

"They are quarreling!" exclaimed Frank, softly.

"This is tut-tut-terrible!" stuttered the professor.

Suddenly the sound of a pistol shot came over the rushes, followed by a feminine shriek of pain or terror!



CHAPTER XXX.

FRANK'S SHOT.

Frank and his two companions were profoundly astonished. As soon as he could recover, Frank asked:

"Did you hear that?"

"Av course we hearrud it!" returned Barney, excitedly.

"It sounded very much like the voice of a woman or girl," said Professor Scotch, who was so amazed that he forgot for the moment that he was scared.

"That's what it was," declared Frank; "and it means that our aid is needed in that quarter at once."

"Be careful! be cautious!" warned the professor. "There's no telling what kind of a gang we may run into."

"To thunder with thot!" grated Barney Mulloy, quivering with eagerness. "There's a female in nade av hilp."

"Go ahead!" directed Frank, giving utterance to his old maxim.

The professor was too agitated to handle a paddle, so the task of propelling the canoe fell to the boys, who sent it skimming over the water, Frank watching out for snags.

In a moment the water course swept round to the left, and they soon saw the light of a fire gleaming through the rushes.

The sounds of a conflict continued, telling them that the quarrel was still on, and aiding them in forming their course.

In a moment they came in full view of the camp-fire, by the light of which they saw several struggling, swaying figures.

Frank's keen eyes seemed to take in everything at one sweeping glance.

Six men and a girl were revealed by the light of the fire. Five of the men were engaged in a fierce battle, while the sixth was bound, in a standing position, to the trunk of a tree.

The girl, with her hands bound behind her back, was standing near the man who was tied to the tree, and the firelight fell fairly on the faces of man and girl.

A low exclamation of the utmost astonishment broke from Frank's lips.

"It can't be—it is an impossibility!" he said.

"Pwhat is it, me b'y?" quickly demanded Barney.

"The man—the girl! Look, Barney! do you know them?"

"Oi dunno."

"Well, I know! There is no mistake. That is Captain Justin Bellwood, whose vessel was lost in the storm off Fardale coast! I am certain of it!"

"An' th' girrul is——"

"Elsie Bellwood, his daughter!"

"Th' wan you saved from th' foire, Frankie?"

"As sure as fate!"

"It can't be possible!" fluttered Professor Scotch. "Captain Bellwood has a new vessel, and he would not be here. You must be mistaken, Frank."

"Not on your life! That is Captain Bellwood and his daughter. There is no mistake, professor."

"But how——"

"There has been some kind of trouble, and they are captives—that is plain enough. Those men are sailors—Captain Bellwood's sailors! It's likely there has been a mutiny. We must save them."

"How can it be done?"

"We must land while those ruffians are fighting. We are well armed. If we can get ashore, we'll set the captain free, and I fancy we'll be able to hold our own with those ruffians, desperate wretches though they are."

"Wait!" advised the timid professor. "Perhaps they will kill each other, and then our part will be easy."

Frank was not for waiting, but, at that moment, something happened that caused him to change his plan immediately.

The fighting ruffians were using knives in a deadly way, and one man, bleeding from many wounds, fell exhausted to the ground. Another, who seemed to be this one's comrade, tore himself from the other three, leaped to the girl, caught her in his arms, and held her in front of him, so that her body shielded his. Then, pointing a revolver over her shoulder, he snarled:

"Come on, and I'll bore the three of ye! You can't shoot me, Gage, unless you kill ther gal!"

The youngest one of the party, a mere boy, but a fellow with the air of a desperado, stepped to the front, saying swiftly:

"If you don't drop that girl, Jaggers, you'll leave your carcass in this swamp! That is business, my hearty."

Frank clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from uttering a great shout of amazement. The next moment he panted:

"This is fate! Look, Barney! by the eternal skies, that is Leslie Gage, my worst enemy at Fardale Academy, and the fellow who ran away to keep from being expelled. It was reported that he had gone to sea."

"Ye're roight, Frankie," agreed the no less excited Irish lad. "It's thot skunk, an' no mistake!"

"It is Leslie Gage," agreed the professor. "He was ever a bad boy, but I did not think he would come to this."

"An' Oi always thought he would come to some bad ind. It wur thot spalpane thot troied to run Frank through with a sharpened foil wan toime whin they wur fencing. He had black murder in his hearrut thin, an' it's not loikely th' whilp has grown inny betther since."

"Keep still," whispered Frank. "Let's hear what is said."

The man with the girl laughed defiantly, retorting:

"You talk big, Gage, but it won't work with me. I hold the best hand just at present, and you'll have to come to terms. Keep back!"

"You don't dare shoot," returned the young desperado, as he took still another step toward the sailor.

In a moment the man placed the muzzle of the revolver against the temple of the helpless girl, fiercely declaring:

"If you come another inch, I'll blow her brains out!"

"The dastard!" grated Frank. "Oh, the wretch! Wait. I will fix him, or my name is not Merriwell!"

He drew an arrow from the quiver, and fitted the notch to the bow-string. His nerves were steady, and he was determined. He waited till the man had removed the muzzle of the weapon from the girl's temple, and then he lifted the bow.

Barney and the professor caught their breath. They longed to check Frank, but dared not speak for fear of causing him to waver and send the arrow at the girl.

The bow was bent, the line was taut, the arrow was drawn to the head, and then——

Twang! The arrow sped through the air, but it was too dark for them to follow its flight with their eyes. With their hearts in their mouths, they awaited the result.

Of a sudden, the ruffian uttered a cry of pain, released his hold on the girl, and fell heavily to the ground.

The firelight showed the arrow sticking in his shoulder.

"Ugh!" grunted a voice close beside the canoe. "Very good shot for a white boy. Not many could do that."

The trio turned in amazement and alarm, and, within three feet of them, they saw a shadowy canoe that contained a shadowy figure. There was but one person in the strange canoe, and he immediately added:

"There is no need to fear Socato, the Seminole, for he will not harm you. He is the friend of all good white men."

It was an Indian, a Seminole, belonging to the remnant of the once great nation that peopled the Florida peninsula. Frank realized this in a moment, and, knowing the Seminoles were harmless when well treated, felt no further alarm.

The Indian had paddled with the utmost silence to their side, while they were watching what was taking place on shore.

The arrow had produced consternation in the camp. The fellow who was wounded tried to draw it from his shoulder, groaning:

"This is not a fair deal! Give me a fair show, and I'll fight you all!"

"Where did it come from?" asked Gage, in dismay.

The two canoes were beyond the circle of firelight, so they could not be seen from the shore.

Gage's two companions were overcome with terror.

"This swamp is full of Indians!" one of them cried. "We've been attacked by a band of savages!"

Gage spoke a few words in a low tone, and then sprang over the prostrate form of the man who had been stricken down by the arrow, grasped the girl, and retreated into the darkness. His companions also scudded swiftly beyond the firelight, leaving Captain Bellwood still bound to the tree, while one man lay dead on the ground, and another had an arrow in his shoulder.

Close to Frank's ear the voice of Socato the Seminole sounded:

"Light bother them. They git in the dark and see us from the shore. Then they shoot this way some."

"Jupiter and Mars!" gasped Professor Scotch, "I don't care to stay here, and have them shoot at me!"

"White boys want to save girl?" asked Socato, swiftly. "They pay to get her free? What say?"

"Of course we will pay," hastily answered Frank. "Can you aid us in saving her? If you can, you shall be——"

"Socato save her. White man and two boys go back to cabin of Great White Phantom. Stay there, and Socato come with the girl."

"Begorra! Oi don't loike thot," declared Barney. "Oi'd loike to take a hand in th' rescue mesilf."

"Socato can do better alone," asserted the Seminole. "Trust me."

But Frank was not inclined to desert Elsie Bellwood in her hour of trouble, and he said:

"Socato, you must take me with you. Professor, you and Barney go back to the hut, and stay there till we come."

The Indian hesitated, and then said:

"If white boy can shoot so well with the bow and arrow, he may not be in the way. I will take him, if he can step from one canoe to the other without upsetting either."

"That's easy," said Frank, as he deliberately and safely accomplished the feat.



CHAPTER XXXI.

YOUNG IN YEARS ONLY.

"Well done, white boy," complimented the strange Indian.

"Pass me one of those rifles," requested Frank.

"White boy better leave rifle; take bow and arrows," advised Socato. "Rifle make noise; bow and arrow make no noise."

"All right; what you say goes. Return to the hut, Barney, and stay there till we show up."

"But th' spook——"

"Hang the spook! We'll know where to find you, if you go there."

"The Great White Phantom will not harm those who offer him no harm," declared the Indian.

"I am not so afraid of spooks as I am of—— Jumping Jupiter!"

There was a flash of fire from the darkness on shore, the report of a gun, and a bullet whirred through the air, cutting the professor's speech short, and causing him to duck down into the canoe.

"Those fellows have located us," said Frank, swiftly. "We must get away immediately. Remember, wait at the hut."

Socato's paddle dropped without a sound into the water, and the canoe slid away into the night.

The professor and Barney lost no time in moving, and it was well they did so, for, a few seconds later, another shot came from the shore, and the bullet skipped along the water just where the canoes had been.

Frank trusted everything to Socato, even though he had never seen or heard of the Seminole before. Something about the voice of the Indian convinced the boy that he was honest, for all that his darkness was such that Frank could not see his face and did not know how he looked.

The Indian sent the canoe through the water with a speed and silence that was a revelation to Frank Merriwell. The paddle made no sound, and it seemed that the prow of the canoe scarcely raised a ripple, for all that they were gliding along so swiftly.

"Where are you going?" whispered Frank, observing that they were leaving the camp-fire astern.

"White boy trust Socato?"

"If I didn't, I shouldn't be here. Of course, I do."

"Then keep cool. Socato take him round to place where we can come up behind bad white men. We try to fool 'um."

"Good!"

The light of the camp-fire died out, and then, a few moments later, another camp-fire seemed to glow across a strip of low land.

"See it?" whispered the Indian, with caution.

"Yes. What party is camped there—friends of yours, Socato?"

"Not much!"

"Who, then?"

"That same fire."

"Same fire as which?"

"One bad white men build."

Frank was astonished.

"Oh, say! how is that? We left that fire behind us, Socato."

"And we have come round by the water till it is before us again."

This was true, but the darkness had been so intense that Frank did not see how their course was changing.

"I see how you mean to come up behind them," said the boy. "You are going to land and cross to their camp."

"That right. They won't look for us that way."

"I reckon not."

Soon the rushes closed in on either side, and the Indian sent the canoe twisting in and out amid their tall stalks like a creeping panther. He seemed to know every inch of the way, and followed it as well as if it were broad noonday.

Frank's admiration for the fellow grew with each moment, and he felt that he could, indeed, trust Socato.

"If we save that girl and the old man, you shall be well paid for the job," declared the boy, feeling that it was well to dangle a reward before the Indian's mental vision.

"It is good," was the whispered retort. "Socato is poor."

In a few moments they crept through the rushes till the canoe lay close to a bank, and the Indian directed Frank to get out.

The camp-fire could not be seen from that position, but the boy well knew it was not far away.

Taking his bow, with the quiver of arrows slung to his back, the lad left the canoe, being followed immediately by the Seminole, who lifted the prow of the frail craft out upon the bank, and then led the way.

Passing round a thick mass of reeds, they soon reached a position where they could see the camp-fire and the moving forms of the sailors. Just as they reached this position, Leslie Gage was seen to dash up to the fire and kick the burning brands in various directions.

"He has done that so that the firelight might not reveal them to us," thought Frank. "They still believe us near, although they know not where we are."

Crouching and creeping, Socato led the way, and Frank followed closely, wondering what scheme the Indian could have in his head, yet trusting everything to his sagacity.

In a short time they were near enough to hear the conversation of the bewildered and alarmed sailors. The men were certain a band of savages were close at hand, for they did not dream that the arrow which had dropped Jaggers was fired by the hand of a white person.

"The sooner we get away from here, the better it will be for us," declared Leslie Gage.

"We'll have to get away in the boats," said a grizzled villainous-looking, one-eyed old sailor, who was known as Ben Bowsprit.

"Fo' de Lawd's sake!" gasped the third sailor, who was a negro, called Black Tom; "how's we gwine to run right out dar whar de critter am dat fired de arrer inter Jack Jaggers?"

"The 'critter' doesn't seem to be there any longer," assured Gage. "Those two shots must have frightened him away."

"That's right," agreed Bowsprit. "This has been an unlucky stop fer us, mates. Tomlinson is dead, an' Jaggers——"

"I ain't dead, but I'm bleedin', bleedin', bleedin'!" moaned the fellow who had been hit by Frank's arrow. "There's a big tear in my shoulder, an' I'm afeared I've made my last cruise."

"It serves you right," came harshly from the boy leader of the ruffianly crew. "Tomlinson attempted to set himself up as head of this crew—as captain over me. You backed him. All the time, you knew I was the leader in every move we have made."

"And a pretty pass you have led us to!" whined the wounded wretch. "Where's the money you said the captain had stored away? Where's the reward we'd receive for the captain alive and well? We turned mutineers at your instigation, and what have we made of it? We've set the law agin' us, an' here we are. The Bonny Elsie has gone up in smoke——"

"Through the carelessness of a lot of drunken fools!" snarled Gage. "She should not have been burned. But for that, we wouldn't be here now, hiding from officers of the law."

"Well, here we are," growled Ben Bowsprit, "an' shiver my timbers if we seem able to get out of this howlin' swamp! The more we try, the more we seem ter git lost."

"Fo' goodness, be yo' gwine to stan' roun' an' chin, an' chin, an' chin?" demanded Black Tom.

"The fire's out, and we can't be seen," spoke Gage, swiftly, in a low tone. "Get the boats ready. You two are to take the old man in one; I'll take the girl in the other."

"It's the gal you've cared fer all the time," cried Jaggers, madly. "It was for her you led us into this scrape."

"Shut up!"

"I won't! You can't make me shut up, Gage."

"Well, you'll have a chance to talk to yourself and Tomlinson before long. Tomlinson will be jolly company."

"You've killed him!" accused the wounded man. "I saw you strike the blow, and I'll swear to that, my hearty!"

"It's not likely you'll be given a chance to swear to it, Jaggers. I may have killed him, but it was in self-defense. He was doing his best to get his knife into me."

"Yes, we was tryin' to finish you," admitted Jaggers. "With you out of the way, Tomlinson would have been cap'n, and I first mate. You've kept your eyes on the gal all the time. I don't believe you thought the cap'n had money at all. It was to get the gal you led us into this business. She'd snubbed you—said she despised you, and you made up your mind to carry her off against her will."

"If that was my game, you must confess I succeeded very well. But I can't waste more time talking to you. Get the boats ready, boys. I will take the smaller. Put Cap'n Bellwood in the larger, and look out for him."

The two sailors obeyed his orders. Boy though he was, Gage had resolved to become a leader of men, and he had succeeded.

The girl, quite overcome, was prostrate at the feet of her father, who was bound to the cypress tree.

There was a look of pain and despair on the face of the old captain. His heart bled as he looked down at his wretched daughter, and he groaned:

"Merciful Heaven! what will become of her? It were better that she should die than remain in the power of that young villain!"

"What are you muttering about, old man?" coarsely demanded Gage, as he bent to lift the girl. "You seem to be muttering to yourself the greater part of the time."

"You wretch! you young monster!" grated the old shipmaster. "Do you think you can escape the retribution that pursues all such dastardly creatures as you?"

"Oh, you make me tired! I have found out that the goody-good people do not always come out on top in this world. Besides that, it's too late for me to turn back now. I started wrong at school, and I have been going wrong ever since. It's natural for me; I can't help it."

"Spare my child!"

"Oh, don't worry about her. I'll take care of her."

"If you harm her, may the wrath of Heaven fall on your head!"

"Let it go at that. I will be very tender and considerate with her. Come, Elsie."

He attempted to lift her to her feet, but she drew from him, shuddering and screaming wildly:

"Don't touch me!"

"Now, don't be a little fool!" he said, harshly. "You make me sick with your tantrums! Come on, now."

But she screamed the louder, seeming to stand in the utmost terror of him.

With a savage exclamation, Gage tore off his coat and wrapped it about the girl's head so that her cries were smothered.

"Perhaps that will keep you still a bit!" he snapped, catching her up in his arms, and bearing her to the smaller boat, in which he carefully placed her.

She did not faint. As her hands were bound behind her, she could not remove the coat from about her head, and she sat as he placed her, with it enveloping her nearly to the waist.

"Is everything ready?" asked Gage. "Where are all the guns? Somebody take Tomlinson's weapons. Let Jaggers have his. He may need them when we are gone."

"Don't leave me here to die alone!" piteously pleaded the wounded sailor. "I'm pretty well gone now, but I don't want to be left here alone!"

Gage left the small boat for a moment, and approached the spot where the pleading wretch lay.

"Jaggers," he said, "it's the fate you deserve. You agreed to stand by me, but you went back on your oath, and tried to kill me."

"And now you're going to leave me here to bleed to death or starve?"

"Why shouldn't I? The tables are turned on you, my fine fellow."

"Well, I'm sure you won't leave me."

"You are?"

"Yes."

"Why won't I?"

"This is why!"

Jaggers flung up his hand, from which a spout of flame seemed to leap, and the report of a pistol sounded over the marsh.

Leslie Gage fell in a heap to the ground.



CHAPTER XXXII.

A MYSTERIOUS TRANSFORMATION.

"Ha! ha! ha!" wildly laughed the wounded sailor. "That time he did not escape! Leave me to die, would he? Well, he is dead already, for I shot him through the brain!"

"That's where you are mistaken, Jaggers," said the cool voice of the boyish leader of the mutineers. "I saw your move, saw the revolver, and dropped in time to avoid the bullet."

Gage sprang to his feet.

A snarl of baffled fury came from the lips of the wounded sailor.

"The foul fiend protects you!" he cried. "See if you can dodge this bullet!"

He would have fired again, but Gage leaped forward in the darkness, kicked swiftly and accurately, and sent the revolver spinning from the man's hand.

"You have settled your fate!" hissed the boy, madly. "I did mean to have you taken away, and I was talking to torment you. Now you will stay here—and die like a dog!"

He turned from Jaggers, and hurried back to the boat, in which that muffled figure silently sat.

"Are you ready, boys?" he called.

Captain Bellwood had been released from the tree, and marched to the other boat, in which he now sat, bound and helpless.

"All ready," was the answer.

"All right; go ahead."

They pushed off, settled into their seats, and began rowing.

Gage was not long in following, but he wondered at the silence of the girl who sat in the stern. It could not be that she had fainted, for she remained in an upright position.

"Which way, cap?" asked one of the men.

"Any way to get out of this," was the answer. "We will find another place to camp, but I want to get away from this spot."

Not a sound came from beneath the muffled coat.

"It must be close," thought Gage. "I wonder if she can breathe all right. I wish she would do something."

At last, finding he could keep up with his companions without trouble, and knowing he would have very little difficulty in overtaking them, Gage drew in his oars and slipped back toward the muffled figure in the stern.

"Elsie," he said, softly.

No answer; no move.

"Miss Bellwood."

Still no answer.

"You must not think too hard of me, Miss Bellwood," he said, pleadingly. "I would not harm you for anything. I love you far too much for that, Elsie."

He could have sworn that the sound which came from the muffling folds of the coat was like a smothered laugh, but he knew she was not laughing at him.

"I have been wicked and desperate," he went on; "but I was driven to the life I have led. Fate has been against me all along. When I shipped on your father's vessel it was because I had seen you and knew you were to be along on the cruise. I loved you at first sight, and I vowed that I would reform and do better if you loved me in return, Elsie."

He was speaking swiftly in a low tone, and his voice betrayed his earnestness. He passed an arm around the muffled figure, feeling it quiver within his grasp, and then he continued: