"I trust you are quite unharmed, Miss Dawson?" he said, swiftly. "My unsavory double has——"

"He has not harmed me," she broke in, swiftly, "but I feel that I have done you a harm I can never repair."

"Nonsense! How have you harmed me?"

"By declaring that you were the one who shot my father."

"You believed it when you said so, and that——"

"Yes, I believed it, but that is nothing that will lessen the injury I did you. And to think of the terrible peril in which I placed you! Then, when it was reported that father was dead, they were determined to lynch you."

"And your father is not dead?"

"He was not when I last saw him, and the doctor said he might come out all right."

"That is indeed fortunate."

"I heard them crying that he was dead, I saw them preparing to make an assault on the jail, and I left father's side to stop them if I could."

"Brave girl!"

"Then it was that I fell into the hands of this wretch who brought me here—the real Black Harry. He was waiting for an opportunity to capture me—he told me so. He told me how I had imperiled the life of one who was innocent, and he laughed at my horror and remorse. He is a heartless creature!"

"He seems to be all of that."

"And you have placed your life in greater peril for me—you did so after what I did to you! Why should you do such a thing?"

"Why, Miss Dawson, you were not to blame for thinking me Black Harry. The fellow is my double, and I ought not to have a double. Do you suppose I would think of leaving you in his power if there was any possible way for me to save you?"

"You are a noble fellow! But you cannot save me—you cannot escape yourself! They will soon break in here, and then——"

Frank was listening at the door, and he heard Black Harry complete his explanation to his Braves, heard their wild cries, and knew they were going to charge on the door.

"It will not stand before them!"

He looked around and saw the stairs.

"Up!" he cried to the girl. "Don't lose a moment!"

He motioned toward the stairs, and she ran toward them, hearing the roar that came from the outlaws as they made the rush for the cabin.

"Come!" she panted, looking over her shoulder, and seeing Frank with a revolver in either hand. "Don't stay there! They will kill you!"

"Up!" he shouted again. "I will follow!"

She sprang up the stairs, which creaked and swayed beneath her.

There was a great shock, and the cabin seemed to totter on the brink of the chasm. Then the door fell, and the ruffians swarmed into the cabin.

Frank Merriwell was right behind the girl, and he seemed to lift her and fling her into the loft.

"There they go!" rang the voice of the real Black Harry. "Up the stairs!"

"This is no time for talk!" cried Frank, as he crouched at the head of the flight, his teeth set, and the light of desperation in his eyes.

The braves came rushing up the stairs, and the boy above thrust out both hands, each of which held a revolver.

Frank fired four shots, and the smoke shut out the faces of the fierce rascals on the stairs. He heard cries of pain and the sound of falling bodies.

"I didn't waste my bullets," came grimly from his lips.

But what could he do now? He had repulsed them for the time, but they were in the cabin, and it would not be for long that he could keep them back. They would soon find a way to reach him.

He leaped to the swinging window and flung it open, thrusting the revolvers lightly into the side pockets of the coat he wore. He looked down into the depths of the chasm, through which ran the stream of water.

"It is a long distance down there," came hoarsely from the lad's lips. "I will try it! It is our last hope."

With a bound, he caught up the coil of rope, then he rushed to the window and flung it out. As one end was made fast to a rafter, it hung dangling from the window.

Frank looked out, and he saw that the rope reached to the stream of water.

At the same time, he heard Black Harry calling on his braves to follow him up the stairs.

"Come!" said Frank, hurrying to the side of the girl, and grasping her arm. "There is one chance in a thousand that we may do the trick and escape alive. We'll make a try for that chance."

She did not question him, she did not hold back, but she bravely trusted everything to his judgment.

Frank passed through the window in advance. He twisted the rope around one leg, and he secured a good hold on it with his hands. Then he said to the girl:

"Be lively now! Get through the window, put your arms about my neck, cling for your life, and trust to Frank Merriwell and Providence."

She did so, and they were soon descending the rope.

Frank went down, hand under hand, as he did not dare slide at first, knowing that his hands would be torn and bleeding, and that he must lose his hold before the bottom was reached. With the twist about his leg to aid him, he managed to sustain himself and his living burden very well.

The girl whispered in his ear:

"Courage! You are the noblest fellow I ever saw—the greatest hero in the whole wide world!"

He made no reply, for his teeth were set, and he was mentally praying for strength and time.

Down they went—down, down. And then, when nearly half the distance had been covered, a shout came from above.

"Here they are! Ten thousand fiends! They shall not get away alive!"

It was the voice of Black Harry himself.

"Oh, for a little more time!" panted Frank.

But no more time was to be given him. He heard the voice of the boy outlaw crying:

"Look up here, Frank Merriwell—look up! I have a little trick to show you."

Frank looked upward, and he saw Black Harry leaning far out of the window. A knife glittered in the hand of the young desperado.

"I am going to cut the rope!" came down to the ears of the boy and girl. "Poor fools! Did you think to escape me! You will go down to your death in the creek!"

Frank clung with one hand to the rope, although the strain was terrible. With his other hand he drew one of the revolvers from his pocket, lifted it, took aim, fired.

The weapon spoke just as Black Harry slashed at the rope.

There was a shriek of pain, a human body shot out from the window, and, as it went whirling downward, the rope parted!

Then down shot Frank and Lona to fall into the stream. They struck where the water was quite deep, and they were unharmed, although the girl was unconscious when our hero bore her to solid ground.

As for Black Harry, he struck where some jagged rocks reared their heads from the water, and he lay there, in a huddled heap, and dead, forever past harming any living creature.

And yet, as was afterward discovered by examination, he had not been touched by the bullet which Frank had fired up at him. He had been startled by the shot, had lost his balance, and had fallen to his death.

Frank was trying to restore Lona to consciousness when he heard the rattle of rifle and revolver shots, the sound coming down faintly from above. Following it there was wild and continued cheering, and still more shooting.

"It sounds like a battle," thought the boy. "I believe the outlaws have been attacked."

He was right. For all that he fancied he had thrown his pursuers from the trail, Black Harry had been tracked to Cade's Canyon. The guard was captured while the assault on the hut was taking place, and then Hank Kildare, at the head of the trailers, swept down on the astonished braves.

The battle was short and sharp, and but few of the outlaws escaped. Some were killed, and some were captured.

One of the captured ruffians told them where to find Black Harry, Frank and the kidnaped girl.

Lariats were tied together, and a line was made long enough to reach the bottom of the chasm.

Lona Dawson was drawn up first, and then Frank tied the rope about the body of his double, permitting them to draw him to the top of the bluff. Frank came up last, and he found the men from Elreno in a rather dazed condition.

"Is thar two Black Harrys?" asked one, staring at the dead boy, and then at his living counterpart.

"Moses in der pulrushes!" groaned Solomon Rosenbum, who was on hand. "There vas only von, und he vas deat, vid der accent on der deat. Dat leds me oudt, und I don'd vas aple to take him pack East vor murter."

"Take him back East for murder?" questioned a man. "What do you mean by that."

"I mean that he is wanted in the East, and I have been tracking him for the last two months," said the supposed Jew, suddenly speaking without a trace of accent.

"Who are you?"

"I am Burchel Jones, a detective."

"Burchel Jones! Impossible! Jones was the fellow who arrested this boy for Black Harry."

"That fellow was not Burchel Jones; he is an impostor, and he was working for the reward offered for Black Harry's capture. If he is in Elreno when we get back there, I shall have a little settlement with him."

Then Lona Dawson, who had recovered, told them how bravely Frank had fought for her, and the boy suddenly found himself regarded as a hero by the very ones who had been fierce to lynch him a short time before.

"Hurro!" cried Barney Mulloy, who was on hand. "Oi knew ye'd come out at th' top av th' hape in th' ind, Frankie, be b'y!"

And the delighted Irish boy gave his friend a "bear's hug."

It was a triumphant party that returned to Elreno. Lona Dawson was restored to her wounded father, the body of Black Harry was placed on exhibition, and Frank was cheered and stared at by admiring eyes wherever he went.

The bogus detective heard what had happened in time to leave the place and avoid meeting the real Burchel Jones.

Robert Dawson did not die from his wound. He recovered in time, but, as he lay on his bed, with his daughter restored to him, he held out a hand to Frank, who had been summoned to that room, saying, fervently:

"God bless you, young man! My daughter has told me everything. You shall be rewarded by anything it is in my power to give you."

Frank laughed, his face flushing, as he gallantly returned:

"Mr. Dawson, I have already been rewarded by the pleasure it gave me to be of service to your daughter in a time of peril."

A week later Frank and his friends continued their journey westward, where fresh adventures awaited them.



CHAPTER XIII.

A THRILLING RESCUE.

"No, sir!" roared Professor Scotch, banging his clinched fist down on a rough wooden table that stood in the only "hotel" of the town of Blake, Utah. "I say no, and that settles it!"

"But," urged Frank, who sat opposite the little professor at the table, "wait till I tell you——"

"You have told me enough, sir! I do not want to hear any more!"

Barney, who sat near, could restrain his merriment no longer.

"Begobs!" he cried; "th' profissor is on his ear this toime, Frankie, me b'y. He manes business."

"That's exactly what I do!" came explosively from the little man's lips. "It is my turn now. You boys have been having your own way right along, and you have done nothing but run into scrape after scrape. It is amazing the troubles you have been into and the dangers you have passed through. Several times you have placed me in deadly peril, and but for my coolness, my remarkable nerve, my extremely level head, I must have been killed or gone insane long ago."

Both boys laughed.

"Allow me to compliment you on your remarkable nerve, professor," chuckled Frank. "You are bold as a lion—nit."

The final expressive word was spoken in an "aside," but the professor heard it, as Frank had intended he should.

"Laugh, laugh, laugh!" shouted the little man, in a hoarse tone of voice. "The time has passed when you can have fun with me; I decline to permit you to have fun with me. I have decided to assert myself, and right here is where I do it."

"Ye do thot, don't yez, profissor!" cried the Irish lad, in a way that made the little man squirm.

"You can bet I do! Judging by the past, any one would think Frank my guardian. They'd never dream I was his. He has gone where he pleased, and done as he pleased. Look where he has dragged me! Where is this forsaken hole on the face of the earth? It's somewhere in Utah."

"Blake is very easily located," said Frank, glibly. "Any schoolboy will tell you it is in Eastern Utah, on the line of the Grand Western Railway, at the point where the railroad crosses Green River. You are a little rusty on such things, professor, and so you fancy everybody else is as much a back number as yourself."

"Back number!" howled the little man, leaping into the air and dashing his hat to the floor. "That is more than I can endure. You have passed the limit."

Neither of the boys had ever before seen him so far forget his dignity without greater provocation, and they were not a little surprised.

"Steady, professor," laughed Frank. "Don't fly off the handle."

"Howld onter yersilf, profissor," chuckled Barney. "Av ye don't, ye may get broken."

"This is terrible!" cried the professor, his face crimson with anger. "Frank Merriwell, you are an ungrateful, reckless, heartless young rascal!"

"Oh, professor!"

Frank seemed deeply touched. He grew sober in a moment, out came his handkerchief, he carried it to his eyes, and he began to sob in a pitiful way.

Behind the handkerchief the mischievous lad was laughing still.

The professor rushed about the room a moment, and then he stopped, staring at Frank and beginning to look distressed.

"That I—should—ev-ev-ever live—to—see—this sad—hour!" sobbed the boy, with the handkerchief to his eyes. "That I should be called ungrateful and heartless by a man I have loved and honored like—like a—a sister! If my poor uncle had not died——"

"Goodness knows you cannot feel worse about that than I do!" came from the little man's lips. "I suppose he fancied he was doing me a favor when he appointed me your guardian and directed that I should accompany you as your tutor in your travels over the world. Your tutor indeed! Why, you insist on giving me points and information about every place we visit. You do exactly as you please, and it is a wonder that either of us is alive to-day. You have dragged us through the most deadly perils, and now that I object when you want to go ranting away into a wild and unexplored region of Southern Utah, where you say there dwells the last remnant of the murderous and terrible Danites, you—you—you——"

"What have I done?" sobbed Frank.

"Why, you've—you've said——"

"What?"

"I don't remember now; but I'd give seventeen million dollars if Asher Merriwell, your uncle, was living and had to travel around with you!"

"Now my heart is broken!" came mournfully from behind that handkerchief.

That was more than Scotch could stand. He edged nearer Frank, who fell face downward on the table, still laughing, but pretending to quiver with sobs.

"There, there, there!" fluttered the little man, patting the boy on the shoulder. "Don't feel so bad about it."

"I—I can't help it."

"Oh, I didn't mean anything—really I didn't. I'll take it back, and——"

"Your cruel words have pierced my tender heart as the spear of the fisherman pierceth the unwary flounder."

"I was too hasty—altogether too hasty."

"That does not heal the bleeding wound."

"Oh, well, say—I'll do most anything to——"

"Will you permit me to go on this expedition?"

"No, never!" cried the little man. "There is a limit, and that is too much."

"But you have not heard the story of this Walter Clyde, to whom I owe my very life," said Frank, pretending to dry his eyes with the handkerchief.

"You owe what?" shouted the professor, astonished. "How do you owe him so much?"

"Well, sir," spoke the boy, "it was like this: I had fallen into the hands of a band of murderous ruffians, and——"

"When did this occur?"

"At about half past six. Please do not interrupt me again. These ruffians, after relieving me of my valuables and wearing apparel, so that I was clad in nothing but a loose-fitting suit of air, proceeded, with fiendish design, to tie me to the railroad track."

"Terrible!" gasped Scotch, his face pale and horrified. "But where did this take place?"

"Directly on the line of the railroad. Will you be good enough not to interrupt! I was helpless in their power, and I could do nothing to save myself. I begged them to spare me, but they laughed at my entreaties."

"The wretches!" roared the little professor. "Ah! Er! Excuse me for breaking in."

"Having tied me firmly across the polished rails," continued Frank, growing dramatic in his method of relating the yarn, "they told me the express would be along in fifteen minutes, and then they left me to my fate."

"The dastardly scoun—— Beg pardon! Go on! go on!"

"I tried to wrench myself free, but it was impossible; they had tied the knots well, and I began to believe I was doomed. The rail sang beneath my head, and I knew the express was approaching at terrible speed."

"This is too much—too much!" groaned the little man, flopping down on a chair. "It actually overcomes me!"

"I fully expected the express would come over me," the boy went on. "I gave up hope. Looking along the track, I saw the engine swoop into view round a curve in the road. Down upon me with the speed of the wind it swept."

No sound but a groan came from the lips of Professor Scotch.

"Staring with horrified eyes and benumbed senses at the engine, I heard it shriek a wild note of warning. I had been seen! But the train was on a down grade, and it could not stop in time. I was doomed just the same."

The professor was ready to fall off his chair.

"Then," cried Frank, dramatically, "out along the side of the engine crept a boy, who carried something in his hand. That boy was Walter Clyde, to whom I owe my very life. The something he carried in his hand was a lasso, and with that he saved me."

"How—how could he do it?" palpitated the professor. "You were tied to the track!"

"Yes, but Walter Clyde is an ingenious fellow, and he saw how to get around that difficulty."

"But how—how?"

"Well, close beside the railroad was the stump of a great tree that had been cut down. I saw him point at it, and above the roar of the train I heard him shriek for me to lift my head and look at it."

"Yes, yes! Go on!"

"I saw him whirling the lasso-noose about his head, making ready for the cast, having first hitched the other ends to the cow-catcher of the locomotive."

"Well, well?"

"I lifted my head as high as possible, and I saw the noose shoot through the air. Excuse me while I shudder a few seconds!"

"Did he drag you from the track in time?" shouted the professor. "Did the noose fall over your head?"

"No," answered Frank; "but it fell over that stump, and, when the express reached the end of the lariat, having come so near that the nose of the pilot brushed my hair, the lariat brought up. It was a good stout rope, and it yanked that engine off the track in a second, and piled the entire train in the ditch. I was saved—saved by a brave boy, and only forty of the passengers on the train were killed."

Professor Scotch gasped for breath and sank from his chair to the floor.



CHAPTER XIV.

WALTER CLYDE'S STORY.

Barney Mulloy had been holding on to keep from shouting with laughter, and now he exploded.

"Ha! ha! ha!" he roared. "Pwhat do yez think av thot, profissor? Thot wur th' narrowest escape ivver hearrud av, ur Oi'm a loier!"

"Send for the undertaker!" came in a hollow groan from the lips of the professor.

"You do not seem to feel well?" said Frank, hastening to the man's assistance. "What is the trouble?"

"If I die of heart failure you will be responsible!" fiercely grated Scotch.

"Doie!" cried Barney. "Whoy, ye'll live ter pick daisies on yer own grave, profissor."

"This is terrible!" faintly rumbled the little man, as he regained his chair, and began to mop cold perspiration from his face with a handkerchief.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," cried Frank.

The door opened, and a boy about seventeen years of age entered the room. He was a slender, delicate-appearing fellow, but he had a good face and steady eyes.

"Hurrah!" cried Frank. "Here is my preserver! Professor Scotch, permit me to introduce you to Mr. Walter Clyde."

The professor held out a limp hand to the boy, saying:

"Excuse me if I do not rise. Frank just robbed me of strength by telling how you saved his life by derailing an express train and killing forty passengers."

Clyde was quick to catch on. A faint look of astonishment was followed by a smile, and he said:

"Mr. Merriwell is mistaken."

"Ha!" cried the professor. "Then you denounce the whole story as false?"

"I said Mr. Merriwell was mistaken—but thirty-nine passengers were killed," said the newcomer, who had caught the end of Frank's yarn.

The professor came near having a fit, and Barney Mulloy held onto his sides, convulsed with merriment.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Clyde," said Frank. "I may have stretched the yarn a trifle."

"Just a trifle!" muttered the professor.

"If I had used giant-powder instead of dynamite in blowing up the track," said Clyde, "it is possible there might have been a smaller loss of life."

"But you did not blow up the track at all," hastily put in Frank. "You yanked the train off the rails with a lasso."

"So I did! I was thinking of another case. In this instance, if I had not stood so far from the railroad——"

"But you were on the pilot of the engine."

"Was I? So I was. Excuse me if I do not attempt any further explanations."

Then the three boys laughed heartily, and the professor was forced to join in at last.

Having restored Scotch to good nature, Frank requested Walter Clyde to tell his story. Clyde's face clouded a little, and he slowly said:

"I will tell it briefly. Years ago, when I was a very small child, my father left his home in the East to make a trip to California. Business called him out there, and, on his way, he entered this Territory. He never reached California.

"My father had a deadly enemy—a man who had sworn to kill him some day. That man's name was Uric Dugan. Father had been instrumental in sending him to prison for robbery, but he had escaped, fled to the West, and, it was said, joined the Mormons.

"Fate led Uric Dugan and my father to meet in Utah. What happened then is known to Dugan alone. Months passed, and mother heard no word from father. She grew thin and pale and desperate. At length, a letter came to her. It was from Uric Dugan.

"That letter told my mother that father had died in a living tomb, where he had been placed and kept by Dugan till he went mad. Dugan gloated over his frightful crime. He told how father had raved in his delirium, called wildly for his wife and his boy, and how her name was last on his lips when he died."

"The monster!" broke in Professor Scotch, who was intensely interested.

"He was in truth a monster," agreed Clyde. "The effect of that letter on my mother was terrible. It nearly drove her mad, and she was ill a long time. When she recovered, she took measures to find and punish Dugan, but she never succeeded. She learned, however, that Dugan, after joining the Mormons, had been one of that terrible organization known as the Danites. He had disappeared, and no trace of him could be found.

"The detective who was in my mother's employ was aided by an old guide, miner, and fortune-hunter in general, known as Ben Barr. Barr learned the whole story of my father's disappearance, and it happened that he knew Uric Dugan—that Dugan had once done him an injury. He took a great interest in the case, and did his best to trace the man. As I have said, Dugan was not found, nor did the detective learn anything further of my father.

"Years passed, and I grew up. The years wrought their changes in Utah, and the Destroying Angels ceased to be a menace to every Gentile in the Territory. The younger Mormons regretted that such an organization had ever existed, and had been in any way connected with the Mormon Church. Danites who had been powerful and feared, found their former friends turning against them. Even the Mormon Church pretended to denounce them. John D. Lee, chief in the Mountain Meadow butchery, was captured, tried, found guilty, and shot. There were others as guilty as Lee, and they, who had been the hunters, found themselves hunted. They fled to the mountains, hid, disguised themselves, changed their names, and did everything they could to escape retributive justice.

"It seems that Dugan was still with them, and he found himself a fugitive like the others. Somewhere in Southern Utah, west of the Colorado, and amid the wild mountains that are to be found to the north of the Escalante River, the hunted Danites found a home where they believed they would be safe from pursuit, and there the last remnant of the once terrible Destroying Angels are living to-day.

"In his wanderings, Ben Barr came upon this retreat of the Danites, and there he saw Uric Dugan, who is now the chief of the band. Barr barely escaped with his life, and he lost no time in writing to my mother, telling her what he had discovered.

"This was enough to revive old memories and set mother to brooding over it. Her health was not very good, and I am sure that she worried herself to death. Before she died she told me of a dream that had come to her for three successive nights. In that dream she had seen my father, and he was still living, although he was unable to return to her. Just why he could not return was not very clear, but it was because of Dugan.

"As she was dying, my mother called me to her side and told me of the dream. 'My boy,' she said, 'I know your father is still living, and I want you to find him. Something has told me that you will be successful. Promise me that when I am gone you will not rest until you have found him or have satisfied yourself beyond the shadow of a doubt that he is dead.'

"I gave that promise, and I am here to search for my father and for Uric Dugan. If father is not living, I may be able to avenge him, and that will set me at rest.

"By accident I was thrown in with Mr. Merriwell, and we became somewhat friendly. I told him my story, and he was intensely interested in it. He asked me to let him go along. I did not refuse, and he said he would obtain your consent. That is all."

"Young man," said Professor Scotch, "I sympathize with you, and I sincerely hope you may be successful; but I do not care to have Frank thrust himself into such perils as you may encounter on that search."

"Hold on, professor!" cried Frank. "Just wait and——"

Scotch waved his hand.

"The time has come for me to assert my authority," he said, sternly; "and I propose to assert it."

"You will not let me go?"

"No, sir!"

"All right. You'll be sorry, professor."

"That sounds like a threat, young man. Don't threaten me. This search looks like a wild-goose chase. How do you propose to reach this retreat of the Danites?" he asked, turning to Clyde.

"By cruising down the river in a strong boat which I have bought and provisioned for the trip."

"And did you boys think of going alone?"

"Oh no."

"Who was going with you?"

"Two explorers."

"Their names."

"Colton Graves and Caleb Kerney."

"What do you know about them?"

"Nothing, except that they wish to take a cruise through the canyons."

"Young man," said the professor, "let me give you a bit of advice."

But before he could do so there came a sharp knock on the door.



CHAPTER XV.

PROFESSOR SEPTEMAS SCUDMORE.

The door opened with a quick, jerky movement immediately after the knock, and, without waiting to be invited to enter, a tall, angular, thin-legged, knock-kneed man walked into the room with a peculiar movement that seemed to indicate that his legs were in danger of breaking at every step.

This man had a very long, thin neck, on which was set a long, narrow head, crowned with an out-of-date silk hat. He wore a suit of rusty black, a flaring high collar, that was sadly wilted and lay out over the collar of his coat, and a black string necktie, which was tied in a careless knot. His face was shaven smooth, and a pair of gold-bowed spectacles clung convulsively to the end of a long, thin nose.

"Excuse me," he said, in a high-pitched, cracked tin-pan sort of voice. "I seek a fellow laborer in the field of science. You know the Good Book says: 'Seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you.' I knocked—didn't stop for it to be opened—am in a hurry. Ahem! You"—pointing a long, slim finger at Scotch—"you must be the one I seek."

The little professor looked startled.

"What have I ever done to you?" he asked, hesitatingly.

"Not anything, my dear sir, but I believe you are Professor Scotch, are you not?"

"That is right; but I do not know you, sir."

"I am Professor Septemas Scudmore, of Pudville Classical Institute, in the State of Ohio."

"Never heard of you, sir."

"And I never heard of you till a few moments ago, when one of the polite and obliging citizens told me you were here, and asked me why I did not call on you, as you seemed to be a bigger fool than I am, and we might make good company for each other."

"What's that?" roared Scotch. "Who dared to say anything like that? The insulting wretch!"

Professor Scudmore waved a long, lank hand at the little man.

"Do not get agitated," he chirped. "It is not well for a man of your years. You should preserve a calm and even demeanor. Excuse me if I do not always follow my own teaching. We tutors never do."

Scotch stared at the strange man as if doubting his sanity.

"You seem to enjoy being called a fool!" he growled.

"Not at all—not at all. But I have been called that so much that I do not mind it. Genius is ever regarded as folly till it astounds the world. I am a man of genius. You may think that is boasting, but I assure you it is not. I am naturally modest—very modest. But I have found that, in order to be thought anything of by others, I must think well of myself. I am so exceeding frank and honest that I never hide my thoughts, therefore, I tell you candidly what I think of myself."

"Well, well!"

"It is possible you do not believe in this sort of thing—few do. Duplicity I despise. You are not a man of genius yourself, but you have led others to think you pretty smart, and you have succeeded in getting through the world thus far pretty easy. You are naturally slothful; in fact, I may say you are lazy, and you——"

"Hold on there!" thundered the little man. "You may be as frank as you please about yourself, but you had better be careful what you say about me!"

"Touchy, eh?" sniffed Septemas Scudmore. "Not strange at all. Studious inclination, close application to work, baffling researches, midnight oil—these things irritate the nerves and make a man crusty. But then, I don't think you ever hurt yourself by close application to work. You must be naturally irritable."

Professor Scotch pranced up and down the room like an angry bantam.

"Sir," he cried, "you are altogether too free with your mouth."

"The Scudmores are naturally generous, so I can't help it. Keep calm, sir. In some things we have an affinity. I can see it in your eye. I did not anticipate meeting an affinity out here in this wild and heathenish country."

"Affinity!" cried Scotch, scornfully. "A man with your tongue would be an affinity for a cackling old woman!"

"That is your hastily formed opinion. Permit me to warn you against forming opinions too quickly. It is a bad habit to get into, and——"

"Sir!" shouted the little man, "there is the door!"

Scudmore bowed profoundly.

"I noticed it when I came in," he chirped. "Very ordinary door, but I don't suppose we can expect anything better out in this wild section of the country."

Scotch was ready to tear his hair.

"Will you take a hint, or do you need a kick?" he bellowed, in his hoarsest tone.

"A man with hair and whiskers colored like yours should always beware of undue excitement. Don't think of kicking anybody, for you may lose your dignity. Speaking about aerial navigation, beyond the shadow of a doubt, I, Septemas Scudmore, A. M., B. A., LL. D., and B. C, have solved the problem. I say beyond the shadow of a doubt, and I mean exactly what I say. It is not a matter of fans and wheels——"

"I think it is a matter of wheels," broke in Scotch, "and they are in your head."

Scudmore waved one thin hand loftily, his nose high in the air.

"Peace, professor, peace," he said. "It ill becomes you to interrupt a fellow scientist. Hear me out."

"I had much rather see you out—of the door."

"I see you are skeptical—you doubt the practical and practicable value of my invention. But you shall be convinced—you shall be my fellow passenger on my first voyage through space."

"Not if I know myself!" shouted the little man. "You may be a fool, but——"

"There are others, sir—there are others. I beg you to grant me this favor. Think what an honor it will be to have it go abroad that you accompanied Professor Septemas Scudmore on his first voyage in his new airship."

"Oh, you make me very languid!" cried the little man, using a bit of slang which he had heard from the lips of one of his youthful companions.

"I am shocked—shocked beyond measure," declared the lank professor, sinking his chin upon his bosom and looking reproachfully over his spectacles at Scotch.

The three boys were enjoying this immensely. It was sport to Frank, who saw in Septemas Scudmore a character worth studying. Barney laughed heartily.

"Begorra!" cried the Irish lad, "it's shocked we all are. Th' profissor has gone crazy, sure."

"If I have, it is not surprising, after what I have passed through. It has been enough to drive any man insane."

"I fancy you are a person whose brain would not stand a severe strain," put in Scudmore.

"Oh, you do! Well, I have stood just all of this I can from you! There is the door—get out!"

"And you decline the honor I have attempted to confer upon you?"

"I decline to talk further with a crank. Get out!"

Septemas Scudmore shook his head dolefully.

"I will do as you have so politely requested; but you will regret this to your dying day. I shall hold no hardness against you. In fact, I am sorry for you, as you——"

The little man could stand no more, and he actually drove Scudmore from the room. When he came back, he found the boys laughing heartily, and this caused him to drive them out also.

"It is doubtful if he will consent to allow me to accompany you, Clyde," said Frank, when they were outside. "He is an obstinate man when he sets his mind on anything."

"Well," declared Walter, "I am sorry. We met by accident, and I took to you in a moment. When you had heard my story and expressed a desire to accompany me on my search for Uric Dugan, I was delighted."

"And I had no idea the professor would object. This is the first time he has done anything of the sort; but it is true that we have run into many perilous adventures, and he wishes to prevent such things in future."

"Whoy not run away an' go, Frankie?" asked Barney, whose thirst for adventure was whetted to a keen edge. "It's mesilf thot would loike to go hunting fer this colony av Danites."

Frank shook his head.

"I hardly feel like doing that," he said. "There is a bare chance that the professor will relent. We will wait and see."

"There can be little waiting," said Clyde. "I start in the morning. Everything is ready, and Graves and Kerney are eager to be off."

"Well, we'll see what the next few hours will bring forth."

Little did they dream of the surprising things the next few hours would bring forth.



CHAPTER XVI.

THE MAD INVENTOR.

Frank and Barney were strolling about the place when they came upon Professor Scudmore.

"Ha, young gentlemen!" cried the eccentric old fellow; "come with me. I am about to start upon my trial voyage. The Eagle is inflated and ready to soar. I wish you to witness my triumph."

He took them outside the town to a secluded glen, in which was an old cabin and a huge, odd-shaped arrangement of silk, fine wires, and wickerwork. It was, in fact, a balloon, shaped like an egg, and inflated with gas. To it was attached a large and comfortable car, and there were two huge fore and aft rudders, together with some fan-like arrangements that seemed to be sails. This strange contrivance was secured to the ground by strong ropes.

"There!" cried Scudmore; "you now behold the Eagle, a flying-machine that will fly, or, rather, sail. With the wind it will travel at wonderful speed, and it can beat to windward like a vessel. I have been at work upon it for years. Some time ago I perfected it, and I brought it here for my trial voyage. I have set it up and inflated it without attracting attention or advertising myself. I should not have called on Professor Scotch, but I was full of enthusiasm, and thought it would be a fine thing to have an eminent man like him accompany me on my first voyage."

The boys looked at each other.

"Phwat do yez think av it, Frankie?" asked Barney.

"Can't tell," was the reply. "Let's look her over."

"That's right, look her over," urged Professor Scudmore. "I am going to start at once, but I must first get aboard a few things that are in this hut."

So the boys examined the airship, while the inventor brought bundles from the hut and placed them in the car.

"Phwat do yez think now?" asked Barney, when they had looked it over quite thoroughly. "Will she sail?"

"She will rise in the air, like an ordinary balloon," said Frank; "but I am not satisfied that the rudders and sails will work."

"I will soon satisfy you on that point," said the professor, who happened to be near enough to overhear their words.

Immediately he set about explaining everything in connection with the handling of the singular craft, and it did not take him long to make it seem an assured thing that the Eagle could be steered in almost any direction, and that, with the aid of horizontal rudders, she could be brought to the ground or sent soaring into the air, without a change of ballast or the body of gas.

Frank was intensely interested.

"It is remarkable, professor!" he cried. "Scotch made a mistake when he refused to accompany you on your trial trip."

"Ha! You are a boy of sense! Saw it the first time my eye rested on you. I will make you famous."

Frank looked surprised.

"How?"

"You shall accompany me on my trial trip."

"How long will it be?"

"As long, or as short as we choose to make it. What do you say? Decide quickly. I am eager to be off."

"Can you take Barney along?"

"I can, but two is enough. I do not care for too many."

"Can you drop us in Blake by nightfall?"

"Yes."

"Well, if you will take us both, we'll go along, professor."

Scudmore considered, his right elbow resting in the hollow of his left hand, the long forefinger of his right hand touching his forehead.

"I will do it!" he cried, with a snap. "Get in. We'll lose no more time. In a few moments we shall be sailing away like a bird."

"Here goes, Frankie," grinned the Irish lad. "Av we're both killed, Oi want yez to tell me ould mither how Oi died."

They entered the car, and Scudmore prepared to cast off. He was full of anxiety and excitement.

At length but a single rope held the now swaying and surging air ship to the ground.

"Here goes the last strand that ties us to earth!" cried the professor, as, with the slash of a knife he severed the rope.

Up shot the air ship.

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the inventor. "Who said I would fail! We are off!"

"Thot's all right," muttered Barney; "but will we ivver come back?"

"Look!" cried Frank, pointing downward; "there is Professor Scotch! We are already passing over the town."

It was true; in a remarkably brief space of time the air ship had sailed out of the glen and was rising above the town. Looking downward, they saw Professor Scotch and a number of persons, including Walter Clyde and two rough-looking companions, staring up at the Eagle.

"Good-by, professor," shouted Frank, leaning out of the car and waving his hat. "We're off in search of the last of the Danites."

They saw the professor dance wildly around and beckon to them. Then his voice came faintly to their ears:

"Here, here, you rascals! come right back here this minute! If you don't, I shall have to——"

They could understand no more, for the swiftly rising air ship carried them beyond the reach of his voice.

Professor Scudmore was chuckling to himself, as he worked at the apparatus which controlled the sails and rudders.

"It is a success, and my fortune is made!" he was saying. "I shall become richer than Jay Gould ever was! Ha! ha! ha! I shall not only be rich, but I shall be honored!"

"Oi don't loike th' way he is actin', Frankie," whispered Barney. "Thot laugh does not sound natural at all, at all."

"You are right," admitted Frank. "Is it possible we have started out on this kind of a cruise with a man whose brain has been turned?"

"It may be thot."

"The situation will not be at all pleasant if it turns out that way."

"He is getting control av th' ship. See how he handles her now, me b'y."

It was true that the inventor was getting control of the Eagle, and he was beginning to "put her through her paces," as it were. He ran before the wind, then luffed and took first one tack and then the other. The remarkable craft behaved very well.

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the professor, wildly. "I am the king of the air! I am the first man to make a successful air ship. The world and all its countries are mine! I can destroy armies and change the destiny of nations! I am the greatest man who ever lived!"

"By Jove!" muttered Frank, in alarm; "I believe the man is going mad!"

"It looks loike thot," admitted the Irish boy.

"In which case, this will be the worst scrape we ever got into, Barney. That is plain enough to see."

"Roight, me laddybuck! An' th' professor will soay it wur judgment on us fer runnin' away."

"He will. But we ought to be able to handle this man between us, if it comes to a struggle with him."

"We can; but can we handle th' ship afther thot, Oi dunno?"

"That is a question we cannot answer till we try the trick. But there may be no trouble at all with Scudmore if we do not anger him."

Below them lay a wild panorama of broken country, through which ran Green River to plunge deep into the winding mazes of Labyrinth Canyon, away to the southward.

Away to the west, beyond the San Rafael Swell, rose the Wasatch Mountains; being much nearer than the Rockies to the eastward, and, therefore, looking nearly as lofty.

To the north were Desolation Canyon and the Roan Cliffs, the latter rising brown and bleak at the southern boundary of the Ute Reservation.

To the south of mighty Colorado, rolling through the dark depths of canyons which seemed to sink deep into the bowels of the earth. Farther to the south, beyond the Fremont, which as yet could not be seen, Mount Pennell lifted its snow-capped summit eleven thousand feet in the air.

Mount Pennell was in the very heart of the mountain region in which the last of the Destroying Angels had found homes.

"Professor!" said Frank, speaking gently.

"Ha! ha!" muttered the inventor, as he threw over a lever and sent the Eagle scooting in a breathless sweep toward the earth. "She is like a bird! Up or down, to the right or left, she will sail in any direction."

"Professor!"

"Don't bother me now—don't bother me!" he almost snarled.

"I was a fool to take you along! I should have retained all the honor for myself. Now you will share it. It will be published all over the world that you accompanied Professor Scudmore on his trial trip in his wonderful air ship."

He glared at them a moment, as if he longed to cast them overboard, and then the handling of the craft claimed his entire attention.

"How do yez loike it, Frankie, me b'y?" asked Barney, with a sly nudge at his companion.

"It is decidedly uncomfortable."

"Phwat shall we do—jump th' son-av-a-goon at wance?"

"Nothing of the sort. We will keep still, as if we are quite satisfied and content. I will draw him into conversation when I think it proper, and he may be brought round all right."

So the boys remained silent and passive, one of them constantly watching Scudmore, so that they might not be taken by surprise, in case he took a fancy to attack them.

He continued to mutter and talk to himself, now and then laughing in a way that was not pleasant to hear.

The boys fell to wondering what the various bundles contained. Opening one of them, covertly, they found it was a supply of dried beef.

"Great shmoke!" gasped Barney. "He has laid in a supply av provisions to larrust a wake!"

Frank nodded.

"It looks that way; but these things are not all provisions. See there at his side—one of those bundles contains firearms, for you may see the muzzles of two rifles protruding. I fancy the bundle next to that contains ammunition."

"Whoy, thot's enoogh to shtock a small arumy, Frankie!"

"A man like Professor Scudmore has very little notion as to what he needs or desires, and so he is liable to obtain four or five times what is necessary."

"Are you talking of me?" harshly demanded the inventor. "Then speak up distinctly. I may think you are plotting against me—plotting to keep me from reaching the land beyond the ice."

"The land beyond the ice?" cried Frank.

"That is what I said."

"Well, what did you mean? Whither are we bound?"

"For the South Pole," was the answer. "Ha! ha! ha! We will pass over the ice floes and reach the land beyond them!"



CHAPTER XVII.

GONE.

All that day and far into the night the mad inventor held control of the flying-machine, refusing to listen to reason or argument, and keeping the boys at bay.

Some time in the night he fell asleep, and, when he awoke, he was enraged to find himself bound hands and feet, while the boys were trying to handle the Eagle.

"Let me go!" howled the mad professor. "You will send us to destruction! You will plunge us to ruin!"

"Keep still!" commanded Frank, sternly. "You are no longer master here."

"Villain!" screamed the helpless man; "I know your scheme! You mean to steal the Eagle! You mean to get rid of me, and then you will steal the work of my brain and hands!"

"Don't fool yourself. If I ever get to solid ground again, you may have your old air ship and sail away to the South Pole with it. I am figuring on getting back to Blake."

"Te, he!" laughed the madman, suddenly. "Is that all you ask? Why, it is very easy to fix that matter."

His voice was full of craft and deception.

"How would you fix it?" asked Frank.

"Set me at liberty, and I will take you back there."

"That sounds all right, but it is plain enough that you cannot be trusted. I prefer to experiment a little myself, before letting you have charge again."

"And you will bring us all to destruction!"

"Possibly I may. Keep still now, while I study out the working of these levers and wheels."

But Scudmore would not keep still. He shouted and talked, urging them to release him, begging and threatening by turns.

Meanwhile Frank and Barney were studying over the levers and wheels, and they finally discovered how to send the air ship down toward the earth, which lay asleep in the white moonlight.

They were directly over a mountainous region, having been soaring over the loftiest peaks. The boys were somewhat benumbed by the chilly air, but, as they came nearer to the earth, this numbness passed away.

"Are yez goin' ter land here, Frankie?" asked Barney, anxiously.

"I don't know," was the answer. "If we should happen to see a town——"

"Where do yez think we are?"

"That is another thing I don't know."

Down they went until Frank conceived a notion that they were near enough to the earth; but when he tried to reverse the lever and ascend again, it would not work.

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the inventor. "It is retribution! We shall be smashed into a thousand pieces when we strike. You will never steal the Eagle from me!"

Frank worked with all his energy, for they were sweeping toward the earth at an alarming rate of speed.

The laughter of the deranged professor rang out louder and wilder than ever.

"Oi think we're in fer it, me b'y!" gasped Barney.

"It looks like that," confessed Frank, as they barely cleared the crest of a mountain and went diving down into the unknown depths of a valley. "This confounded thing——"

Snap!—something broke, and their swift descent was suddenly checked, but they continued to settle gently.

"Ah!" breathed Frank, with relief. "If this keeps up, we'll come down all right."

"But it's nivver a bit can we tell where we'll land, me laddybuck."

"We'll have the satisfaction of getting on solid ground again, at least. I am yearning to feel it beneath my feet once more."

It was not long before the Eagle sank gently into the valley, settling to the ground as lightly as a bird.

Out leaped the boys, ropes in their hands, and they quickly made the air ship fast.

"Well, we are still living," said Frank.

"It's mesilf thot belaves we've much to be thankful fer," declared Barney.

"I wonder where we are, and how near we are to civilization. I am inclined to believe we cannot be far from the very region where the colony of Danites is said to be located."

"Suffering cats!" gasped the Irish boy. "If thot is the case, how are we ivver goin' to get out av here?"

"We'll have to trust to luck."

"Oi'll nivver thrust mesilf to thot air ship again."

"I do not care to do so, but we may have to do so whether we want to or not."

"Well, we have enough to ate, an' some guns to protict oursilves with. Oi am fer ixplorin' th' country before we do anything ilse."

"We can't do any exploring to-night."

"But we can early in th' marnin'."

So they provided themselves with two of the rifles, plenty of ammunition, and much of the provisions in the car.

In the shelter of the valley the night was no longer cool, but was warm and pleasant.

They found an overhanging shelf of rock where they could get close up under a bluff, and it made quite a satisfactory camp.

For some time the boys lay and talked over their adventure, wondering if they would get out of the predicament all right. At last they became drowsy, and finally fell asleep.

They slept soundly till morning. Frank was the first to awaken, and he shook Barney to rouse him.

"Come, you bit of the Old Sod," called Frank. "Turn out and pay for your lodging."

"Begobs! Oi fale loike th' bed had been shtuffed with bricks. Hurro! Oi must have fell out av bed in th' noight, an' dropped clane out av th' windy. It's a bit av a kink Oi have in th' small av me back."

Barney sat up, making a wry face, and staring about in a bewildered way.

"Phwat howtil is this, Oi dunno?" he cried. "Have Oi been slapin', or have Oi been in a thrance?"

"We came here in a flying-machine, you will remember."

"In a floying-machine? Oi thought Oi dramed it."

"It was no dream."

"Well, may Oi nivver live to see th' back av me neck!"

It took some time for the Irish boy to recover from his amazement.

"Where is thot floying-machine, Frankie?"

"It is just beyond this line of bushes, where we left it last night. Professor Scudmore is tied up in the car, and I fancy he must be a bit uncomfortable by this time. I did not mean to leave him that way so long. It was rather heartless."

"Ye can't be aisy wid his koind, me b'y. There's no tellin' phwat they'll do."

"That is true; but it is our duty to handle him as gently as possible. He is a most unfortunate man. His air ship seems an assured success, and yet he has lost his reason working over it."

The boys arose and passed round the bushes, Frank being in advance. A cry of wonder and amazement broke from Merriwell's lips.

"The air ship!" he gasped.

"Phwat's th' matter?" asked Barney, quickly.

"It's gone!"



CHAPTER XVIII.

MISKEL.

"Gone!"

"That's what!"

"Where?"

"Sailed away."

It was true that the Eagle was not where they had left it the night before, and, looking all around, they could find no trace of it.

"Thot bates me!"

The knees of the Irish boy seemed to weaken beneath him, and he sank in a limp heap on the ground.

"It beats the band!"

Frank was scarcely less broken up than his companion.

"How did it happen, Frankie? Th' ould thing didn't go off av itsilf, did it?"

"Not much!"

"Phwat thin?"

"Professor Scudmore must have succeeded in releasing himself."

"Roight, lad; an' thin he skipped."

"As soon as he was free, he sailed away in the Eagle, and we are left here in the heart of this mountainous region."

"Oi'm homesick! Oi wish Oi hadn't come!"

Frank laughed.

"This is not the worst scrape we have been in, by any means. We'll pull out of this, with our usual good luck."

But a feeling of loneliness and desolation did settle heavily upon them, for all that Frank made an effort to throw it off. The mountains lifted their heads on every hand like mighty sentries that hemmed them in, and they felt shut off from all the rest of the world.

When they fully realized that Professor Scudmore had released himself and escaped in the air ship, they walked round the place where the Eagle had been left the night before, but they discovered nothing beyond some severed bits of rope.

Then Frank became philosophical.

"We may as well take it easy," he said. "It is useless to make a fuss about it. Here we are, and—-"

"Where we are Oi dunno!"

"You know quite as well as I do, old man."

"All roight. Phwat will we do?"

"Find some water to wash down our breakfast to start with. After we have eaten, we will feel better. Then we can settle on what we'll do next."

By rare good luck, they were near a spring of clear water, and it was found without trouble.

"It was fortunate we took the rifles and provisions out of the car last night," said Frank.

"Thot it wur," nodded Barney.

For all of their situation, they ate heartily, and, breakfast over, they felt better. Then they sat and talked the matter over a while, finally deciding to make an effort to get somewhere, and trust to fortune.

With the aid of the pieces of rope, they tied the provisions into bundles, which were easily carried, and before long they struck out.

Barney trusted everything to Frank who took the lead, and they headed for what seemed to be an outlet to the valley, away to the west.

During the next five days the boys passed through a few adventures, none of which, however, have any bearing on this story. They wandered round and round amid the mountains, finally coming back to the valley from which they had started.

This was discouraging, but they started over again, and they finally came to a narrow cut that seemed to lead into the very heart of the mountain that loomed before them.

"We will try it," said Frank, leading the way.

They passed through the cut, after traveling many miles, and came into a vast basin, with mountains looming on every hand.

"Pwhat do yez think, me b'y?" asked the Irish lad.

"It is not easy to tell what to think," was the reply. "However, I fear we are in Water Pocket Canyon."

"Phwat about Water Pocket Canyon?"

"It is said to be fifty miles in length to ten or fifteen in width, and to have no outlets."

"Well, this can't be th' place, me b'y, fer it has an outlet roight here."

"But one that would not be easy to find, and so it might go forth there were no outlets to the place."

"Begorra! it looks loike we naded Profissor Scudmore's floying-machane to git out av this scrape."

"It does look that way. We seem to be getting tangled more and more. All we can do is to make the attempt to get out."

"Av this is Warter Pocket Canyon, we may not be able to foind this pass if we lave it."

"We will mark the spot some way."

"How?"

"That is the question. Wait till I find a way."

It was not easy, but Frank finally decided that he could tell the mountain through the base of which the pass had seemed to wind.

Then they went into the wild and picturesque valley, while Frank continued to look back at intervals in order to impress the appearance of the mountain on his mind.

That night they camped beside a little stream that bubbled out from beneath the base of a cliff, and it was found that their stock of provisions was getting very low, even though they had preserved it as far as possible by shooting and cooking wild game.

"We have got to get out av here soon, Frankie," said the Irish boy, soberly.

Frank nodded.

"That is evident; but we are doing our best, and so we can do no better."

Frank was somewhat disheartened, but he did not wish Barney to know it, and so he pretended to be cheerful.

Darkness settled over the canyon, and the light of a tiny fire shone on the faces of the young adventurers.

Frank seemed to be dreaming, for, with a far-away stare, he was gazing straight into the flames, apparently quite unaware of his surroundings.

In the flaring fire he saw strange pictures of events in his own career—a career such as had never before fallen to the lot of a boy of his years.

He seemed to behold the scores of perils through which he had passed, and before him seemed to flit the faces of the many friends and foes he had made.

He saw the foes of his school days—Snell, Bascomb, Gage, and all the others—skulk past in procession. Snell had a sneaking, treacherous look on his face, Bascomb swaggered along in the old bullying manner, and Gage seemed to be driven along by the Evil One, who was constantly goading him to rash and desperate things. Then he saw the face of his most deadly enemy, his own cousin, Carlos Merriwell; but it no longer bore a look of malignant hatred, for it was white and cold in the last long sleep.

There were other enemies who had sprung up along his path, but they seemed like shadows in comparison to the ones of his school days.

Following these came others, and the dark look faded from his countenance. He saw Bart Hodge, who had once been his bitter enemy, but who had become his stanchest friend. Hodge held out a hand to him, as if longing to render aid in this hour of need.

Then came scores of others, the cadets at Fardale, the professors, and, last of all, the girls who had admired him and believed him noble and true.

Elsie Bellwood smiled at him sadly, and pointed to a mighty barrier that lay between them; Kate Kenyon tried to reach him, and then drew back, with a hopeless shake of her head; others came and flitted past, and last of all Inza Burrage was there, holding out her hands to him, her dark eyes full of trust.

"Inza!"

The name fell from his lips, and it aroused him. Barney had fallen asleep, and was snoring beside the fire.

But what was that? Did he still dream?

Just beyond the fire, within the outer circle of light, stood a girl!

Frank rubbed his eyes and looked again.

She was still there, and she was pressing a finger to her lips, as if asking for silence.

"Great Scott!" muttered Frank, in a dazed way.

"Sh!" came back across the fire. "Do not wake him." She motioned toward the sleeping Irish lad.

Frank pinched himself.

"Yes, I am awake myself," he said, guardedly. "And it is a girl—a pretty girl at that! How in the name of all that is wonderful does it happen there is a girl here?"

"You have no time to ask questions," came back swiftly, in a low, musical voice. "You are in a bad snare, Frank Merriwell."

The boy started violently.

"How is it that you know my name?" he demanded, astonished beyond measure.

"I tell you you have no time to ask questions. Why did you come here?"

"You seem inclined to ask questions. I came because I could not help it."

"That is not true. You came to search for the hiding place of the last of the Danites. You may as well confess it."

"But I tell you I had no idea of coming here when I started."

"I know more than your name, Frank Merriwell; I know that you were eager to come in search of the place where Uric Dugan and a few of his former friends have hidden themselves from the world, hoping to remain there in peace to the end of their days."

Frank was filled with wonder unutterable.

"Are you a supernatural creature—a phantom?" he demanded. "If not, how do you know that I ever heard of Uric Dugan?"

"I am not the only one who knows. Uric Dugan and his companions know it. They are ready for you, and you have walked into their snare. You are meshed."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that there is not one chance in ten thousand that you will ever be able to escape alive."

"By Jove! the prospect is pleasant!"

"I am in earnest. The pass by which you entered this basin is already guarded, and you cannot get out that way."

"Then we will have to get out some other way."

"There is but one other way, and that is also guarded. Do you see you are snared?"

"If you are not mistaken, it looks that way. What can I do?"

The girl made a despairing gesture.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I have begged them to spare you—to shed no more blood; but they say it is absolutely necessary in order that we may continue to live here in peace. The world at large must not know where to find the last of the Danites."

"If I give my pledge——"

"It will not be accepted. You are not the first to stray in here. Not one of them has ever gone away to tell the tale."

Frank shuddered a bit, beginning to realize that the situation was indeed a desperate one.

"If there is no chance for us to escape, why are you here to tell us?"

"I could not help warning you. I saw your fire twinkling, and I knew that you would sleep beside it. In the night death would come down upon you, and you would never awaken."

"Jupiter! That is interesting! I won't sleep for a week."

"Ah, but you cannot escape, even though you never again close your eyes in sleep. You can only avoid your doom for a little time. My heart is full of pity for you, but I am unable to do anything."

Her voice told him that she was sincere, and Frank thrilled with gratitude toward her.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Miskel," she answered.

"Miskel! What an odd name! But you seem to be a most remarkable girl. How does it happen that you are here?"

"My father is one of the last of the Danites, and I live here with him."

"Your father—who is he?"

"Uric Dugan!"



CHAPTER XIX.

OLD SOLITARY.

Frank uttered a low cry, causing Barney to start up.

"Pwhat's th' matter?" asked the Irish boy, reaching for his rifle. "Is it Injuns, Oi dunno?"

"Easy, Barney!" cried Frank. "You will frighten her away from—Caesar's ghost! She's gone!"

"Pwhat's thot? Who is she, me b'y? Is it dramin' ye wur, or have ye wheels in yer head?"

"Neither. She was here a moment ago, and I was talking with her."

"Who is she?"

"Miskel."

"An' a broth av a name thot is! It's wheels ye have in yer head, me b'y; Oi can hear thim goin' round."

Frank sprang up and passed round the fire.

"She disappeared like a phantom. I cannot understand how she came here, or how she went away so swiftly."

Not a trace of her could be seen.

All at once, Frank whirled about and kicked the burning brands in all directions.

"That fire shall provide no beacon for Uric Dugan and the Danites!" exclaimed the boy.

"Pwhat do yez mane by thot?" asked the puzzled Irish lad. "Is it daft ye have gone all at wance?"

Frank came swiftly to the side of his companion, a hand falling on Barney's shoulder, as he said:

"We must get out of this, for it is likely our fire has been seen by the Danites, who are somewhere near at hand."

"How do yez know thot, Frankie?"

"Know it? Why, she told me. She was here a minute ago, and you frightened her away when you awoke."

Barney looked at his friend in a doubting way.

"Be aisy now, Frankie, and if ye can't be aisy, whoy jist be aisy as ye can. This loife has affected yer brain, me b'y."

Frank saw Barney really thought he spoke the truth.

"You are wrong," he said. "I will explain what I mean, and I assure you that I am in my sober senses."

Whereupon, he told Barney everything, and the Irish lad listened with drooping jaw.

"Th' saints protict us!" he cried. "Pwhat are we goin' to do, Frankie?"

"Get out of this before Uric Dugan and his gang make us a call."

"They move swiftly as an arrow, and strike deep and sure. You have no time to spare."

The voice was hollow and blood-chilling, coming out of the darkness as from the depths of a mighty cavern, causing both lads to whirl, clutching their weapons, ready for an attack.

"Who is there?" challenged Frank, sharply.

"One who will do you no harm," was the answer. "And I alone am able to save you from Uric Dugan."

"Who are you?"

"I am known as Old Solitary."

Not far away could be seen the figure of a man, who seemed to be leaning on a stout staff. He made no menacing move.

Barney's teeth were chattering.

"Tin to wan it is th' Ould B'y himsilf!" gasped the Irish lad.

Barney was very superstitious. While he was not afraid of anything made of flesh and blood, whatever seemed supernatural filled him with the greatest terror.

"Steady," warned Frank. "It is a human being, and he seems to be alone. One man will not harm us."

"Not av he is a man."

"I am a man, and I mean you no harm," declared the same deep voice. "If you will trust me, I may be able to save you. Look—I will advance, and you may keep your weapons turned upon me."

The figure came forward through the gloom, and in a few moments he stood close at hand, so they could see he was a man whose head was bare, and whose white beard flowed over his chest. What seemed to be a staff at first glance, proved to be a long-barreled rifle.

Barney was intensely relieved.

"It must be Santy Claus himsilf!" exclaimed the Irish lad.

"You must not linger here," said the stranger. "Even now the Destroying Ones may be moving to fall upon you. They would wipe you from the face of the earth, as they have wiped away hundreds and thousands. They are terrible, and they are merciless. Their tongues are forked, and the poison of adders lies beneath their lips. For the Gentile they know not mercy. If the Mormon Church decrees that they destroy the babe at its mother's breast, they snatch it away and dash out its brains. On their knees innocent girls have pleaded in vain to be spared. Fathers and mothers have fallen before them. Old men with snowy hair have been slaughtered without pity. And chief among these inhuman monsters is Dugan of the dark face. I know him, and I know that his heart is made of adamant. But he shall not always escape the wrath to come. His days are numbered, and the days of his merciless comrades are numbered! All are doomed! Not one shall escape!"

"Easy, old man!" warned Frank. "Do you wish to bring them upon us? I shall think you are in league with them."

"Not I! Come; I will lead you to a place of safety."

The boys hesitated.

"Shall we thrust th' spalpane?" whispered Barney, doubtfully.

"I don't see as we can do better," returned Frank. "We must take chances."

"He may be wan av th' Danites, me b'y."

"He may be, but something tells me he is not."

"Thin how does it happen thot he is here?"

"That is something you can answer as well as I. Come, we will follow him. Keep your weapons ready for instant use."

So they followed, and, old man though he was, they found it no easy task, for he moved with a swinging cat-like step that carried him swiftly over the ground.

All at once, he turned, with a low hiss, motioned for them to follow, and, crouching low, crept behind some bowlders.

The boys followed, ready for a trap.

When they were behind the bowlders, the stranger whispered:

"They are coming—I hear their footsteps afar. They come swiftly, but they will not find their prey. They are the last of the Danites, and they are in hiding here amid these mountains, but they have not forgotten how to strike and destroy. Crouch low, keep still, and you shall see them pass."

It seemed that the old man's ears must be good, for it was quite a while before the boys heard a sound. At length, with a sudden rush of feet, six or eight dark figures flitted past and quickly disappeared.

"They come like shadows, and like shadows they go," softly breathed Old Solitary. "The day has passed forever when their power is felt and dreaded throughout Utah. Once they were far more dreadful than a pestilence. Started upon the trail of a man who had been doomed by the church, there was not one chance in ten thousand for him to escape. No man could seek his bed at night and be sure he would not become the victim of the Destroying Angels before dawn. No man could be sure he had not done something to offend Brigham Young. If by any means he became aware that 'the decree of death' had been made against him, it was no better than useless for him to take to flight. He might flee to the desert, but the Destroyers tracked him through shifting sands and across waterless wastes till he was run to earth and his body was left for the vultures and coyotes. If he plunged into the mountains, the canyons and ravines were not deep enough or dark enough to hide him from the keen eyes of the death-dealers on his track. Knowing his doom had been decreed, he might flee madly from his home and his loved ones, his heart alternating between hope and despair, knowing all the while that those deadly pursuers were on his track, hurrying on and on when he was in desperate need of rest, fearing to close his eyes in sleep, lest he open them to look upon his murderers, weak for want of food, his throat parched for a swallow of water, his blood pouring like melted lead through his veins, his brain on fire, and still all his struggles were unavailing. Relentless, unwearying, bloodthirsty and sure as death, the Destroying Ones tracked him down. He might begin to fancy that he had escaped, that he had thrown them off his trail. At last, overcome by his terrible exertions, he might sleep, feeling certain that in a few more hours he would be beyond their reach. They would come upon him like shadows, and they would leave him weltering in his gore. A curse they have been, and a curse they shall remain till the last one of them all is perished from the face of the fair earth which they have polluted."

The boys were spellbound by the intense language of the strange man. All fears that he might be one of the Danites departed from their minds.

"Begobs!" gasped Barney; "it's Satan's oun brewing they must be!"

"Come," said Old Solitary, "we must move on again. They will not find you, and the morning will see them on your trail."

"If what you say is true, it were better to be trailed by bloodhounds or wild Indians," said Frank.

"Far better. The Destroying Ones hastened to the slaughter with no more mercy in their hearts than is to be found in the heart of a fierce Apache. If they were instructed to kill, they believed it their duty—more than that, they would suffer the tortures of hell if they shirked or shrank from committing the deed."

"Oi'm not faling well at all, at all!" sighed Barney. "An' it's caught we are in a place where such craythurs be! Och, hone! Whoy didn't we shtay with th' profissor?"

Old Solitary again flitted away, and they hastened along at his heels. Now he was silent of lip and silent of foot. He seemed more like a shadow than anything else.

For more than an hour he led them forward with great swiftness, and then they came to a small stream.

"You must cover your trail," said the old man. "Follow me."

He stepped into the running water, walking along the bed of the stream.

They did not hesitate to follow in his footsteps.

Before long they came to where the stream fell splashing and tinkling down the mountain.

"Up," said Old Solitary.

It was a difficult climb, but the boys were young athletes, and they would have been ashamed to let the man with the white hair and beard climb where they could not go.

The stream was left, and, clinging to the points of rock with hands and feet, the old man still mounted higher and higher. He seemed to know every inch of the way, which became more and more difficult for the lads.

"Begorra!" gurgled Barney; "we'll nivver get down from here, Frankie, me jool."

"Well, we'll have no call to kick, if the Danites do not get up to us."

"Thot's right."

"But I cannot help thinking of Miskel's words. She declared that we were hopelessly snared."

"She may have troied to scare ye to death, lad."

"Well, what Old Solitary has said about the Destroying Angels has not made me feel any easier."

At last they came to a shelf of rock, along which they crept, inch by inch, clinging fast and feeling their way, with a blue void of night above and beneath them.

All at once a black opening in the face of the bluff yawned before them, and they saw the man of the white hair and beard standing in the mouth of a cave.

"This is my home," declared Old Solitary. "They have not dared attack me here, even though they know where to find me. They consider me harmless, but some day they shall know the difference. Uric Dugan shall know my power!"

He turned and entered the cave, and, still trusting all to him, they felt their way along after him.



CHAPTER XX.

MOUTH OF THE CAVE.

After a time, Old Solitary lighted a torch, and they were enabled to follow him with greater ease.

He led them into a circular chamber, where there was a bed of grass and some rude furniture of his own manufacture.

"This is my home," declared the strange man. "For the present, you are safe here; but there is no way of getting out of here without passing through territory where the Danites will be found."

"Then we are still in the meshes," said Frank.

"You are still in the very heart of Danite land."

"If what you say is true, then we cannot be safe here, for those human beasts know we are somewhere in the net, and they will find us, no matter what our hiding place may be."

"That is true, but it will take time, and they fear me. They will not rush hither. You may sleep without fear to-night."

"Surely we have need enough of sleep."

"Then do not hesitate to slumber, for I need little sleep, and I will see that no harm comes to you."

Frank would have questioned the man, but when he tried to do so in a manner that would not be offensive, Old Solitary suddenly became dumb, paying no heed to anything that was said.

Frank and Barney talked for a long time. They were impressed with the belief that they were in the gravest peril, and yet they could do nothing more to save themselves till the opportunity came. To a large extent, they were in the hands of fate.

Never before in all his life had Frank been utterly controlled by a feeling of utter inability to avert destruction by any effort of his own, even though his hands were free and he was armed. It seemed as if they had been doomed and were in a snare from which there could be no possible escape.

Everything must be trusted to Old Solitary, that was certain. Feeling thus, Frank flung himself down on the bed of grass, and was soon sleeping soundly.

It did not take Barney long to follow the example of his friend.

They slept for hours. When they awoke the torch had burned out, and the chilly darkness of the cave was dense around them.

"I wonder where Old Solitary is?" said Frank.

They called to him and their voices echoed hollowly along the passages.

No answer came.

"Begorra!" cried the Irish boy; "It looks loike he had left us to oursilves."

"It does seem that way," admitted Frank.

Our hero remembered seeing in a niche the night before a collection of sticks that he fancied were for torches, and so, lighting a match, he sought them. He had made no mistake, for one of them lighted readily.

"Our weapons are all right," he said, having made an examination. "It is probable that Old Solitary will soon return."

They waited an hour, but the strange man did not appear. Both grew restless, and finally started out to explore the cave.

With the aid of the torch, they picked their way along one of the passages. They were surprised at the distance traveled, and wondered when and where they would come out.

Finally, a gleam of light was seen ahead, and, as they came nearer, the torch was extinguished.

Climbing up a steep slope, they lay on their stomachs and peered out into the depths of a circular pocket that was inclosed by mountains on three sides.

An exclamation broke from the lips of both.

"A camp!" cried Frank.

"It's a town, me b'y!" Barney almost shouted. "We're all roight, afther all!"

"Easy!" cautioned Merriwell, quickly. "Keep your voice down. It is a town, but it is not the kind of a town we care to enter."

"Pwhat's th' matther wid it?"

"It is the town of the Danites. This is their retreat, where they have hidden themselves from the rest of the world."

Barney was soon convinced that Frank was right, and the boys drew back a bit, taking care not to be seen by anybody below them.

There was a collection of eight buildings upon which the morning sun was shining, six of which were dwelling houses, and two of which seemed to be stables. Taken all together, they made quite a little village.

The doors of many of the houses were open, and men were seen lounging about. Occasionally a woman could be seen, and there were a few children at play.

"Here live the last of the terrible organization that has shed the blood of hundreds of Gentiles," said Frank. "These men were known to be leaders, and the fate of John D. Lee was a warning to them. They saw the church could no longer protect them, and so they fled here. It is possible that some of those old men down there were concerned in the Mountain Meadow Massacre."

"It's the divvil's own set they are, to be sure."

"They have never hesitated to shed blood, and our lives will not be worth a pinch of snuff if we fall into their hands."

"Pwhat are we goin' to do?"

"That remains to be seen. For the present, we seem to be safe where we are. It is plain this cave extends through a spur of the mountain, and we are looking out on a side far from where we entered. It is also possible that, even now, some of these creatures may be climbing to the other entrance."

"Howly shmoke!"

"I said possible, not probable. I am trusting much to Old Solitary."

The boys lay there a long time, talking and peering down into the village of the Danites. They did not see a lithe, agile figure that was climbing in their direction. At length, having climbed as far as possible, this figure reached a stopping place, still below and at one side.

"Great shnakes!" gasped Barney, clutching Frank's arm. "Will yez take a look at thot!"

He pointed toward the figure.

"Caesar's ghost! It is Miskel!"

"Pwhat is she doin' there, me b'y?"

"She seemed to be looking this way. I wonder if she has seen us here?"

"Oi dunno."

"She acts as if she has."

"Thot she does."

"She is hidden from the camp below by that mass of bowlders beside her, and she acts as if she were trying to keep out of sight of them down there."

"Pwhat's thot she has in her hand?"

"A bow. That is a perfect picture of the nymph Diana."

"Ay she ounly had some hounds an' a stag at hand."

"See—she has taken an arrow from a quiver at her back, and she seems to be attaching something to it. By the way she looks up here I should say she is measuring the distance with her eye, to see if she can make the arrow reach."

It certainly looked that way, and the boys watched her every movement with the keenest interest, still keeping as far concealed as possible.

Once Miskel lifted the bow and drew it taut, but something did not satisfy her, and she lowered it. After some moments the bow was lifted again, and then the arrow sailed upward through the air.

"It's coming!"

Both boys dodged.

Zip—click! The arrow cut through the air, sailed in at the opening of the cave, struck the face of the rock, and dropped to the ground.

Frank quickly picked it up.

"Ha!" he exclaimed. "Look, Barney—a bit of paper is attached here! There is writing on it! Ten to one it is a message!"

Eagerly he removed the bit of paper that was tied to the arrow, and he soon read aloud what was written on it.

"FRANK MERRIWELL: It is known that you are there, but you are safe for the present, although still meshed and unable to escape. My father fears Old Solitary; but there are others who do not, and your refuge will not long continue a safe one. Your friends have arrived, and they are already in the snare, so it is not likely you will ever see either of them alive. MISKEL."

The last sentence filled both boys with the utmost wonder and perplexity.

"What does it mean?" asked Frank.

"Thot Oi'll nivver tell!" cried Barney.

"My friends? Whom can she mean? Who is it that is already within the snare?"

"Ax me something aisy!"

"And the Danites know where we are hidden!"

"Thot's pwhat she says, av ye read it roight."

"It is very comforting to know it! Uric Dugan fears Old Solitary, but there are others who do not."

"It's the others we nade to be afeared av, me lad."

"You are right. We must be constantly on our guard. Both of us must not sleep at the same time; we must take turns at sleeping. In that way we should be able to know when they try to come upon us, and we will sell our lives as dearly as possible."

"Av we've got to doie, Oi'd loike to wipe out the gang av spalpanes down there."

"Were they other than the murderous wretches they are, I should feel pity for them; but, as it is, there is no pity in my heart. It is a just retribution that they are outcast from their fellow-creatures, are forced to hide like hunted beasts, that they live in terror each day and each night of their lives."

"But this will nivver tell us who our friends are thot have entered th' snare, Frankie."

"No; nor do I know how we are to find out."

"Th' girrul——"

"Is descending."

It was true. Having accomplished her purpose in climbing up there, Miskel was descending. She was as sure-footed and agile as a mountain goat, and it was a pleasure to watch her.

"Frankie, she is a jool! An' do yez soay her fayther is ould Uric Dugan hissilf?"

"So she told me."

"It's a shame! Av it weren't fer thot, Oi'd thry me hand at makin' a mash on th' loikes av her."

Frank was silent; he seemed to be thinking.

"I have it!" he finally cried, striking his hands together.

"Kape it," advised Barney. "It's th' ounly thing ye're loikely to get around this place, my laddybuck."

"By my friends she must have meant Walter Clyde and his companions, Graves and Kerney. They have had time to cruise down the river, and they are here. I'll wager that I am right!"

"Ye may be. But soay! Look down there. So hilp me, there come some ay th' spalpanes, an' they have a prisoner!"

Barney was right. Several Danites were entering the pocket, conducting in their midst a captive. He was a small man, with red hair and whiskers.

"Heavens above!" gasped Frank, thunderstruck. "It's Professor Scotch!"



CHAPTER XXI.

HUMAN BEASTS.

It was indeed the little professor, who had, in some unaccountable manner, fallen captive to the Danites.

How it had happened the boys could not conceive.

"Be jabez! thot bates me!" gurgled Barney Mulloy, his eyes bulging. "It's hundreds av moiles from here Oi thought th' professor wur this minute."

"And I thought the same," said Frank. "How it comes that he is here I cannot understand."

"It's a moighty bad scrape he is in, me b'y."

"That is right. Now I know what Miskel meant when she said my friends had arrived and were already in the snare."

"The profissor makes but wan, an' she said 'friends.'"

"That is right. She must have meant Clyde and the others. That would make it appear that the professor came with them."

"Sure."

"In that case, where are Clyde and the two explorers, Graves and Kerney? Have they been killed already?"

"It moight seem thot way."

"It appears likely; but, if such is the case, I cannot understand why Professor Scotch was spared."

"No more can Oi, Frankie."

The boys were at their wits' end, and they were in an intensely agitated frame of mind.

Suddenly Frank clutched Barney's arm, pointing down into the pocket, and crying:

"Look! look! the professor has broken away! He is running for his life! But he cannot escape! They are hot after him."

It was true. The little man had made a desperate break for liberty, but it was folly to do so, as the Danites soon overtook him. One of them, a stout man, with a short white beard, held a revolver in his hand. He reversed the weapon, grasping it by the barrel, and struck the professor down with the butt.

The sight made Frank's blood boil.

"I will remember that wretch!" grated the boy, his eyes glowing. "If we do not get out of here, I may be able to square a score with him!"

Barney was scarcely less wrought up.

"Poor profissor!" he exclaimed. "It's loikely the divvils will finish him now."

The Danites stood over the man, who had fallen on his face, and lay in a huddled heap. They were talking loudly and making excited gestures. It was plain that they were discussing the advisability of dispatching Professor Scotch without delay, and, judging from his movements, the man with the short white beard was for finishing him without delay. Twice the man pointed his revolver at the prostrate figure, and twice a younger man seemed to urge him to spare the unlucky man's life.

"If he shoots, I'll try a shot at him from here!" cried Frank. "I may not be able to reach him, but I'll try it."

A third time the man pointed his revolver at the motionless form of the man who lay huddled on the ground. This time no one of the group interfered; all stood back, and the younger man, who had twice saved Scotch's life, turned away, plainly unwilling to witness the deed.

"He's going to shoot!" panted Frank, pulling forward his rifle, and bringing it to his shoulder. "I will——"

"Wait a bit, me b'y. Look there! Th' litthle girrul is thrying to save him."

"God bless her!"

Miskel had rushed into the midst of the men, and she was seen pleading with the man who seemed determined to kill the professor. At first, it seemed that she would fail, but she finally prevailed, and the man put up his weapon, with a gesture of angry impatience. Then he seemed to give some orders, and the unconscious captive was lifted and carried toward the camp.

"He is saved for the time," breathed Frank, with relief; "but it is simply a respite."

"Thot is betther than nothing, me b'y."

"Yes, it is better than nothing. Barney, I have a scheme."

"Spake out, Frankie. Me ears are woide open to-night."

"If they spare Professor Scotch till to-night, we will go down there and attempt his rescue."

"Oi'm wid yes, me b'y, to th' ind."

They watched the men bear the unfortunate professor into the camp, and noted carefully the building into which the man was taken.

"We must make no mistake to-night, Barney. It is our duty to do our best to save Professor Scotch."

"An' we'll do our duty av we nivver do anything ilse, begorra!"

"You are bold lads," said a voice behind them; "but you cannot save him from Uric Dugan."

They whirled swiftly, and found Old Solitary had come up behind them, without being heard.

"I found you had awakened," said the strange man; "and I wondered if you had come here."

"And we wondered where you had gone."

"I went forth to see what I should see," he said, in a peculiar manner. "Voices far away in empty space were calling to me—calling, calling, calling!"

The boys shot hasty glances at each other, the same thought flitting through the minds of both.

They had dealt with one maniac, and now was it possible that they were to encounter another?

It had been dark when Old Solitary came upon them the night before, and so they were unable to study his face; but now they saw that his eyes were restless and filled with a shifting light, while his general appearance was that of a man deranged.

Quickly leaning toward Barney, Frank whispered:

"He must be humored; don't anger him."

The man, although he could not have heard the words, noted that something was said, and he cried:

"Why do you whisper together. Would you betray me? Is there no one in the wide world I can trust?"

"Betray you?" said Frank. "To whom can we betray you? You have us in your power, and you can betray us to the Danites, if you choose. You need not fear that we shall betray you."

"Then it must be that you are afraid of me. All the world seems to fear me. Why is it so? What have I ever done to make men afraid of me?"

"Nothing evil, I am sure."

"And you are right. It cuts me to have men shrink from me; but they do, and I have become an outcast. There is something wrong about me—I feel it here."

His hand was lifted to his head, and his face wore a look of deep distress. He seemed to realize, in an uncertain way, that he was not quite right in his mind.

"You have lived so much by yourself that you have grown unsocial," said Frank. "That must be the trouble."

Old Solitary shook his head.

"That is not it. Listen, and I will tell you something. Uric Dugan hates and fears me. I do not care for that; it gives me satisfaction. Still I do not know why it gives me satisfaction, for it pains me when others shrink away in fear. Dugan would kill me if he could, and still he seems to regard me as one risen from death. Can you tell me why?"

He paused, looking at them in an inquiring way.

"You can't tell," came swiftly from his lips, as Frank was about to speak. "No one can tell. I do not know myself. My memory is broken into a thousand fragments. Some things I remember well; some things I do not remember at all. There was a time when I was young, and I had friends. Who were my friends? What has happened to rob me of my memory? I believe Uric Dugan can tell me. If I had not believed so, Dugan should have died long ago. Scores of times I have held his life in the hollow of my hand. I have longed to slay him—to kill him for some wrong he has done me. My hand has been held by a power I could not see. A voice has whispered in my ear, 'Wait.' I have waited. For what? I do not know."

He bowed his head on his breast, over which flowed his long white beard, and his attitude was one of intense dejection.

The boys were silent, wondering at the strange man who had befriended them.

Some moments passed.

"By going forth early I saw many things," the man finally declared, speaking quietly. "You are not the only ones who have strayed into the net of the Danites."

"We have been informed there are others," said Frank.

"Informed? How?"

Frank told how Miskel had shot the message into the mouth of the cave.

"I have seen her hundreds of times," slowly spoke Old Solitary. "She has a good face. It does not seem possible that she is his daughter—the daughter of Uric Dugan. I think the memory of her face has spared his life at times. But it will not be ever thus. The time will come when I shall steel my heart."

"We have just seen the Danites bear a captive into their village, and that captive is my guardian."

"A small man with reddish hair and beard?"

"Yes."

"I saw him captured. He had wandered from others. From a height I saw them all."

"How many are there?"

"There were four, but two of them are Danites."

"What's that?"

"It is true. The man of the sandy beard and the boy came here with two of Uric Dugan's wretched satellites."

"Howly saints!" gasped Barney.

"He must mean the explorers, Graves and Kerney," said Frank.

"They were not explorers; if they said so, they lied. Caleb Kerney is one of the old band of Danites, as bloodthirsty and relentless as the worst of them. Colton Graves is the son of Pascal Graves, once a leader of the Destroying Angels—a man whose hands were dyed with innocent blood. They went forth, with others, to bring provisions from the settlements. All of the others have returned before them."

"And they led Walter Clyde and Professor Scotch into this snare!" said Frank. "They found out that Walter was coming this way to search for the retreat of the Danites, and they led him here, with the intention of destroying him."

"Thot's roight, me b'y," nodded Barney.

"Kerney slipped away, and hastened ahead to tell Uric Dugan who was coming," said Old Solitary, who seemed to know all that had taken place. "Graves remained to guide the victims to their doom."

"Is it possible such monsters can continue to live and carry on their murderous work?" exclaimed Frank.

"Some day Ko-pe-tah will find the way in here," laughed Old Solitary.

"Who is Ko-pe-tah?"

"A Navajo chief who hates Uric Dugan, and has tried to kill him. Twice within two years has Ko-pe-tah brought his braves into these mountains, searching for some access to this valley. The last time he was here, he found the passage by which you entered. Four of the Danites held the passage against a hundred warriors, and the Navajoes were repulsed. But Ko-pe-tah swore he would come again. If he ever gets in here, woe unto the Danites!"

"How did it happen that we came through that passage without being stopped?"

"You were alone, two boys. You were seen, and were allowed to enter, for they knew you could not escape. They made sure of you by letting you walk into the trap."

"But Ko-pe-tah was held out."

"Because he had a hundred warriors behind him, and he would destroy the Danites if he got inside."

This was logical enough, and, at that moment Old Solitary scarcely seemed like a person deranged.

Frank spent some moments in thought, and then asked:

"Are Clyde and Graves still together?"

"They are."

"And Clyde has no knowledge that Graves is other than what he represented himself to be?"

"It is not likely that he has."

"He must be warned."

"It is too late.'

"Why?"

"Before you can reach him the Danites will have him in their power."

"That is not certain," cried Frank, starting up. "Come, we will try to save him. Lead us to him."

"You shall see that what I say is true," said Old Solitary.

He motioned for them to follow, and led the way back along the passage, the torch having been relighted.

Through the main chamber they passed, and came to another passage, which finally brought them out far from the mountain pocket in which was the home of the Danites.

"Look," directed Old Solitary, touching Frank's arm and pointing across the wide canyon. "Away there you see figures moving amid the rocks. They are human beings with hearts of beasts. They are Danites, and they are creeping like panthers upon their victim, the boy you call Walter Clyde."



CHAPTER XXII.

PROFESSOR SCUDMORE RETURNS.

"We must aid him!" cried Frank.

"Thot's right," agreed Barney.

"It's too late," declared Old Solitary.

"Too late—why?"

"Long before we can get down into the valley the boy will be killed or captured."

"And must we remain idle and witness the butchery? It is terrible! I feel that I must do something."

"An' Oi fale th' soame, Frankie, me b'y."

"Look again," directed the strange man of the mountains. "The boy has discovered his enemies. See—he has leaped behind some rocks! Graves is with him. The man is playing his part still. It must be that the boy has called on his enemies to halt. They are hiding. See there! one of them is preparing to shoot at the boy. Watch! The boy will be killed! No, he has changed his position. The man fired too late."

Frank and Barney were intensely excited as they watched what was taking place in the canyon. Clyde, after leaping to the shelter of the rocks, had changed his position just in time to save himself from being shot. One of the Danites took careful aim, a puff of smoke shot from the muzzle of his rifle, and, some time later, the report of the weapon reached the ears of the trio at the mouth of the cave.

But Providence must have watched over Walter Clyde then, for the boy moved a moment before the rifle sent forth its dead messenger, and he escaped the bullet. Whirling swiftly, he brought the butt of his rifle to his shoulder, and fired straight into the midst of the puff of smoke.

"Hurro!" shouted Barney.

"He nailed the wretch!" cried Frank, with satisfaction.

It was true, Clyde's bullet knocked the man over in a twinkling, and he lay writhing amid the rocks.

"He is a brave boy," muttered Old Solitary. "It is a pity he cannot escape! He is but one of hundreds of brave hearts butchered by the Danites."

There was a lull far across the canyon.

"What is coming now?" speculated Frank. "The Danites seem dazed."

"Look, and you shall see what is coming," said Old Solitary, his fingers again closing on our hero's arm. "You can see Clyde's companion, the treacherous Graves. Watch; ah! I knew it!"

Graves was seen to rise behind Clyde, uplift some weapon in his hand, and strike the boy prostrate.

Then, with a yell that faintly reached the ears of the watching three, the Danites scrambled over the rocks.

"The tragedy is over," said Old Solitary, solemnly. "The deadly work is done. Poor boy!"

"Poor boy!" echoed Frank.

"It's dearly th' spalpanes will pay fer this noight!" grated Barney Mulloy. "It's nivver a bit will Oi hesitate about stoppin' wan av th' divvils from b'rathin' av Oi get a chance."

"I do not think my conscience will trouble me much if I am forced to finish one of them," said Frank, huskily.

"They are beasts—human beasts!" declared Old Solitary. "It is not a sin to place such where they can do no harm to the rest of the world."

"Sin!" exclaimed Barney. "It's a deed av charity!"

The Danites were seen leaning over their victim. In a few moments they lifted Clyde to his feet, and then it was evident that the boy had not been slain outright, but had been stunned long enough for them to make him their captive.

"It were better if they had killed him quickly," said Old Solitary.

"I don't know about that," panted Frank. "Where there is life there is hope."

"All who enter this canyon may leave hope behind."

"Av they let th' poor lad live till to-night, we'll do our bist fer him," said Barney.

"That we will," nodded Frank.

Clyde seemed to have recovered, and now he was marched along in the midst of his captors, who moved straight toward the pocket where the homes of the Danites were located.

For all of their situation, Frank Merriwell had not given up hope. He was young, and he still believed that all evil things come to an evil end, and all good things eventually triumph. He had not grown cynical and pessimistic.

Drawing back into the mouth of the cave, the trio watched the Danites march across the canyon with their captive.

Graves was with the men, and he no longer pretended to be friendly to the boy. At last Clyde knew him for what he actually was.

At length the entire party passed from view on their way to the pocket.

Then Old Solitary led the boys back into the cave, where they ate breakfast, such as it was, and attempted to lay plans for the coming night.