"What white man want here?"

"Terbacker."

The Indians looked at each other, and then looked at the cool visitor, their amazement not a whit abated.

"Ugh!" they grunted in chorus.

"Wa-al, I'll allow thet you fellers know whut thet means all right," drawled Old Rocks, whimsically; "but dog my cats ef I do! Do I git ther terbacker? ur do I hev ter pull my liver out tryin' ter make chawin' terbacker burn?"

"Ain't got no 'backer," declared Half Hand, sullenly.

"Thet may be so," admitted the guide, "an' may be 't'sn't. Howsomever, I don't s'pose I've got any license ter search ye."

He then appealed to the other Indians, but they all affirmed that they did not have a morsel of tobacco in their possession.

"Blamed ef I ever saw sech a pore crowd," grunted Old Rocks. "Wa-al, I'm goin' ter smoke."

He pretended to search round in his pockets, and, after a time, he drew forth a small bit of tobacco, uttering an exclamation of satisfaction.

"Dog my cats ef I ain't got a leetle mite o' smokin' terbacker left, an I 'lowed I wuz all out! I kin git erlong with this yere comfortable like."

He drew his knife, and began whittling at the tobacco, seeming to pay not the least attention to the Indians around him.

The Blackfeet were troubled, for they did not know what to make of the old fellow. Some of them put their heads together and spoke in their own language, but Rocks had sharp ears, and he understood them well enough to get the drift of what they said.

They were wondering if he had come there alone, or if he had companions near.

"Where come from?" Half Hand again asked.

"Over yon," the guide once more replied, with a sweep that was fully as wide as before.

"Ugh! Where others?"

"What others?"

"Others that be with you?"

"Over yon."

Again that wide and baffling sweep of the hand.

Half Hand scowled blackly.

"What white man here for?"

"Terbacker."

Old Rocks was most aggravating in his answers. He calmly filled his pipe, and then lighted it with a coal from the fire.

"Thar," he said, flinging one knee over the other and settling into an easy position, "now I kin enjoy a good squar' smoke."

Up behind the rocks the boy saw Rocks had not taken his rifle into the camp, and Frank knew well enough that was so he might not be incumbered with it if forced to take to flight suddenly and make an attempt to get away with the child.

The little girl heard his voice, and sat up, rubbing her eyes. She stared at him in wonderment, but he still pretended that he did not see her, puffing on.

One of the Indians attempted to grasp the child and draw her back, but she saw him, avoided his hands, and ran to Rocks, crying:

"Oh, I's awsul dlad you've tome! Tate me to my mamma! I don't lite dese drefful mans!"

The Indian made a jump for her, but Old Rocks caught her and swung her beyond the Indian's grasp, exclaiming:

"Hello! hello! Whatever is this yar? Dog my cats ef it ain't a babby—an' a white babby, at thet!"

"Don't you 'member me?" asked Fay, innocently. "I 'members you."

"See hyar, Half Hand," said Old Rocks, grimly; "this yar looks kinder queer. How did you come by this white babby?"

"Found her," sullenly answered the half-blood.

"Is thet so?"

"Ugh."

"Wa-al, whar wuz yer takin' her?"

"Nowhere."

"Seems ter me it didn't look thet way."

The half-blood said nothing, but he and his companions were beginning to finger their weapons.

"You may hev found her all right," admitted Old Rocks; "but yer made a mistake in keepin' her. I'll take her now."

"Dunno 'bout that," muttered Half Hand.

"Whut?" roared the old man, suddenly aroused, having thrust his pipe into his pocket. "You dunno? Wa-al, I will allow thet I know! Look yar, you'll be gittin' inter one o' ther derndest scrapes you ever did ef you tries ter kerry off this yere gal. It'll be reported, an' ther United States soldiers will take an' hang yer all!"

"Bah!" sneered the half-breed. "Who care for soldiers! We find gal; she b'long to us."

"Not much!"

"What white man do?"

"Take her."

"Him can't."

"Dog my cats ef I don't!"

"Him can't git erway."

The Blackfeet had formed a circle about Old Rocks.

"Stiddy, critters!" he warned. "Don't try ter stop me, fer ef yer does, som' o' yer will bite ther dust."

"White man give up gal, we let um go 'thout hurtin'."

"Thet's kind; but I reckons I'll hev ter be hurt, fer I'll never give her up."

"Then white man dies!"

One of the Indians slipped up behind Old Rocks and lifted a hatchet to split open the head of the guide.

Crack! the report of a rifle rang out.

A yell of agony broke from the lips of the Indian, and the hatchet dropped from his hand. A bullet had shattered his forearm.

Frank's aim had been true, and he had saved the life of Old Rocks.

At that instant, just as the guide stooped to lift the child, a man broke through the circle of savages and snatched up the child, tearing it from the fingers of the guide, to whom he cried:

"Hold them off, and I will get away with her!"

It was the Hermit.

Out came a brace of revolvers in the hands of the weather-tanned guide, and the yells which broke from his lips awoke a hundred echoes. He began shooting to the right and left.

Over the top of the rocks, behind which he had been concealed, Frank was sending a shower of bullets whistling. After the first two shots, he aimed high, counting on demoralizing the savages by terror, instead of taking chances of hitting Old Rocks or the child.

The trick worked long enough for the guide to get away, and he followed close at the heels of the Hermit.

By chance the man with the child passed near Frank, and then Old Rocks came along, shouting:

"Up an' dig, boy! Ther trick is did!"

In a moment Frank dashed after the old man.

The Blackfeet recovered quickly, and they leaped in pursuit, uttering fierce cries.

Old Rocks was surprised by Frank's fleetness on foot.

"Derned ef you can't run, ez well ez do other things!" he muttered, as the lad forged along by his side. "You're a holy wonder, boy. It's twice you saved my life this day. I trusted everything ter you this last time, an' yer didn't fail me."

"I broke the Indian's arm as he was on the point of striking."

"Thet wuz ther only mistake yer made. You oughter broke his head, an' thar'd bin one less. They're arter us hot foot, an it's a race fer life now."



CHAPTER XXXIV.

IN SAND CAVE.

Behind them the enraged Blackfeet began shooting, and the bullets whistled over the heads of the fugitives.

"I pray none of those hits little Fairy," panted Frank.

"Ef we could strike some kind o' cover an' hed a minute to spar', we'd be able ter stan' ther varmints off," came from Old Rocks.

"My rifle is empty."

"I ain't got mine, an' I'll allow my small guns are empty; but I kin load 'em as we run."

"We may have to fight anyhow."

"Right, boy. Ef we do, dog my cats ef we don't make some o' them onery skunks gaul derned sick!"

Still running, Old Rocks snapped the empty shells from his revolvers, and replaced them with fresh cartridges.

At times it was not easy to keep track of the Hermit, who ran through the night with the speed of a deer and the tirelessness of a hound.

Now and then the frightened child cried out, and this aided Frank and the old guide in following.

Rocks soon replenished his revolvers, and said:

"Thar, I kinder 'lows we kin make it interestin' fer them varmints ef they press us too hard. Dunno ez I kin find ther place whar I hid my rifle, but I reckons I oughter."

"If we escape."

"Ef we escape! Whut's ther matter with you, boy? Think we can't dodge them red whelps in ther dark?"

"We might alone; but the man ahead of us may make no attempt to do so, and we must stand by him. It would not do to let the child fall into the hands of those wretches again. They would surely murder her."

"They'd be likely ter, an' that's facts. Oh, we'll back up ther Hermit, an' thar won't be no trouble 'bout gittin' erway, 'less them varmints behind manages ter hit one o' us with a lead pill."

The flight and pursuit continued, the Blackfeet seeming to have the eyes of owls or the scent of hounds. They pressed the fugitives hard, and Old Rocks feared that some of the flying bullets which whistled around them would find a mark.

At length the guide gave an exclamation of satisfaction.

"Reckon I knows whar ther Hermit is headin' fer," he said.

"Where?" asked Frank.

"Straight fer Sand Cave."

"Where is Sand Cave?"

"Not very fur ahead. Thar is some bowlders at ther mouth o' ther cave, and we oughter be able ter stand ther red niggers off thar."

"Are you sure the Hermit is going there?"

"I ain't sure, but it looks thet way. It ain't likely he kin keep up this pace much farther, an' kerry ther child."

However, Old Rocks feared the man ahead might not be making for Sand Cave, and so he called to the Hermit, asking him if he knew where to find the cave. The Hermit replied that he did, and Rocks urged him to go there.

"Git in with ther gal—git in out o' ther way o' bullets," advised the old guide. "Ther boy an' me will stand ther red dogs off all right."

To this the Hermit agreed.

A short time later, as they were rushing along the base of a bluff, the Hermit was seen to disappear.

"Hyar's ther cave!" panted Old Rocks, catching hold of the boy. "Right yar behind these boulders. In with yer!"

Frank saw the dark mouth of the cave behind the bowlders, over which he vaulted.

The cry of the child came out of the darkness of the cave.

The Hermit and little Fay were there.

"Reddy!" hissed Old Rocks, crouching behind the bowlders—"reddy ter repel invaders!"

The Blackfeet were coming on, and their dusky forms suddenly appeared near at hand in the darkness.

On his knees behind a bowlder, Frank had drawn a revolver, and he began firing with Old Rocks.

The flash of the weapons blinded the boy for the moment, and he stopped shooting when he had fired three times.

Old Rocks stopped at the same moment, growling:

"Thet's ther way with ther onery skunks! They'll never come up and be shot down ther way they oughter!"

The Indians had disappeared.

"Where are they?" asked Frank, wonderingly.

"Right near yere, you kin bet yer dust," answered the guide. "They drapped down ther instant we begun slingin' lead, an' they're huggin' ther yearth, you bet!"

"Did we kill any?"

"Wa-al, I dunno; but I'll allow thet I didn't do any shootin' fer fun. I don't b'lieve in thet under such circumstances."

"This affair may bring on an Indian war."

"Let'er bring! It'll be er good thing ef it does, an' ther hull Injun nation is wiped out. But ther chances are thet it'll never be heard of by anybody except them we tell it to. Ther varmints will make tracks outer ther park, fer they're on forbidden ground."

"If the soldiers should turn up——"

"It'd be a mighty good thing fer us. Still, I kinder reckon we'll be able ter hold Half Hand an' his gang off till they git weary."

They took care that their revolvers were replenished with cartridges, and then Frank loaded his rifle.

A sudden silence seemed to brood over the whole world.

Old Rocks stirred uneasily.

"I don't like it," he muttered, speaking to himself.

"Don't like what?" asked Frank, who felt a foreboding of some coming catastrophe.

"This yare stillness. Why, thar ain't even an owl hootin'."

"What do you think it means?"

"Dunno; but it means somethin'. Keep yer eyes an' ears open, an' be ready fer what may come."

Little Fay had ceased her sobbing, and the silence was finally broken by her voice:

"Who's doin' to tate me to my mamma?"

Then the Hermit was heard trying to comfort and reassure her.

"Dog my cats ef I wouldn't like ter smoke!" muttered Old Rocks; "but I'll allow thet it w'u'dn't do ter light a match hyar."

"No; it might be fatal. The light——"

The sharp report of a rifle rang out, and Frank fell backward behind the bowlder.

With a grated exclamation, Old Rocks flung up his revolver, and took a snap shot at the spot where he had seen the red flash of the weapon as it was discharged.

"Did you get him?" asked Frank, as he sat up.

"Dunno," was the answer; "but I wuz afeared he'd got you."

"The bullet whistled so close to my head that I felt the wind of it. It must have penetrated the cave."

To their ears came the sound of a deep groan, and then the voice of the Hermit reached them:

"The bullet came in here. I am shot!"

"Holy cats!" gasped Old Rocks.

"The child!" panted Frank. "What if the red wretches fire again, and their bullets reach her? She must be placed where she will be safe."

"Right."

"Can you hold the mouth of the cave?"

"I kin try it."

"I will go in there and see how badly the Hermit is injured, and will see if both cannot be placed beyond the reach of bullets."

"Thet's easy. Ther cave is a big one, but this hyar is ther only entrance ter it."

Frank crept back into the cave, softly calling to the Hermit. The man was groaning, and, as Frank crept near, a pair of soft arms suddenly closed about the boy's neck, while a sweet voice sounded in his ear:

"I knows you w'en I hears you speak. You singed me to sleep. I tolt you I'd be your Fairy."

"So you did, dear," said the boy, giving her a tender embrace; "and I have done my best in the work of saving you from the Indians."

"Bad Injuns!" exclaimed Fay. "Dey tarry me off fwom my mamma. You tate me to my mamma?"

"We will, dear."

Frank's hands found the wounded man, and he asked:

"Where did the bullet strike you, Hermit?"

"Here in the side," was the faint answer. "I think I am done for! I have found death at last!"

The boy shivered, for the words were uttered exultantly, as if the man actually rejoiced.

"Are you able to creep back farther into the cave?" Frank asked.

"I don't know. Why should I do so? It is too much exertion."

"If not for your own sake, you should do so for the child. Another bullet may reach her."

The man stirred and sat up.

"That is true," he panted. "She must be returned uninjured, and Foster Fairfax must know that I did my best to save her."

"Foster Fairfax! He is the man you saw this morning?"

"Yes."

"What is he to this child?"

"He is her father."

"And you—what are you to her?"

"Nothing."

Frank was somewhat dazed, for he had felt sure that the Hermit was Fay's father.

"We were friends," explained the wounded man. "I can't tell all the story. We both loved Marian Dale. Our rivalry was fair and square, and we swore that the one who won her should still retain the friendship of the other. At last, she promised to be mine at the end of six months. Business took me into the Southwest, and there I met Fairfax, who had rushed away as soon as he learned of my success. He was somewhat bitter toward me, and accused me of using unfair means to win Marian. We parted, and the very next day I was in a railroad collision, being injured about the head, so I did not know my own name. I recovered, but I was still unable to tell my name or remember anything of my past. In this condition, I wandered over the country four years. I was able to make a living, and seemed all right, with the exception that I could not remember anything back of the accident. One night in Omaha I was in a hotel fire, and I jumped from the window to escape. They took me up in an unconscious condition, and carried me to a hospital. I recovered, and my memory came back to me. Then I hurried East to Marian, and I found her married to Foster Fairfax, who had told her that I was dead, and that he had seen my dead body. This little girl is their child."

"While you are talking, you are losing blood," said Frank. "Move back, and let me see if I cannot stop the flow."

He induced the Hermit to move back into the cave, where he was able to light some matches and examine the wound. Not being a physician, Frank could not tell how severe it was; but, with considerable difficulty, he finally succeeded in stanching the flow of blood to a certain extent.

"It is useless," declared the Hermit. "I am booked, and I am glad of that. I have nothing to live for."

"Yes, you has!" cried little Fay, creeping close to him. "I dess you is pretty dood man. One time I had a birdie that die, and it was all tovered up in the dround. You don't want to be all tovered up like dat. I don't want you to be."

"God bless you!" murmured the Hermit, thickly. "You are a dear, sweet child, and I shall not live to make more trouble for your father and mother."

All was quiet at the mouth of the cave. Frank was longing to hear more of the Hermit's story, and so he questioned the man.

"How does it happen that Foster Fairfax and his wife are not living together?"

"I separated them."

"How?"

"I appeared like one risen from the dead, and Marian was prostrated by the sight of me. I denounced Foster, called him a false friend and a dastardly traitor. I was insane at the moment, and it is remarkable that I did not kill him. However, I swore to have his life if we ever met again. Then I left them."

"And you did not see Fairfax again till you met him here in the park?"

"No."

"How did it happen he left his wife?"

"When I met him I did not know they were not living together. He forced me to listen, and he told me how he had taken a mangled corpse from the wreck and buried it as me—how he had firmly believed me dead. Then he bore the news to Marian, and she was prostrated.

"He loved her, but it was long before she consented to marry him. At last, she did so, and they married, both believing me in my grave."

Frank was fascinated by the story.

"Go on," he urged.

"When I appeared both were horrified. When I left them, Marian accused Foster of treachery. She was unreasonable and would listen to nothing he could say. She bade him leave her and never return. He departed, and they have not seen each other since. He does not know she is somewhere in the park, as she must be, else the child would not be here. I did not tell him of the peril of his child, but I resolved to save her and restore her to his arms. I have saved her, but I shall be unable to take her to him. I shall not live to see the light of another day."

"Oh, you may not be so badly injured as all that."

"I am. I am sure of it. I will leave the child in your care. Take her to him, and tell him that I forgive everything. Never again will I rise like one from the dead to come between Foster and Marian."

Frank remained with the man a while longer, and then, telling Fay to stay there that she might keep beyond the reach of bullets, he returned to the mouth of the cave.

"I'm glad ye've come, boy," said Old Rocks. "Ef them pesky varmints ain't gone away entirely, they're up ter mischief, an' I needs yer hyar."

They crouched behind the bowlders and waited, while the minutes slipped away, and the same silence reigned.

At least an hour passed, and then came a sudden sound that filled both with surprise and alarm.

Behind them there was a faint dropping in the cave, a movement, a rush, and a roar. Then a cloud of dust swirled out and nearly smothered them.

"What is the meaning of that?" said Frank, bewildered.

"A cave-in!" shouted Old Rocks, making a hasty examination. "By ther livin' gods! ther hull derned cave is blocked, an' ther Hermit an' ther leetle gal is both buried beneath ur beyond thet fall!"

Frank was horrified beyond measure.

"It is terrible!" he gasped. "Poor little Fay!"

"What you want?" asked the familiar voice of the child, near at hand. "It was lonetome in dere. The mans goed to sleep, an' I tomed out to see you."

"Thank God!" came fervently from Frank's lips, as he caught her up in his arms and covered her face with kisses.

"Wa-al, thet's whut I call luck!" gurgled the guide.

"Luck!" cried Frank, rebukingly. "It was the hand of Providence! Can you doubt the wisdom and goodness of an Overruling Power after this?"

"Dunno ez I kin," admitted the old man. "It duz look like something a' ther kind took her out o' thar jest at ther right time."

A complete examination showed that the whole roof of the cave had apparently fallen in, and the passage was blocked with tons upon tons of earth and sand.

"This yar's ther end o' Sand Cave," said Old Rocks.

They kept the child with them and waited behind the rocks for the attack of the Blackfeet, but no attack came. Thus the long night passed, and another day came round.

Then it was found that the Indians had departed.

"They didn't dar' stay hayer longer," said Old Rocks. "Ther whelps wuz afeared o' ther soldiers. I'd like ter run onter ther soldiers an' set 'em arter Half Hand an' ther gang."

Led by the guide, they left the spot. Frank carried Fay in his arms.

Old Rocks first proceeded to the spot where he had hidden his rifle, and, with that again in his possession, he expressed himself as feeling ready to "chaw up ther hull Blackfeet tribe."

They found some game for breakfast and dinner, and before nightfall they reached the camp on the shore of the lake, where Preston March and Foster Fairfax had met.

A large party of tourists had gathered there, and the appearance of the man and boy, the latter bearing Fay in his arms, created the greatest excitement. Several persons rushed into the tent and drew forth a man and woman, the latter white and grief-stricken, and pointed out the child, who was sitting on Frank's shoulder and waving her hand, as she laughingly called:

"I dess my mamma is dere! I knowed you'd tate me bat to my mamma!"

The man and woman were Foster Fairfax and his wife, who had met by accident there in the Wonderland of America. She had told him how little Fay had wandered away and become lost, and both had feared that they would never see their child again.

Their unutterable joy cannot be depicted in words. Frank and Old Rocks were the heroes of the occasion.

"Yer don't want ter give me too much credit fer this yar," said the guide. "I done ther trailin', but this yar tenderfut saved me frum bein' killed twice, an' he's got nerves o' steel. It ain't often I take ter a tenderfut, but I will allow thet this yar chap is a boy ter tie to. Ther babby sticks by him; he has won her heart. Dog my cats ef I blame her either!"

Then the old man told how Frank had saved him from the grizzly, how the boy had been tireless on the trail, how he had not murmured at any hardship, and how he had broken the arm of the Blackfoot Indian who was about to brain the guide.

As a result, Frank found himself regarded with unspeakable admiration by all the tourists, while Foster Fairfax and his wife could not say or do enough to express their feelings.

Frank told them of the death of Preston March, and, later, when Professor Scotch and Barney had been found by Rocks and brought into the party, all visited the spot where the Hermit of Yellowstone Park lay buried beneath tons of earth.

At the mouth of the cave Foster Fairfax caused a cross to be erected, bearing the name of the unfortunate man, the date of his birth and of his death.

Frank remained in the park till he succeeded in photographing some "real wild buffalo," and then he was well satisfied to move on to other fields of adventure.

Half Hand was shot while trying to get away with a stolen horse about a year later.

When the time came to part from Frank, little Fay was almost heart-broken. She clung to him, sobbing:

"Is you doin' to leave me? I don't want you to! You know I is your Fairy."

"You will ever be my Fairy," said the boy, with deep feeling. "Your mamma has promised me your picture, and I shall keep it with me ever. Some time by and by, dear, I will come back to you again."

And he kissed her farewell.



CHAPTER XXXV.

A PECULIAR GIRL.

The remainder of the stop in Yellowstone Park proved a delightful time.

"I wish I could sthay wid ye, Frankie, me b'y," said Barney, one day.

"Stay with me? What do you mean?" asked Frank.

"Oi have news from home. Oi must go back to Fardale to rasume me studies."

"I'll be sorry to lose you Barney." And Frank spoke the truth, for he loved his Irish chum a good deal.

Just then Professor Scotch burst in on the pair, telegram in hand.

"I must return East at once," he cried. "A relative of mine has died and I must settle up his affairs."

"Two at once!" ejaculated Frank. "Then I'll be left to continue my travels alone."

"Not for long, my boy," answered the professor. "I will soon return to see that you fall into no more danger."

Two days later found Frank alone, the professor and Barney have taken the eastbound train the evening before. Frank proceeded to Ogden, Utah, where he spent three days in sight-seeing.

But he was anxious to go farther West, and one fine day found him a passenger on the Pacific Express, bound for San Francisco.

Every seat in the parlor cars was taken, as Frank discovered, on endeavoring to obtain one. Then he decided that any kind of a seat would do, but nearly every one was occupied.

As he passed through the train, he noticed a girl of seventeen or eighteen who seemed to be sitting alone. She was reading, and, as Frank came along, she dropped the book in her lap, looked up, and smiled.

Frank touched his hat, paused, and asked:

"Is this seat taken, miss?"

"No, sir."

"Would you object——"

He paused significantly, smiling back at her.

"Not at all," was her immediate reply, as she drew a bit nearer the window, and he sat down.

The book in the girl's lap was a noted one of detective tales. Frank caught his breath in astonishment as he noted this.

"Queer literature for such a girl to be perusing," was his mental observation.

He cast a sly glance at her. She was looking out of the window, but the side of her face was toward him. Frank noted that she had a beautiful profile, and that there was a most innocent and winsome expression about her mouth. Her hair was golden and her eyes were blue.

There was a refinement and delicacy about the girl which impressed Frank favorably.

Still, he wondered that a girl like her should be reading a book of detective tales. She was the sort of a girl he would have expected to see perusing love stories of the "Bertha M. Clay" class.

He longed to get into conversation with her, and yet, for all of the smile with which she had seemed to greet him, something held him back and told him it was not wise to be too forward.

At last she resumed reading again. She did not read long. With a faint, scornful laugh, she dropped the book in her lap.

Frank fancied he saw an opportunity to "break the ice."

"You do not seem to like those stories," he observed.

"They are very amusing, and utterly improbable and impossible," she said.

The boy laughed.

"Then you fancy the author overdrew his hero?" he asked.

"To be sure he did. There is no detective living who can do such astonishing things as this one is credited with. No such detective ever lived."

"Possibly not."

"Surely not. You cannot make me believe that a detective could come in here, look me over, and then tell everything about me almost to my name and the hour of my birth. Rubbish!"

Frank's wonder at the girl was on the increase. She did not talk much like the ordinary girl of seventeen.

"If you dislike the stories so much how does it happen you are reading them?"

"Oh, I do not dislike them. I confess that I found them very amusing, but I am beginning to weary of them."

"I consider it remarkable that you attempted reading them."

"Why?"

"Young ladies like you seldom care for this kind of literature."

"Oh, I see. I presume not. They are too sentimental—soft, some call it. Well, I am not sentimental."

"Perhaps not."

She lifted her eyebrows and pursed her lips a bit.

"You say that as if you do not believe me. Never mind. It makes no difference whether you believe me or not."

She did not seem offended, and still she gave him to understand that what he thought was of little consequence to her.

"Well," laughed Frank, "I have never yet met a girl who did not declare she was bound to be an old maid, and those are the very ones who get married first."

"And you think, because of that, that I must be sentimental, as I have said that I am not, do you?"

"Oh, well—you see—I—I——"

She interrupted him with a merry laugh.

"Do not be afraid to answer. I don't mind. We are strangers, and why should I be offended?"

"It is true we are strangers," said Frank; "and, as we may be seatmates for some time to come, I will offer my card."

He drew out a cardcase and gave her a delicate bit of cardboard, with his name engraved upon it.

"Frank Merriwell," she read. "Why, that is a splendid name, and it seems to fit you so well! I like you all the better for your name."

"Whew!" thought Frank. "That is point-blank, and still she says she is not sentimental. She may not be, but she is decidedly complimentary on short acquaintance."

Aloud, he said:

"I am happy there is something about me that you admire, if it is no more than my name."

She smiled, looking at him in a big-eyed, innocent way.

"Why, I didn't say that was all. I have not known you long enough to tell. I am no gifted detective, and I cannot read your character at a glance."

"Well, supposing we say the detective was a freak or a myth, and relegate him to the background."

"That goes," she said.

Then she clapped her hand over her mouth, with a little exclamation of dismay, quickly exclaiming:

"That is dreadful! I completely forgot myself! You see, I have been away to school, and I caught on to some slang there, and I find I can't shake it, although mamma doesn't like to have me make such breaks."

She paused, a look of the utmost dismay coming to her face, as if she just realized what she had been saying.

It was with the utmost difficulty Frank restrained his laughter. At the same time he felt his liking and admiration for the strange girl growing swiftly. The little slip into slang seemed to add to her innocence, especially when followed by such utter dismay.

"I am bound to do it occasionally," she said, after a few moments. "I can't seem to get out of the habit, although I have tried. I trust you will pardon me."

"Certainly."

"Thank you. I'll keep this card. I have none of my own with me. My name is Isa Isban."

Somehow, that name was a shock to Frank. He could not have told why, to save his life, but there was something unpleasant about it. It did not seem to fit the girl at all.

However, this feeling soon passed, and they were chatting freely in a short time. Their conversation drifted from topic to topic, and Frank was delighted to find his fair companion wondrously well informed on subjects such as are given little attention by most young girls. She could even talk politics rationally, and she rather worsted Frank on a tariff discussion.

"You are beyond my comprehension," he declared, admiringly. "Where you ever learned so much is more than I can understand."

"Do you fancy that young men are the only ones who know things? If you do, you are sure to find there are others—— Oh, dear! there I go again."

Having become so well acquainted, Frank asked if she were bound for San Francisco, and, to his disappointment, she informed him that Carson City was her destination.

The conductor came through the train for tickets. Frank had his ready, and the girl began searching for hers, but had not found it when the conductor came along.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, and Frank was about to offer to aid her, if she needed a loan, when she opened her purse and took out several bills, every one of them new and crisp, and of large denominations.

"The smallest I have is fifty dollars," she said. "Papa gave me large bills, as he said they would not be so bulky."

"I can't change a bill of that size," said the conductor.

"I can," put in Frank, immediately producing his pocketbook. "I will break it for you."

So he took the new bank-note, and gave her two twenties, a five and five ones for it, enabling her to pay her fare without difficulty.

The conductor gave the girl a rebate ticket and passed on.

"Thank you so much!" she said to Frank. "I believe I may have trouble in getting those large bills broken. Would you mind giving me small bills for another fifty?"

Frank did not mind, and he gave them.

Thereby hangs a tale.



CHAPTER XXXVI.

FRIENDS AND FOES.

The Pacific Express drew into Reno on time, and Frank Merriwell was about to bid adieu to the beautiful girl whom he had first met the day before.

"I shall not soon forget this pleasant journey," he said, sincerely. "Your company has made it very agreeable, Miss—Isban."

Somehow, he stumbled over that name, to which he had taken such a strong dislike.

"Thank you," she said, and he half fancied her lip quivered a bit. "You have been very kind, Mr. Merriwell."

Frank's heart fluttered a bit; the train was drawing into the station; the boy leaned toward her, his eyes shining, a flush in his cheeks.

"And now we are to say good-by, without the least probability of ever seeing each other again," he said, his voice not quite steady.

She turned away for a moment, and then, as she turned back, she swiftly said:

"It is possible we may never see each other again, but you have given me your home address, and you say any letter I may send will be forwarded to you. You may hear from me—some time."

"I may—but if you would promise to write——"

"I have told you I cannot promise that."

"And you will not give me your address?"

"I cannot for reasons known to myself. Do not ask me."

"Miss Isban, I believe you are in trouble—some things you have told me have led me to believe so. If you need a friend at any time, let me hear from you."

She gave him her hand, looked straight into his eyes, and said:

"I will."

The brakeman thrust open the door and shouted:

"Reno. Change here for Carson, Virginia City, Candelaria and Keeler."

The train came to a dead stop.

Frank escorted Isa from the car, carrying her traveling bag, which he gave to her when the station platform was reached.

"Remember!" he breathed in her ear.

Her hand touched his, she smiled into his eyes, whispering:

"I will! Good-by."

He lifted his hat, as she turned away.

At that moment a youth came hurrying forward, lifted his hat, his face radiant, and accosted Isa:

"Vida," he said, "I am here. You did not come when you said, but I have been watching for you."

Frank staggered back.

"Caesar's ghost!" he palpitated. "Is it possible, or do my eyes deceive me? Can that be Bart Hodge, my schoolmate, chum, and comrade of Fardale? As I live, I believe it is! And he knows Miss Isban! What's the matter? She does not seem to know him!"

The girl had drawn back, with an expression of alarm.

"I think you have made a mistake, sir," she said, rather haughtily.

"A mistake!" gasped the handsome youth, astonished and dismayed. "Why, you know me! There is no mistake."

"But there is. I do not know you."

"Vida, you say that? Why, I am——"

"An impertinent young scoundrel!"

Smack!—an open hand struck Bart Hodge on the cheek, sending him reeling. The blow was delivered by a large man, with a heavy black mustache and the manner and appearance of a "gentleman rowdy." His clothes were flashy, and he "sported" several large diamonds.

Frank was not the boy to stand idle and see a friend struck. Without a word he made a leap for the big man. His fist was clinched, his arm shot out, and his knuckles took the fellow under the left ear.

It was a beautiful knock-down blow. The man measured his length on the platform in an instant.

"All aboard!"

The train was about to start, the conductor was giving the signal.

"Let it go," said Frank, quietly. "It is possible I had better stay here and see this matter through. Bart may need me."

The train began to move.

With a cry of dismay, the girl had knelt beside the fallen man.

A bit dazed, Bart Hodge had faced around in time to see Frank strike that telling blow. Bart stared, almost doubting the evidence of his eyes.

"Great guns!" he gasped.

Then he sprang forward, his hand outstretched, shouting:

"Frank Merriwell!"

"Bart Hodge!"

They shook hands, both laughing forth their delight.

"You are a sight for sore eyes, old man!" cried Bart.

"You're another!" flung back Frank.

The man with the black mustache pushed away the girl and sat up, staring, in a dazed way, at the two boys.

"Who struck me?" he asked.

"I believe I had that pleasure," smiled Frank.

"You? Did you knock me down? Why, you're a kid! I can kill you with one blow!"

He got upon his feet, his face dark as a thundercloud.

The girl caught him by the arm, crying, in distress:

"Don't Paul—don't harm him! He has been kind to me on the train. I beg you not to hurt him!"

This seemed to anger the man still more.

"Kind to you, eh?" he snarled. "And the other one tried to flirt with you. I will——"

His hand went round to his hip, and there was a mad, deadly gleam in his eyes. He looked murderous.

Neither of the boys made a move to draw a weapon.

"I wouldn't do it," said Frank, coolly. "I know this section of the country is called 'the wild and woolly West,' but it is not sufficiently wild and woolly to overlook a cold-blooded murder. If you take a fancy to shoot two boys you will be pretty sure to get yourself beautifully hanged."

"Oh, I won't shoot!" growled the man, his hand dropping away from his hip. "But I will——"

"Easy, there!" came sharply from the lips of a police officer. "Somebody is going to get yanked here."

He forced his way through the crowd that had formed a circle about the principal actors on the scene.

"Who is talking about shooting here?" he demanded. "Where is the man who carries concealed weapons?"

"Come away, Paul," whispered the girl, pulling at the man's arm.

"All right," he muttered—"all right, but there are other days. Those young whelps had better keep out of my way."

"Disperse, here!" ordered the officer, commandingly, flourishing his stick. "Be lively about it, too."

The crowd began to disperse.

The big man turned away, and the girl took his arm. Bart Hodge took a step after them, but Frank caught hold of his arm, saying, sharply:

"Easy, old boy! Let her go."

"But——"

"Are you looking for further trouble right here?"

"No, but——"

"Then mind me."

"I suppose I'll have to, as you always were the boss. But I know that girl, and she refused to recognize me."

"Well, what do you think you can do about it?"

"I was going to demand an explanation, and——"

"You would have received it—from the man who accompanies her."

Frank drew Bart away, but the latter still grumbled.

"If you understood it—if you knew, Frank. Why, I have chased across the continent to meet her, and then to have her cut me dead! It is terrible!"

Frank smiled.

"I should fancy it would seem a bit hard," he confessed. "But you may have made a mistake."

"Not much!"

"Still, it is possible you did, Bart—it is probable."

"Probable! Get out! I——"

"Wait a minute. It happens that I am slightly acquainted with the young lady."

"You? She never mentioned you to me."

"Still, I am slightly acquainted with her," smiled Frank, who knew well enough why she had never mentioned him. "I heard you call her Vida, and——"

"That is her name—Vida Melburn."

"It's just as I thought—you have mistaken this girl for some one else. The name of this young lady is Isa Isban."

"Impossible!"

"It is the truth. I traveled with her from Ogden, and she left me a moment before you observed her. Now, I know what I am talking about, and you are twisted, old boy."

Bart smote his hands together, his dark eyes glowing.

"I will not believe it yet; but, if it is true, there are two girls in the world who look exactly alike."

"Come away from here," said Frank. "Where can we obtain something to eat? We can talk it over——"

"Hold on, Frank. I believe those people are going to take the next train south, which leaves immediately."

"That is right. Miss Isban is on her way to Carson."

"Then I shall take that train."

Frank looked his friend over from head to foot.

"Say," he chuckled, "you are hard hit! I will confess that I was a bit stuck on the girl, but I did not have it this way."

"She is in trouble," asserted Bart. "I mean to be on hand to help her, if she needs assistance."

"All right; we'll take the next train south."



CHAPTER XXXVII.

BOY SHADOWERS.

And so they took the next train for Carson City.

Isa Isban and her companion of the dark mustache were on the same train, as they learned without difficulty.

The girl and the man were in the same car with the boys, but neither of them seemed to pay the least attention to the latter.

"Look here, Frank," said Bart, "tell me how you happened to get acquainted with her."

Frank did so, and Bart's face clouded as he listened.

"I know you are great at catching on with the girls," Bart observed; "but I swear I did not believe Vida Melburn was the sort to take up with a chance acquaintance, under any circumstances."

Frank laughed.

"Now, you are jealous, old man," he said. "It came about naturally enough, and she acted like a lady."

"But not like the Vida Melburn I know."

"I do not believe she is the Vida Melburn you know. You have been deceived by a resemblance, my boy."

Bart shook his head.

"Not much! Don't take me for a fool, Frank! I am not such a dunderhead as that—oh, no!"

"Then she lied to one of us."

Bart's face lighted a bit.

"Possibly she did not care to give you her right name, having made your acquaintance in such a manner. That must be the real explanation."

"Look here, Bart, that girl is too unsophisticated, too innocent to work that kind of a game. She has the most innocent face I ever saw."

"You are right," the dark-haired lad confessed, "Vida would not be likely to do such a thing. She is frank and open as the day."

"Well, what do you make of it?"

"I don't know what to make of it."

"Tell me how you came to know her."

"She was visiting at Fardale, and I became acquainted with her. She liked me and—I liked her. We were together a great deal. She did not tell me much about herself, but, still, I learned a few things. Her home is in Sacramento, but she has relatives in Carson City. I found out that there had been trouble between her father and mother, and they had separated. That is how her father happened to send her East. Her relatives at Fardale did not regard me with favor for some reason, and they ordered me to have nothing more to say to her. Still, we met occasionally, and—to tell the truth, old boy—I fell in love with her. They found out we were seeing each other secretly, and they made a rumpus about it. Then they wrote to her father, and they sent for her to return to the West. She was shipped off in a hurry, so we would see no more of each other; but she wrote me a short note, telling me to address her at Austin, Nevada. I did so, and, as I happen to have a rich old uncle in California, I proposed to come out here. She answered, saying she would be in Reno just three days ago, and for me to meet her at the railway station, if possible. It looked impossible then, but I was hard hit, and I made a big hustle to get away from school and come out here. I worked all kinds of schemes on the governor, and he finally agreed to let me come West to visit Uncle Hiram. I came, and I was in Reno on the date set, but she did not appear. I have been there every day since, and to-day she came. You know the rest."

Frank regarded his friend steadfastly for some moments, smiling covertly.

"You are a queer fellow, Bart," he said. "You go to extremes in everything. Now, stop and think of chasing away out here after a girl. It is——"

Bart interrupted him with a sharp gesture.

"Oh, I know—I don't deny that I am a fool! At the same time I can't help it. I never saw a girl before this one that I cared a snap for. She seems to be my affinity."

Frank's laugh rang out merrily.

"Affinity is good!" he exclaimed. "You are hard hit. And the girl threw you down when you appeared on the scene. What do you make of that?"

Bart scowled.

"I am sure of one thing."

"And that is—what?"

"She is in trouble."

"Who is the man with her?"

"That is what I'd like to know. I am sure she fears him. She must have seen him, and she must have feared to recognize me. There can be no other explanation."

"He is not her father, is he?"

"That creature the father of that girl? Well, not much!"

"No, he is not. If I remember right, she called him Paul. Can he be her brother?"

"Never!"

"Then, what is he?"

"You tell."

"I can't."

"More than ever am I sure she is in trouble—great trouble. I am determined to know the truth. I will learn it from her own lips."

"How?"

"By following her till I get an opportunity to speak with her."

"Well, Bart, you are so badly struck that all I can do is hang by you and see you through. We will solve the mystery of this girl, if we are capable of doing so."

"Right you are, Frank."

Then they spoke of other matters, old friends at Fardale, and how things were moving there. Bart told all about the events that had taken place at the academy since Frank left, how they had missed him as a leader in sports of all kinds, how often he was spoken of with admiration and affection by his old comrades, and how even the professors held him up as a model to be emulated.

"They seem to have forgotten the pranks you were up to and the larks you were in," said Bart; "but they remember that you stood at the head in everything you undertook."

Then Frank told of his own adventures in knocking about, and Bart regarded him with still greater admiration.

"You are the luckiest fellow alive!" declared the dark-haired lad. "I wish I had a rich and eccentric old uncle to kick the bucket and leave me a big fortune on condition that I would 'travel over the world to advance my education and broaden my ideas.' Say, that uncle of yours was a good thing!"

"Uncle Asher was original in everything."

"I should guess yes. When are you going abroad?"

"Very soon. Professor Scotch will make arrangements for such a move while he is in the East."

"You are the envy of Fardale. Hans Dunnerwust returned with a stock of tales of astounding adventures, which he managed to bungle badly in the telling. And now I suppose Barney Mulloy will take his turn. Between them they will make you out one of the most remarkable heroes of modern times."

Thus the boys chatted till Carson City was reached.

All the while Bart was watching the girl closely, and he saw that she really intended to get off at Carson.

The boys slipped out of the car, and were on the platform as soon as the pair they were following reached it. It happened that the station platform was crowded, and they were swallowed by the throng, so they found it easy to keep out of sight of the man and girl.

The man seemed to watch to see if the boys left the car, while the girl tried to draw him away. After some moments he submitted, and they entered a closed carriage.

"Here!" exclaimed Frank, catching hold of a sleepy driver and giving him a whirl; "see that carriage?"

"Yep."

"Don't lose sight of it for a moment, but do not seem to follow it. Understand?"

"I reckon."

"Good! If you do the trick well, you get a tenner."

"Got it?"

"See."

Frank showed his roll, on the outside of which were the bright new fifty-dollar bills.

"Get in."

The boys sprang in lively, the door closed on them, the driver leaped to his seat, the whip cracked, and away they went.

"This is the first time I ever played the detective," said Bart.

"But it is not the first time for me," declared Frank. "I have found it necessary, several times, in New York, Chicago, New Orleans and elsewhere."

"I noticed how ready you were to do the proper thing. You did not give them the start."

"Not a bit of it."

"You are the same old, self-reliant, hustling, go-ahead Frank Merriwell. The only changes I can see in you are for the better."

"Thank you."

The driver in advance was a hustling fellow, and he had two good horses. He sent them right along. Now, it was fortunate that, although, the driver behind was a sleepyhead, he, also, had some fine horses, and he did not make any great effort to keep them at a clipping pace.

It is probable that the man with the black mustache regarded the boys with no little contempt, for he surely made no effort to give them the slip. It is likely he did not fancy they would follow him so hotly.

At length the carriage in advance stopped before a certain house, and the driver got down to open the door.

The driver who was carrying the boys continued past, turned the first corner, stopped short, jumped down, opened the door, and said:

"Got 'em? They're just round the corner back yon."

"And you have earned your X," said Frank, springing out.



CHAPTER XXXVIII.

"QUEER" MONEY.

"This is counterfeit!"

It was in the First National Bank of Carson, between nine and ten o'clock of the day following Frank's arrival in the city.

Frank had found it difficult to get either of the new fifty-dollar bills changed, and so he stepped into the bank and asked if he could be favored there.

The bill had been scrutinized closely, the cashier had examined it beneath a magnifying glass, after which he questioned the boy concerning his manner of obtaining the paper, and Frank had told the truth fully and without hesitation. Then the boy had been called into a private room, and the cashier had declared the bill counterfeit.

Frank had been prepared for such an assertion by what went before it, and he immediately opened his pocketbook and produced the other bill which he had received of Isa Isban.

"Please look at this, and see if it is also counterfeit," he asked, with remarkable coolness.

In a moment the cashier said:

"It is a mate for the first one. Both are 'queer.' My boy, this is bad stuff to be carrying around. It is liable to bring you into no end of trouble."

As he said this he was regarding Frank's face with a searching stare, as if seeking to discover if the lad were honest or crooked.

Frank knew he was under suspicion, and he bore himself as quietly as possible.

"This is the first intimation I have received that the bills are bad," declared the lad. "I received them as I have explained, and I have tried in several places, this morning, to get one of them broken, but did not succeed. I finally came here."

The cashier's brows lowered. He partially closed his eyes, and regarded the boy steadily. Then he began once more to ask questions.

Frank knew he was in an unfortunate situation, and he decided the best thing he could do was to answer every question truthfully, which he did.

It happened there was not much business going on in the bank. The paying teller and the receiving teller listened to the questions and answers. The receiving teller was a young man, and his face wore a sneering look of incredulity. He regarded Frank with open doubt, and, once or twice, muttered, "Ridiculous!" "Nonsense!" "A clever lie!" or something of the sort.

The face of the paying teller was calm and unexpressive. It seemed that he had not determined in his own mind if the boy were telling the truth. He was listening to hear everything before he decided.

Frank explained how he came to be in Carson City, having given his name, age, his guardian's name, told where his home was, and answered more than a score of other questions.

The sneers of the receiving teller angered the boy; but he held his feelings in check, and did not seem to hear the man when he proposed that Merriwell be handed over to the special policeman in front of the bank.

"Mr. Merriwell," said the cashier, "I shall have to take possession of these bills."

"Why is that?"

"It is my duty. I have such instructions. You are getting off easy at that."

"But I shall not recover my hundred dollars."

"No; that is lost. Let me tell you something: There is a band of queer-makers somewhere in this vicinity. They do not attempt to run their stuff into circulation around here; the most of it is put out in Chicago. But they have been traced to this part of the country. Detectives are at work on the case—Secret Service men, in the employ of the government. Who these detectives are no one can say, although it has been reported that Dan Drake is in it. Up to this time they have been putting out tens and twenties. This fifty must be a new bit of work. And I have something more to tell you. It is said that the queen of this gang of counterfeiters is a beautiful young girl, who does not look to be more than seventeen years of age. It is possible——"

But he made a gesture of anger, because such a thing should be thought for a moment.

"It is not possible!" he said, sharply. "She is innocent of such a thing as that! You cannot make me believe——"

He stopped, noting that the look of scorn on the face of the receiving teller was deepening. Then, slowly and surely, the thought that the girl had deceived him, that she was not as innocent as she looked, came upon him. The mystery that surrounded her deepened, and a sudden longing to know the truth grasped him.

The receiving teller laughed shortly, as he saw the changes which flitted across the lad's face.

"There's guilt for you!" he muttered.

Frank stiffened up, giving the man a cutting look.

"What became of this girl for whom you changed two fifty-dollar bills?" asked the cashier.

"I do not remember what became of her," declared Frank. "She was a passenger on the Pacific Express. I left the express at Reno."

"And she went on? Bound for 'Frisco, it is likely."

Frank had not said she went on. He explained that he met a friend at Reno, and that was how he happened to leave the express; that friend was coming to Carson, and that was how he happened to come to Carson.

He did not tell that they had followed the girl to Carson, had shadowed her to the house where she had stopped, and that his companion or himself had watched that house constantly, ever since.

"Bart is watching it now," he told himself. "She can't get away. She must explain to me how that bogus money came into her possession. I believe I know! The man with the black mustache must have given it to her!"

That the man with the sinister mustache was a villain he did not doubt, but he still doubted that the girl was anything but what she seemed—young, innocent, incapable of crime.

The cashier spoke a low word to one of his companions, and a sudden fear came upon Frank. Was the man ordering his arrest? He could not afford to be detained and bothered at that time. How would he solve the mystery if they placed him under arrest?

But Frank had nerve, and he would not take to his heels, knowing such an act would make it seem certain that he was guilty.

The receiving teller spoke sharply to the cashier, seemingly urging him to some action; but the boy heard the cashier reply:

"It will spoil the whole thing to be too hasty."

"The boy can be made to peach on the gang," said the teller, in a guarded tone.

"That's folly!" declared the cashier, shortly. "The boy is not connected with the gang. Think they would send him here—to a bank—if he were! Have a little sense, Burton!"

The teller mumbled, looking sullen and rebuffed, while Frank felt relieved.

Then the cashier once more questioned Frank, as a lawyer might question a witness. He tried, in various ways, to entrap the boy, but Frank made no blunders.

After a time, the cashier seemed satisfied.

"I am sorry for you," he said. "You have lost a hundred dollars, but you are fortunate to escape arrest and imprisonment."

"I suppose I am," admitted Frank; "and I will tell you something, now; I propose to solve the mystery of this money. I am going to find that girl, I am going to find out how she came to have the bogus stuff, and I am going to bring this band of queer-makers to book, if possible."

The receiving teller laughed scornfully.

"A fine bluff!" he muttered.

The cashier gave him a crushing glance.

"You have undertaken a big job, my boy," said the latter. "I hardly think you will be able to carry it out when government detectives are bothered."

"I'll do my best."

"And you'll be pretty sure to get into further trouble."

"I may, but I am lucky about getting out of trouble."

"Yes, you are dead lucky," muttered the receiving teller.

The cashier gave Frank some outspoken advice, and then told the boy he might go.

Frank left the private office and walked out of the bank. There was a look of determination on his face.

"I don't fancy being beaten out of a hundred dollars," he said to himself. "It's not the money so much; but if that girl knew—if she played me——"

He stopped short, anger and disgust expressed on his face. His pride was touched. He did not like to think that he had been thus deceived.

"I am going to know!" he vowed. "I am going to know the truth!"

He walked away, his head down, thinking. He was trying to form a plan of action. Within a short time the mystery that surrounded the beautiful girl with two names had deepened. He must find a way to learn the truth; he would not be satisfied till he knew the truth.

For some time he walked along, paying little heed to his surroundings, and then, all at once, a thought came to him:

"I am followed!"

He was confident of it. He did not look back, but he seemed to see the shadower on his trail. They were determined to know at the bank if he had told the truth, and a detective had been detailed to keep watch of him.

Frank loitered along, looking into windows. He betrayed no uneasiness. At last he came to a restaurant. Into this he wandered, proceeding to a table at the farther end. Here he sat and gave his order.

The boy had taken a seat where he could watch the front door. In a short time a small man entered quietly, walked straight to a table, sat down, without glancing round, having hung his hat close at hand, and looked over the bill of fare.

"You are the shadower," decided Frank. "I wonder how I can give you the slip?"



CHAPTER XXXIX.

PURSUED.

Fortune gave the boy the opportunity he desired.

Along the street came two runaway horses, attached to a carriage. In front of the restaurant they crashed into another team, and there was a rush to see how much damage had been done. The attention of every one seemed diverted toward the front.

Frank had observed an open door at the back of the room, and through this he quickly sprang, ran along a narrow passage, and burst into the kitchen.

"Hello, here!" cried the cook, in astonishment. "What's the matter?"

"Terrible smashup, out in front," replied the boy. "Don't know how many have been killed. It is awful!"

"That so?" came stupidly from the bewildered man in white. "How did it—— Well, he was in a hurry!"

But Frank had sprung out by an open door and was gone.

The boy reached a side street, sprinted round a corner, doubled and turned at every opportunity, and settled to a swift walk.

He soon discovered which direction he should take without having asked to be directed toward any particular point.

"This is an unpleasant scrape," muttered the boy; "and it came about through my readiness to exchange my good money for bad. If I remain in this town I am liable to be arrested at any moment."

He wondered what Bart would say when he was told. What could Bart think about a girl who carried two bright new counterfeit fifty-dollar bills in her purse?

Frank began to doubt. He was forced to confess to himself that such a thing was remarkable. If the girl had had but one bad bill in her possession, it would have seemed that she had obtained it unwittingly; but two—and exactly alike——

"Can it be possible she is, in some way, connected with a gang of counterfeiters?" Frank asked himself. "I will not believe it! Her face is too innocent."

Then he remembered how, in the city of Chicago, he had encountered a beautiful girl who was connected with counterfeiters; but he also remembered that she was an unwilling tool, and had embraced the first opportunity to get clear of the meshes of the net into which she had fallen.

"If Isa Isban is connected with such a gang, I am certain it is against her will."

Then he thought how, when she had discovered that he had plenty of money, she had hastened to get him to change two fifty-dollar bills, and his faith was shaken.

"It looks bad," he confessed.

As he approached the place where he had left Bart on guard over the house in which the girl was believed to be, he passed a livery stable. He was hurrying on when some one ran out of the stable and clutched him by the arm.

"Just in time!" palpitated the voice of Bart Hodge.

"Hello!" exclaimed Frank, surprised. "Just in time for what?"

"They're gone!"

"Who?"

"Vida Melburn and that man."

"Gone where?"

"Taken the lake road. Something has caused them to hustle out on the jump. I do not believe they are coming back here."

"Then we must follow."

"Sure."

"How——"

"Here—in the stable. I have ordered a horse. We'll have two. They'll not slip us easily."

"How did they travel?"

"Horseback."

"How much of a start?"

"Twenty minutes."

Together the boys ran back into the stable, and another horse was ordered saddled.

"Look here," cried Frank, displaying his money. "We wish to overtake some people who have a start on us. Give us the best animal in the stable."

The proprietor of the stable was on hand, and he looked the boys over doubtfully.

"How do I know I'll ever see my critters again?" he asked.

"We'll make a deposit," declared Frank. "We'll stick up a hundred dollars apiece on 'em. If they are worth more you can afford to take chances. If we're horse thieves you won't have much trouble in tracing us. Besides that, horse thieves do not work in this way. If they did they'd get the worst end most of the time, for they'd have to chance it on the horses being worth a hundred each."

The proprietor was rather bewildered. He believed something was wrong, but still he did not wish to refuse to let the boys have the horses.

The money was counted out and thrust into his hands.

"Hustle!" cried Merriwell. "We can't afford to lose a moment."

The stable-keeper roared out an order to his assistants. The horse that Bart had ordered was quickly brought out, ready for mounting, and then he was followed by another, onto which a saddle was flung. Frank looked the animals over with a critical eye.

"They'll do," he said, approvingly.

In a few seconds the lads were mounted and dashing away from the stable. The proprietor stood looking after them, doubt written on his face.

"Gee whiz!" he muttered. "I never thought of that! Bet I've made a derned fool of myself! Well, I reckon I'll git the critters back."

"What is it you did not think of?" he was asked.

"Why, it's remarkable kids like them should be so flush with money. And they looked scared. They're runnin' away. I reckon they've been stealin' an' they wuz hustlin' to get away before they wus arrested."

The boys disappeared down the street.

Frank allowed Bart to take the lead.

"I suppose you know the shortest cut to the lake road?" he asked.

"I do," said Bart. "You follow close, that's all."

As they rode, Frank related his adventure in the bank.

Bart whistled in astonishment.

"Bogus money?" he cried. "And you received it of the girl? That is strange."

"It looks bad," said Frank.

"I don't understand it. How do you suppose she happened to have it? It's not at all probable she knew what it was."

"I am not so sure of that."

The dark-eyed boy gave his companion a reproving look.

"She is as innocent as a flower! I will not believe she could do such a thing! But she is in trouble."

They were regarded with some surprise as they dashed along the streets. The citizens wondered why two boys were riding at such speed. A sleepy policeman shouted at them, but they gave him no heed.

Soon they came to the outskirts of the city. Before them lay the lake road.

"This is the way they came?" questioned Frank.

"Sure," nodded Bart. "They are somewhere ahead."

"What makes you think they are skipping the city? It strikes me they may be simply out for a canter. Perhaps they are going to take a look at Tahoe up there among the mountains."

"They did not buy horses for a canter of a few hours."

"They bought horses?"

"Yes."

"Then it is pretty certain they have no notion of coming back to Carson. You have a level head, my boy. Forward!"

The road became rugged and steep. They were looking for a mounted man and girl in advance, and they constantly urged forward their sweating horses.

"I do not see anything of them."

"The road crooks away up yonder, so they would be hidden. They have quite a start, and they are in a hurry."

A cloud of dust rose behind the galloping horses, drifting away to the left. The road was rough, but the boys did not mind that.

"Tahoe must be on the top of a mountain," grumbled Bart, after a time.

"It is six thousand, two hundred and eight feet above the level of the sea," said Frank. "That is elevated somewhat."

"I should say so. It must be the highest body of water in this country, if not in the world."

"It is higher than the peaks of many lofty mountains."

"And this so-called 'lake road' is hardly better than an ordinary trail. We are in for a hard pull of it."

"But the ones we are pursuing are in for just as hard a pull."

"That's right, and one of them is a girl."

The mountains loomed formidably before them. The bleak heights seemed to block their way. But the road wound onward and upward, and they followed it.

"What was that?" questioned Frank.

"What? I did not hear anything."

"It sounded like a cry. There it is again."

"I heard it that time. It did not seem to be ahead of us, and so it—— Great Scott! Look back!"

Frank looked back down the road. Far away, several horsemen were riding toward them. They were urging forward their animals, and the sunlight glinted on polished weapons.

"We are pursued, partner!" said Frank, grimly. "We are in for a hot chase."



CHAPTER XL.

ELUDED.

"Who are our pursuers?" asked Bart, angrily. "What do they want? They are shouting and waving their hands."

"They are shouting for us to stop. They want me."

"For what?"

"Have you forgotten, as soon as this, what I told you about the queer money I tried to get changed at the bank?"

"Think that is why they are after you, eh?"

"Without a doubt?"

"Then they must be officers."

"It is certain that at least one of them is an officer. The others he may have called to his aid hastily."

"It will not do for them to overtake us."

"Surely not. I would be arrested and taken back into Carson. Even if I were sure of proving my innocence, the man and girl would get away."

"And you cannot be sure you could prove your innocence. The working of the law is sometimes strange and erratic. That money has placed you in great danger, Frank."

"You are right. I wish I had kept my money in my pocket, and had not been so ready to break fifty-dollar bills for a pretty girl."

Frank said this laughingly, but Bart's dark face wore a very serious look. He was not at all inclined to regard serious matters in a humorous light, while Frank had faced deadly dangers many times, and had come to laugh in the face of the gravest peril.

"We'll have trouble in escaping those men," came soberly from Bart's lips. "It is still rather wild up around Tahoe, I fancy, and this road must end at the lake."

"Well, we'll leave the road and ride over the mountain tops, if we do not overtake the man and girl."

"What if we do overtake them?"

"It will be a good plan to freeze onto them, and hold them for the officers."

"No," cried Bart, sharply. "I will not agree to that."

"You will not?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It would place the girl in peril. She would be——"

"That's where you're off, my boy. It might rescue her from peril. If she is in trouble, as we imagine, it would be the very best thing that could happen for her."

"How is that?"

"She could tell her story truthfully, and it might get her out of trouble by putting the man with the black mustache in a box. At the same time it would clear me."

Bart was obliged to confess that Frank had made a point, and still he did not like to think of turning the girl over to the officers of the law.

"Perhaps she would not 'peach' on the gang, if there is a gang behind her, which I doubt. She might keep her mouth closed, might swear she never let you have the queer money."

"And I can prove she did by the conductor of the Pacific Express. He saw me give her the small stuff for the two bills."

"Still, I do not feel like nabbing her and turning her over to the officers. We might not be able to nab her, anyway."

"That is true enough. I rather fancy her companion would be likely to put up a stiff fight. He looks to me like a dangerous man."

Frank fancied that he was beginning to understand Bart's feelings. He believed the boy was afraid the girl might prove to be one of a gang of counterfeiters, and he was so badly smitten that he did not wish to be instrumental in her arrest.

Frank, himself, had been highly interested in Isa Isban; but events had transpired which caused him to doubt that she was all her innocent face would lead a casual observer to believe, and his admiration for her had waned swiftly.

Having been brought beneath a cloud of suspicion, Frank was determined to vindicate himself in some manner. He sincerely hoped it might turn out that the girl was innocent. If she were innocent, then she must be in trouble, and he hoped to be instrumental in relieving her.

It was well the lads had obtained two good horses, for they were able to keep well in advance of the pursuers.

Once or twice they fancied they saw rising dust in the far distance, which led them to believe the man and girl were there.

If they were right, then the couple in advance were urging their horses to the limit, for they kept beyond view.

The road grew rougher and rougher. The mountains shut in on either hand, and still they climbed upward. The horses panted and perspired, while horses and lads were covered with dust.

"Do you know how far it is to the lake by this road?" asked Bart.

"It can't be over ten miles."

"Well, it is the longest ten miles of road I ever passed."

The windings of the road shut the pursuers out from view. They were coming on when last seen, but had not seemed to gain in the least. At last an exclamation of satisfaction broke from Bart's lips.

"There they are!"

Far up the road, halted and looking back, were the man and girl, mounted on two dust-covered horses.

"Sure as you live!" cried Frank. "We have been gaining on them."

The boys were seen by the ones in advance, and the man made a gesture of rage, while the girl reached out and caught him by the arm, seeming to speak earnestly to him. He listened a moment, and then both touched up their horses, quickly galloping from view.

Now the chase became hot, although the road became more difficult and perilous. Several times the lads obtained glimpses of the man and girl.

Finally, with appalling suddenness, they came out upon the shore of Lake Tahoe, resting like a blue gem upon the mountain tops, upheld like a perfect mirror to a cloudless sky.

Cries of surprise and admiration broke from the lips of both boys, for never before had they beheld such a lovely sheet of water. The surface of the lake was unbroken by a ripple, and the water, into which the heated horses thrust their noses, was clear as crystal.

Afar, the mountain peaks rose like sentinels, their outlines softened to a purple shade. Along the shores were unmarred forests.

For a few seconds the boys sat silent, gazing in speechless admiration on the beautiful scene, and then Frank gave a start and drew the nose of his horse from the water, saying:

"Don't let your animal drink too much, Bart. They are very hot."

"That's right," nodded the dark-haired lad, following Frank's example. "But where are the man and girl?"

"They must have hidden up or down the shore of the lake. Look for the tracks of their horses."

It did not take them long to discover which direction had been taken, and away they went.

"I don't see how they are going to escape us," said Bart. "We have them cornered."

"And we must be ready to fight, for that man will raise a rumpus."

They looked at their revolvers, making sure they were in good working order. There was a look of resolution on Frank's face that contrasted strongly with the expression of doubt and uncertainty which had been growing on the face of his companion.

They rode round a point and came in view of a beautiful cove. Then they again uttered exclamations of surprise, for out of the cove a light canoe was skimming, and the canoe contained the man and the girl. The man was handling the paddle with strength and skill.

"Tricked!" exclaimed Frank, somewhat dismayed. "They have slipped us after all."

As he saw this, the expression of doubt on Bart's face turned to one of intense anger. He was enraged at being baffled. Riding his horse into the edge of the water, he drew a revolver, pointed it at the canoe, and shouted:

"Hold on, there! If you don't come back, you are liable to find yourself dodging bullets."

The reply of the man was a scornful laugh, the sudden uplifting of one hand, a puff of smoke, and the singing of a bullet that passed over Bart's head.

"Don't shoot!" cried Frank. "You might hit the girl."

Bart was in a white rage; he quivered with anger.

"Oh, I won't shoot!" he said; "but, if he were alone I'd give him a few lead pills, hang him!"

After the shot, which seemed flung at the boys in derision, the man resumed paddling, and the canoe glided on.

But that shot had aroused some on the opposite side of the cove, for a man came bursting out of the trees, rushed down to the shore, and stared after the canoe.

He was a gigantic fellow, being at least six feet and six inches in height, roughly dressed in woolen clothes, wearing long-legged boots and a wide-brimmed hat. He had a heavy mustache, and a long imperial.

Suddenly his voice rang in a roar across the cove:

"Hold on, thar! Whatever are you doin' with my canoe? Ef yer don't bring it back, burn my hide ef I don't turn a cannon on yer an' sink yer at sea!"

The man in the canoe made no immediate reply, but pulled the harder at the paddle.

"Derned ef yer don't git grapeshot an' canister!" howled the big man. "I'll riddle yer!"

Then the man in the canoe shouted:

"Don't shoot! You will find two horses hitched to a tree near where we obtained this canoe. They're yours in exchange."

"W'at do I want uv hawses!" roared the big man. "Bring back thet canoe instanter! I won't take yer hawses!"

But the man in the canoe continued to pull at the paddle, and the little craft glided straight out on the tranquil bosom of the lake.



CHAPTER XLI.

BIG GABE.

The big man roared and raged, but he did not do any shooting.

"I'll see yer ag'in," he shouted, "an' burn my eyebrows, ef I don't make yer settle fer this yar!"

Then he saw the mounted boys on the opposite side of the cove, and he stared at them inquiringly.

"Wa-al," he shouted, "who be you, an' what do yer want?"

"We will meet you and make an explanation," Frank shouted back.

The two lads began riding along the shore of the cove, and the big man moved to meet them, regarding them with no little suspicion.

They finally met at the head of the cove, where the giant stood, with folded arms, scowling blackly at them.

A short distance away two dust-covered horses were standing, hitched to trees, their heads hanging low, while they still breathed heavily.

They were the animals abandoned by the man and girl.

"Ef you youngsters want ter steal anything, ye'd best mosey outer this yar part uv ther kentry," growled the big man, sullenly. "First it's a gang uv pleasure seekers thet comes an' takes my sailboat, then it's a man an' gal thet kerries off my canoe, an' next it's two boys as ain't got anything yit, but looks like they want something."

"We do," palpitated Frank. "We want some kind of a boat in which to follow those people—the man and the girl."

"Wa-al, yer won't git it."

"We will pay you—we have plenty of money."

"Ter thunder with yer money! What duz Gabe Blake want uv money! All I want is ter be let alone. Ther fust crowd promised me money fer my boat, but I told 'em ter take her an' bring her back before night. They took her, an' I ain't seen hide ner ha'r uv 'em sense. Ther man an' ther gal took my canoe without askin' leave."

"They left those horses——"

"Burn their hawses! What do I want uv hawses! Hawses ain't no good harabouts. Ther fust gang left four hawses, an' I've got ther critters ter feed. Hyar's two more! Burn ther hawses!"

It was plain the giant was in anything put a pleasant frame of mind. He scowled blackly at the boys.

"If you will furnish us with a boat——" began Frank.

"Ain't got no more boats. Can't go out fishin'. An' I'm too blamed lazy ter build another boat. Built ther sailboat an' canoe afore I got lazy livin' hyar. Man thet lives hyar six weeks gits too blamed lazy ter work. What 'm I goin' ter do when I want ter go out fishin'?"

Bart Hodge made a gesture of dismay.

"Do you know where we can get a boat?" he asked.

"Thar's none round hyar."

"Then we cannot follow that man and girl?"

"Not 'less yer kin walk on ther water."

"It's hard luck," declared Frank. "I did not believe they would be able to slip us."

"What did yer want uv 'em?" asked the big man, his curiosity getting the better of his anger.

Frank dismounted.

"Might as well get off and give the horses a breathing spell, Bart," he said. "They are blowed."

"But the party pursuing us—what of them?"

"Let them come."

"Are you going to give up thus easily?"

"No; but I am not going to run like a criminal. Why should I? Let them come."

"You do not mean to fight?"

"Not if a regular officer attempts my arrest."

"What they goin' ter arrest yer fer, youngster?" asked the man, becoming still more curious. "Hev yer bin stealin' hawses?"

"No."

"Wa-al, yer needn't tell ef yer don't want ter!" resentfully said the giant. "I don't keer."

"I will tell you the whole story," said Frank. "When you have heard it you may be able to advise us about continuing the pursuit."

Bart dismounted, and the boys sat down on the ground. The man took a seat near at hand, and brought forth a cob pipe, which he leisurely filled and lighted. He was brawny, weather-tanned, and healthy in appearance. He did not look like a person who had ever seen an hour of illness.

"Fire away, youngster," he urged. "Somehow, I kinder take ter you. You've got an honest face on yer, burn me ef yer hain't!"

Frank expressed thanks for the compliment, and then, as concisely and plainly as possible, he told of his experiences since meeting the girl on the train.

The big man listened closely, his interest growing each minute. When the boy had finished, the man slapped his thigh and cried:

"Brand me deep ef I don't reckon ye've guv it ter me fair an' squar! I know somethin' about this yar gang uv queer-makers."

"You do?"

Both lads ejaculated the words.

"You bet!"

"What do you know?"

"I hev heard ez how they has a young gal who is queen uv ther band, an' she shoves ther queer on ther market fer them."

"Is that all?" asked Frank, with a trace of disappointment.

"Hold yer critters!" advised the big man, with a lazy wave of one hand. "Don't git too oneasy. I said I know something erbout 'em. What I told yer wuz what I had heard."

"Well, tell us what you know."

"See them mountains over thar, beyond ther lake, right whar I'm p'intin'?"

"Yes."

"Purty wild place over thar."

"Well?"

"Thet's whar ther den uv them thar counterfeiters is."

Frank clutched the man's arm, his face full of eagerness.

"How do you know?"

"I hev bin over thar."

"What did you discover?"

"Say, I don't keer ter mix in no rows, an' so I ain't troubled myself ter inform on 'em."

"But you will tell us what you discovered? We will pay——"

"Pay be derned! I tell yer I don't keer a hoot erbout money. Ef I git enough ter buy some terbacker an' clothes, an' sech provisions ez I want, thet's all I ask. I don't keer how much bad money is in circulation, an' thet's why I ain't meddled with them critters. Ef I blowed, they might take a notion ter call on me, some time, an' make it derned onpleasant fer me."

The hopes of the boys dwindled.

"But think what it may mean to me—my liberty, honor, everything!" cried Frank. "You must understand the situation in which I am placed."

"I do. Ef them critters hedn't run off with my boat, I might hev kept my mouth shet; but now, burn me deep, ef I don't git squar!"

The hopes of the lads rose again.

"I'll tell yer whut I found over thar," the big man went on, slowly. "I found ther place whar ther queer-makers hang out."

"You did?" fluttered both lads.

"Thet's whatever. Thar's a hidden cabin on a cliff, an' thet thar is their headquarters."

"Will you guide us there?"

"Wa-al, what do you two youngsters think you could do? Thar's a gang. You say yer wuz pursued by officers. Wa-al, I know Jack Long, ther sheriff, an' I kin fix it with him, ef he is in ther crowd. He wuz one as brought me hyar ter die uv consumption two years ago."

The boys looked at the giant in amazement.

"Brought you here to die of consumption?" cried Frank. "You—you? Impossible!"

The giant smiled lazily.

"I don't look like a consumptive, now, do I? Wa-al, ther doctors said thar warn't one chance in a thousan' fer me. They hed guv me up. I come hyar ter die; but I got well. This is ther greatest place I ever struck fer bracin' up a feller's lungs; but it takes all ther ambition outer him. It hes made me so I don't care ter do anything but be lazy. Let ther old world wag, Gabriel Blake won't bother with her none whatever."

"How can we reach the mountains over there?" asked Frank.

"Reckon we'll hev ter go round ther shore, thet's all ther way."

"And you will guide us?"

"Ef Jack Long shows up an' wants ter go, I s'pose so."

Blake said this somewhat reluctantly, as if he dreaded the exertion.

"If Long should not show up—what, then?"

"It won't be nary dern bit uv use fer one ur two uv us ter go rampin' off over thar. Ef Jack Long locates their hangout, he'll bring a posse an' scoop 'em."

The boys found the giant was set in his ways, and it was not strange that, as they were boys, he should consider them of minor importance in case of a collision with the counterfeiters.

He once more expressed his conviction that the lads were "squar," and it was his belief that he could thus convince Jack Long.

"Can we use our horses in getting round the lake?" asked Frank.

"Wa-al, I dunno but I kin pick out a trail fer yer; but fer me it'd be as much work ter travel hawseback ez afoot."

He then invited them to his cabin, and they followed him, leading the horses. He gave no heed to the animals the man and girl had abandoned.

Big Gabe's cabin was tucked away in a secluded nook, close to the shore of the lake, and not far from the cove. It was fairly comfortable in a rude way.

"Long will come hyar," he said. "Ef he wuz with yer pursuers he'll show up afore a great while. Make yourselves comfertable till he comes."

The lads did so.



CHAPTER XLII.

OVER THE PRECIPICE.

In time the sheriff appeared, but one man—a rough, awkward-looking fellow—was his only companion.

Long uttered a cry of satisfaction when he saw the boys.

"Well, I have caught you, after all!" he exclaimed. "The boys allowed you had given me the slip, and they went back."

His hands fell on the butts of ready revolvers, and he ordered them to surrender without resistance.

"Hold on hyar a bit, Jack," said Big Gabe, stepping between the lads and the officer. "Let's we hold a little plarver. You know me, I'll allow."

"To be course I do, Gabe, and I am mighty glad to see you alive and well. You once had the name of being the strongest man in Nevada; but you didn't look very strong when we brought you up here, two year ago. You'll be up to the old tricks again, before long."

The giant shook his head.

"I reckon not," he said. "Liftin' bolders an' wrastlin' with four men at a time is outer my line ferever, arter this. I'm too lazy, an' besides thet, I'll allow it wuz a strain I got at that business as brought on my first bleedin' spell arter I hed ther grip. I'm purty well, now, but I don't make no exerbitions uv my strength, burn me ef I do!"

"Wait till you get away from here. Everybody that comes here gets lazy, and stays lazy as longs as they stay here."

At this Big Gabe nodded.

"Thet's sure as preachin'. It's ther derndest place ter make a critter feel ez if he don't keer a hoot whether school keeps ur not!"

The sheriff had half drawn his revolvers. He now thrust one of them back into its holster, but motioned for Blake to stand aside.

"I judge you don't know the kind of youngsters these are as I have found here," said Long.

"And I judge I do," returned the big man, quietly. "I know all about 'em, an' they're all right."

The officer looked surprised.

"How does it happen you know about 'em?" he asked, wonderingly.

"They're old acquaintances uv mine," asserted Gabe, greatly to the surprise of the lads; "an' they're on the dead level. They came hyar to see me, sayin' as how they wuz in some trouble down at Carson over some counterfeit money as they hed got by accident."

Long was scowling and looking disgusted. He listened in silence, motioning for the giant to go on.

"I hev listened ter their story," said Blake, "an' knowin' 'em ez I do, I'll allow it's straight, an' you ain't got no cause whatever ter rope 'em, Jack."

"Mebbe you're right," admitted the sheriff, fishing in a pocket and drawing forth a paper; "but here is a warrant for the arrest of one Frank Merriwell, and I must serve it. It is sworn out by Ezra Coburn, a leading citizen of Carson."

"Burn Ezra Coburn!" roared Big Gabe, becoming somewhat excited. "Burn him and double burn him! I tell yer them youngsters is my friends, an' I'm standin' by 'em! You an' I don't want any trouble, Jack."

"No, we don't want any trouble; but, at the same time, I'll have to do my duty," came firmly from the lips of the sheriff.

"By thet yer mean yer'll hev ter arrest Frank Merriwell?"

"Exactly."

"Stiddy, Jack! Don't be too quick ter lay yer paws on ther boys. You know me."

"I do, and I do not fancy having trouble with you. At the same time I must do my duty."

"Wa-al, hold hard a bit. Don't be in a hurry about nabbin' them. I'll give yer my pledge as how yer kin hev 'em any time. Does thet go?"

The sheriff hesitated a bit, and then said:

"It goes, if you are responsible for 'em, Gabe."

"All right. Boys, this yar is Jack Long, sheriff from Carson, a white man clean through. He'll guv yer a squar' deal."

The boys shook hands with the officer, after which the latter said:

"This man with me is Silas Jones, of Michigan, relation to my wife, somehow or other. He is thinking of locating out this way."

Jones grinned all over his bearded face, shook hands in a strong, blundering fashion, and said:

"I swan if this ain't a great country, out here! Beats all natur! But I don't feel to hum, fer I was raised right in ther middle of the woods, an' there's too much open land out this way. I don't mean right round here, you understand; but I've seen more'n forty thousan' miles of prairie sence comin' out this way, an' it makes me lonesome."

Having expressed himself thus, he sat down on a box and relapsed into silence, listening to the others and grinning now and then, but seldom speaking unless addressed.

Big Gabe urged them all to sit down, and they did so. He then directed Frank Merriwell to relate to the sheriff the story of his adventures since meeting Isa Isban on the train, and the boy was obliged to go over the ground once more.

Bart was impatient, thinking how much time was being wasted; but he held himself in check as far as possible.

The dark-eyed boy noticed that Silas Jones listened to Frank's story with great attentiveness, apparently greatly interested in the narrative.

When the boy had finished, Blake explained how his sailboat had been engaged by a pleasure party of four persons, two men, a woman and a girl, and how they had failed to return with it, making it impossible for him to pursue the man and the girl who ran off with his canoe.

"Then you saw the man and girl?" asked Long.

"I did that," nodded the giant. "An' I said a few things ter them, but it wuz a case uv wasted breath."

The sheriff seemed to hesitate, doubtfully, and then Frank spoke:

"Mr. Blake believes he knows where the retreat of the counterfeiters is, and he has offered to guide us there."

"How about it?" asked Long, quickly. "Is it right?"

"Wa-al, purty nigh right. I reckon I do know whar they're located, an' I offered ter guide ther party ef you brung a good crowd with yer. You only brung one man."

"Here are five of us, in all," said Frank. "Two of us may be boys, but it is possible we can fight harder than you imagine."

"If such a thing can be avoided, we do not want to fight at all," said Long. "We want to take the makers of the queer by surprise and capture them in a strategic manner."

Silas Jones nodded.

"Either that or send for plenty of officers ter ketch 'em on ther jump," he said. "Ther United States Secret Service men would be mighty tickled ter git such a show."

Long gave Jones a peculiar look.

"The Secret Service men may be mighty glad if they get an opportunity to play second fiddle in this affair," he said.

Whereat the man from Michigan grinned, but made no further remark.

The sheriff was for taking the boys back to Carson, leaving them in custody, and then seeking the retreat of the counterfeiters.

To this Big Gabe would not agree.

"Give ther youngsters a show," he said. "I hev pledged myself ter stand good fer 'em. Take 'em erlong on ther expedition."

There was considerable discussion over this, and Long finally gave in, although he expressed himself as certain that the boys would prove a great incumbrance.

Both Frank and Bart resolved to show him his mistake, in case an opportunity was offered.

They made preparations for the trip, which Big Gabe declared would take the better part of four days, as they would have to pick their way carefully through the mountains.

The two horses left by the man and girl were brought up and stripped of their saddles, packs being substituted.

Big Gabe was almost entirely cleaned out of provisions, but he did not murmur because of that.

The giant insisted on making the jaunt on foot, saying he did not wish to be incumbered with a horse.

When everything was ready, they started out, Gabe in the lead, carrying his Winchester at his side.

It did not take the giant long to convince them that he was far from an invalid. He seemed built of iron, and he was sure footed as a mountain goat.

Before long they were forced back from the shore of the lake and compelled to pick their way through a rough and rocky region, where progress was exasperatingly slow.

It was midafternoon, when they halted at the beginning of a desperate and dangerous climb amid mighty bowlders, with yawning chasms on every hand.

Here they opened one of the packs and brought forth provisions enough for the party to satisfy their hunger, the food being washed down with water from a tinkling brook that ran toward the lake.

After they had satisfied their hunger, and allowed the horses to feed, the animals were saddled again, the packs made fast, and once more they started onward.

Although Big Gabe had explored the greater part of the rough region lying around the lake, he had never before attempted to find a road for horses along the precipices and black ravines.

After eating, they set about the most severe and dangerous part of the journey yet reached. Up amid the giant bowlders they climbed, at times working around some part of the mountain where there would be a bare bluff on one hand and a yawning chasm on the other.

The giant guide warned them to look out for the loose bowlders, saying that some of them could be sent crashing down the mountain almost by the pressure of a hand.

The dangers from these huge rocks were made apparent before they had passed beyond that region.

Frank's horse proved far more skillful in climbing, keeping close to Big Gabe's heels, and the others were left at a considerable distance, so it became necessary to pause once or twice for them to come up.

A nearly level bit of the mountain had been reached, and they were pausing before the next climb, when a rumbling jar was heard, and a cry of warning broke from the guide.

"Loose bowlder! Look out fer it, boy!"

The others were yet some distance away, so that Frank and Gabe were together, the boy being astride his heavily breathing horse.

With each moment the roaring grew louder, till it swelled to jarring thunder, and then past them shot a huge black mass, enveloped in a cloud of dust. This mass leaped down into the black depths of a great chasm that yawned close at hand.

Frank's horse was frightened and began to plunge. The boy tried to quiet the animal, which was no easy task. In its mad plunging the creature reached the edge of the chasm. Big Gabe leaped forward with a second shout of warning, but it came too late.

Horse and rider went over the brink!



CHAPTER XLIII.

A FRIGHTFUL PERIL.

Not a sound came from the lips of our hero as his horse went plunging into the chasm, although, in the moment when he went over the brink, the boy fully expected to be dashed to death in the dark depths below.

He saw Big Gabe leap to clutch him, but realized that the giant was too late.

In that fateful moment Frank cleared his feet from the stirrups and made a desperate effort to save himself.

Too late!

All he could do was to clutch at the high pommel of the Mexican saddle, to which he clung tenaciously.

A wild, half human scream of terror came from the throat of the horse.

"Whoa up, thar!" roared the giant, as he made a clutch at the horse.

By rare good fortune the man clutched the flowing tail of the animal fairly and firmly. His heels settled into a rift of the rocks, and he surged backward.

Over went the horse, dangling, head downward, above the terrible chasm, while the giant held it thus by clinging to the creature's tail!

And our hero held fast to the Mexican saddle!

Frank was amazed when he found the horse was not going downward, and, being unable to see the big man, he wondered what held the animal suspended in the air.

In a moment the man above cried:

"Are you gone, boy? Are yer done fer, youngster?"

"No," replied Frank, with sudden hope. "I am hanging to the saddle. Drop a rope to me, and pull me up—quick, before the horse falls!"

"Can't do it."

"Why not?"

"I'm holdin' ther critter by ther tail, an', burn me, ef yer both won't go to ther bottom ef I leggo!"

Then the boy realized what had saved him, impossible as it seemed, and he marveled at the astonishing strength of the strange giant who had been sent to Lake Tahoe to die of consumption.

"But he can't hold out long!" thought the lad. "He must give up in a moment, and then we'll go down to death!"

It was not a pleasant thought, and still Frank was not terrified. He wondered at his own coolness. He speculated on the length of time they would be falling. Would he be conscious when they struck, or would the fall rob him of his senses?

He looked down. Far below, ragged points of rocks jutted out from the chasm wall, seeming to beckon to him. They would bruise and tear him, and it seemed that they were awaiting, with impatience, for him to fall.

He could not see the bottom of the chasm!

"It is sure death!"

Without knowing that he did so, he uttered the words aloud.

"Not ef I kin hold on a little longer, boy."

The giant had heard him and made reply, much to his surprise, for he had seemed to forget that Blake was holding him from falling.

Then he marveled more than ever at the strength of the man, for it began to seem that he had been suspended thus many hours. Surely Gabriel Blake possessed supernatural prowess.

Something like a laugh came from the boy's lips.

"It is foolish to try to hold on longer," he said, a bit wildly. "Let go, before you, too, are dragged over to death."

"Hyar, hyar!" called the man from above. "Don't git nutty, boy! I kin hold yer some time yit."

Still Frank was sure it was all folly; it could only end in one way.

"I must fall at last!"

The giant heard these hoarsely muttered words, and he feared the boy would let go.

And now Bart Hodge and the two men had become aware of Frank's peril, and they were spurring their horses madly forward, having reached the top of the climb.

The giant saw them coming, and it gave him new strength.

"Hold fast, down thar, youngster!" Big Gabe shouted to Frank. "Thar's help comin' hot-foot an' hustlin'. We'll hev yer out uv thar in two shakes, brand me deep ef we don't!"

Still, Frank did not dare to hope. Once or twice it seemed that the horse, wild-eyed and snorting with terror, slipped a bit, and the boy fancied Gabe was losing his grip.

It was a fearful strain on the giant, but he held fast as if his own life depended on it. The cords stood out on his neck and forehead, and perspiration rolled down his face. He could hear his own heart thumping like a hammer in his breast.