Paul's heart rose with a bursting sensation into his throat. He had seen that Merriwell's face bore a look of determination—nay, more, a look of confidence.

Oh, for the power to hold out to the end! Again he forced himself to spurt; but, as that mad burst of energy slackened, he felt, rather than saw, his rival reach his side.

Now a great cheer broke from the crowd of excited and delighted spectators, for the two boys were fairly abreast, and neither seemed able to gain another inch on the other.

Rains had shut his teeth, his nostrils were dilated, and his eyes wild in their sockets. The finish line was near, and he must cross it in advance—a yard, a foot, an inch!

But he little knew that Frank Merriwell had reserved for the last supreme moment enough strength to make a final spurt.

Now—now is the time for one or the other to forge ahead!

Another shout goes up:

"Merriwell! Merriwell! He's the winner! Hurrah!"

Frank had forged to the front; but, even as the cheer came from the crowd, he was seen to be flipped into the air, as if he had struck a spring-board, and he came down heavily on the ice. There was no time to recover.

Frank slid over the starting line, prostrate on the ice; but Paul Rains crossed it upright, and at least three yards in advance.

Rains had won!

An accident had prevented Frank from winning, for his skate had struck a flaw in the ice, and he had been thrown with stunning force.

Great was the excitement. Merriwell was picked up and carried to the shore, where a dash of cold water brought him round.

Rains was quite used up for a while, but he soon recovered. His friends crowded round him to offer congratulations.

"You beat Merriwell this time, Paul," they said.

"But he fell," said Paul, bitterly. "That makes the victory anything but satisfactory. However, I will race him again at any time and any place."

Little did he think how soon they would race again.

Within a short time after the finish of the race, a sudden cry of alarm and terror went up from the throng.

"Look—look there! Two girls have broken through the ice! They will be drowned!"

At a certain point in the pond there was a dangerous bit of ice, where some springs deep down at the bottom continually bubbled up and kept the water alive, so the ice did not form solidly. It was supposed that every one knew where this dangerous spot was, so no sign had been placed there.

Now, however, two girls had ventured upon it, and broken through.

"Who are they?"

"Inza Burrage and May Blossom!"

"Save them! save them!"

Several started toward the imperiled girls, but two forms darted out ahead of the rest, and another race between Paul Rains and Frank Merriwell had begun.

This time it was a race for life.

Shoulder to shoulder they started, and, for some seconds, they kept thus.

Then Frank began to forge ahead, for all that Paul was straining every muscle—was doing the very best that he could to save life.

The girls were seen clinging to the broken edge of the ice, which broke beneath them once or twice, but they managed to keep up in some way.

Wider and wider grew the distance between Merriwell and Rains, showing that the former was by far the faster skater in such a case as this.

As Frank drew near the girls, the ice broke again, and both went under.

He did not slacken speed, but, taking care to avoid them, skated straight into the water.

Clinging to each other, the girls came up; but they would have sunk again immediately if he had not been there to clutch them.

Treading water, he held them up, getting close to the ragged edge of the ice.

The water was fearfully cold, but he managed to keep his head out, knowing aid must come quickly.

Paul Rains slackened his speed as he came near the opening in the ice.

"Form a line—get hold of my feet!" he shouted.

Down upon his stomach he went, and he slid forward till he could reach out and grasp one of the girls.

There he lay till another lad clutched his feet, and still others grasped the feet of the one who had hold of Paul.

"Now, Merriwell," said Paul, "if you can break their clutch on each other, we can take 'em out one at a time."

With some difficulty the grasp of the half-drowned girls was broken. Paul held fast to one, and shouted:

"Pull away!"

He was drawn backward, and the girl was dragged from the water upon the ice.

Quickly she was passed to some one who carried her away to a place of warmth and safety, while Paul Rains crept back to the opening, and the other girl was rescued in a similar manner. Then Frank, nearly exhausted, was drawn out.

With Rains on one side, and Hodge on the other, Frank skated back to the shore, where the great crowd of spectators had witnessed the gallant rescue. How the crowd cheered and flung up their hats!

"Hurrah for Frank Merriwell!" was the roar that went up. "Hurrah!"

"Hurrah for Paul Rains! Hurrah!"

The man who had offered the badge of honor grasped the two lads by the hands, crying:

"You shall both have a badge of honor! This is true heroism, and you are both heroic lads!"

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" thundered the crowd.

Let us add here that neither Inza nor May suffered any particularly ill results from their plunge through the ice.

Between Inza and Frank the slight misunderstanding was easily adjusted, and May, in her innocent little heart, had never dreamed of "cutting out" her friend. She and Paul Rains afterward became very friendly.

Between Frank and Paul a rivalry continued to exist; but, for the most part, it was of a healthy, generous sort, and Merriwell retained his position as leader, having become more popular than before among the better class of boys at the academy.



CHAPTER XXV.

THE SINISTER STRANGER.

"Boy, where did you get that ring?"

Frank Merriwell started and looked quickly at the man who had hoarsely hissed the question in his ear. At a glance he saw that the man was a stranger in Fardale village.

The stranger was dressed in black clothes, wore a cloak, with a cape, and had the brim of his hat slouched over his eyes, which were coal-black and piercing. He had a heavy black mustache and imperial, which gave him a rather savage expression, and, withal, he made a somewhat sinister figure.

The night mail at Fardale was not delivered at the academy till the following morning, and Frank had come to the village post office late that afternoon to obtain an expected letter from home, if it had arrived.

He had also hoped that, on his way to the post office, or in returning to the academy, he might catch a glimpse of Inza. Frank was now a welcome visitor at Inza's home, but, being governed by natural tact and delicacy, he did not wish to call too frequently, fearing Inza's parents might regard him as something of a bore.

Shortly after entering the village he had noticed the stranger in black, who seemed to be staring wonderingly at the boy. To Frank's surprise, this man followed him about.

Finally the stranger slipped softly to Frank's side, and hoarsely whispered the question with which this chapter opens. At the same time, he pointed to a peculiar ring which Merriwell wore on the third finger of his left hand.

Frank drew back, looking the man over from head to feet.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, in a manner that was intended to repulse further advances.

But the man was not to be choked off thus easily.

"The ring," he repeated. "I asked you where you obtained it."

"I know you did," said the boy, coolly.

"Answer me!" sibilated the stranger, his brows darkening beneath the wide brim of the hat, and a gleam of fire showing in his eyes. "Tell me the truth, boy!"

"I don't know why I should answer you," said Frank. "I do not know you, and I do not understand what right you have to ask me such a question."

The man in black bit his lip, and hesitated. After a moment, he forced a smile that was far from agreeable to see, although he plainly meant that it should reassure the boy, and, in a low tone, he rapidly said:

"That ring is very odd, and it attracted my attention for that reason. I am a great collector of curios, and especially of quaint and curious rings. I have traveled the world over in search of the quaint and curious, and I have a collection of nearly five hundred rings of all patterns, makes and values. This collecting of rings has become a fad, or mania, with me. Whenever I see an odd or peculiar ring, I am immediately seized by a great desire to possess it; but I always want to know its history. It enhances the value of a ring to know its history. I assure you that some rings have very queer histories, indeed."

Frank watched the man closely as he was speaking, and, although it was plain that the stranger was trying to secure the boy's confidence, Merriwell continued to regard him with suspicion and aversion. There was something about this person's dark face and sinister aspect that was extremely repulsive to the lad.

Once more the man smiled, as if making a desperate attempt to thaw the cool reserve of the boy; but he had begun in a very poor way, for Frank remained cold and distant.

"Some of my rings," went on the man in black, "have tales of bloodshed and murder connected with them, and these are interesting in their way. Some recall romances of blighted love or sundered hearts, and these tales are always interesting to the ladies who look over the collection. Some have been worn by great men or great ladies, and some have encircled the fingers of great villains or great criminals. You should understand why I desire to know the history of every ring that comes into my possession."

"Well," said Frank, quietly, "as there is not the slightest possibility that you will ever possess this ring, you can have very little interest in its history."

The stranger fell back a step, and then, with one hand eagerly outstretched, he exclaimed:

"You will sell it for a good price—of course you will?"

"No."

"Why, its real value is insignificant!"

"It is valuable to me."

"No jeweler will give you more than three or four dollars for it—possibly five."

"Well?"

"I will give you ten dollars for that ring."

"It is useless for you to offer me money for it, as I do not intend to sell it."

Frank turned as if he would move away, but he felt a hand clutch his shoulder with a grasp of iron, while the voice of the stranger almost snarled:

"Don't be a fool, boy! I want that ring, and I mean to have it at some price. I will give you twenty-five dollars for it."

"Take your hand off my shoulder, sir!"

"I'll give you thirty dollars."

"Take your hand off my shoulder, sir!"

"Forty dollars!"

"I have warned you twice to take your hand off my shoulder," came coldly from the lips of the boy, on whose face there was now a dangerous look. "I am going to warn you again, and if you do not obey, it will be the worse for you. Take your hand off my shoulder!"

There was a single moment of hesitation, and then the stranger obeyed; but the look on his face was not pleasant to see, and he hoarsely said:

"You are showing a great deal of authority for a stripling. These military schools spoil boys like you by making them think they are men before the fuzz grows on their faces."

There was no doubt in the lad's mind but he was dealing with a desperate man, and Frank fully realized that he had thoroughly aroused the stranger's anger. But Frank could not be bullied, and the man in black was very repulsive to him, for some reason.

Once more the boy started to walk away; but the man was quickly at his side, where he kept, again attempting to be persuasive, although it was plain that he longed to throttle the lad.

"What is the use of being unreasonable! I am willing to do the square thing. I have made you a magnificent offer for that ring, which I am anxious to possess."

"Far too anxious," muttered Frank.

"That is natural," declared the man, swiftly. "Did you ever collect stamps? If you have, you should know something of the mania that seizes upon a collector. It is thus with me. If I see an odd ring I cannot obtain, I feel as if I had been robbed of something that rightfully belongs to me."

He paused a moment in his talk, but Frank walked straight onward, saying nothing.

"I have offered you a ridiculous price for that ring," continued the man. "I cannot afford it, but my mind is set on having the ring. Already I have spent a fortune in my collections, and the time has come when I cannot fling money freely to the winds. Come now, young man, have a little sympathy with me, and sell me that ring."

Under certain circumstances these words might have melted Frank, who was not a cold-blooded lad, by any means; but there was something in the stranger's villainous aspect and repulsive manner that had turned the boy against the man in black and caused him to remain obdurate.

"I told you at first that it was useless to offer me money for this ring," said the boy. "I think you will begin to understand that I meant it."

"At least, you will tell me how it came in your possession?"

Frank hesitated. Surely there could be no harm in telling this, and it might enable him to get rid of the stranger, so he said:

"It was given to me by my mother."

"And your mother—how did she obtain it?" swiftly asked the stranger.

"My father gave it to her. I do not know how it came into his possession."

"Your father and mother——"

"Are dead."

"Ha! And you prize the ring because it was a present from your mother?"

"That is one reason."

"And there is another?"

"Yes."

"What?"

It suddenly struck Frank that he was talking altogether too much, and so he answered:

"I decline to say. I have already told you enough, and I beg you to excuse me. We will part here."

"First answer one more question. What was your father's name?"

"Charles Conrad Merriwell."

The man in black put a hand to his eyes, and seemed to be thinking for a moment. Beneath his breath he muttered:

"Merriwell, Merriwell—I do not know the name."

Then, dropping his hand, he said:

"I will make you one more offer for the ring. I will give you fifty dollars for it. See—here is the money. Don't be foolish—take it! You will never receive another such offer."

He had pulled out some bills, from which he quickly selected a fifty-dollar bank-note, which he tendered to Frank.

The boy drew away.

"You are wasting your time in offering me money for the ring. I am in earnest in declining to sell it. Good-day, sir."

He turned and walked swiftly away.

The baffled man in black stood staring after the lad, his forehead lowering and his white teeth showing a bit through his dark mustache.

"Refuse to sell the ring!" he grated, madly. "All right! I am not defeated. I will have it within a week!"



CHAPTER XXVI.

THE MYSTERY OF THE RING

Frank did not glance back till he turned onto another street, and then he saw the man in black standing quite still where they had parted. The reddish glow of the sunset was behind the man, on which his black figure stood out like a silhouette, the cloak and cape making him slightly resemble a gigantic bat.

The boy shivered a little as he passed beyond the view of the mysterious stranger.

"That man makes my blood cold," he murmured. "There is something decidedly awe-inspiring about him. Somehow, I do not believe I have seen the last of him."

Frank was right; he had not seen the last of the man in black.

Thinking of what had happened, Frank soon came to the conclusion that the man was mad, or else there was some mystery about the ring that was not known to the possessor.

Why had the stranger been so desirous of knowing how the ring came into Frank's possession?

True he had said that he always wished to know the history of such rings as he collected; but Frank had refused distinctly to sell the ring, and still the man had seemed very desirous of obtaining information concerning it.

Why had he asked the name of Frank's father?

These questions presented themselves to the boy for consideration, and he remembered how, on hearing the name, the stranger had confessed that it was unfamiliar to him.

Frank was thinking deeply of these things, when a familiar voice called:

"Hello, Frank! Are you going past without speaking?"

He started and looked up, finding himself in front of Inza's home. It was a fine, old-fashioned house, built years and years ago, and an iron fence surrounded the front lawn. Inza was at the gate, a pretty pout on her face.

The young cadet instantly lifted his cap, as he smilingly retorted:

"I did not see you there, Miss Burrage."

"Oh, bother your 'Miss Burrage!'" she exclaimed. "You know it was Inza with you long ago—you promised to call me that. No wonder you didn't see me; you were going past with your head down, your eyes on the ground, and an expression of profound abstraction on your face. What in the world were you thinking of?"

"That's a mystery," said Frank, approaching the gate.

"Indeed!" and she lifted her eyebrows with a pretty Assumption of offended dignity. "A secret from me?"

"I did not say it was a secret; I said it was a mystery. I was thinking of the man in black."

"Mercy!" She gave a little shiver. "What is the man in black—some horrible ogre?"

"Well, I fancy he is ogre enough to give you the chills."

"What story did you find him in?"

"Oh, I didn't find him in a story; I met him in real life. I left him a few minutes ago."

"This is interesting!" she laughed. "Who is he? What's his name?"

"I don't know. Didn't I say he is a mystery?"

"Come, Frank, are you trying to tease me?"

"Not at all. I will tell you all I know about this singular man in black."

Then, leaning gracefully against one of the iron gateposts, he related his recent adventure with the unpleasant stranger. She listened with breathless interest, her eyes growing wider and wider, and an expression of alarm coming to her pretty face.

"Oh, Frank!" she exclaimed, when he had finished; "I know this terrible man is dangerous! He will do you harm!"

"Oh, I'm not afraid of that," declared the boy, lightly; "but I would give something to know what there is about this ring that makes him so desirous of possessing it."

He held up the ring for her to examine. It was an oddly twisted band of gold, looking like a writhing serpent. It was set with a peculiar black stone that seemed quite as hard as a diamond, for all that there were numerous marks and scratches on its smooth surface.

"It is a horrid ugly old ring," declared Inza. "Anybody must be crazy to offer fifty dollars for it."

"Unless it bears some value that is not apparent to one who does not know its secret."

"What value can it bear?"

"That is the mystery. Still, from my mother's words, I am sure my father prized this ring highly. When it came into his possession he was in Southern California or Mexico, and he sent it home to my mother at the earliest opportunity, writing her to be very choice of it, and not to lose it on her life, as it was very valuable. Now, my father never revealed the secret of this ring to my mother, if the ring has a secret; but I am sure that mother believed there was something mysterious about it, for, when she was dying, she gave it to me, telling me never to part with it. Of course I will not sell it."

"Of course not," nodded Inza; "but the horrid old thing may bring you trouble, instead of good."

"Oh, I don't think there is much danger of that."

"The man in black——"

"Will give over his attempt to obtain it when he really knows I will not part with it on any condition."

"He may; but his words, which you have repeated for me, make me believe he will do something desperate in order to get possession of it. You must look out for him—you must be on your guard constantly."

"Why, Inza!" laughed Frank, in astonishment; "I never heard you speak like this before. You really appear as if you felt a foreboding of some terrible thing."

"Perhaps I do," she said, very gravely, for a light-hearted girl.

Frank looked down at the ring on his hand. Surely it was an ugly trifle to make so much trouble.

"Do you see those fine lines on the surface of the stone?" he asked.

They were faintly visible to the naked eye.

"There is something peculiar about those lines," he said. "This stone is so hard that nothing seems to scratch it, and I am sure those lines were not made by the ring accidentally striking against hard objects. They were there when it came into my possession. I do not think another line or mark has been made upon it since I have owned it."

"That is odd."

"Odd! It is remarkable. It makes it appear that these lines were traced there with some instrument that could mark the stone, and that they have a secret meaning."

"Who knows? Possibly that is true."

"And it may be that the man in black can read their meaning."

The red light was dying out of the western sky, and the dusky shadows of advancing night were gathering in the village street, which was overhung by large dark elm trees. Standing by the gate, the boy and girl minded not the approach of darkness as they talked on.

Suddenly Inza uttered a cry and caught Frank's arm, pointing to the opposite side of the street, and excitedly whispering:

"Look—look there! Who is that man skulking along the walk over there?"

"By Jove! it is the man in black!" declared Frank.



CHAPTER XXVII.

ATTACKED ON THE ROAD.

It was in truth the mysterious man who was lingering on the opposite side of the street under the deeper shadows of the elms. That he was watching Frank quickly became evident, but he slowly walked away when he saw he was observed.

"What a villainous-looking creature he is!" said Inza, in a flutter of alarm.

"How could you tell at that distance when it is so dark?" half laughed Frank.

"Oh, it was his general appearance—his black clothes, and that strange cloak and cape."

To himself Frank confessed that the man had seemed rather more awe-inspiring when seen through the gathering darkness than he had appeared near at hand in the stronger light of sunset.

The stranger had moved along the street till swallowed by the darkness beneath the great trees, but something told the boy he was lingering at a distance—watching and waiting.

Despite his strong nerves, the boy felt a cold chill creep along his back. What desperate deed might not the mysterious man in black be contemplating?

The girl was no less impressed.

"Oh, Frank!" she exclaimed, looking up into his handsome face; "I know you are in danger—I am sure of it! That dreadful creature means to do you some injury!"

Seeing how distressed she was, Frank began to feel sorry that he had told her so much.

"You are nervous," he said. "I shouldn't have told you all this stuff about the ring and that man."

Her hand fell on his, which rested on the top of the iron gate.

"You did right in telling me," came softly from her lips. "Who should you have told if not me? We ought not to have secrets from each other."

"I do not fancy we have many secrets that we keep from each other, Inza," he murmured, leaning toward her over the gate. "You know how I have trusted you."

"And have I not trusted you, Frank? I have told you all my delightful little secrets, and I have not told yours to another soul. They say girls cannot keep secrets, but I think you will find out they can."

"Ah, Inza! you are not like other girls."

"Oh, yes, I am!" she laughed. "You think I am not, but I am. Perhaps I am a trifle too old for my years, as papa often says; but the terrible dangers you have rescued me from have been quite enough to add something to my age."

"In the face of every danger you have been brave as few girls could have been."

"That's flattery."

"It is the sincere, honest truth. Do you think I would attempt to flatter you?"

"Frank!"

Their hands met, and he suddenly leaned over the gate and kissed her, in the dusky twilight. She gave a little cry, as of surprise or dismay, retreating swiftly; but Frank clung to her hands, and she did not make a severe struggle to break away, although for a moment there was a playful mockery of a struggle.

Slowly he drew her back to the gate, but she timidly held away, as if she were really alarmed.

"How dare you, sir!" she exclaimed, with a toss of her head. "You are very bold!"

"I beg your pardon," he beseeched, with mock humbleness. "I will agree not to do it again—till I get another good chance."

"Really! How sacrificing you are! You are extremely free."

"Stolen sweets, you know, are the best. But truly, Inza, hadn't I a right to that?"

"A right, indeed! Why, to use a slang expression, that is cheek!"

"Never mind the cheek," he said, laughingly. "I prefer the lips."

And then, before she could divine his intention, he kissed her again.

This time she broke away in earnest.

"Good-night, sir," she called, from up the walk.

"Oh, wait a moment!" he implored. "You aren't going to leave me like this?"

"Oh, but I am."

"How can you!"

"You are getting altogether too free."

She seemed really angry, and a feeling of dismay came over the lad at the gate.

"Inza!"

She had paused

"Well, sir?"

"Don't go away angry, please! I know I had no right to steal those kisses, but I am willing to make amends."

"Oh, you are!" she said, wonderingly, and it seemed to Frank that she was struggling to keep back a burst of laughter. "How will you do it?"

"If you'll come here, I will give them back to you."

That was a master-stroke. A soft laugh came from her lips, and she returned:

"You are a saucy, cheeky fellow, and I am not coming back. Good-night."

"You are not angry?"

"What's the use to be angry with you!"

"Good-night, Inza."

"Good-night, Frank."

As he turned away down the walk, he saw her pause at the door and heard her softly call:

"Frank."

"Yes?"

"I don't like to think of you as a thief. I will take those kisses back some other time."

Then, with another ripple of laughter, she disappeared into the house.

Frank's heart was very light as he walked airily down the street. He had forgotten the man in black for the time, and he whistled a lively air, thinking of the charming girl he had left a few moments before.

It had now grown quite dark, for the moon had not yet risen; but there was a spring-time sweetness in the air, which was not yet enervated by the languorous heat of summer.

Frank passed beyond the limits of the village, where lights were twinkling from the windows of the houses, and he swung down the road toward the cove at a lively gait, still whistling.

At a certain point the road was lined with bushes, and not far away was the village cemetery.

Frank had reached this lonely locality, when, of a sudden, a feeling of uneasiness came over him. Somehow it seemed that he was in danger.

Then came a rustle in the bushes, and, the following moment, a dark form confronted the lad, blocking his path.

Frank recoiled, and through his mind flashed the thought:

"It is the man in black!"

At the same moment, the unknown sprang forward and clutched the lad, snarling:

"Give me that ring! I will have it! Give it up peaceably, or I will choke the breath out of your body! Don't shout! It will be the worse for you if you do!"

Right there and then the man in black met with a great surprise.

Frank grappled with the stranger, and, for some moments, they engaged in a fierce struggle. At length the boy got the best of it, and, as he threw the man, he gave his assailant a terrible upper-cut blow.

Having freed himself Frank took to his heels and ran down the road toward the academy.



CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE MARKS ON THE BLACK STONE.

Frank fancied he heard pursuing footsteps behind him, but the mysterious man might have spared himself the effort if he tried to overtake the lad, for Merriwell almost flew over the ground.

The lights from the windows of the barracks soon appeared through the trees, and Frank felt relieved when he was safely within the grounds with the academy buildings looming before him.

A short time later he entered his own room in the "Cock-loft," to find Bartley Hodge sitting with his feet on the table, smoking a cigarette and perusing an exciting detective story; but the feet went down to the floor like a flash, and the cigarette and book disappeared with magical swiftness as Frank came in.

"Oh!" said Hodge, with a sigh of relief; "it's you, is it, Merriwell? I thought it might be an inspector."

Frank laughed.

"It would have been rather bad for you if I had been an inspector, for you did not get that book and cigarette out of sight quick enough to fool anybody, and the air is full of smoke. You would have stood a good chance for chevrons next month if you had let cigarettes and novels alone and taken a little more care to avoid demerit."

"Never mind, old man," said Hodge, as he resumed the cigarette and brought forth the detective story again.

"You'll be a corporal sure, and that is glory enough for us. Don't preach. If you should start in on this yarn, you wouldn't give it up till you finished it."

"And that is exactly why I am not going to start in. I enjoy a good story as well as you do, but I cannot afford to read novels, now, and so I refuse to be tempted into looking into any of them."

"This is a hummer," declared Bart, enthusiastically. "It is full of mystery and murder and all that. Beagle Ben, the detective, is a corker! That fellow can look a man over and tell what he had for dinner by the expression around the corners of his mouth. He sees through a crook as easily as you can look through a plate-glass window. And the mysteries in this story are enough to give a fellow the nightmare. I wonder why such mysterious things never happen in real life?"

"Perhaps they do occasionally."

The way Frank spoke the words caused Bart to turn and look him over wonderingly.

"Hello!" he said. "What's struck you? You are breathing as if you had been running, but you're rather pale round the gills."

"I have had an adventure."

"You are always having adventures. You're the luckiest fellow alive."

"This adventure is somewhat out of the usual order," declared Frank. "It might furnish material for a detective story."

"Whew!" whistled the dark-haired lad. "Now you are making me curious. Reel it off for us."

Then Frank sat down and told Hodge the full particulars of his adventure with the mysterious man in black.

A look of wonder and delight grew on Bart's face as he listened, and, when the account was finished, he slapped his thigh, crying:

"By Jove, Merriwell, this is great! Why, such things do actually happen, don't they! Why do you suppose that man is so determined to obtain possession of that ugly old ring? Do you actually believe he is a collector of rings, with a mania for the quaint and curious?"

"It is possible, but, for some reason, I doubt it."

"So do I."

"He did not seem quite sincere in his manner of telling that story, and he was altogether too desperate in his determination to obtain the ring."

"That's right."

"Besides that, he wished to know how it came into my possession, and, when he learned my father's name, he declared he had never heard it before."

"What do you make out of that?"

"Well, it strikes me that this man recognized the ring as one he had seen before."

Bart nodded with satisfaction.

"Just the way I figured it out, old man!"

"He did not seem so anxious to learn the history of the ring, although he pretended that it was his wish to know the history of every ring that came into his possession. In this case he seemed far more anxious to discover how I came to have it."

"And so he must already know its history?"

"Yes."

"What do you know about it yourself, Frank?"

"Not much," was the serious reply. "You know I once told you that my father was much away from home, traveling in the West, where he claimed to have business interests, and it was not till after his death that we knew what his business actually was—that of a note broker—with a passion for gambling?"

"Yes, I remember all this."

"In his wanderings, father somehow got hold of that ring, and it is pretty certain that he considered it very valuable, for he sent it to mother, and wrote her to guard it faithfully, and not to let it part from her on any consideration. He said that he would come for it some day; but he never did. When mother died, she gave me the ring, telling me to keep it always. That is as much of the ring's history as is known to me."

"And that is just enough to make the thing a decided mystery. I have heard of magic rings used by East Indian fakirs and magicians. Perhaps this is one of those rings."

Frank smiled a bit, and shook his head.

"Hardly that, I think," he said. "From its appearance, I should say this ring was made by some crude workman in the West."

"In, that case, what can there be about it that is mysterious or valuable?"

"You have asked me something I cannot answer."

"Let's look at the thing."

Bart held out his hand, and Frank removed the ring from his finger, handing it over.

"It slips off altogether too easily," said Hodge. "I should think you would fear losing it."

"It does come off easy, and, for that reason, I have not worn it much till of late."

"Yes; I never noticed it on your hand till a short time ago."

"I have kept it among my valuables."

Hodge looked the ring all over, examining it slowly and carefully.

"There doesn't seem to be anything about it to make a fellow think it so very mysterious," he said, with a shade of disappointment in his voice.

"No."

"It is just a homely, twisted ring, with an old scratched black stone set in it."

"That's right."

"Perhaps the man in black is crazy."

"It is possible."

"In which case the mystery amounts to nothing."

For a few seconds the two lads sat staring at each other. Then Frank removed a pin from some hidden place, and held it toward Bart.

"Here," he said, "take this and see how easily you can scratch that stone."

Hodge took it, and attempted to scratch the black stone that was set in the ring.

"Why, the thing is hard as flint—yes, harder!" he exclaimed. "The pin will not leave a mark upon it, and it has already turned the point of the pin over."

"Still, as you said, the stone is scratched."

"What do you make of that?"

"It strikes me it was not scratched by accident."

Hodge started and whistled.

"Do you imagine these marks were made here intentionally and deliberately?"

"Doesn't it seem that way?"

"Well, it is not impossible."

"If they were made there deliberately and intentionally, cut by some instrument that could mark that hard stone, doesn't it stand to reason that the one who made them did not do all that work for nothing?"

"Of course."

"Then those marks may mean something."

"By jingoes! you are right!"

"This may be known to the man in black, which makes him so fierce to obtain the ring."

"Sure!"

Again the boys stared silently at each other, but there were traces of eager excitement on the faces of both.

"How are you going to find out what those marks mean, Frank?"

"That is a question easier asked than answered."

"Did you ever examine this stone under a microscope?"

"No."

"Then I advise you to do so without delay. These scratches are not very plain to the naked eye, but a microscope may reveal a great secret to you."

As Bart passed the ring back, Frank said:

"You are right. My curiosity is thoroughly aroused, and I will examine it under a magnifying glass at the earliest opportunity."

"Get leave to look at it under the big glass in the experimenting room."

"I will try it to-morrow."

Until very near taps the boys talked of the mystery of the ring, and that night both of them dreamed over and over of the ring and the sinister man in black.



CHAPTER XXIX.

BART MAKES A PLEDGE.

The following day Frank obtained permission to look at the ring through the powerful microscope belonging to the academy. Bart accompanied him to the experimenting room, and they were soon taking turns in looking at the marked stone.

"What do you make of it, old man?" asked Bart.

"It looks like a map," said Frank.

"Right!" exclaimed the other lad. "It looks like a map, and I believe that is what it is."

There is a river, or road, and mountains, something that looks like a lake, and then a tiny cross. The cross must be a landmark.

"Yes; and you will note that it is at the end of what looks like a river."

"But that must be a road."

"It is, if this is a map, for it runs over that range of hills, or mountains."

"That is plain enough."

"And you will see there is a tiny, snake-like thread that winds away from that spot, which looks as if it was intended for a lake."

"I see it."

"That must be a river, or stream."

The boys were now very excited. All doubts were fading from their minds; the lines on the black stone had surely been intended to represent a map.

But what portion of the face of the earth did it portray? That was a question the ring did not answer.

"Supposing it is a map," said Frank, helplessly; "what good will it do me? I do not know what it is a map of."

"But you may bet your last dollar the man in black knows."

"I don't see how that is going to do me any good.

"It will do him some good, if he gets hold of this ring."

"Well, I shall take care that he does not get hold of it."

The map—if it were a map—on the stone served to more fully arouse the curiosity of the boys, without in any way satisfying them concerning the mystery of the ring.

Frank became so absorbed in trying to discover the true meaning of the map and in getting some light on the mystery that he began to neglect his studies. This, however, was quickly noted by Hodge, who said:

"Be careful, old man; don't let that ring get into your head so that you will lose your chance of standing well up in your class. You are all right in drill work, and you should be appointed a corporal next month."

"Hang the old ring!" exclaimed Frank, petulantly. "I never had anything cause me so much bother before. Whenever I try to study I fall to thinking of it, and I dream of it every night."

Two days passed, and nothing more was seen of the man in black during that time, which led Bart to believe that the mysterious individual had left the vicinity.

"He must have fancied that you would have him arrested for attacking you on the road," said Hodge. "You are not likely to see him again very soon."

"Don't get that impression into your head," returned Frank. "He is not far away. I seem to feel that he is lurking near, awaiting his next opportunity."

"That's tommy-rot! You have let this old ring mix you all up. Don't slip any cogs now, Frank, or you may have the pleasure of seeing your new rival, Paul Rains, appointed a corporal, while you still remain an ordinary cadet."

Frank flushed.

"Rains is not a bad fellow," he said. "He is square."

"He may seem so to you," said Hodge; "but I am suspicious of any fellow who has much to do with Wat Snell and that gang. Frank, it is a wonder to me that you ever came to have anything to do with me afterward—well, you know."

"I shouldn't if I hadn't believed there was some good in you for all of appearances."

"Thank you, old man!" exclaimed Hodge, with genuine feeling. "You are white all the way through, and I believe it is to you I owe credit for still remaining a cadet in this school."

"Nonsense!"

"There is no nonsense about it. You know I tried two military schools before I came here, and I did not remain in either. I could not get along. You have helped me over the hard places, and you have stood by me, through thick and thin, although most of the fellows, disliked me at first, and thought you were foolish in doing what you did. I have been no particular aid to you, but I have led you into temptations and dangers you would have avoided but for the fact that we were roommates and friends. In return, you have saved me many bad breaks, and I am not liable to forget. I did hate you most intensely, but you shall find that I can be as strong in my friendships as I am in my hatreds."

This was saying a great deal for Hodge, who was usually silent and reserved concerning himself. But Bart knew he was speaking no more than the truth, and he felt that the time had come when such an acknowledgment would do him good.

Frank's generous heart was touched by this new revelation of his friend's nature, and he grasped Bart's hand warmly.

"If I have helped you in any way, I am glad to know it," he said, earnestly.

"Well, you have; and you have taken demerit on my account without a murmur. It is selfish of me to cling to cigarettes when 'tobacco smoke in quarters' has been reported against us so many times. By jingoes! I'm going to swear off! They don't do a fellow any good, and they get an awful hold on one. It won't be easy for me to give them up; but I am going to do it. If you catch me smoking another of the things, you may kick me till there isn't a breath left in my body! That's business, and I will stick to it!"

"Good!" laughed Frank. "You have been smoking a good many of them lately, and I have noticed that you complained of your lungs. How can your lungs be in any condition when you are constantly inhaling so much of that smoke! I know of a young fellow with weak lungs who went into quick consumption, and the doctors said cigarettes were entirely responsible. He smoked a number of packages a day. When he started he simply smoked now and then, but the habit grew on him, and at last he was unable to break it."

"I believe any fellow can break off smoking them if he has any will-power of his own."

"I think a fellow should, but you may not find it as easy as you fancy."

"Oh, it will be easy enough for me. When I make up my mind to a thing, I never give up."

"Well, I sincerely trust it will prove so. Every one knows cigarettes are harmful. Yesterday I read in a paper about a boy in a New York hospital who was said to have a 'tobacco heart' from smoking cigarettes. By a tobacco heart it was meant that his heart was so badly affected that it did not perform its action regularly and properly. Sometimes he is convulsed with terrible pains, and gasps for breath. Nearly all the time he moans and begs for cigarettes; but the doctors say he must never smoke another one if he cares to live. As it is, if he should get up, his heart is so weakened that it may go on a strike any time and cause his death."

"Oh, say!" laughed Bart; "that settles it. Now, I never will smoke again. I mean it—you see if I don't."

"I sincerely hope you do. You may become one of the best athletes in this school. Your only trouble has been shortness of breath when you exercise heavily, and that came entirely from smoking. If you give it up, you will soon cease to be troubled that way."

"Well, here's my hand on it, and it is as good as settled. No matter how much I may desire a smoke now, I'll not monkey with the deadly cigarette."

Their hands met again.



CHAPTER XXX.

FRANK AND THE PROFESSOR.

Frank Merriwell was right in thinking he had not seen the last of the man in black. On the third day after his first meeting with the mysterious stranger he was astonished, while ascending the stairs, to see that individual come out of Professor Gunn's room. Frank paused on the flight that led to the "Cock-loft," and watched the man hurriedly descend the stairs.

"Great Scott!" muttered the young cadet. "That is remarkable. I wonder what he was up to in the professor's room? He saw me, but he hustled away in a hurry."

For a moment Frank hesitated, and then he resolved to find out, if possible, what could be the meaning of the stranger's visit. With this object in view, he descended the stairs and approached the professor's door, on which he rapped.

Of late Professor Gunn had been severely troubled with headaches, and, this happening to be one of his bad days, he was stopping in his room, with his head bound up in a cloth saturated with camphor. Frank was obliged to rap a second time, and then the professor's shuffling step was heard, and his cloth-bound head appeared as the door opened.

"What's wanted?" he asked, sharply. "Can't I have any peace and rest? Speak up—what's wanted?"

"I have something to ask you, professor?" said Frank, quietly.

"Ah, is it you, Merriwell? I was going to see you later. Come in."

Not a little surprised, Frank entered the professor's room, standing cap in hand, while the crusty old fellow seated himself in an easy chair, and asked:

"What is it you want to see me about, young man?"

"You were lately visited by a stranger, whom I saw leaving this room a few moments ago."

"Yes, sir—yes."

"That man assaulted me on the highway a few nights ago."

"What's that—what? Assaulted you? This is interesting—decidedly!"

"Yes, he assaulted me; but I managed to give him the worst of it, and got away without being harmed."

"You should have reported the occurrence—you certainly should. That was the proper thing to do—the correct thing, young man. Then I would have known how to receive him."

"I thought he had gone away from this vicinity, but it seems that he has not. Now, I would like to know his name. What is his name, professor, please?"

"Eh? Ah? His name? Let me see. Now that is surprising—really surprising. I do not think he gave me his name."

"Did not give his name? How did he obtain admission to the building?"

"That's so—how did he? I hadn't thought of that. He was the smoothest talker I ever heard; he didn't give me a chance to ask many questions."

"He must have had some sort of business with you."

"He did—that is, he pretended to have. He said he was here to recover some property that belonged to him—property he lost several years ago."

The eyes of the old professor searched Frank's hands and rested on the peculiar ring.

"So that was his trick—the scoundrel!" cried Frank, repressing his anger with difficulty. "I presume he claimed this ring belonged to him?"

"Well—ahem!—he described such a ring, which he said he had seen on the hand of a student here."

"Exactly. And he named me as the possessor of the ring?"

"He said the name of the student's father was Charles Conrad Merriwell. I believe, sir—I am quite sure, in fact—that that was the name of your father."

Frank was fully aroused, and his brown eyes gleamed in a way that showed how indignant he was, although it was necessary to keep his feelings suppressed as far as possible.

"Professor Gunn," he said, swiftly, "that man is a scoundrel!"

"Eh? Ha! Hum! Severe language. Be careful, young man—be cautious. Do not make a statement you cannot stand behind. It is dangerous—very dangerous."

"I can stand behind every word I have said. Why, when he found I would not sell him the ring, professor, he tried to rob me of it! That is not only the act of a scoundrel, but that of a desperado."

"It looks bad—bad," confessed the old professor, who seemed in a somewhat nervous and flustered state. "Tell me all about it—give the full particulars of the occurrence."

Frank did so, telling a straightforward story, to which the professor listened with interest that was apparent, although he now and then pressed his hand to his head, as if the pain were troubling him.

When the story was finished, and Frank had explained what he and Bart had discovered on the black stone set in the ring, the old professor showed that he was quite wrought up.

"Remarkable!" he exclaimed—"re-e-markable! I am surprised—I am puzzled. This man told a very straight story—said the ring was stolen from him in Arizona. He said it was very valuable to him, as it was an heirloom. He could not tell how it came into your possession—he did not try. All he wanted was to recover his property—that was all."

"That was his scheme when he found he could not buy it from me. He did not attempt to make you believe he was a collector of odd rings, professor, for he knew that would do no good, and so he laid claim to the ring. What proof did he give you that it was his property?"

"Eh? Proof? It seems as if he did give proof of some sort, but really I don't know as he did. He was such a plausible person—so very smooth and convincing. Why, I did not think of doubting him. But I know your record very well since entering the academy, Merriwell. It is satisfactory—quite satisfactory. I do not think you are the sort of a lad to tell a deliberate falsehood—no, sir, no."

"Thank you, sir."

"That being the case, I shall have to accept your statement—yes, I will accept it. He said he would call again to-morrow. Let him come! I think I will have an officer on hand—he shall be arrested the moment he shows himself. That's right—that's proper. Hum! ha! Assaulted a cadet of Fardale Academy, did he? Attempted to rob a student at this school, did he? Well, he shall be duly and properly punished—yes, sir."

The professor had worked himself up into a state of considerable excitement, seeming to have forgotten his headache for the time. He got upon his feet and went tramping about the room in his slippers, the heels of which had been trodden down. He perched his nose-glasses far down on his pointed proboscis, and glared over them in a way he had when he was endeavoring to appear very impressive before a class.

Under other circumstances Frank might have smiled at the figure cut by the excited old man, but he was now far too angry himself to note what was ludicrous.

"Take care of that ring, young man," advised the professor—"take the best of care of it. It may be more valuable than it appears. There is certainly something connected with this ring that makes it valuable to this stranger—or else the man is a lunatic—yes, sir, a lunatic. I do not think that—no, I do not. He appeared rational—he was quite sane when he was here—quite so."

"I have ever regarded this ring as simply an ugly ornament that my father ran across and took a fancy to; but now I believe it must be something more."

"It is likely—quite likely. It seems that there is a mystery connected with the ring. It may be solved soon—very soon. This stranger must know a great deal concerning it. Perhaps he will tell what he knows—perhaps he may be induced to tell."

The professor said this in a peculiar way, that seemed to say "strong inducements" would be held out to the strange man in black.

Frank had seen Professor Gunn, and asked his question, but the mystery was deep as ever when the boy left the professor's room.



CHAPTER XXXI.

SNELL TALKS.

Frank was not the only one who had observed the man in black as that mysterious individual was departing. Bart Hodge saw the sinister stranger, and instantly recognized him from Frank's description.

"Great Scott!" thought Bart. "What can that imp of Satan be up to here?"

The man was hurrying from the grounds, and Hodge followed. The man passed the sentry, but Bart was challenged.

"See that man?" said the lad, hurriedly. "I am satisfied that he has been up to some mischief. I want to follow him, and see where he goes."

"You cannot leave the grounds without a pass," said the sentinel, firmly.

"Oh, hang your pass!" cried Bart, warmly, as he saw there was danger that the man in black would escape. "This is an exceptional case."

"A sentry knows no exceptions. If you leave the grounds, you will have to obtain a pass from the office."

"But that man is a robber—a highwayman! If you stand on the rules of the academy now, he will escape, and you may be reprimanded."

"I shall do my duty as sentinel, sir, reprimand or no reprimand."

The man in black was walking swiftly up the road toward the village, his cape flapping behind him in the wind like the wings of a bat. In a few moments he would disappear from view.

"Hang the luck!" grated Hodge, as he turned away in disappointment. "I'd given something to follow him up."

He was inclined to be angry at the sentinel at first, but his friendship with Merriwell had taught him that he should have forbearance when in the right, and should never hold a grudge when in the wrong. Sober reason told him the sentinel had done no more than his plain duty, so the feeling of anger was swiftly banished from Bart's breast.

"I will find Frank and tell him what is up," he thought.

As he walked swiftly toward the barracks, he was met by Wat Snell, who said:

"Hello, Hodge. I want to have a talk with you."

"With me?" asked Bart, in surprise.

Snell had not been friendly for some time, and, of late, he had ceased to speak to Hodge. This had not troubled Bart at all, but he was greatly surprised by this advance on the part of his enemy.

"Yes, with you," assured Snell. "There was a time when you were ready enough to talk with me. I have even known you to follow me up to get a chance to have a word in private with me."

The face of the dark-haired boy flushed.

"That time is past," he said. "What do you want of me?"

"It is my turn now. I want to have a word in private with you."

Bart did not fancy this much. He knew Snell for exactly what the fellow was—a sneaking, revengeful rascal. The thought that he had ever had dealings with such a scamp made Bart's cheeks burn and caused him to regard himself with no little contempt.

He did not care to be seen talking privately with Snell, and he glanced hastily around, to see if any one was watching them.

Snell noted the look, and an angry light came into his eyes, which were somewhat too small and set so near together that they seemed crowding his nose between them.

"Oh, you hesitate over it, do you!" he sneered. "That's like some fellows to go back on their old friends! You won't make anything by it in the end."

"If you have anything to say to me, say it," commanded Hodge, sharply.

"Come over here where the fellows can't see us from the windows," invited Snell, beckoning Bart to follow.

But Hodge did not stir.

"No, sir," he said, firmly. "If you have anything you want to say to me, say it right here."

Snell did not like this. He came back slowly, casting a hasty, doubtful look up to the dormitory windows. After some hesitation, during which he kicked the gravel of the walk with his toe, he began:

"There was a time when you didn't like Merriwell any better than the rest of us, and you have done things that would put you in a pretty bad corner, if they were known."

Hodge's brows lowered in a scowl, and his nostrils dilated, like those of a wild creature that scents danger. He said nothing, but his steady, piercing gaze made Snell keep his eyes on the ground.

"Of course I am not the kind of a fellow to blow anything of the sort," Wat went on, hurriedly. "I simply mentioned it by chance. You seem friendly with Merriwell now, and I thought you might have forgotten."

"I wonder what the rascal is coming at?" thought Bart; but not a word did he speak aloud.

"For the sake of old times, I thought—perhaps—you might do something for some of your old friends—I didn't know but you might. It can't harm Merriwell any in particular—he'll never miss it. It will be a lift for me, and I can make it an object for you."

Snell was floundering, and the look on his face seemed to indicate that he was growing frightened and felt like taking to his heels.

Of a sudden, Hodge became curious to know what the fellow had to say, and so he decided to try diplomacy.

"I do not forget my friends," he said. "What is it you want of me, Snell?"

That gave Wat a little courage.

"Before I tell you, Hodge, I want to say that you will be well paid if you help out a little in this matter, and Merriwell can never know that you were in it. He'll never suspect you. You didn't have any scruples about doing something of the sort once on a time."

"Well, what is it?" demanded Bart, impatiently. "Don't beat round the bush so much."

"Oh, don't be in such a hurry!" fluttered Snell, nervously, far from feeling fully confident of Hodge. "There's money in this. It will be twenty-five dollars in your pocket if you do what I want you to. Are you with me?"

"That depends on what you want me to do. Name it."

"Well, Merriwell has something that doesn't rightfully belong to him. Understand that—it is not his by right. It belongs to a friend of mine, who wants me to recover his property."

"Well?"

"You can aid me, as you room with Merriwell."

"Jupiter!" thought Bart. "I wonder if the mysterious ring is the piece of property Snell means?"

It was with no little difficulty that Hodge held himself in check; but he did not wish Snell to become alarmed, and so he quietly asked:

"What is this piece of property?"

"It is something Merriwell wears every day. I suppose he takes it off occasionally. That would give you your chance. Mind you, it is not rightfully his, but it belongs to my friend, so there is no harm in taking it to restore it to its proper owner. In fact, that is a simple act of justice."

"Why doesn't the rightful owner recover his property in the regular manner?"

"That might prove difficult, or even impossible, as he would have trouble in establishing his claim, and Merriwell might conceal the property. It is not the value of this property that the owner cares so much for; he wants the property itself."

There was no longer any doubt in Bart's mind; Snell was speaking of the ring. The man in black had resorted to another scheme to obtain possession of that ugly ornament.

With the greatest difficulty, Hodge kept cool and placid, as he asked:

"And you want me to steal this property?"

"No, no, no! It would not be stealing it; it would be returning it to its proper owner. Can't you see?"

"Well, if I am going to do this job, I must know what the property is."

"It is the ring Merriwell wears when he is not in ranks—the twisted band, with a black stone set in it."

"And you want me to obtain that ring and give it to you?"

"Yes."

"For which I am to receive twenty-five dollars?"

"Yes. What is your answer?"

"This is my answer!"

Like a flash, Hodge struck out straight from the shoulder, and his fist caught Snell between the eyes.



CHAPTER XXXII.

SNELL'S HATRED.

Smack!

The blow sounded sharp and clear, and Snell quickly found himself stretched on the gravel walk. He looked up in a dazed way, to see Hodge standing near at hand, regarding him with withering scorn.

"You'll pay dearly for this!" gasped Snell, lifting himself to his elbow and glaring at Bart.

"All right," was the hot retort. "I am willing to pay for it. You may have taken me for a thief, but I rather think you have discovered your mistake."

"You weren't so honest once on a time, not so very long——"

"What's that?" cried Bart, taking a threatening step toward the fellow. "I was never a thief, no matter what my other failings may have been; and if you dare insinuate such a thing, I will ram the words down your throat!"

"That's all right—that's all right!" muttered Wat, scrambling up and getting out of reach. "I will report this assault."

"Report it, and be hanged! The fellows in this academy admire a tattler! You will have a very pleasant time if you report it!"

"It was seen. Somebody will tell Professor Gunn."

"Perhaps so; but it isn't best that you are the one."

"I'll—I'll get even!"

"Go ahead. I'd like the satisfaction of fighting you to a finish."

"I will not fight with my fists," blustered Wat, trying to appear very fierce. "There are more deadly weapons."

"Name any weapon you choose. I will be only too glad to meet you. I am a good pistol shot, and Professor Rhynas says I handle the foils fairly well."

"Oh, you're a regular ruffian!" cried Snell, his chin beginning to quiver and his voice choking with anger that brought tears to his eyes. "I will not fight you in any way! I do not pretend to be a match for a ruffian of your sort. But I will get square just the same."

"I presume you will try to square the account in some sneaking manner. Well, I warn you now and here that it will not be healthy if you try any dirty tricks on me. If anything underhand happens to me, I'll know who was the originator of it, and I'll settle with you. That is business!"

With this, Bart turned to walk away, noting that a great many of the cadets were peering from the windows, some of them grinning with delight.

Snell shook his fist at Hodge's back, blustering:

"This is all right—all right, sir! It is not necessary for me to fight you; you are not on the same level with me."

"No," muttered the dark-haired boy, grimly, "I have never sunk as low as that."

The room occupied by Merriwell and Hodge was not on that side of the building, so Frank, who was studying, had not witnessed the encounter between his roommate and Snell.

Fortunately, also, the blow had not been seen by any one but cadets, so it was not liable to come to Professor Gunn's knowledge, unless Wat told of it himself.

Bart found Frank in their room, and Merriwell looked up as the dark-haired boy entered with a quick, nervous step.

"Hello!" he cried, in surprise. "What's happened? Your face is dark as a thunder-cloud, and you look as if you could eat iron."

"Well, I feel as if I wouldn't have any trouble in chewing up a few pounds of iron," replied Bart. "By Jove! old man, I never realized till a few minutes ago how narrow was my escape from being a most contemptible scoundrel!"

"How is that?"

"I was taken for a thief!" grated Bart, his white teeth clicking. "Yes, sir, taken for a thief!"

"It must have been by somebody who does not know you very well."

"That's where you are wrong. It was by somebody who knows me far too well. That is why I feel that my escape from being a scoundrel was a narrow one."

Had he not seen that Bart was so serious and thoroughly in earnest, Frank must have smiled.

"Give us the particulars," he urged. "What did you do when you were taken for a thief?"

"Knocked the cad down!" snarled Bart, smashing his clinched right hand into the open palm of his left.

"That was very proper," assured Merriwell. "You did nicely, my son."

"But I do not feel any the less humiliated. If I had not given him reason to approach me in such a manner, he would not have ventured."

Then Bart related the particulars of his adventure with Snell.

"So, so!" muttered Frank. "That rascal is in this affair. The man in black has chosen a good tool."

"That man is determined to have your ring."

"I should say so. He has been to Professor Gunn and represented that the ring belonged to him." And then Frank took his turn to tell what he had learned from the head professor.

"Well, I never!" cried Bart, as Frank finished. "Why, the scoundrel has the cheek of a brass monkey! He is dangerous, Frank."

"I believe you."

"If I were in your place, I would swear out a warrant for his arrest, and send an officer after him."

"I may be forced to do so."

"And I advise you to keep your eye on Wat Snell."

"I will do that."

"In the meantime, let me take the ring long enough to make an enlarged drawing of those lines, so that you will have the map, if it is a map, even if you lose the ring. You know my ability to copy with pen and ink anything I see. My father wants me to become a civil engineer, and so I am taking a course to suit him; but, when I leave Fardale, I mean to go to an art school, and find out if I am not cut out for an artist."

"How can you make a drawing of the lines?"

"Why, I will place the ring under a microscope, and then it will not be difficult. You know I can be very accurate when I try."

"Yes, I know it, and I will think of your plan. I am inclined to believe it is a good one. Whether I should lose the ring or not, I'd like to have a copy of that map to study."

"I'll find time to do the job to-morrow, if Old Gunn will permit us to use the microscope again."

On the following day, however, Bart found no opportunity to make the drawing.

Frank watched for the man in black, who had said he would call on Professor Gunn again; but the mysterious man did not put in an appearance, and Merriwell waited his time.

Wat Snell was forced to endure no end of ridicule from his companions, as it was the rule at Fardale that a student who had received a blow or an insult must challenge the one who gave it. If he did not do so, he was regarded as a coward, and his life in school from that time was certain to be far from pleasant.

In his heart Snell was an arrant coward, and he knew that Hodge was really longing for a challenge. Wat felt sure that he would receive a severe drubbing at the hands of the dark-haired boy whom he had angered, and the thoughts of such punishment filled his soul with horror.

"I can't fight him—it's no use, I can't!" he told himself over and over. "He is a turn-coat, anyway! He did not pretend to be so conscientious till after he got thick with Merriwell. Oh, Merriwell is really the one who is at the bottom of all the trouble I have had in this school, and I hate him worse than I do Hodge.

"I'd like to get hold of that ring. Jupiter! seventy-five dollars is a price to pay for an old ring like that, but it's what that strange man in black offered me to secure it for him. There's something mighty mysterious about that ring. I wish I knew what the mystery is. I am going to ask the man when I see him this evening."

That night Snell escaped from the building and the grounds without obtaining leave. He was going to keep an appointment with the man in black.



CHAPTER XXXIII.

PLAYING THE SHADOW.

Snell was followed.

Frank had taken Bart's advice to keep an eye on the fellow, and something in Wat's actions had given him the impression that Snell was up to something that he did not care to have generally known.

With a great deal of skill, Frank kept watch of Snell till the latter slipped from the grounds under cover of darkness.

It was a cloudy night, with the wind moaning far out at sea, and the waves roaring sullenly along the base of Black Bluff, down the shore.

As may be imagined, it was no easy task to follow Wat without losing the fellow in the darkness or getting so close that the "shadowed" lad would discover that somebody was watching him.

Although he was not aware of it, Frank possessed a remarkable faculty for performing such a task. He moved with the silence of a creeping cat, and yet covered ground with sufficient swiftness to keep near Wat.

Something must have made Snell suspicious, for three times he stopped and peered back through the darkness, and three times Frank sunk like a ghost to the ground, escaping discovery by his swiftness in making the move.

Indeed, had it been possible for a third party to watch them, it must have seemed that Merriwell felt an intuition which told him exactly when Snell was going to look back.

Once or twice before they came to the road that led up from the cove, Frank lost sight of the boy he was following, but his keen ears served him quite as well as his eyes.

When the road up the hill was reached Frank was able to follow Wat with greater ease.

Suddenly Snell paused and whistled three times. In a moment a single sharp whistle sounded near at hand, and then Frank, crouching close to the ground, saw a black figure come toward Wat Snell.

The wind that was moaning over the sea swept up the road and caused something to flap around the shoulders of this figure like a great pair of wings.

For all of the darkness, Frank recognized this figure, and he was seized with an indefinable feeling of fear such as he had never felt before.

With an effort, Frank steadied his quivering nerves, remaining quiet to watch and listen.

The person who had appeared in answer to Snell's signal was the man in black, and he quickly pounced upon the boy, like a huge hawk upon its prey.

"The ring!" he cried, hoarsely. "Where is it?"

Wat gave a low cry of fear.

"Don't!" he gasped. "You're hurting me! Your fingers are hard as iron, and they crush right into a fellow!"

"The ring!" repeated the man, fiercely. "Produce it!"

"I haven't got it."

"What?" snarled the mysterious stranger. "You have not kept your word! What do you mean?"

"Don't shake a fellow like that!" quavered Snell. "You act like a madman."

"Answer my questions! Why haven't you kept your word?"

"Couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Didn't get the chance."

"But you said you could get a boy to assist you—the fellow who rooms with this Merriwell."

"I thought I could, but the cad went back on me."

"He refused to aid you?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you have found no opportunity to get hold of the ring yourself?"

"Not yet—but I will, sir," Snell hastily answered. "All I want is to know that you will pay me as you agreed. Don't hold onto my arm so tight; I won't run away."

"Bah!" cried the man in black, as he half-flung Wat from him. "What beastly luck!"

"It is bad luck," confessed Snell, falteringly. "But it isn't my fault. I have done my best."

The man in black said nothing, but stood with his head bowed, the elbow of his right arm resting in the hollow of his left hand, while his right hand, fiercely clinched, supported his chin. The wind continued to flap the cape about his shoulders.

The man's attitude and his silence gave Snell a feeling of fear, and he drew away, acting as if he contemplated taking to his heels, for all that he had said he would not run.

"I do not propose to endure much more of this," muttered the man, at length. "I'll have that ring soon, by some means!"

"You must consider it very valuable," said Wat, curiously.

"Valuable!" came hoarsely from the lips of the man in black. "I should say so! If it were not, I shouldn't be making such a desperate struggle to get possession of it."

The lad who was listening a short distance away, strained his ears to catch every word.

"There must be some secret about the ring?" insinuated Snell. "The gold in it amounts to little, and the old black stone——"

A strange sound came from the throat of the man in black, and then, seeming to fancy that he had admitted altogether too much, he hastened to say:

"The ring is valuable to me; but it is worth little to anybody else."

"I suppose that is because nobody else knows its secret?" came from Snell.

"Secret! Bah! It has no secret!"

But it was not easy to convince Snell that this was the truth.

"Then why should you go to such extremes to get possession of a wretched old thing of that sort?" demanded Wat.

"I have told you. The ring belonged to me—was stolen from me. It has been in our family a great length of time, and was given me by my father. I prize it highly for that reason. I do not know how it came into the possession of this Merriwell family, and I cannot prove my claim to my own property, so I must recover it in such a manner as is possible. That is the truth."

Wat said nothing. Somehow he was doubtful, for it did not seem that anybody who was sane could resort to such desperate expedients to recover an ugly old ring that had no particular value save as an heirloom.

As for Frank, he might have believed the strange man's story, but for the fact that the man had told him something entirely different. One story or the other might be true, but in any case the man in black was a liar.

There was a brief silence, and then Snell asked:

"How am I to know that you will surely pay me seventy-five dollars for the ring? You pounced upon me a few minutes ago as if you would rob me of it if it had been in my possession."

"That was all through my eagerness and excitement," declared the man, soothingly. "I meant you no harm, but I was very anxious."

"Well, I don't know; I am afraid I will be left when I get the ring and hand it over, so I guess I'll——"

"What?"

Wat edged a little farther away.

"I guess I'll throw up the job," he hesitated.

"Do you still think you can find a way to get the ring?"

"Think so! I know I can get it, sooner or later, if I want to."

"Then look here, to prove that I am sincere I will pay you this much in advance. It is a twenty-dollar gold piece. Now you cannot doubt my earnestness and fairness in this matter. If you bring me the ring within forty-eight hours, I'll pay you, besides this twenty, the seventy-five dollars I offered in the first place."

Snell eagerly clutched the piece of money.

"You're a brick!" he cried. "And I'll lay myself out to get that ring. I haven't begun to try the schemes I have in my head. I will meet you here to-morrow night at about this time, and I'll do my best to have the ring. Only, if I haven't got it, I want you to promise not to jump on me and grab me the way you did to-night."

"Don't be afraid. I won't harm you."

"Well, you can scare a fellow out of his boots, and I don't like to be scared."

"I am afraid you are something of a coward," said the man, a trace of contempt in his tone.

But little more passed between them before the man in black turned away toward Fardale village, and Wat descended the road in the direction of the academy.

Frank hugged the ground at one side of the road, and he was not seen by Snell.

But, by the time Wat had gone so far that there was little danger of discovery if Frank moved from the locality, the man in black had vanished in the night.

Still, Frank sprang up and went scurrying lightly up the hill, keeping to the grass at the side of the road, so his feet made scarcely a sound.

He hurried along the road till Fardale village was almost reached, but he saw nothing more of the man in black. The mysterious stranger had vanished as completely as if swallowed up by the earth.

Frank had hoped to trace the man to the place where he was stopping, but he was forced to give this up and hurry back to the academy.

Still he had not wasted his time.

"They will meet there to-morrow night, eh?" he muttered. "Well, it would not be a very difficult thing to have an officer on hand with a warrant for this stranger."

He went straight to his room, hoping to find Hodge there.

He did. Bart was seated in his favorite attitude, with his feet on the table, and a cigarette in his mouth!



CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE RING DISAPPEARS.

"Bart!"

The exclamation of mingled surprise and reproach came from Frank's lips.

Hodge had made a move to conceal the cigarette, but discovered he was too late.

His face turned crimson, and he hung his head with shame.

Frank closed the door, and came to the side of his roommate, on whose shoulder he gently placed a hand, as he asked:

"How does it happen, Bart?"

Bart started to say something, choked a little, and then forced an unpleasant laugh.

"Oh, I'm a liar!" he burst out, hotly. "I have broken my pledge at the first temptation!"

"Why did you do it? You know you said you could leave off smoking cigarettes easily."

"I thought I could."

"And you found out the habit was fastened more firmly on you than you thought?"

"That's about the size of it. I have been longing for a cigarette all day, and, when I came by accident upon this one, finding myself all alone, I could not resist the desire to have a whiff."

"That shows the habit had a firmer hold on you than you thought."

"Yes. I fancied I could leave it off readily enough; but I was mistaken. It seems a fellow never knows what a hold the nasty little things have on him till he tries to stop smoking them."

"And were you going to give up the struggle without another effort?"

"Oh, no! I didn't mean to smoke only this once. That is, I didn't mean to at first, but after I got to smoking I thought it would be a good plan to taper off."

"Which meant that you were going to tamper with the stuff again, and, finally, you would smoke as much as ever, and would not leave off at all."

"Perhaps you're right," confessed Hodge, who showed his shame.

"I am sure I am right; but you will give over the plan of tapering off—you will stop at once. You are not weak-minded enough to let cigarettes get a hold on you that you cannot break."

"Well, I thought I wasn't; but I don't know about it now."

"Oh, this is bad, but it doesn't mean failure. I don't believe you are the kind of a fellow to give in thus easily to an enemy. You have more fight in you than that."

Frank spoke in a confident tone, as if he did not doubt Hodge's ability to conquer the habit, and Bart gave him a grateful look.

All at once, Bart jumped up and opened the window, out of which he fiercely flung the half-smoked cigarette.

"If I hadn't been a fool by nature, I'd never lighted the thing!" he cried, in supreme self-contempt. "Your confidence in me, old man, has given me confidence in myself. This settles it! I am done with cigarettes forever. You'll never again discover me with one in my lips!"

Bart had meant to keep his pledge in the first place, but Frank's failure to reproach him for falling, and Frank's confidence in his ability to stop smoking gave him the needed confidence in himself—filled him with a determination not to be defeated. And from that hour he never again smoked a cigarette.

"Now we're all right again," said Merriwell, heartily, as Bart came back from the window. "Sit down while I relate a very interesting tale to you."

Bart sat down, and Frank told what he had seen and heard through following Snell.

"That sneak makes me sick!" cried Hodge, fiercely. "I'd like to get another chance at him! Why, he's the biggest sneak in this school!"

"That's right."

"Gage couldn't hold a candle to Snell."

"Gage was bolder; Snell is a bigger sneak."

"That's about the size of it. What are you going to do with the fellow?"

"I think it would be well to catch him in company with the man in black when they meet to-morrow night."

Bart slapped his thigh.

"Just the scheme! But who's going to do the catching?"

"It would be a good plan to have an officer from the village on hand for that job."

"Good! You can swear out a warrant for the man for felonious assault, attempted highway robbery, or something of the sort, and have him sent where he won't trouble you again for some little time."

"That's what I thought."

"It seems the only way to get rid of him, and he is mighty dangerous."

"He is desperate."

"Yes; he means to have that ring anyway. I'll find a way to-morrow to draw those lines on paper. I don't care if that man does say the ring is of no particular value, I know better. If the lines are taken off, you will stand a show of finding out what they mean."

Frank was eager to have an enlarged copy of the lines made, for he felt that he could never be sure that he would not lose the ring, even though the mysterious man in black should be disposed of effectually.

"Snell is determined to get himself into serious trouble," said Frank.

"Oh, money will hire him to do any mean, sneaking thing!" came scornfully from Bart's lips.

"If he is caught with this scoundrel in black to-morrow night, he will be under a cloud here."

"He is under a cloud now. Twenty fellows saw me knock him down, and they'll never give him any rest till he sends me a challenge."

"Well, I don't fancy he will send you a challenge."

"Then his life will be made wretched while he remains at Fardale Academy."

"He has brought it on himself."

"Of course. A fellow can't be a sneak and have the respect of anybody who is decent. I found that out long ago."

The following forenoon Bart obtained permission to use the microscope long enough to make a drawing of the lines on the stone set in the mysterious ring.

Before going to recitation, Frank surrendered the ring to Bart, who hesitated about taking it.

"What if I should lose it?" he said.

"You can't," smiled Frank. "There is no danger of that."

"Still, I rather wish you were coming along."

"I can't do that without getting dismissed from recitation, and that isn't possible."

"Well, I will do the job quickly, and I'll have it finished by the time your class is through reciting."

So they parted, and, with the precious ring in his possession, Hodge hurried to the room where the microscope was kept, having provided himself with the necessary materials for making the drawing.

He lost no time in getting to work, and he made rapid progress. As the drawing developed, he grew excited and enthusiastic, for he plainly saw it must be a map of some wild bit of country.

"I'll bet the man who can read this correctly and knows where this country is located, can go straight to a fortune!" muttered the lad. "But I do not see how it is going to benefit anybody who does not know what section of the country this map represents."

It was a warm spring day, and Bart had opened a window near the table at which he was working. A pleasant breeze was stirring.

Although he took care to be quite accurate, it did not take the lad long to complete the drawing.

He was examining it carefully to make sure he had omitted nothing and had made no errors, when a strong wind sucked through the building, swinging open the door of the room.

He rose hastily to close the door, when another breath of wind set the paper on which he had been drawing fluttering across the table. He sprang to catch it, but it avoided his fingers and fluttered out of the window. Thrusting his head forth, he saw it sail away and settle slowly at the foot of one of the great trees amid which the academy buildings stood.

Out of the room darted Bart, and down the stairs he bounded. He was soon outside, and, recovering the paper, which he readily found, he hastened back.

"Great Scott!" he muttered. "I left that ring under the microscope!"

The thought that he had allowed the ring to escape his sight for a moment filled him with anxiety.

What if he should not find it where he had left it a few moments before?

A cold sweat started out on his face, and he literally tore up the stairs and rushed headlong into the experimenting room, the door of which he had left open.

And then, when he looked for the mysterious ring, he found it had vanished!



CHAPTER XXXV.

MORE DANGER.

"Gone!"

Bart staggered as if he had been struck a heavy blow, and his face grew ghastly pale, while his eyes stared at the spot where he had last seen the ring.

It was truly gone. In some surprising manner it had disappeared from the room while he was in pursuit of the paper, astonishing though such a thing seemed.

For a few moments Hodge was quite overcome by this discovery. He sank weakly into a chair, wringing his hands and breathing hoarsely.

How had it happened?

It did not take Bart long to decide that some one must have slipped into the room and stolen the ring while he was after the drawing.

In that case, whoever committed the theft must have been watching for an opportunity, knowing that he had the ring.

Hodge quickly recovered from his stupefied condition, and dashed out into the corridor to look for the miscreant.

"It must have been Snell," was his decision. "I will look for the sneak."

Straight to Snell's room he rushed, but Snell's roommate, who was studying, declared Wat had not been there in the past hour.

This put Bart at sea for a moment. Where could he find Snell?

Looking at the recitation board, he saw that Snell should appear in the recitation room in a very few minutes.

He could not be confronted there. What plan of action could be devised?

He did not wish to give Snell time enough to conceal the ring. If the fellow could be caught with it still in his possession, it might be possible to make him disgorge.

It was time for Frank to return from recitation. The thought of facing Merriwell with the confession that the ring was gone made Bart's knees weak; but he decided that that was the proper course to pursue, and so he hurried to their room.

Frank had just got in, and, by the look on Hodge's face, he instantly saw that something of an alarming nature had happened.

"The ring!" he cried. "Where is it?"

"I think Wat Snell has it," came huskily from Bart's lips.

With one bound, Merriwell caught his companion by both shoulders, staring straight into his face.

"Have you, also, turned? No! no!" he quickly went on. "I do not think that of you, Bart! You are still true!"

"No, I didn't go back on you," said Hodge, thickly; "but I was guilty of criminal carelessness."

"How did it happen? Tell me quick!"

Bart did so, speaking swiftly, so that no more moments were wasted.

"It is probable that Snell has it," said Frank. "He must be apprehended without delay. Come."

He took the lead, and Bart followed at his heels.

But they were not to confront Wat Snell at the door of the recitation room, as Merriwell hoped, for they were not long in learning that the fellow had lately obtained a pass and left the grounds. According to Snell, his uncle was to pass through Fardale village on the noon train, and Wat's presence was desired at the station.

Of course both Frank and Bart immediately decided that this excuse had been used to enable him to reach the village and deliver the stolen ring to the man in black.

For all of their desire to pursue Snell hotly, they were unable to leave without permission, and so valuable time was lost. At length, however, they were on the highway, running side by side toward the village.

Frank had seemed cool and clear-headed, but, not knowing that Bart had fully completed the drawing of the lines on the black stone, in his heart he was feeling very desperate indeed.

Hodge had grown thoroughly angry, and Snell was likely to get hurt when Bart placed hands upon him.

The boys were good runners, and they covered the distance between the academy and Fardale village in a very short time.

Once within the village, they began inquiring for Snell, and it was not long before they discovered people who had seen him. To the post office they went, and then they were told that a boy answering Snell's description had been seen going toward the railway station.

"It would be a corker if the fellow had really come to see his uncle!" said Bart.

"I do not take any stock in that now," declared Frank.

"Nor I; but I don't understand why he is making so many twists and turns since reaching the village. If he has the ring, why didn't he take it straight to the man in black?"

"Perhaps he knows as little about where to find that individual as we do."

"Possibly."

They came in sight of the station, about which were several carriages, while a few people were seen on the platform, waiting for the midday train.

Reaching the station, they came sharply round the first corner, and found themselves face to face with Wat Snell and the man in black.

At that very instant Snell accepted some money and surrendered something to the stranger.

Frank's keen eyes saw that the something was the stolen ring.

With a cry, he leaped forward, flinging Snell aside, and grasping the man.

"Give me that ring!"

A fierce exclamation of fury broke from the stranger's lips, and he swiftly thrust the ring into his pocket.

"Hands off, boy!" he hoarsely commanded. "Hands off, or you will get hurt!"

"I'll never take my hands off you till you give up that ring, you scoundrel!"

The man having encountered Frank before, well knew that the boy possessed remarkable strength, which would not make it an easy thing to shake him off.

"Let go!" he hissed.

"I will not!"

"Then take that!"

Something bright and gleaming, like the blade of a knife, flashed in the man's hand. He struck, and with a cry, Frank, fell heavily to the platform!



CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE SECRET OF THE RING.

Astonished and horrified though he was, Bart Hodge realized that Frank had been stabbed. At that moment, with the lack of resolution that was characteristic of him on occasions of peril, and not through fear, he stood quite still and did nothing.

Without a shout or a sound, the man in black leaped toward the end of the station, where a saddled and bridled horse was hitched to a post.

One slash of the knife set the horse free, and the desperate man leaped to the creature's back, riding rapidly away.

Frank had swiftly risen to his feet, and several persons, who had witnessed the blow, crowded anxiously around him, asking how badly he was hurt.

"It's nothing but a scratch in the shoulder, for I saw it coming, and dodged. Don't mind me. Don't let that man get away!"

"He won't get very fur on that hoss," said the owner of the animal. "She's lame in her off hind foot, an' she'll tarnal soon give out if he pushes her like that."

"Still he will get away if he is not immediately pursued. Come—who'll follow?"

"Into this carriage, boy!" cried a man. "I have a little horse here that will give him a hot chase. Come on!"

"I am the constable," said another man, with great dignity. "I'll foller as soon as I can get a boss saddled."

Realizing that the boy was not seriously hurt, half of those who had been lingering about the station made a rush to join in the pursuit of the murderous stranger. All kinds of teams were pressed into use, and the road was soon filled with a string of pursuers.

Looking back anxiously, the man in black saw them coming, and he grated his teeth fiercely, for he had already discovered that the horse he had appropriated was seriously lamed.

"Let 'em come!" he cried. "I'll not be taken easily! I have the key to a fortune in my pocket, and I will escape with it, if it is in me to do so!"

Ruthlessly and cruelly he pricked the lame mare with the keen point of the knife, which he still held in his hand, and a trail of dust rose behind him.

Out of the village and into the country the lame horse bore the fugitive. Not far from Fardale was a big stone quarry, and, by chance, the man had selected the road which skirted the jagged hole in the ground.

His pursuers were gaining on him, and he continued to use the knife mercilessly as the horse bore him along the road past the quarry.

Of a sudden a large dog bounded into the road in front of the man in black, and the horse which the man bestrode gave a snort and whirled sideways, coming with a crash against the rail which ran along by the roadside.

At that point the rail was somewhat rotten, and a shriek of horror broke from the man's lips as he saw it break. He made one desperate effort to spring from the saddle and escape going down into the quarry with the horse, but the pursuers were dismayed to see man and beast disappear into the yawning hole.

"He won't get away to-day, my boy," said the man in the foremost carriage, at whose side was Frank. "We'll find him down at the bottom of the quarry, dead as a flounder."

Finding a place to hitch the horse at the side of the road, the man did so, and they went forward together, while the other pursuers kept coming up.

Reaching the point where the man and horse had fallen into the quarry, they looked down.

Amid the jagged rocks far below were two motionless forms.

"Come," said the man; "we'll go down there by the regular road."

They passed round the quarry till they found a road that wound downward till it reached the bottom. By this road they descended, with scores of others at their heels.

When they came to the man and the horse, great was their astonishment to hear the man moaning and to see him open his eyes and look at them.

"Why, the critter an't dead yet!" exclaimed the constable. "I think it's my sollum duty to arrest him on the spot."

Frank quickly knelt by the side of the mysterious man, who faintly whispered:

"So I didn't kill you, boy. Well, I have crimes enough to answer for. The ring is here in my vest pocket. Take it. It will never do me any good now."

Frank quickly extracted the ring from the man's pocket, and slipped it upon his finger.

"I am dying," murmured the man.

"Perhaps not. We'll have you taken back to town, and see what a doctor can do for you."

"No use; I wouldn't live to get there. My time has come. The hidden mine will never reveal its riches to me."

"He is really dying," whispered some one in Frank's ear. "He will not live ten minutes. The wonder is that he is alive at all."

"Who are you? and what is the mystery connected with this ring?" hurriedly asked the boy.

"Never mind my name," came faintly from the lips of the dying man. "It would do you no good to know it. I have lived a wild life—a wicked life. This is the end! Fate brought me to Fardale—fate showed me the ring that bore the chart to the lost mine."

The man stopped and closed his eyes, while the ghastly pallor spread over his face.

A hand held a bottle of liquor to his lips, and he swallowed a few drops, which gave him a few more moments of life. Again his eyes unclosed.

"Once I committed murder for that ring," he whispered. "I killed the Mexican who possessed it. It was a crazy hermit who cut that map on the stone. He discovered one of the richest mines in Arizona, and a fantasy of his deranged brain led him to cut the chart upon the stone, for he cared nothing for the gold himself. When he died, he gave the ring to a Mexican who attended him in his last moments, telling him its secret. In Tombstone the Mexican got drunk and boasted of his riches, showing the ring. That night I killed the greaser, and obtained the ring. I had a partner, and he stole the ring from me. How he came to part with it, and how it fell into the hands of your father, boy, is something I do not know."

He was exhausted, and his voice sunk till Frank could not catch the words. Then he lay still, short breaths fluttering his lips.

Frank feared the man would not rally again, but he did, and the boy panted:

"Tell me where this mine is located. What part of Arizona does the chart represent?"

With a last great effort, the dying man whispered:

"Northwest from Tombstone—lies the—Santa—Catarina—mountains. There—there—is——"

His eyes grew glassy—the last faint breath fluttered over his lips—the man of mystery was dead.

* * * * * *

The man in black was buried in the cemetery just outside Fardale village, and the small stone which Frank Merriwell caused to be placed at the head of his grave bears the word "Unknown."

The man had died just as his lips were about to reveal the location of the country depicted by the chart cut on the black stone of the ring that had caused so much trouble. He had mentioned the Santa Catarina mountains, but he had not told what part of the large range the chart depicted.

"If he had lived thirty seconds longer, I should have learned his secret—should have known how to reach the lost mine by aid of the chart. Now——"

"You may be able to reach the mine after all," said Bart, encouragingly. "You have the ring, and you know its value. When you leave school, you may go West and search for your mine, for it certainly belongs to you now. You may find somebody in the Santa Catarina region that will recognize this portion of the country depicted here."

"Long before that the mine may be found by some one else."

"It is possible, but hardly probable. If it were so easy to find, that man would not have made such desperate attempts to obtain possession of the ring."

"Well, I am not going to kick. I have the ring, and his knife did not end my life, as it would if I had not dodged. He slit open my sleeve from the shoulder to the elbow, and brought the blood."

"Oh, you're a lucky dog," laughed Bart. "You are sure to come out on top every time."

Wat Snell found it convenient to take a vacation, but he returned to the academy later, although he found himself regarded with scorn by all save a certain few of his own sort.