Frank Merriwell's Backers Part 12

"If somebody's watching for me there," thought Merry, "it's going to be dangerous to move, at best."

But something told him his lead had not gone astray.

As the light faded still more he arose quickly, rifle in hand, and started on a run for the hut. As he ran he felt that it was far from impossible that another shot might bring sudden death to him. Still he did not hesitate, and, running steadily, he came up to the hut.

The door swung open before his hand. He looked in. It was not so dark as to hide a black figure that lay sprawled on the dirt floor.

Frank shuddered a little, and felt like turning away at once.

"He brought it on himself!" he whispered. "It was my life or his. But I'm sorry I had to do it."

Then he entered the hut. Striking a match, he bent over the prostrate figure. The reflected light, coming from his hollowed hands, showed him a familiar face.

"Big Monte!" he cried, starting back and dropping the match.

It was in truth the big man who had been one of Cimarron Bill's paid satellites.

He found the man's wrist and felt for his pulse.

"Good Lord!" Merry cried.

Big Monte's pulse flickered beneath his fingers. The ruffian still lived.

Frank knew where there was some wood, and this he soon had piled in a little heap in the open fireplace. He applied a match, and soon a blaze sprang up.

By the growing light of the fire he examined Monte's wound.

"Creased him as fine as can be!" he muttered. "Maybe there is a chance for him, after all."

It may be explained that by "creased" Frank meant that the bullet had pa.s.sed along the man's skull, cutting his scalp, yet had not penetrated the bone. This had rendered Big Monte unconscious.

Merry removed the fellow's revolvers and knife and stood his rifle in a far corner. Then he brought some water in his drinking-cup and set about the effort of restoring the wretch to consciousness, which did not prove such a hard task as he had antic.i.p.ated.

After a little Monte's eyes opened and he lay staring at the youth. He seemed bewildered, and it was plain he could not readily collect his scattered wits.

"Well, Monte," said Frank coolly, "that was a pretty close call for you.

I came near shooting off the top of your head, which I would have been justified in doing. All the same, I'm glad I failed."

The big man continued to stare at Frank. Already Merry had bound up the ruffian's wound.

"Ho!" came hoa.r.s.ely from Monte's lips. "Back! Back to the depths! You are dead!"

"If I am dead," said Frank, "I'm just about the liveliest dead man you ever saw."

A strange smile came to the lips of the wounded man.

"If you are not yet dead," he said, "I opines you soon will be a heap."

"Never count chickens before they are hatched, Monte."

"When you come back you'll find your mine in the hands of the syndicate.

Bill will have it."

"That's interesting! How will Bill get it?"

"He will take it while you are away. He has gathered a right good gang, and he's a-goin' to jump the mine to-night."

"Monte," said Frank, "you interest me extensively. How does it happen you are not with the gang?"

"I am one of the watchers. I watch to see that you do not get back. I reckons I have done my part o' the job, for I shot you dead a while ago."

The big ruffian was not in his right mind, but already he had said enough to stir Frank Merriwell's blood. So Cimarron Bill had been watching his movements from some place of cover, and had hastened to gather his ruffians the moment Frank left the mine. Without doubt Bill had counted on Frank remaining away longer. However, this night he was to strike, with his gang. The mine was to be seized.

"I must be there!" muttered Merriwell.

Fortunately Big Monte had a horse hidden not far from the cabin, and Frank was able to find the animal.

The wounded ruffian was raving at intervals. He seemed quite deranged.

"I can't leave him like this," thought Merry. "He might wander off into the mountains and perish."

Still he disliked to be enc.u.mbered with the wretch. Some would have deserted the wounded man without delay and ridden with all haste to reach the mine.

It must be confessed that such a thought pa.s.sed through the head of Frank Merriwell.

"No!" murmured Frank. "He's a human being. It is my duty to do what I can to save him."

So it came about that two men rode Monte's big horse away from that valley. One of them muttered, and laughed, and talked wildly.

"Riding with the dead!" he said. "We're on the road to Purgatory! Ha!

Ha! Ha! Whip up the horse! Gallop on!"

It was a strange ride through the starlight night. The clicking clatter of the horse's hoofs aroused the big man at intervals, and he laughed and shouted.

"I'm dead!" he finally declared. "I am a dead man! Two dead men are riding together! And we're on the road to the burnin' pit! But it's getting a heap cold! I'm beginnin' to freeze. The fire will be good an'

hot!"

"Shut up!" said Merry. "We're getting near the Queen Mystery. You may get shot up some more if you keep your jaw wagging."

As they came nearer to the valley, Merry slackened the pace of the foam-flecked horse. Fortunately the animal had been big and strong, for once Frank had seemed to have little mercy on the beast he bestrode.

Monte continued to talk. He had grown so weak that Merry was compelled to partly support him.

"Look here," Frank said, in a commanding way, "you are not to say another word until I give you permission. Do you understand that?"

"Yes."

"Then close up. Not another word from you."