Frank Merriwell's Triumph Part 35

"I wonder how he gits onter it that anything's up?" questioned Dug.

"Mebbe that sneak, Colvin, tells him."

"Mebbe so," nodded Bight. "Anyhow, n.o.body trusts Colvin none, and I opines he'd been polished off here ef he'd stayed."

"And he'll sartin never git very fur," declared Dug. "Them boys arter him will sure run him down and make buzzard bait o' him."

Hearing this, Hodge knew for the first time that there were men in pursuit of Colvin, his messenger, who had slipped out of the valley the previous night. Colvin had sworn, if he lived, to carry the message for Frank to the nearest telegraph station and send it. But he was pursued by ruffians who meant to slay him. It was doubtful if he reached a telegraph office. If he failed, of course Merriwell would remain uninformed as to the situation in the Enchanted Valley and would not hurry about returning there.

Even if Colvin succeeded, it might be too late. Bart believed it probable that Merry was in San Diego or that vicinity, and therefore it would take him some time to reach Prescott and travel by horse from Prescott to the valley. Long before he could make such a journey the mutineers would be able to accomplish their evil design.

"Who do you s'pose is back of this yere business, Dug?" said Bight. "You thinks Bland is not behind it, does yer?"

"Dead sartin. Bland he never does this fer hisself. He wouldn't dare. It wouldn't do him no good."

"Why not?"

"Because he can't hold this yere mine and work it. Somebody locates him, and he has to evaporate, for his record counts agin' him. Howsomever, he can jump the mine for some other gent and git paid fer doing the trick, arter which he ambles into the distance and gently disappears. This is his little game, and I will bet on it."

"I wonders some who the gent is behind it."

"That's nothing much ter us as long as we gits our coin."

"Does we git it sure?"

"You bet I gits mine. Ef I don't, there'll be blazes a-roaring around yere."

"Why, you don't buck up agin' Bland none?" half laughed the other. "You knows better than ter do that."

"I don't do it by my lonesome; but if I raises a holler there is others does the same thing. But I will git my dust, all right. Don't you worry about that."

At this point several of the men in the vicinity of the unfinished cabins set up a wild yell of laughter. One of their number had attempted to imitate the awkward motions of the former dancer and had fallen sprawling on his stomach. Immediately after this burst of laughter the men began to sing again.

"That oughter bring this yere Hodge over this way," said Dug, with a hoa.r.s.e laugh. "Ordinarily he comes a-whooping to see what is up, and he raises thunder. He sets himself up as a boss what is to be obeyed, and I reckons so far he has had the boys jumping when he gives orders."

"If he comes over now," observed Bight, "he gits his medicine in a hurry. I don't care any about shooting him up, so I am for staying away from the rest of the bunch."

"Oh! what ails yer?" growled Dug.

"It's murder!" said Bight.

"Well, I opines you has cooked yer man afore this?"

"Ef I ever has," retorted Bight, "it certain was in self-defense."

"I reckon you're something of a squealer, pard," sneered Dug. "You wants to git your share o' the dust without taking no part in the danger. You tells how you raises a roar if you don't git your coin, but what does yer do to earn it?"

"Well, I fights some when I has to," returned Bight, rather savagely.

"Mebbe you talks too much to me, Dug, and you gits yourself into some trouble."

Bight was ugly now, and his companion involuntarily retreated a step, for the squat chap had a reputation as a fighter.

"Go slow, pard!" exclaimed Dug. "I am not a-picking trouble with you."

"All right, all right," nodded Bight, "Only just be a little keerful--a little keerful. Don't think just because a gent don't keer about shooting another gent down promiscuous-like that he is soft and easy.

There's Texas Bland out yander. He has a reputation as a bad man. Well, partner, I picks no quarrels with him, but if he stomps on my tail he gets my claws."

"What's that?" exclaimed Dug, in astonishment. "You ain't a-giving it ter me that you bucks up agin' Bland, are yer?"

"I am a-giving it ter yer that I does in case I has to. I don't propose any ter have ter do it. I jines in with this yer move because it seems popular with the gang, and I am none anxious ter work myself. This yere is a nice bunch o' miners, now, ain't it? Why, the gent what hires this outfit and brings it yere had a whole lot better stick to his sailoring business! He may know how to pick out seamen, but it's right certain he makes a mess of it when it comes to engaging miners."

"That's right," agreed Dug. "And he certain is the biggest liar it ever were my pleasure to harken unto. The way he can tell things to make a galoot's eyes bug out is a whole lot remarkable. Whither he gits his lively imagination I cannot surmise. Let's see, whatever was his name?"

"Wiley--Cap'n Wiley he calls himself."

"Well, however does he happen to be hiring men for this yere mine? I don't judge any that he is interested in it."

"Not a whole lot. The mine is owned by a gent named Merriwell, and by this yere Hodge. Them two locates it."

"Relocates it, you mean. I onderstand it were located original by another gent what is dead now. And I reckons some that it is through this other gent's action that the man that is back o' this yere jumping movement is going to stake his claim to the mine. I hears one o' the boys say that if Bland ain't back o' the game, it sartin is a gent with heaps o' money--one o' them yere money kings we hears about."

This conversation was of no simple interest to Hodge, for, although it did not reveal the instigator of the movement, it satisfied him that the plot did not originate among the men themselves. Some enemy of Frank Merriwell must be behind it all. As Sukes was dead, it was not easy for Bart to conjecture who this new enemy was.

After a few moments more the two ruffians finished the contents of the bottle and moved slowly away. This gave Hodge an opportunity to turn back toward his cabin, and he hastened to get away from that dangerous locality.

"It's well for me that I suspected what was up," he muttered, as he hurried along. "Under ordinary circ.u.mstances, failing to hear the men at work and hearing their singing and shouts, I should have hastened over and demanded to know the meaning of it. As a result they would have finished me in short order. Now I am prepared for them. But what can I do? What can I do alone?"

The situation seemed desperate and hopeless.

Another fellow in Bart's position, and realizing his desperate peril, might have lost no time in getting out of the valley. Even though he happened to be a courageous person, his judgment might have led him to pursue such a course, for certainly it seemed a wild and hopeless plan to think of remaining there alone and contending against those ruffians.

Bart, however, was an obstinate chap and one in whom fear was an emotion seldom experienced. Not that he had always been fearless, for as a boy he had sometimes felt the thrill of terror; but his iron will had conquered, and time after time he had refused to submit to the approach of the slightest timidity, until at last fear seemed banished from his heart. Now, as he hastened back to the cabin, he revolved in his mind certain thoughts in regard to the situation; but not once did he entertain the idea of leaving the valley and abandoning it to those desperadoes.

"I will stay," he muttered. "I will stay as long as I am able to shoot.

While I live they will never gain full possession of the valley. Merry left me here to guard this property, and I will do it with my life. But for Wiley's carelessness----"

He stopped, suddenly struck by a startling suspicion.

"Was it carelessness?" he asked himself.

An instant later he was ashamed of the suspicion, for he remembered how on other occasions he had suspected Wiley, and each time had found himself wrong.

"No, no," murmured Hodge; "it was simply a blunder, on Wiley's part. He remembered Merriwell's thirty, and thought he was doing the right thing in engaging men of similar calibre. The cap'n is on the level."

Still troubled and perplexed by his thoughts, he grew, if possible, more fixed in his determination to defend the mines single-handed. He approached the cabin, the door of which was still standing open as he left it. Hurrying in, he stopped, suddenly turned to stone as he saw sitting on the floor, with his back against the wall, a human being, who was calmly smoking a long pipe.

A moment later the muzzle of Bart's revolver covered this figure, which, however, did not stir or lift a hand. Coming, as he did, from the bright light outside into the shadows within the cabin, Hodge failed at first to note more than that the smoker who sat thus was wrapped in an old blanket. After a moment or two, however, he finally saw that he was face to face with an aged, wrinkled, leathery-skinned Indian. The little sharp eyes of the old savage were fixed steadily on Bart's face, and he betrayed not a symptom of alarm as Hodge brought the rifle to bear upon him. With stoical calmness he deliberately pulled at his pipe.

"What in thunder are you doing here?" demanded Hodge, in astonishment.