Frank Merriwell's Triumph Part 44

"But I will never dare mount that horse again."

"Course you won't. You will take my horse. I will ride that critter.

Just let him try to run with me!" He said this as if he really fancied he could control the animal in case it attempted to run away with him.

The horses were submissive enough while the hunchback removed and changed their saddles. The animal that had lately seemed crazy and frantic with fear was now calm and docile. Apparently the furious run had worked off the effect of the loco weed.

After a while, Abe did what he could to a.s.sist Felicia to mount, and then managed to scramble and pull himself with no small difficulty to the back of the other horse. They turned their animals to retrace the course over which they had come. This, however, was to prove no small task, for the runaway had twisted and turned in a score of different directions during its flight; and, shortly after entering the hills, Abe found himself quite bewildered as to the proper course they should pursue. This fact, however, he tried to conceal from Felicia, knowing it would add to her alarm. So they rode on and on until finally they came to a tiny stream that lay in the little hollows of a broad watercourse.

There they found water for themselves and horses.

Now, for the first time, Felicia began to suspect that they were not retracing the course over which they had come.

"I don't remember this place," she said.

"Of course you don't," put in Abe quickly. "It's a wonder you remember anything. By jing! you must 'a' been awful scart when that horse was running so. Course you didn't notice much of anything else."

"But are you sure, Abe--are you sure we're taking the right course?"

"Just you leave it to me," nodded the hunchback.

"But what if we should miss d.i.c.k? If we should not find him, what would become of us, Abe? We might starve here, perish from thirst, or be killed by Indians or something."

Abe did his best to laugh rea.s.suringly.

"Don't you go to getting all fussed up that way. We're all right. Let's hurry up now, for it is getting late."

It was getting late. The sun hung low in the west and the afternoon was far spent. In the boy's heart there was a great fear that night would come upon them and find them alone in that wild region. When they sought to push on, the horses barely crept forward, having been badly used up by the mad flight and pursuit.

Lower and lower sank the great golden sun.

"Abe," said Felicia, at last, her face pale and drawn, "we're lost.

Don't try to deceive me; I know it."

"Mebbe we are turned round some," he admitted. "But that ain't any reason why you should get frightened. There are lots of mining camps pretty near here. And even if we don't find d.i.c.k--which we shall--we will be just sure to find a town."

The girl's chin quivered, and it was with no small difficulty that she kept back her tears. Finally, as the sun dropped behind the western ranges, the horses seemed to give out entirely, refusing to proceed farther.

"No use, Abe!" murmured Felicia. "We may as well give up and stop right here to-night."

"I am just awful sorry," murmured the boy; "but don't you be afraid. I will guard you. I will watch you all night long. There shan't anything touch you, I tell you that."

They were in a long, shallow valley where there was some scanty herbage, and the horses were permitted to find such grazing as they could. The western sky glowed with glorious colors, which gradually faded and pa.s.sed away, after the bright, silvery stars gleamed forth, and the heat of the day pa.s.sed before the night was fairly on them.

Felicia lay down in the silence, gazing up at the millions of stars above them. Abe sat near, wondering what he could do to rea.s.sure her. At length he thought of his fiddle and pulled it round from his back, where it hung. Lifting the loop of the cord over his head, he held the fiddle to his bosom, softly patting and caressing it. After a time, he found his rosin and applied it to the bow. Then he put the instrument in tune and began to play.

The music was soft, and sweet, and soothing, like the lullaby of a mother over a sleeping child. With this sound throbbing in her ears, Felicia finally slept. When he knew she was fast asleep, the boy slipped off his coat and spread it over her shoulders.

The silence of the night was awesome, and he felt keenly the lonely desolation of their situation. So again he lifted the fiddle to his chin, and again it throbbed with such a soft, sweet melody that even the twinkling stars seemed bending to listen.

CHAPTER XX.

THE FINDING OF THE BABES.

"Get up yere, pard," said one of the two men who were standing guard over Macklyn Morgan's bivouac. "I sure hears some queer sort of a wild critter a-yowling out yander."

Morgan himself had been eager to push forward through the night toward Merriwell's valley, but the men lately released from the custody of Pete Curry were exhausted by their tramp and refused at nightfall to proceed farther. Therefore, it had been necessary for the party to divide or to stop where they were and make camp. The latter course had been decided upon.

Not feeling positive that Curry and his comrades would not follow them, Morgan had given orders for two of the men to remain constantly on guard through the night. Of course the guard was to be changed at intervals.

Now, shortly after nightfall, one of the original two appointed to watch over the camp called his comrade for the purpose of listening to certain strange sounds which came to his ears through the darkness.

They advanced cautiously to the top of a ridge, where they halted and stood listening. The sounds could be faintly heard now and then.

"Whatever does yer make of it, partner?" asked the one who had first heard them.

"Mighty quar sounds for a wild critter to make," declared the other.

"Just what I thought. More like some sort o' music."

"That's it. Dinged if it ain't something like a fiddle!"

"Mebbe we'd better nose out that way and see if we can diskeever what it is."

"We leaves the camp onprotected."

"Only for a short time. There won't anything happen, partner. This yere standing guard is all foolishness, anyhow."

"I reckon you're right."

"Then come on."

Together they advanced in the direction from which the strange sounds seemed to proceed. As they made their way slowly and cautiously into the valley they were able to hear those sounds more and more distinctly, and before long both were satisfied that it was indeed a fiddle.

"Well, wouldn't that chaw yer up!" muttered one. "Whoever does yer reckon is a-playing a fiddle out yere?"

"You have got me."

"Well, we will certain find out. Have your gun ready, pard, in case we runs into a muss."

Pretty soon they saw through the starlight two horses grazing unhobbled and unpicketed.

"Only two," whispered one of the men. "We are as many as they be."

"Whar are they?"

The violin was silent now, and they remained crouching and awaiting until it began again. It led them straight to the spot where little Abe sat playing beside the sleeping girl. So absorbed was he in his music, with his head bowed over the violin, that he failed to observe the approach of the men until they were right beside him and one of them stooped and took him by the shoulder. With a cry of terror, the boy sprang up.