Frank Merriwell's Triumph Part 50

Even as he said this, Pete Curry uttered an exclamation and pointed toward the mouth of a ragged ravine or fissure, from which at this moment several hors.e.m.e.n suddenly debouched. They were followed closely by a band of men on foot.

"That's the whole bunch!" exclaimed Curry. "And they're coming as fast as they can chase theirselves. They are heading to cut us off."

"That's right!" burst from d.i.c.k. "We've got to make a dash for it. Lead the way, Wiley, and be sure you make no mistake."

A hot dash it was for the fissure that led into the Enchanted Valley.

The enemy, yelling like a lot of savages, did their best to cut the party off. Seeing they would fail at this, they opened fire, and a few bullets sang dangerously near the fugitives.

"Oh, bilge-water and brine!" muttered the sailor. "There'll certainly be doings when we attempt to scurry down that crack into the valley! It's going to be a very disagreeable piece of business for us."

Nearer and nearer they came to the fissure for which they were heading.

Straight toward the beginning of it they raced, Wiley telling d.i.c.k it would be necessary for several of them to halt there and try to stand off the enemy while the rest of the party descended. But as they reached the beginning of the fissure, from behind some bowlders two young men opened fire with repeating rifles on the pursuers. In a moment the hail of bullets sent into the ranks of the enemy threw them into confusion. A horse dropped in its tracks, and another, being wounded, began bucking and kicking. One man was. .h.i.t in the shoulder.

This unexpected occurrence threw the pursuers into consternation, so that they wheeled immediately and sought to get beyond rifle range.

"Avast there, my hearties!" cried Wiley, as he caught sight of the youths who knelt behind the bowlders. "Permit me to lay alongside and join you in the merry carnage."

"h.e.l.lo, Wiley!" called Frank, who, aided by Hodge, had checked the ruffians. "It seems that we happened up this way at just about the right time."

"At the precise psychological moment," nodded the marine marvel. "This being just in time is getting habitual with you."

While the enemy was still in confusion Frank and Bart hastened to join the new arrivals and greet them. Of course they were surprised to see Curry and his companions, and the story told by the deputy sheriff, who explained everything in a few words, made clear the cause of his unexpected reappearance at the valley.

"A ministerial-looking gentleman who called himself Felton Cleveland, eh?" said Frank. "He was with the gang that cut loose your prisoners, was he? Well, I am dead sure Felton Cleveland is----"

"Macklyn Morgan!" cried d.i.c.k. "I saw him last night. He is the man."

"And Macklyn Morgan is the instigator of this whole business," said Frank. "Wiley, get Abe and Felicia down into the valley without delay.

We have got to stand this gang off right here. We can't afford to let them reach this entrance to the valley. We're in for a siege. You will find provisions down there at the cabin. Bring supplies when you return.

Abe and Felicia will be safe down there as long as we hold this pa.s.sage."

"Ay, ay, sir!" said the sailor. "I am yours to command."

Fortunately near the mouth of the fissure there were heaped-up bowlders which seemed to form something of a natural fortress. Behind these rocks the defenders concealed themselves, their horses being taken down into the valley one after another. For a long time the enemy made no offensive move. It seemed to Frank and his friends that the ruffians had been dismayed by their warm reception, and they seemed disagreeing.

"If they will only chew the rag and get into trouble among themselves, it will be greatly to our advantage," said Hodge.

"Let them sail right into us if they are looking for a warm time!"

exclaimed Brad Buckhart, who seemed thirsting for more trouble. "I opine we can give them all they want."

Wiley brought a supply of provisions from the valley, and the defenders satiated their hunger while ensconced behind the bowlders.

"This is even better than salt horse," declared Wiley, munching away.

"One time when s.h.i.+pwrecked in the South Atlantic, longitude unty-three, lat.i.tude oxty-one, I subsisted on raw salt horse for nineteen consecutive days. That was one of the most harrowing experiences of my long and sinuous career."

"Spare us! Spare us!" exclaimed Frank. "We have got to stand off those ruffians, so don't deprive us of our nerve and strength."

"Look here!" exclaimed the sailor, "this thing is getting somewhat monotonous! Whenever I attempt to tell a little nannygoat somebody rises up and yells, 'Stop it!' Pretty soon I will get so I'll have to talk to myself. There was a man I knew once who kept a bowling alley and the doctor told him he mustn't talk; but he kept right on talking. He talked everybody deaf, and dumb, and black, and blue, and stone-blind, so at last there was n.o.body left for him to talk to but himself. Then he went to talking to himself in his sleep, which disturbed him so that he always woke up and couldn't sleep. The result was that he became so utterly exhausted for the want of rest that it was necessary to take him to the hospital. But even in the hospital they couldn't keep him still until they gagged him. That was the only thing that saved his life. What a sad thing it would be if anything like that should happen to me!"

Late in the afternoon the enemy made a move. Protected by rocks and such cover as they could find, they attempted to close in on the defenders of the valley.

Frank was keenly alert, and he discovered this move almost as soon as it began. Immediately he posted his companions where they could watch, and they agreed on a dead line, across which they would not permit the ruffians to creep without firing on them. As the ruffians drew nearer the cover was less available, and when the dead line was crossed the defenders opened fire on them. Within three minutes several of the enemy had been wounded, and the advance was not only checked, but the ruffians were filled with such dismay that the greater part of them took to their heels and fled. Several of these might have been shot down, but Frank would not permit it.

"I opine that just about gives them all they want for a while," said Brad Buckhart.

It seemed that he was right. The besiegers disappeared amid the rocks, and the afternoon crept on with no further effort in that direction to enter the valley by a.s.sault.

Some of the defenders were beginning to wonder if the enemy had not given up when, with the sun hanging low, a man appeared in the distance, waving a white handkerchief, attached like a flag to the end of a stick.

"Whatever's up now?" muttered Pete Curry.

"It is a flag of truce," said Merry.

"Look out, Frank!" exclaimed Bart. "It may be a trick."

Merry rose and stood on a mound of bowlders, drawing out his own handkerchief and waved it in return.

"What are you going to do?" asked Hodge.

"I am going to find out what they are up to," was the answer.

"I tell you it may be a trick."

"We will see."

The man in the distance with the flag of truce immediately advanced alone. Barely had he walked out into full view when Merry said:

"It is Macklyn Morgan, or my eyes are no good!"

"Old Joe he fix um," said the aged Indian, carefully thrusting his rifle over the rocks and preparing to take aim.

"Stop him!" exclaimed Merry. "Don't let him fire on a man with a white flag!"

The old savage seemed greatly surprised and disappointed when he was prevented from shooting.

"When um Morgan man he is killed that stop all trouble," said Joe. "Good chance to do it."

"Watch him close, d.i.c.k," directed Frank. "I am going out there to meet Morgan."

"Let me go with you."

"No; he's alone. I will go alone. He is taking his chances. If anything happens to me, if one of those ruffians should fire on me, Morgan knows my friends here will shoot him down. Still, there may be some trick about it, and I want every one of you to watch close and be on the alert."

"Depend on us, Frank," said d.i.c.k. "Only I'm sorry you won't let me go with you."

A few moments later Merriwell strode out boldly from the rocks, with the white handkerchief still fluttering in his hand, advancing to meet Morgan, who was slowly coming forward.

They met in the centre of the open s.p.a.ce near the little heap of bowlders. In grim silence, regarding his enemy with accusing eyes, Merry waited for Morgan to open the conversation.