Frank Merriwell's Triumph Part 52

"Whatever does yer make of that, pard Merriwell?" asked Curry.

"It's a signal," said Frank--"a signal from Abe and Felicia. They are seeking to attract our attention. I must go down there at once."

"There's trouble of some sort down there, Frank," said d.i.c.k, who had reached his brother's side. "Let's go quickly."

Merry found Bart and directed him to take charge of the defense at that point and be constantly on the alert. With d.i.c.k close behind him, he hastened down the fissure leading into the valley. In the narrow place through which they descended the starlight was dim and uncertain, yet they hastened with reckless speed. Reaching the valley, they made straight for the cabin, where the signal light was still waving. As they drew near, they saw the grotesque figure of little Abe swinging a lighted torch over his head and then waving it round and round. The flaring torch revealed Felicia, who stood near.

"What's the matter, Abe?" demanded Frank, as he dashed up.

"I am glad you saw it! I am glad you came!" said the boy. "Frank, those men are trying to get into the valley another way."

"Where? How?"

"Felicia saw them first. Some of them are on the other side."

"But there is no entrance save the one we are defending."

"They are planning to get in by descending the face of the precipice. We saw them creep down over the rocks, three or four of them, and it took them a long time. They have reached a precipice that is perpendicular."

"That should stop them."

"I watched them through your field gla.s.ses, which I found in the cabin.

They were letting themselves down with the aid of ropes."

"Ropes?" exclaimed d.i.c.k.

"A new game," said Frank.

"Can they descend that way?" questioned the boy.

"It's possible," admitted Frank. "Show us where they are, Abe. Drop that torch and lose not a moment."

The hunchback led the way, running on before them, and they followed him closely. As they came at length to the vicinity of the precipice, they saw through the pale starlight that Abe had spoken truly, for already long lariats had been spliced together, and, by the aid of these, which now dangled from the top of the precipice to the bottom, one of the men had already begun to descend. They saw the shadowy figure of his companions waiting above, and it seemed that the men did not dare trust themselves more than one at a time upon the spliced rope.

"We've got to stop that, Frank!" panted d.i.c.k.

"We will stop it," said Merry. "Don't attract attention. Let's get nearer."

They stole forward still nearer, watching the man as he came down slowly and carefully. This man had descended almost half the distance when a sudden rifle shot broke the stillness of the valley. Immediately, with a cry, the dark form of a man dropped like a stone.

Frank and his companions had been startled by the shot, but Merry instantly recognized the peculiar spang of the rifle.

"Old Joe!" whispered Merry.

As they stood there a silent figure came slipping toward them, and the old Indian stopped close at hand.

"Bad men no come down that way," he said quietly. "Joe him shoot pretty good--pretty good. Joe him think mebbe he shoot four, five, six times, he might cut rope. Joe him shoot once, him cut rope. Joe him got rheumatism. Him pretty old, but him shoot pretty good."

"Was that what you fired at?" asked Merry, in astonishment. "You didn't shoot at the man on the rope?"

"Plenty time to shoot man when Joe him find out he no cut rope," was the retort. "When rope him cut one man he come down pretty fast. Him strike, b.u.mp! Mebbe it jar him some."

"The fall must have killed him instantly," said Frank. "If you cut that rope, Joe, you have spoiled their attack on this side of the valley.

Stay here. Watch sharp, and make sure they don't resume the attempt. If they do, Abe can signal again."

"All right," said Crowfoot. "Me watch."

With this a.s.surance, Frank felt safe to return again to the defenders above, and d.i.c.k returned with him. When he told what had taken place in the valley Cap'n Wiley observed:

"I had it in for Joseph Crowfoot, Esquire, for calling me Wind-in-the-head; but I will overlook the insult. Evidently the old boy is a whole army in himself."

As they lay waiting for the attack they fully expected must take place, there came to their ears from the direction in which the enemy was supposed to be the sounds of shots, followed immediately by hoa.r.s.e yelling and more shooting.

"Well, what do you make of that, Merry?" cried Hodge. "There seems to be a ruction of some sort going on over there."

Frank listened a few moments. The sound of the shooting receded, and the yelling seemed dying out in the distance.

"It may be a trick," he said; "but I am in hopes those ruffians have quarreled among themselves. If it is a trick, we will keep still and wait. Time will tell what has happened."

Time did tell, but all through the rest of the night they waited in vain for the attack. When morning finally dawned the mountains lay silent in the flood of light which poured from the rising sun. Nowhere was the enemy to be discovered.

Old Joe came up to them from the valley and declared that the men on the other side had been driven away. The fate of their comrade seemed to dishearten them, and they had crept back like snails over the rocks and vanished during the night.

It was the old Indian who set out to find what had happened among the besiegers led by Morgan. He slipped away among the rocks and brush and vanished like a phantom. He was gone an hour or more when he suddenly reappeared and beckoned to them.

"Come see," he invited.

They knew it was safe to follow him, and they did so. Where the enemy had been ensconced they found one man, sorely wounded and in a critical condition. That was all. The others, to the last rascal of them, had vanished.

"Where have they gone, Joe?" exclaimed Frank.

"Ask him," directed the Indian, motioning toward the wounded man. "Mebbe he tell."

This man was questioned, and the story he told surprised and satisfied the defenders beyond measure. Disgusted over their failure to get into the valley, the ruffians had plotted among themselves. A number of them had devised a plan which to them seemed likely to be profitable. Knowing Macklyn Morgan was a very rich man, they had schemed to take him personally, carry him off, and hold him in captivity until he should pay them handsomely for his freedom. Not all the ruffians had been taken into this plot, and when the schemers started to carry Morgan off there was an outbreak and some shooting, but they got away successfully.

With Morgan and the leading spirits of the affair gone, the others quickly decided to give up the a.s.sault on the valley, and that was why they had departed in the night, leaving the wounded man behind to such mercy as Merriwell and his friends might show.

"Well, what do you think of that?" exclaimed d.i.c.k.

"Think?" said Frank, with a laugh. "Why, I think Macklyn Morgan has been caught in his own trap. Now let him get out of it!"

CHAPTER XXIII.

NEW RICHES PROMISED.