Frank Merriwell's Triumph Part 8

Then stuck like mucilage to the spot, An' sot, an' sot, an' sot, an' sot.

"'I've come down regeler every day For twenty years to Piper's store; I've sot here in a patient way, Say, hain't I, Piper?' Piper swore.

'I tell yer, Joe, Yer hain't no show; Yer too dern patient'----ther hull raft Just laffed, an' laffed, an' laffed, an' laffed."

"That will about do for this morning," laughed Frank. "We will have breakfast now."

That day Frank set about a systematic search for some method of getting into the Enchanted Valley, as he had called it. Having broken camp and packed everything, with the entire party he set about circling the valley. It was slow and difficult work, for at points it became necessary that one or two of them should take the horses around by a detour, while the others followed the rim of the valley.

Midday had pa.s.sed when at last Merry discovered a hidden cleft or fissure, like a huge crack in the rocky wall, which ran downward and seemed a possible means of reaching the valley. He had the horses brought to the head of this fissure before exploring it.

"At best, it is going to be a mighty difficult thing to get the horses down there," said Bart.

"We may not be able to do it," acknowledged Merry; "but I am greatly in hopes that we can get into the valley ourselves at last."

When they had descended some distance, Frank found indications which convinced him that other parties had lately traversed that fissure.

These signs were not very plain to Bart, but he relied on Merry's judgment.

They finally reached a point from where they could see the bottom and look out into the valley.

"We can get down here ourselves, all right," said Hodge. "What do you think about the horses?"

"It will be a ticklish job to bring them down," acknowledged Merry; "but I am in for trying it."

"If one of the beasts should lose his footing and take a tumble----"

"We'd be out a horse, that's all. We must look out that, in case such a thing happens, no one of us is carried down with the animal."

They returned to the place where Wiley, Worthington, and little Abe were waiting. When Frank announced that they could get into the valley that way, the deranged man suddenly cried:

"There's doom down there! Those who enter never return!"

"That fellow is a real cheerful chap!" said the sailor. "He has been making it pleasant for us while you were gone, with his joyful predictions of death and disaster."

They gave little heed to Worthington. Making sure the packs were secure on the backs of the animals, they fully arranged their plans of descent and entered the fissure. More than an hour later they reached the valley below, having descended without the slightest mishap.

"Well, here we are," smiled Merry. "We have found our way into the Enchanted Valley at last."

"Never to return! Never to return!" croaked Worthington.

"It's too late to do much exploring to-night, Merry," said Hodge.

"It's too late to do anything but find a good spot and pitch our tent."

"Where had we better camp?"

After looking around, Merriwell suggested that they proceed toward the northern end of the valley, where there was timber.

"It's up that way we saw smoke, Frank," said Hodge.

"I know it."

As they advanced toward the timber they came to a narrow gorge that cut for a short distance into the side of a mighty mountain. The stream which ran through the valley flowed from this gorge, and further investigation showed that it came from an opening in the mountainside itself. Beside this stream they found the dead embers of a camp fire.

"Who built it, Frank?" asked Bart, as Merry looked the ground over. "Was it Indians, do you think?"

Merriwell shook his head.

"No; it was built by white men."

Hodge frowned.

"It makes little difference," he said. "One is likely to be as dangerous as the other."

"We will camp here ourselves," decided Merry.

The animals were relieved of their packs, and they busied themselves in erecting a tent and making ready for the night. Little Abe was set to gathering wood with which to build a fire. Darkness came on ere they had completed their tasks, but they finished by the light of the fire, which crackled and gleamed beside the flowing stream.

Wiley had shown himself to be something of a cook, and on him fell the task of preparing supper. He soon had the coffeepot steaming on a bed of coals, and the aroma made them all ravenous. He made up a batter of corn meal and cooked it in a pan over the fire. This, together with the coffee and their dried beef, satisfied their hunger, and all partook heartily.

"Now," said Wiley, as he stretched himself on the ground, "if some one had a perfecto which he could lend me, I would be supinely content. As it is, I shall have to be satisfied with a soothing pipe."

He filled his pipe, lighted it, and lay puffing contentedly. Bart and Merry were talking of what the morrow might bring forth, when suddenly Worthington uttered a sharp hiss and held up his hand. Then, to the surprise of all, from some unknown point, seemingly above them, a voice burst forth in song. It was the voice of a man, and the narrow gorge echoed with the weird melody. Not one of them could tell whence the singing came.

"Where dead men roam the dark The world is cold and chill; You hear their voices--hark!

They cry o'er vale and hill: 'Beware!

Take care!

For death is cold and still.'"

These were the words of the song as given by that mysterious singer.

They were ominous and full of warning.

"That certainly is a soulful little ditty," observed Wiley. "It is so hilariously funny and laughable, don't you know."

Frank kicked aside the blazing brands of the fire with his foot and stamped them out, plunging the place into darkness.

"That's right," muttered Hodge. "They might pick us off any time by the firelight."

A hollow, blood-chilling groan sounded near at hand, and Wiley nearly collapsed from sudden fright. The groan, however, came from the lips of Worthington, who was standing straight and silent as a tree, his arms stretched above his head in a singular manner.

"The stars are going to fall!" he declared, in a sibilant whisper that was strangely piercing. "Save yourselves! Hold them off! Hold them off!

If they strike you, you will be destroyed!"

"Say, Worth, old bughouse!" exclaimed Wiley, slapping the deranged man on the shoulder; "don't ever let out another geezly groan like that!

Why, my heart rose up and kicked my hair just about a foot into the air.

I thought all the ghosts, and spooks, and things of the unseen world had broken loose at one break. You ought to take something for that. You need a tonic. I would recommend Lizzie Pinkham's Vegetable Compound."

"Keep still, can't you!" exclaimed Hodge, in a low tone. "If we hear that voice again, I'd like to locate the point from whence it comes."

"Oh, I will keep still if you will guarantee to muzzle Worth here,"