Burt Standish - Frank Merriwell's Alarm - or, Doing His Best

Diamond was tempted to declare he would not go any further, but he knew the others would stand by Frank, and so he pedaled along.

As they drew away from the spot where they had seen the skeleton, they heard the mysterious voice calling to them again, commanding them to stop and turn back. Thus it continued till they had ridden on so that it could be heard no longer.

Despite himself Frank had been impressed by what he had seen and heard, and a feeling of awe was on him. Ahead the shadows were thick where the dark cliffs seemed to come together, and there was something grim and overpowering about the bare and towering mountains that sullenly frowned down upon the little party.

The boys were silent, for they had no words to speak. Each was busy with his thoughts, and those thoughts were not of the most pleasant character.

A feeling of heart-sickening loneliness settled down upon them and made them long for the homes that were so far away. What satisfaction was there, after all, in this great ride across the continent? They had encountered innumerable perils, and now it seemed that they were overshadowed by the greatest peril of all.

How still it was! The mountains seemed like crouching monsters of the great desert, waiting there to spring upon and crush them out of existence. There was something fearsome and frightful in their grim air of waiting.

The whirring of the wheels was a warning whisper, or the deadly hiss of a serpent. As they passed between the frowning bluffs, which rose on either hand, the whirring sound seemed to become louder and louder till it was absolutely awesome.

Frank looked back, and of all the party Bruce Browning was the only one whose face remained stolid and impassive. It did not seem that he had been affected in the least by what had happened.

“He has wonderful nerve!” thought Merriwell.

Diamond’s dark face seemed pale, and there was an anxious look on the face of Rattleton. Toots betrayed his excitement and fear most distinctly.

Frank feared they would not get through the pass in time to find the second water-hole, and he increased his speed.

The ground was favorable for swift riding. At that time Merriwell thought it fortunate, but, later, he changed his mind.

Of a sudden the pass between the bluffs ended, and they shot out into a valley or basin.

A cry of astonishment and alarm came from Frank’s lips, and he used all his energy to check and turn his flying wheel.

Before them blazed a fire, and around that fire were gathered —

“Indians!” palpitated Harry Rattleton.

“Indians!” echoed Jack Diamond.

“Indians?” grunted Bruce Browning, astonished.

“O-oh, Lordy!” gasped Toots. “Dis am whar a nigger boy I know is gwan teh lose his scalp fo’ suah!”

“Turn!” commanded Frank – “turn to the left, and we’ll make a run to get back through the pass.”

But they were seen, and the redskins about the fire sprang to their feet with loud whoops.

At the first whoop Toots gave a howl and threw up both hands.

“Don’ yo’ shoot, good Mistar Injunses!” he shouted. “I’s jes’ a common brack nigger, an’ I ain’t no ’count nohow. Mah scalp wouldn’ be no good teh yo’ arter – ”

Then he took a header off his wobbling machine and fell directly before Jack, whose bicycle struck his body, and Diamond was hurled to the ground.

“Stop, fellows!” cried Merriwell. “We mustn’t run away and leave them! Come back here!”

From his wheel he leaped to the ground in a moment, running to Diamond’s side. Grasping Jack by the arm he exclaimed:

“Up, old fellow – up and onto your wheel! We may be able to get away now! We’ll make a bluff for it.”

But it was useless, for Jack was so stunned that he could not get on his feet, though he tried to do so.

Toots was stretched at full length on the ground, praying and begging the “good Injunses” not to bother with his scalp, saying the hair was so crooked that it was “no good nohow.”

Up came the redskins on a run and surrounded the boys, Bruce and Harry having turned back.

Browning assumed a defensive attitude, muttering:

“Well, if we’re in for a scrap, I’ll try to get a crack at one or two of these homely mugs before I’m polished off.”

There were seven of the Indians, and nearly all of them carried weapons in their hands. Although they were not in war paint, they were a decidedly ugly-looking gang, and their savage little eyes denoted anything but friendliness.

“Ugh!” grunted the tallest Indian of the party, an old fellow with a scarred and wrinkled face.

“Ugh! ugh! ugh!” grunted the others.

Then they stared at the boys and their bicycles, the latter seeming a great curiosity to them.

“Well, this is a scrolly old jape – I mean a jolly old scrape!” fluttered Rattleton. “We’re in for it!”

Toots looked up, saw the Indians, uttered another wild howl, and tried to bury his head in the sand, like an ostrich.

Frank singled out the tall Indian and spoke to him.

“How do you do?” he said.

“How,” returned the Indian, with dignity.

“Unfortunately we did not know you were here, or we should not have called,” explained Merriwell.

The savage nodded; the single black feather in his hair fluttering like a pennant as he did so.

“Um know,” he said. “Um see white boy heap much surprised.”

“Jee! he can talk United States!” muttered Rattleton.

“Talk it!” said Bruce, in disgust. “He can chew it, that’s all.”

“I trust we have not disturbed you,” said Frank, calmly; “and we will leave you in your glory as soon as my friend, who fell from his wheel, is able to mount and ride.”

“No, no!” quickly declared the tall Indian; “white boy no go ’way. Injun like um heap much.”

Browning lifted his cap and felt for his scalp.

“It may be my last opportunity to examine it,” he murmured.

“But we are in a hurry, and we can’t stop with you, however much we may desire to do so,” declared Frank, glibly. “You see we are on urgent business.”

“Yes, very urgent,” agreed Rattleton. “Smoly hoke – no, holy smoke! don’t I wish I were back to New Haven, New York, any old place!”

“White boys must stop,” said the big savage. “Black Feather say so, that settle um.”

“I am afraid it does,” confessed Browning.

Diamond got upon his feet, assisted by Frank.

“Well,” he said, somewhat bitterly, “that is what we have come to by failing to heed the warning we received!”

“Don’t go to croaking!” snapped Rattleton. “These Indians are peaceable. They are not on the war path.”

“But they are off the reservation,” said Frank, in a low tone; “and that is bad. They have us foul, and there is no telling what they may take a notion to do.”

“It’s pretty sure they’ll take a notion to do us,” sighed Harry.

The tall Indian, who had given his name as Black Feather, professed great friendliness, and, when the boys told him they had been looking for the water-hole, he said:

“Um water-hole dare by fire. Good water, heap much of it. Come, have all water um want.”

“Well, that is an inducement,” confessed Browning. “We may be able to get a square drink before we are scalped.”

It was with no small difficulty that Toots was forced to get up, and, after he was on his feet, he would look at first one Indian and then dodge, and look at another, each time gurgling:

“O-oh, Lord!”

And so, surrounded by the Indians, the boys moved over to the fire, which was near the water-hole, as Black Feather had declared.

“Well, we’ll all drink,” said Frank, as he produced his pocket cup and proceeded to fill it. “Here, fellows, take turns.”