Burt Standish - Frank Merriwell's Triumph - or, The Disappearance of Felicia

As Wiley said this he stepped close to Frank, beside whom he knelt, at the same time keeping the ruffians covered. He placed one of the revolvers on the ground and drew his hunting knife. With remarkable swiftness he severed the cords which held Frank helpless.

“Pick up that shooting iron, Merry,” he directed. “I rather think we have these fine chaps just where we want them.”

Frank lost no time in obeying, and the tables were completely turned on Shawmut and Henry.

“Stand up, you thugs!” ordered Merry. “Stand close together, and be careful what you do.”

Infuriated beyond measure, they obeyed, for they were in mortal terror of their lives.

“Take those ropes, Wiley, and tie their hands behind their backs,” directed Frank.

“With the greatest pleasure,” laughed the sailor. And he proceeded to do so.

When the ruffians were thus bound Merry turned to Wiley, whose hand he grasped.

“Cap’n, forgive me!” he cried. “I was mistaken in you. I couldn’t believe it possible; still, everything was against you. How did it happen?”

“A few words will clear up my seeming unworthiness,” said the sailor. “When you departed to-day I found everything calm, and peaceful, and serene about the camp, and, after smoking my pipe a while, I fell asleep beside the tent. When I awoke these fine gentlemen had me. They proceeded to tie me up to the queen’s taste. Seeing my predicament, I made no resistance. I permitted them to do just as they liked. I depended on my tongue, which has never failed me, to get me out of the predicament, I saw them gather up the outfit, pack it on the horses and prepare to remove it. During this I craftily assured them that I would gleefully embrace the opportunity to join issues with them.

“It’s needless to enter into details, but they decided that it was best to let me linger yet a while on this mundane sphere while thinking my proposition over. So I was brought thither, along with the goods and chattels, and I further succeeded in satisfying them that they could trust me. It was my object, when I found they were well supplied with corn juice, to get them both helplessly intoxicated, after which I hoped to capture them alone and unaided. Your sudden tumble into this little nest upset my plans in that direction, but everything has worked out handsomely.”

When they returned with their captives and the stolen horses and outfit to the timber in which Frank had left Hodge and the others it was learned that Worthington had disappeared. In vain they searched for him. He had slipped away without attracting Hodge’s attention, and he failed to answer their calls. In the morning the search was continued. They returned to their former camping place at the head of the valley where the mysterious voice had been heard, and there Frank finally discovered some rude steps in the face of the cliff, by which he mounted to an opening which proved to be the mouth of a cave.

There were evidences that this cave had been occupied by some person. Merry saw at once that this unknown person might have been in the mouth of the cave at the time the mysterious voice was heard, and that beyond question he was the singer and the one who had warned them.

It was midday when Worthington was found. They discovered him in a thicket, locked fast in the arms of another man, whose clothes were ragged and torn, and who looked like a hermit or a wild man. The thicket in that vicinity was smashed and broken, and betrayed evidences of a fierce struggle. Worthington’s hands were fastened on the stranger’s throat, and both men were stone-dead.

“I know that man!” cried Merry, in astonishment. “I met him in Holbrook last spring. I told him of Benson Clark’s death. He was once Clark’s partner. Since that time he must have searched for Clark’s mine and made his way to this valley. This explains the mystery. This explains how he knew me and knew of Benson Clark.”

“Yes, that explains it,” nodded Hodge. “But now, Frank – what are we to do?”

“We will give these poor fellows decent burial, and after that – ”

“After that – what?”

“Shawmut and Henry must be turned over to the law. We must dispose of them as soon as possible. Then there will be plenty of time to return here and locate Benson Clark’s lost mine.”

And that plan was carried out. In a few days Frank Merriwell, Bart Hodge, Cap’n Wiley and little Abe rode into Prescott, Arizona, escorting their captives, whom they turned over to the officers of the law. Merry was ready to make a serious charge against the men, but, after listening to his story, the city official said:

“Better not trouble yourself about it, Mr. Merriwell. Those chaps are old offenders! They have been wanted for some time for stage robbing, horse stealing, and for the malicious murder of a man in Crown King and another in Cherry. Did you ever hear of Spike Riley?”

“Seems to me,” said Frank, “I have heard of him as a bad man who was associated with the Kid Grafton gang.”

“Well, sir, this chap you call Shawmut is Spike Riley. Since then little has been heard from him. I am glad to get my hands on him.”

“Then I’ll leave him to your gentle care,” said Frank, with a smile. “You will relieve me of further bother on his part. As for Henry – ”

“Henry!” laughed the official. “Why, he’s got a record pretty nearly as bad as that of Riley. He is known down in Northern Mexico as one Lobo, and he has been concerned with Juan Colorado in some few raids. I think there is a reward offered for both of these men. In that case I presume you will claim it, sir.”

Cap’n Wiley, who had listened with his head cocked on one side and a peculiar look in his eyes, now coughed suggestively. Frank glanced at the sailor and smiled.

“In case there is a reward, sir,” he said, “it belongs to this gentleman.”

As he rested a hand on Wiley’s shoulder the latter threw out his chest and swelled up like a toad taking in air.

“Thanks, mate,” he said. “My modesty would have prevented me from mentioning such a trifling matter.”

“Oh, I will give you all the credit that’s your due, cap’n,” assured Merry. “You pulled me out of a bad pickle and tricked those ruffians very handsomely.”

“That will do, that will do,” said the sailor. “Let it go at that, Frank, old side partner. It is as natural for me to do such things as for the sweet flowers to open in the blooming spring. I never think anything about them after I do them. I never mention them to a soul. Why, if I were to relate half of the astounding things that have happened to me some people might suspect me of telling what is not strictly true. That’s what binds my tongue to silence. That’s why I never speak of myself. Some day my history will be written up, and I shall get great glory even though I do not collect a royalty.”

“This is a pretty good thing, Merry,” said Hodge. “It relieves you of all responsibility in regard to those ruffians, and you can now go about your business.”

In this manner it was settled, and Frank left the two ruffians to be locked up in the Prescott jail.

Rooms were obtained at the best hotel in the place, and both Frank and Bart proceeded without delay to “spruce up.” Having bathed, and shaved, and obtained clean clothes, they felt decidedly better.

It was useless for Cap’n Wiley to indulge in such needless trouble, as he regarded it.

“This is not my month to bathe,” he murmured, as he sat with his feet on the sill of Frank’s window and puffed leisurely at a cigar. “Besides, I am resting now. I find myself on the verge of nervous prostration, and therefore I need rest. Later I may blossom forth and take the town by surprise.”