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

With shouts of astonishment and dismay, both Frank and Bart sprang up and plunged from the tent. They heard the sounds of feet running swiftly down the valley.

“Halt!” cried Merry, producing a pistol and starting in pursuit.

In the darkness he caught a glimpse of the fleeing figure.

“Stop, or I fire!” he cried again.

There was no answer. Flinging up his hand, he began shooting into the gloom. He did not stop until he had emptied the weapon. Having run on some distance, he paused and listened, stopping Bart with an outstretched hand.

Silence lay over the valley.

“Did you hit him?” asked Bart.

“I don’t know,” confessed Frank.

“I can hear nothing of him.”

“Nor I.”

“You may have dropped him here.”

“If not – ”

“If not, my map is gone.”

As he was talking, Frank threw open his pistol and the empty shells were ejected. He deftly refilled the cylinder.

“By George, Merry!” whispered Bart, “Worthington may have been right when he told you he saw some one beyond those bowlders.”

“He was.”

“Then we have been followed! We have been spied upon!”

“No question about it.”

“Who did it?”

“That’s for us to find out.”

Together they searched for the man at whom Frank had fired in the darkness. They found nothing of him. From the tent little Abe began calling to them. Then Worthington came hurrying and panting through the darkness seeking them.

“They have gone!” declared the man wildly. “They were here! In my sleep I felt them! In my sleep I saw them!”

“We must have a light, Hodge,” said Frank. “Bring the lantern.”

Bart rushed back to the tent and brought the lantern. With it Frank began examining the ground.

“Poor show of discovering any sign here,” he muttered.

After a time, however, he uttered an exclamation and bent over.

“What have you found?” questioned Hodge excitedly.

“See here,” said Frank, pointing on the ground before him.

On a rock at their feet they saw fresh drops of blood.

“By Jove, you did hit him!” burst from Bart’s lips. “If we can follow that trail – ”

“We will find the man who has that map,” said Merry grimly. “I wonder how badly he is wounded.”

“Blood!” moaned Worthington. “There is blood on the ground! There is blood in the air! There is death here! Wherever I go there is death!”

“Keep still!” said Frank sharply. “Look out for Abe, Bart.”

Then he began seeking to follow the sanguine trail with the aid of the lighted lantern. It was slow work, but still he made some progress.

“We’re taking big chances, Merry,” said Bart, who had a pistol in his hand.

“It’s the only way we can follow him.”

“Beware!” warned Worthington, in a hollow whisper. “I tell you there is death in the air!”

They had not proceeded far when suddenly a shot rang out and the bullet smashed the lantern globe, extinguishing the light. Hodge had been expecting something of the sort, and he fired almost instantly in return, aiming at the flash he had vaguely seen.

“Are you hurt, Merry?” he asked.

“No; the lantern was the only thing struck. Did you see where the shot came from?”

“I caught a glimpse of the flash.”

Then a hoarse voice hailed them from the darkness farther down the valley.

“You gents, there!” it called.

They did not answer.

“Oh, Frank Merriwell!” again came the call.

“It’s somebody who knows you,” whispered Hodge.

“What is it?” called Merry, in response.

“You holds up where you are!” returned the voice, “or you eats lead a-plenty.”

“Who are you?”

“That’s what you finds out if you come. If you wants to know so bad, mebbe you ambles nearer and takes your chances o’ getting shot up.”

“It’s sure death to try it,” warned Hodge, in a whisper.

“Death and destruction!” Worthington screamed. “It is here! Come away! Come away!”

He seized Merry and attempted to drag him back. Frank was forced to break the man’s hold upon him.

“I must save you!” the deranged man panted. “I knew it would come! Once I left you to perish in the flames; now I must save you!”

He again flung himself on Frank, and during the struggle that followed both Hodge and Wiley were compelled to render assistance. Not until the madman had been tripped and was held helpless on the ground did he become quiet.

“It’s no use!” he groaned; “I can’t do it! It is not my fault!”

Merry bent close and stared through the gloom at the eyes of the unfortunate man.

“You must obey me,” he said, in that singular, commanding tone of his. “You have to obey me! Go back to the tent!”

Then he motioned for Hodge to let Worthington up, and Bart did so. Without further resistance or struggling, the man turned and walked slowly back to the tent.

“Go with him, Wiley, and take Abe with you.”

Although Wiley protested against this, Frank was firm, and the sailor yielded. Then, seeking such shelter as they could find amid the rocks and the darkness, Bart and Frank crept slowly toward the point from which that warning voice had seemed to come. A long time was spent in this manner, and when they reached the spot they sought they were rewarded by finding nothing.

“He has gone, Frank,” muttered Hodge. “While we were struggling with Worthington, he improved the opportunity to escape.”

“I fear you are right,” said Merriwell.

Further investigation proved this was true. In vain they searched the valley. The mysterious unknown who had snatched the map and who had been wounded in his flight by Frank had made good his escape.

They were finally compelled to give up the search, although they did so with the greatest reluctance.

“Unless it aids the other fellow to locate the claim first,” said Bart, “the loss of the map cannot be much of a disadvantage to you, Merry. It could give us no further assistance in finding the claim.”

“That’s true,” muttered Frank. “But the fact that mysterious men have been prowling around here and one of them has secured the map seems to indicate there are others who are searching for Benson Clark’s lost claim. If they locate it first – ”

“It’s rightfully yours!” growled Hodge. “No one else has a real claim to it. Clark gave it to you.”

“But he made no will.”

“All the same, you know he gave it to you.”

“We have discussed all that, Hodge,” said Merry as they returned to the tent. “If other parties find the claim first and begin work on it, they can hold it.”

Wiley was teetering up and down in front of the tent, apparently in an uneasy state of mind.

“I have faced perils by sea and land!” he exclaimed, as they approached. “It doesn’t behoove any one to shunt me off onto a lunatic and a cripple when there is danger in the air. My fighting blood is stirred, and I long to look death in the mouth and examine his teeth.”

Neither Merry nor Bart paid much attention to the spluttering sailor. They consulted about the wisdom of changing their camping place for the night.

“I don’t think it is necessary,” said Frank. “Whoever it was, the prowler secured the map, and I fancy it will satisfy him for the present. Something assures me that was what he was after, and we have nothing more of interest to him now.”

After a time they decided to remain where they were and to take turns in guarding the camp. The first watch fell on Bart, while Frank was to take the middle hours of the night, and Wiley’s turn came toward morning. It was found somewhat difficult to quiet Worthington, who remained intensely wrought up over what had happened; but in time Merry induced him to lie down in the tent.