WHAT THE MESSAGE CONTAINED.
That message gave Merriwell the greatest surprise of his life, for it
told how Charles Conrad Merriwell, Frank’s father, after his first
wife’s death, had married another woman, whom he met in the West.
And it told how, by his second wife, Mr. Merriwell had had one son,
Richard, who was thus a half-brother to Frank. But Mr. Merriwell had
been hunted by his bitter enemy, Dion Santenel, and never had his life
been anything but one of trouble and fear. It was not such a life as
would make a wife happy and contented. Fearing Santenel might find his
wife and strike him, through her, Mr. Merriwell had hidden her away
in a safe retreat. But she was frail and delicate, and she had not
survived.
The second Mrs. Merriwell was a sister to the wife of the man known as
Juan Delores, and so to Juan Charles Merriwell took the motherless boy,
Richard. Juan had raised Richard there in that hidden valley as if the
boy were his own son, and there he had been happy and contented, with
Felicia, his cousin, for his only playmate.
When fate had brought Charles Merriwell and his first son together
once more, the lips of the man remained sealed concerning a portion of
his life. Thus it happened that Frank Merriwell had never suspected the
existence of a half-brother.
But, when the end came, Charles Merriwell summoned strength to write a
full confession. As he wrote it, he knew he had been followed about by
men who sought to wrest from him in some manner his great fortune, or a
portion of it, and it was his fear that they might succeed after he was
dead.
He sent Delores to Denver for a reliable messenger to take the precious
document to Frank. The messenger employed was a detective belonging to
an agency in the city, and he executed his trust faithfully, for all
that Anton Mescal, aware of his purpose, followed him all the way to
the Atlantic coast, seeking to get possession of the precious document
in the oilskin envelope.
In the confession Charles Merriwell charged his son Frank to take care
of Richard, bring him up properly, be both brother and father to him.
“He is a frail lad in some ways,” wrote the dying man, “and he should
be trained and built up until he possesses a marvelous physique, like
your own, Frank. I give him into your hands for this task. He is your
brother, and I charge you to make a man of him--such a man as you
yourself have become. I am proud of you, Frank, for you are a son to
make any father proud. Dick is like you in some ways, but he is unlike
you in many. He is wild, impulsive, passionate, and hard to govern; but
I believe you can mold him into a splendid man.
“You know I am rich, and I leave all my wealth to be divided between
you and Richard, in case you carry out my instructions faithfully. The
will, which Juan Delores will give to you when you come to him with
the word, will make everything clear. He will also turn over into your
care your brother, Richard. I think there is no danger but you will be
faithful to this duty I have left you, but, should you fail to take
charge of Richard and care for him, you will see by the will that you
are cut off from ever receiving a dollar of my wealth.”
Frank felt a twinge of pain as he read this.
“Why did he have to write that?” he thought regretfully. “Ah! he did
not know me well, or he would have been certain I would do everything
in my power to carry out his instructions.”
Later on in the message was given “the word” which Frank was to speak
to Delores.
Hodge had seen enough to know how deeply Frank was touched, and he
retired as quietly as possible, leaving Merry sitting there reading
that astonishing revelation over and over again.
The night was far spent before Frank lay down to sleep. His slumber was
filled with dreams, and more than once he murmured:
“Richard--Richard, my brother!”
* * * * *
In the morning Frank spoke “the word” to Juan Delores, saying:
“I have recovered the message that was stolen from me by Anton Mescal,
and I have read it over and over. I wish to see my brother.”
Delores bowed.
“You shall see him soon,” he promised.
Then he went away somewhere, and, after a time, returned with the last
will and testament of Charles Conrad Merriwell, which he placed in the
hands of Frank.
“I was convinced last night,” he said, “dat it b’long to you; but I
had to swear to your father dat I never give it to any one who fail to
bring da word. What could I do? I did not know. I t’ink I find some way
to let you know da word after you give me all da proof dat you be Frank
Merriwell.”
“You have been faithful and true, Mr. Delores,” said Merry, with a hand
on the shoulder of the man. “I shall not forget. A Merriwell never
forgets.”
“Dat all right,” asserted Juan, flushing. “But had we foun’ Mescal
last night, I t’ink I would feel better now.”
“I do not believe Mescal will trouble any of us again,” said Frank. “It
was his object to keep me from finding out what I was to do, so that I
would not comply with the terms of the will. If I failed to take care
of my brother, I was to have no part in the property left by my father.
A false Richard might have been substituted, and there are a dozen
schemes whereby Mescal could have profited had he succeeded, but he
failed utterly, and now he will have to look out for himself.”
At this moment Felicia, laughing gaily, appeared at the open door of
the cabin, calling:
“Oh, Frank, come out!”
Merry had told her on the previous evening that she was to call him
Frank.
“What do you want?” smiled Merriwell.
“Come and see,” she urged. “I have a surprise for you. Oh, come quick!”
Laughing, he complied. She grasped him by the hand and led him round
the cabin.
There, standing where the morning sunshine fell through an opening in
the Black Woods, were two persons, an old and wrinkled Indian and a
bright-faced, dark-eyed boy.
Frank was face to face with his brother.