AN ACT OF TREACHERY.
It was past midday. Guided by Wiley, who seemed to know the way well,
the party had pushed on into the mountains and followed a course that
led them over ragged slopes and steep declivities.
Finally the sailor paused and turned.
"There, mates," he said, stretching out his hand, "barely half a mile
away lies the Enchanted Valley. I have a tickling fancy that we have
reached it ahead of that delectable crew we sought to avoid."
Even as he said this, Pete Curry uttered an exclamation and pointed
toward the mouth of a ragged ravine or fissure, from which at this
moment several horsemen suddenly debouched. They were followed closely
by a band of men on foot.
"That's the whole bunch!" exclaimed Curry. "And they're coming as fast
as they can chase theirselves. They are heading to cut us off."
"That's right!" burst from Dick. "We've got to make a dash for it. Lead
the way, Wiley, and be sure you make no mistake."
A hot dash it was for the fissure that led into the Enchanted Valley.
The enemy, yelling like a lot of savages, did their best to cut the
party off. Seeing they would fail at this, they opened fire, and a few
bullets sang dangerously near the fugitives.
"Oh, bilge-water and brine!" muttered the sailor. "There'll certainly be
doings when we attempt to scurry down that crack into the valley! It's
going to be a very disagreeable piece of business for us."
Nearer and nearer they came to the fissure for which they were heading.
Straight toward the beginning of it they raced, Wiley telling Dick it
would be necessary for several of them to halt there and try to stand
off the enemy while the rest of the party descended. But as they reached
the beginning of the fissure, from behind some bowlders two young men
opened fire with repeating rifles on the pursuers. In a moment the hail
of bullets sent into the ranks of the enemy threw them into confusion. A
horse dropped in its tracks, and another, being wounded, began bucking
and kicking. One man was hit in the shoulder.
This unexpected occurrence threw the pursuers into consternation, so
that they wheeled immediately and sought to get beyond rifle range.
"Avast there, my hearties!" cried Wiley, as he caught sight of the
youths who knelt behind the bowlders. "Permit me to lay alongside and
join you in the merry carnage."
"Hello, Wiley!" called Frank, who, aided by Hodge, had checked the
ruffians. "It seems that we happened up this way at just about the right
time."
"At the precise psychological moment," nodded the marine marvel. "This
being just in time is getting habitual with you."
While the enemy was still in confusion Frank and Bart hastened to join
the new arrivals and greet them. Of course they were surprised to see
Curry and his companions, and the story told by the deputy sheriff, who
explained everything in a few words, made clear the cause of his
unexpected reappearance at the valley.
"A ministerial-looking gentleman who called himself Felton Cleveland,
eh?" said Frank. "He was with the gang that cut loose your prisoners,
was he? Well, I am dead sure Felton Cleveland is----"
"Macklyn Morgan!" cried Dick. "I saw him last night. He is the man."
"And Macklyn Morgan is the instigator of this whole business," said
Frank. "Wiley, get Abe and Felicia down into the valley without delay.
We have got to stand this gang off right here. We can't afford to let
them reach this entrance to the valley. We're in for a siege. You will
find provisions down there at the cabin. Bring supplies when you return.
Abe and Felicia will be safe down there as long as we hold this
passage."
"Ay, ay, sir!" said the sailor. "I am yours to command."
Fortunately near the mouth of the fissure there were heaped-up bowlders
which seemed to form something of a natural fortress. Behind these rocks
the defenders concealed themselves, their horses being taken down into
the valley one after another. For a long time the enemy made no
offensive move. It seemed to Frank and his friends that the ruffians had
been dismayed by their warm reception, and they seemed disagreeing.
"If they will only chew the rag and get into trouble among themselves,
it will be greatly to our advantage," said Hodge.
"Let them sail right into us if they are looking for a warm time!"
exclaimed Brad Buckhart, who seemed thirsting for more trouble. "I opine
we can give them all they want."
Wiley brought a supply of provisions from the valley, and the defenders
satiated their hunger while ensconced behind the bowlders.
"This is even better than salt horse," declared Wiley, munching away.
"One time when shipwrecked in the South Atlantic, longitude unty-three,
latitude oxty-one, I subsisted on raw salt horse for nineteen
consecutive days. That was one of the most harrowing experiences of my
long and sinuous career."
"Spare us! Spare us!" exclaimed Frank. "We have got to stand off those
ruffians, so don't deprive us of our nerve and strength."
"Look here!" exclaimed the sailor, "this thing is getting somewhat
monotonous! Whenever I attempt to tell a little nannygoat somebody rises
up and yells, 'Stop it!' Pretty soon I will get so I'll have to talk to
myself. There was a man I knew once who kept a bowling alley and the
doctor told him he mustn't talk; but he kept right on talking. He talked
everybody deaf, and dumb, and black, and blue, and stone-blind, so at
last there was nobody left for him to talk to but himself. Then he went
to talking to himself in his sleep, which disturbed him so that he
always woke up and couldn't sleep. The result was that he became so
utterly exhausted for the want of rest that it was necessary to take him
to the hospital. But even in the hospital they couldn't keep him still
until they gagged him. That was the only thing that saved his life. What
a sad thing it would be if anything like that should happen to me!"
Late in the afternoon the enemy made a move. Protected by rocks and such
cover as they could find, they attempted to close in on the defenders of
the valley.
Frank was keenly alert, and he discovered this move almost as soon as it
began. Immediately he posted his companions where they could watch, and
they agreed on a dead line, across which they would not permit the
ruffians to creep without firing on them. As the ruffians drew nearer
the cover was less available, and when the dead line was crossed the
defenders opened fire on them. Within three minutes several of the enemy
had been wounded, and the advance was not only checked, but the ruffians
were filled with such dismay that the greater part of them took to their
heels and fled. Several of these might have been shot down, but Frank
would not permit it.
"I opine that just about gives them all they want for a while," said
Brad Buckhart.
It seemed that he was right. The besiegers disappeared amid the rocks,
and the afternoon crept on with no further effort in that direction to
enter the valley by assault.
Some of the defenders were beginning to wonder if the enemy had not
given up when, with the sun hanging low, a man appeared in the distance,
waving a white handkerchief, attached like a flag to the end of a stick.
"Whatever's up now?" muttered Pete Curry.
"It is a flag of truce," said Merry.
"Look out, Frank!" exclaimed Bart. "It may be a trick."
Merry rose and stood on a mound of bowlders, drawing out his own
handkerchief and waved it in return.
"What are you going to do?" asked Hodge.
"I am going to find out what they are up to," was the answer.
"I tell you it may be a trick."
"We will see."
The man in the distance with the flag of truce immediately advanced
alone. Barely had he walked out into full view when Merry said:
"It is Macklyn Morgan, or my eyes are no good!"
"Old Joe he fix um," said the aged Indian, carefully thrusting his rifle
over the rocks and preparing to take aim.
"Stop him!" exclaimed Merry. "Don't let him fire on a man with a white
flag!"
The old savage seemed greatly surprised and disappointed when he was
prevented from shooting.
"When um Morgan man he is killed that stop all trouble," said Joe. "Good
chance to do it."
"Watch him close, Dick," directed Frank. "I am going out there to meet
Morgan."
"Let me go with you."
"No; he's alone. I will go alone. He is taking his chances. If anything
happens to me, if one of those ruffians should fire on me, Morgan knows
my friends here will shoot him down. Still, there may be some trick
about it, and I want every one of you to watch close and be on the
alert."
"Depend on us, Frank," said Dick. "Only I'm sorry you won't let me go
with you."
A few moments later Merriwell strode out boldly from the rocks, with the
white handkerchief still fluttering in his hand, advancing to meet
Morgan, who was slowly coming forward.
They met in the centre of the open space near the little heap of
bowlders. In grim silence, regarding his enemy with accusing eyes, Merry
waited for Morgan to open the conversation.
"This is a very unfortunate affair, young man," said the hypocritical
money king. "I am sorry it has happened."
"Are you?" asked Frank derisively.
"I am, I am," nodded Morgan. "It's very bad--very bad."
"If you feel so bad about it, sir, it's the easiest thing in the world
for you to bring it to an end."
"But you are the one to terminate it, young man."
"How do you make that out?"
"You know how you can settle this affair without delay. You heard my
proposition in Prescott."
"I believe I did. It was very interesting as the proposition of a
thoroughly unscrupulous man."
"Don't get insulting, Mr. Merriwell. I am doing my duty. Milton Sukes
was my partner. Do you think I can conscientiously ignore the fact that
he was murdered?"
"I fail to understand what that has to do with me."
"You know I have proofs," said Morgan sternly. "You know they will
convict you."
"I know nothing of the sort. You have no proofs that are worth being
called that."
"Everything points accusingly and decisively at you. You were Mr. Sukes'
bitter enemy. It was to your advantage that he should be put out of the
way. He annoyed you. He gave you great trouble."
"And I fancy, Macklyn Morgan, that I annoyed him a little. But why do
you pretend that it is on his account you are carrying out this lawless
piece of business? You know its nature. You know in your heart that you
are a hypocrite. You have even offered, if I turn over my property to
you here, to make no proceeding against me. Is that the way you obtain
justice for your dead partner? Is that the sort of justice you are
looking for, Morgan? Don't talk to me of justice! I know the sort of man
you are! I know you from the ground up!"
"Be careful! Be careful! You are making a mistake, young man. Mr. Sukes
annoyed you and harassed you because he believed you held property that
he should possess--property that rightfully belonged to him. He obtained
no satisfaction from you. If I am willing to settle with you by securing
possession of this undeveloped mine here, which I now offer to do, you
ought to think yourself getting off easy. It is not often that I enter
into an affair of this sort. It is not often that I take hold of it
personally. I allow my agents to carry such things through under my
directions. In this case, however, I have considered it best to see the
matter to an end myself. I confess that it seemed probable that you
might be too slick for my agents."
"No thanks whatever for the compliment. Have you anything new to
propose, Mr. Morgan?"
"My proposition is this: that you and your companions retire at once
from this vicinity, and if you do I give you my word that you will not
be molested. It is an easy and simple way to settle this whole affair.
If you comply, we will let the Sukes matter drop where it is. You will
escape prosecution for murder. Think well of it--think well. It is the
best thing you can do. You are trapped now. You are penned in here and
you can't get out. If we see fit, we can lay siege to this place and
keep you here until we starve you out. In the end you will be compelled
to surrender. In the end you will lose everything. If you force me to
such a course, not only will I obtain possession of this undeveloped
mine, but I tell you now that I shall do my best to see you hanged for
the murder of Milton Sukes."
Frank laughed in the man's face.
"It's plain," he said, "that even now, Macklyn Morgan, you don't
understand me. It's plain that you still fancy it possible to frighten
me. You are wasting your time, sir. Go ahead with your siege and see
what comes of it."
This seemed to enrage Morgan, for suddenly he violently shook the flag
at Frank and cried:
"Then take the result of your obstinacy!"
Instantly there were several puffs of white smoke from beyond the
distant rocks and Frank pitched forward upon his face.
At the same moment Macklyn Morgan made a spring and dropped behind a
little pile of bowlders, where he was fully protected from the defenders
of the valley.
Apparently Frank had been treacherously shot down in cold blood while
under the flag of truce.
The watchers of the defense were horrified as they saw Frank fall. Dick
uttered a savage cry and would have rushed out from behind the rocks had
he not been seized by Brad Buckhart.
"Steady, pard--steady!" warned the Texan, finding it difficult to detain
young Merriwell.
"Let go!" panted Dick. "Don't you see! My brother! The dastardly
wretches have shot him!"
"And do you propose to prance out there and let them shoot you up, too?
Do you propose to let these measly galoots wipe out the Merriwell family
in a bunch? Cool down, pard, and have some sense."
Bart Hodge had been no less excited than Dick, and nothing could have
prevented him from rushing forth to Frank had he not suddenly made a
discovery as he sprang up. His eyes were on his chum of school and
college days, and he saw Frank quickly roll over and over until he lay
close against a bowlder, where he would be protected in case the enemy
fired again. Then, as he lay thus, Merry lifted the hand that still
clutched the white handkerchief and waved it in a signal to his friends.
Hodge was shaking in every limb.
"He is not killed!" he exclaimed.
"Heap keep still," came from old Joe. "No shot at all. Him all right.
Him see gun flash, him drop quick, bullets go over um. Him fool bad
palefaces a heap."
"What's that?" fluttered Dick. "Do you mean that he wasn't hurt, Joe?"
"No hurt him much," asserted the old savage, "Strong Heart he have keen
eye. He watch all the time. He see gun flash. He see smoke. He drop
quick."
It was not easy to make Dick believe his brother had not been hurt, but
Frank managed to convey to them by signals that he was all right. Their
relief was unbounded. Indeed, Dick's eyes filled with a mist of joy,
although his anxiety was intense, for he feared that his brother might
still be in a position where the enemy could get further shots at him.
Frank, however, hugged the rocks closely, and there was no more
shooting.
On the other side of the bowlders lay Macklyn Morgan, his evil heart
filled with triumph, for he believed Merriwell had been slain. His
astonishment was unbounded when he heard Frank's voice calling his name.
"Morgan," called Merry, "can you hear me?"
"Yes, I hear you," answered the astounded villain. "So they didn't kill
you outright, did they?"
"Hardly that," returned Merry. "They didn't even touch me."
"What did you say?" burst from Morgan. "Why, those men were the best
shots in our party! They were carefully chosen for this piece of
business."
"A fine piece of business, Macklyn Morgan!" contemptuously retorted
Merry. "And you planned it, I presume! You are a smooth-faced,
hypocritical man of wealth, known far and wide and greatly respected
because of your riches. Yet you have descended to a piece of business
like this! Sukes was bad enough, Morgan; but you're a hundred times
worse. You have failed in your most dastardly plot, just as you will
fail in everything. Lie still, Macklyn Morgan. Keep close to those rocks
where you are, for if you show yourself you will be riddled by my
watching friends. From this time on your life will not be worth a pinch
of snuff if they get a chance at you."
So the two men, the fearless youth and the treacherous money king, lay
each sheltered by the bowlders while the sun sank in the west and day
slipped softly into night. When the shadows had deepened sufficiently,
Frank crept away on his stomach toward the valley, taking the utmost
pains not to expose himself, and, through his skill in this, returned at
last in safety to his friends, who welcomed him joyously.
"Heap well done!" grunted old Joe. "But now Strong Heart him know more
than to trust um bad men. No do it some more."
Dick was able to repress his emotion, although Frank read in the few
words his brother said the intense anxiety he had felt.
"What will be their next move?" exclaimed Hodge.
"They will attempt to overpower us by some sudden move to-night," said
Frank. "We must remain on the alert every moment."
The stars came out bright and clear, as they always do in that
Southwestern land, and, if possible, their light seemed more brilliant
than usual. The night advanced, and still the enemy before them remained
silent. It was Curry who discovered something down in the valley that
attracted his attention and interested him. He called the attention of
Frank, who saw down there a light waving to and fro and then in circles.
"Whatever does yer make of that, pard Merriwell?" asked Curry.
"It's a signal," said Frank--"a signal from Abe and Felicia. They are
seeking to attract our attention. I must go down there at once."
"There's trouble of some sort down there, Frank," said Dick, who had
reached his brother's side. "Let's go quickly."
Merry found Bart and directed him to take charge of the defense at that
point and be constantly on the alert. With Dick close behind him, he
hastened down the fissure leading into the valley. In the narrow place
through which they descended the starlight was dim and uncertain, yet
they hastened with reckless speed. Reaching the valley, they made
straight for the cabin, where the signal light was still waving. As they
drew near, they saw the grotesque figure of little Abe swinging a
lighted torch over his head and then waving it round and round. The
flaring torch revealed Felicia, who stood near.
"What's the matter, Abe?" demanded Frank, as he dashed up.
"I am glad you saw it! I am glad you came!" said the boy. "Frank, those
men are trying to get into the valley another way."
"Where? How?"
"Felicia saw them first. Some of them are on the other side."
"But there is no entrance save the one we are defending."
"They are planning to get in by descending the face of the precipice. We
saw them creep down over the rocks, three or four of them, and it took
them a long time. They have reached a precipice that is perpendicular."
"That should stop them."
"I watched them through your field glasses, which I found in the cabin.
They were letting themselves down with the aid of ropes."
"Ropes?" exclaimed Dick.
"A new game," said Frank.
"Can they descend that way?" questioned the boy.
"It's possible," admitted Frank. "Show us where they are, Abe. Drop that
torch and lose not a moment."
The hunchback led the way, running on before them, and they followed him
closely. As they came at length to the vicinity of the precipice, they
saw through the pale starlight that Abe had spoken truly, for already
long lariats had been spliced together, and, by the aid of these, which
now dangled from the top of the precipice to the bottom, one of the men
had already begun to descend. They saw the shadowy figure of his
companions waiting above, and it seemed that the men did not dare trust
themselves more than one at a time upon the spliced rope.
"We've got to stop that, Frank!" panted Dick.
"We will stop it," said Merry. "Don't attract attention. Let's get
nearer."
They stole forward still nearer, watching the man as he came down slowly
and carefully. This man had descended almost half the distance when a
sudden rifle shot broke the stillness of the valley. Immediately, with a
cry, the dark form of a man dropped like a stone.
Frank and his companions had been startled by the shot, but Merry
instantly recognized the peculiar spang of the rifle.
"Old Joe!" whispered Merry.
As they stood there a silent figure came slipping toward them, and the
old Indian stopped close at hand.
"Bad men no come down that way," he said quietly. "Joe him shoot pretty
good--pretty good. Joe him think mebbe he shoot four, five, six times,
he might cut rope. Joe him shoot once, him cut rope. Joe him got
rheumatism. Him pretty old, but him shoot pretty good."
"Was that what you fired at?" asked Merry, in astonishment. "You didn't
shoot at the man on the rope?"
"Plenty time to shoot man when Joe him find out he no cut rope," was the
retort. "When rope him cut one man he come down pretty fast. Him strike,
bump! Mebbe it jar him some."
"The fall must have killed him instantly," said Frank. "If you cut that
rope, Joe, you have spoiled their attack on this side of the valley.
Stay here. Watch sharp, and make sure they don't resume the attempt. If
they do, Abe can signal again."
"All right," said Crowfoot. "Me watch."
With this assurance, Frank felt safe to return again to the defenders
above, and Dick returned with him. When he told what had taken place in
the valley Cap'n Wiley observed:
"I had it in for Joseph Crowfoot, Esquire, for calling me
Wind-in-the-head; but I will overlook the insult. Evidently the old boy
is a whole army in himself."
As they lay waiting for the attack they fully expected must take place,
there came to their ears from the direction in which the enemy was
supposed to be the sounds of shots, followed immediately by hoarse
yelling and more shooting.
"Well, what do you make of that, Merry?" cried Hodge. "There seems to be
a ruction of some sort going on over there."
Frank listened a few moments. The sound of the shooting receded, and the
yelling seemed dying out in the distance.
"It may be a trick," he said; "but I am in hopes those ruffians have
quarreled among themselves. If it is a trick, we will keep still and
wait. Time will tell what has happened."
Time did tell, but all through the rest of the night they waited in vain
for the attack. When morning finally dawned the mountains lay silent in
the flood of light which poured from the rising sun. Nowhere was the
enemy to be discovered.
Old Joe came up to them from the valley and declared that the men on the
other side had been driven away. The fate of their comrade seemed to
dishearten them, and they had crept back like snails over the rocks and
vanished during the night.
It was the old Indian who set out to find what had happened among the
besiegers led by Morgan. He slipped away among the rocks and brush and
vanished like a phantom. He was gone an hour or more when he suddenly
reappeared and beckoned to them.
"Come see," he invited.
They knew it was safe to follow him, and they did so. Where the enemy
had been ensconced they found one man, sorely wounded and in a critical
condition. That was all. The others, to the last rascal of them, had
vanished.
"Where have they gone, Joe?" exclaimed Frank.
"Ask him," directed the Indian, motioning toward the wounded man. "Mebbe
he tell."
This man was questioned, and the story he told surprised and satisfied
the defenders beyond measure. Disgusted over their failure to get into
the valley, the ruffians had plotted among themselves. A number of them
had devised a plan which to them seemed likely to be profitable. Knowing
Macklyn Morgan was a very rich man, they had schemed to take him
personally, carry him off, and hold him in captivity until he should pay
them handsomely for his freedom. Not all the ruffians had been taken
into this plot, and when the schemers started to carry Morgan off there
was an outbreak and some shooting, but they got away successfully.
With Morgan and the leading spirits of the affair gone, the others
quickly decided to give up the assault on the valley, and that was why
they had departed in the night, leaving the wounded man behind to such
mercy as Merriwell and his friends might show.
"Well, what do you think of that?" exclaimed Dick.
"Think?" said Frank, with a laugh. "Why, I think Macklyn Morgan has been
caught in his own trap. Now let him get out of it!"