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FRONTIER BOYS IN FRISCO
by
CAPT. WYN ROOSEVELT
Illustrated by Rudolf Mencl
[Illustration: "The panting engine came to a stop."]
* * * * *
THE FRONTIER BOYS
By CAPT. WYN ROOSEVELT
This series tells the adventures of Jim, Joe, and Tom Darlington, first
in their camp wagon as they follow the trail to the great West in the
early days. They are real American boys, resourceful, humorous, and--but
you must meet them. You will find them interesting company. They meet
with thrilling adventures and encounters, and stirring incidents are the
rule, not exception.
Historically, these books present a true picture of a period in our
history as important as it was picturesque, when the nation set its face
toward this vast unknown West, and conquered it.
1. Frontier Boys on Overland Trail
2. Frontier Boys in Colorado
3. Frontier Boys in the Rockies
4. Frontier Boys in the Grand Canyon
5. Frontier Boys in Mexico
6. Frontier Boys on the Coast
7. Frontier Boys in Hawaii
8. Frontier Boys in the Sierras
9. Frontier Boys in the Saddle
10. Frontier Boys in Frisco
11. Frontier Boys in the South Seas
Illustrated, 12mo, Cloth Price per Volume, 50 Cents
* * * * *
Copyright, 1911, by The Platt & Peck Co.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. On the Engine 9
II. A Hold Up 17
III. Jim Takes a Chance 24
IV. The Girl and the Engineer 32
V. The Menu 40
VI. An Old Acquaintance 48
VII. Where was He? 56
VIII. In Frisco 64
IX. The Watcher 71
X. The Chase Begins 79
XI. The Chase Continued 87
XII. The Castle 95
XIII. The Man in the Gully 103
XIV. The Visitor 111
XV. The Lawyer and the Pirate 119
XVI. An Odd Restaurant 127
XVII. The Good Frau 135
XVIII. The Reconnoitre 143
XIX. The Castle 151
XX. The Banquet Hall 159
XXI. The Apparition 167
XXII. Brian De Bois Guilbert 175
XXIII. The Crisis 183
XXIV. A Reincarnation 191
XXV. In the Cell 199
XXVI. In the Mow 206
XXVII. Look Down and Not Up 214
XXVIII. A Square Meal 223
XXIX. A Reminiscence 231
XXX. Jim Boards the Pirate 243
XXXI. The End, a New Start 252
FRONTIER BOYS IN FRISCO
CHAPTER I
ON THE ENGINE
"Would you like to ride on the engine, Jim?" asked the engineer of the
south bound train.
"Nothing would suit me better, Bob," replied Jim Darlington. "I guess
you can drive this black horse," nodding towards the locomotive, "as
well as you did the 'four' that you drove back in Kansas across the
plains, when we were boys," and Jim grinned. "Nothing like the real
horse," replied Bob Ketchel, "but I can manage this fire eater all
right, too."
"Trust you for that," agreed Jim heartily.
"We will be pulling out in about five minutes," remarked Ketchel; "the
tourists in the eating house are just swallowing their pie now with an
anxious eye on the conductor. Hope they don't choke."
"I'm already, Bob," said Jim.
"No, you're not," replied Ketchel; "go back to your luxurious caboose
and get your heaviest coat and your trusty revolver; we might see some
game going through the Pass," and Bob winked wisely at his "boyhood"
friend.
"Don't pull out until I get back," warned Jim, as he started on a trot
toward one of the rear Pullmans, called a "caboose" by the flippant Bob.
"'The General Denver' leaves in three minutes," called Ketchel after the
retreating Jim; "wouldn't wait a second for nobody." From the fact that
the locomotive was given the dignity of a real name indicates that the
time of our narrative belongs to an earlier and more ornate day than
this when even the biggest engine gets nothing more than a number.
At Ketchel's warning, Jim quickened his pace to a run, for he would not
have missed that ride on the "General Denver" for all the buried wealth
he and his brothers had once found on a treasure hunt in Old Mexico. I
wonder if an introduction to our old friend, Jim Darlington, is really
necessary. At least I am going through the formality. Jim, the leader of
"The Frontier Boys," whose adventures began on "The Overland Trail," and
were last spoken of in the narrative, "In The Saddle," is now on his way
to San Francisco in response to a message sent to him by the engineer of
his captured yacht, _The Sea Eagle_. He had been spending the Christmas
time at his home in Maysville, New York, where his brothers, Tom and Jo,
remained for the winter, much to their mother's joy, but to their own
deep regret, when they saw Jim starting out on a journey whose
adventures they could not share.
So much for the introduction, now to the narrative. Jim had no time to
spare and he could be very prompt when he had to, as all his old friends
can well remember. He swung into the black Pullman near the rear of the
long train, glided through the narrow alley way between the smoking-room
and the side of the car, just missing a head on collision with a stout
party coming out of the sleeper. The latter was about to express a
haughty indignation at Jim's abrupt approach, but that worthy gave him
no chance, as he dashed for section No. 9 at the end of the car. Here he
snatched from his valise his belt and revolver and fastened them with
rapid precision around his waist, and then with a heavy sweater in his
hand, he made a rapid exit from the car.
Already his three minutes were nearly up, and he had an exasperating
delay in the narrow passageway where a file of well-fed diners were
coming through. As Jim leaped from the platform the engine gave a
short, sharp whistle and the wheels began to revolve. Jim's vacation had
not made him fat nor short winded and he sped after the engine, with the
swiftness of an Indian on the trail of an enemy. Perhaps Bob Ketchel let
his engine take it rather slowly. However that may be, Jim in a few
seconds was alongside of "The General Denver" and then his foot was on
the ugly saddle stirrup of iron and he was aboard the engine in a jiffy.
"Pretty good for a tenderfoot," grinned Bob. "No wonder the Injuns
couldn't catch you."
"It's because my feet are so tender that I take them off the ground so
fast," explained Jim.
The fireman laughed at this and his white teeth shone like a darky's
from the sooty grime of his face.
"You can have my side of the cab," he said. "It's going to keep me busy
firing on the upgrade."
Jim took his place with a pleasurable feeling of excitement and
interest. It was a new experience for him and one he was bound to
remember. Already the locomotive was gathering momentum. The little town
was left behind in the gathering dusk and soon they were threading their
narrow iron way through the solitude of the great mountains. Looking
back on a sharp curve, and there were many of them on this mountain
grade, Jim could see the crescent form of the coaches all alight, where
the passengers were seated at their ease.
Then he looked at the intent, grim-faced, young engineer who never took
his eyes from the track ahead, keen and quick to act on the first sign
of emergency. "They certainly are safe with Bob to pilot 'em, lazy
beggars," said Jim to himself, divided between admiration for his friend
and contempt for the ease loving passengers in the sleepers, who would
soon turn into their berths in comfort and security, while the engineer
would guide his roaring, flaming steed through deep gorges, over dizzy
bridges, and down the winding grades from some high divide.
Already the night had fallen and all was darkness except where the light
from the locomotive sent its fierce thrust of illumination into the
night, straight along the steel rails with sudden, quick thrusts as the
"General Denver" rounded a curve. "My but it is great!" cried Jim with
enthusiasm, as on the engine roared into the depths of the mountains. In
a short time the moon rose over the crest of the range, shining with a
pure brilliance that the work-a-day sun can only dream of.
After several hours of uneventful progress the train ran into a long
siding and came to a gentle stop. It was in the center of a wide
mountain valley with nothing to indicate human life except a solitary
section house, painted a dull red, and, beyond it a short distance, a
water tank of the same color.
"I guess that didn't jar any of those sleeping beauties back there, when
I stopped her," said Bob quietly, as he stepped down from the cab.
"Couldn't have done better myself," replied Jim whimsically, "but I
would have been tempted to give them a jolt just to make them sit up for
a minute."
"Some of the boys do shake 'em up when they feel sort of cranky,"
admitted Ketchel.
"That's the kind I have always traveled with," remarked Jim, "but what
are we waiting here for?"
"No. 10 is due in a few minutes. Here's where we oil up." Jim watched
the operation with interest while the engineer and his fireman went
methodically from part to part of the engine with their long billed oil
cans.
"She must be late," said Ketchel, looking keenly up the track and then
at his heavy, open-faced watch. "What do you suppose is the matter with
her? No need of losing time on a night like this," he continued.
"Maybe she has been held up," said the fireman.
"That's more likely to happen to us," replied the engineer shortly. "No.
10 doesn't carry anything but the money the newsboy gets out of the
passengers for peanuts and bum dime novels but we have something in that
express car that's going to California and it's valuable."
"I'm going to California," put in Jim mildly.
"But you ain't valuable," replied the engineer with a grin.
"Except with this," said Jim, putting his hand on his revolver, with a
touch of seeming bravado.
"That's where you come in," said the engineer.
"I thought you weren't giving me a ride just for the fresh air, and to
get a view of the 'mountings' by moonlight. But where do you expect
these villains to jump you?" inquired Jim.
"Well, there are numerous, romantic, little spots along the trail ahead
where they might stop us for an interview," said Ketchel.
"I'm thinking they will be a lurking in 'Boxwood Canyon,'" said Bill
Sheehan, the fireman. "It's the likes of a dirty black gang that will do
the deed, the same that shot poor Jimmie McGuire last month because he
wouldn't give up his train to 'em, and him with three childer at home."
"There comes 'No. 10.'" cried Jim, "and it will be all aboard for
Boxwood Canyon."
"Aye, but you have sharp ears, I don't hear anything of her as yet,"
remarked Bill.
"Him has sharp ears and eyes, Bill!" exclaimed the engineer. "That boy
there can take the trail with any red Indian and that's the truth."