FRANK’S FRIGHTFUL PERIL.
Dugan laughed, showing his yellow teeth.
“Oh, I’ve got ye!” he declared, triumphantly--“I’ve got ye foul
this time!”
“It looks that way,” admitted Frank, coolly. “Now you have me, what
are you going to do with me?”
“Don’t git anxious; you’ll find out soon enough.”
Frank was watching the man narrowly, hoping to catch him off his
guard, and the smuggler seemed to realize this, for he said:
“Don’t try any tricks. You can get your pistol out mighty quick,
but I can pull a trigger before you can pull the pistol. I’ll drop
you where you stand if you try it!”
Frank started in to talk to the man, hoping to obtain an advantage
that way, but again Dugan seemed to read his thoughts.
“It won’t work, young feller. Keep them hands up. I don’t want to
shoot you here, but I’ll do it quicker than you can spit if you
make one false move. Steady, now.”
Frank heard a step at his back, but he could not look round. He
knew Dugan was not alone, and, a moment later he was grasped by a
pair of masculine hands.
Dugan advanced, still holding his rifle ready for use.
Frank’s hands were wrenched back behind him and held thus. Then,
while Dugan held the muzzle of the rifle within two feet of the
head of the captured lad, Merry’s wrists were securely tied by a
stout cord.
“Make the knots solid, Huck,” directed the smuggler. “This chap is
pretty slippery.”
“Oh, I’ll fix him so he’ll not slip us,” was the assurance of the
man behind Frank.
The voice caused Merriwell to start, for it sounded natural.
“It can’t be!” thought Merry. “I am deceived!”
Soon he was tied so that he could not move his hands, and then
Dugan lowered the rifle, laughing again in his evil, triumphant
manner.
“You didn’t know the kind of man you was dealing with when you hit
me,” he said. “As you are no more than a boy, I thought I’d let you
off by taking your rifle, which I was bound to have anyhow; but,
now that you have followed me here, I’ll put you where you’ll never
worry your friends again.”
Frank understood the meaning of the man, and he fully realized
the peril of his position. That Dugan meant to murder him he had
no doubt, and now he was sorry that he had not made some kind of
effort when he came face to face with the man, even though he had
been shot down at once.
He turned to look at the man who had come up behind him, and he saw
Elder Jones! But what a change in the appearance of the man! No
longer was he the sleepy, long-faced, ministerial-appearing person
Frank had seen on the boat. His black clothes had been cast aside,
and he was roughly dressed, like Dugan, his trousers being tucked
into his boots.
This person gave Frank a vicious look of hatred.
“So it is you!” exclaimed the captive. “Well, I must say this is
queer business for a minister of the gospel!”
“Bah!” exclaimed Jones. “You are a fool!”
“Possibly you are right,” was Merry’s calm admission. “I
acknowledge I am beginning to feel rather foolish just now. It is
somewhat disgusting to think I could be trapped so easily.”
“You thought you were cutting lots of ice with Hilda Dugan,” said
Jones, tauntingly; “but she was pumping you, and she found out the
things we wanted to know. When she made an appointment for you to
meet her on this island it was for the purpose of trapping you just
as you were trapped.”
These words gave Merry a shock, but he refused to believe them. He
did not wish to think the beautiful girl could be so treacherous.
Besides that, it was a blow to his self-esteem to think that he had
been deceived thus easily.
“I do not believe it!” he said, firmly. “She would not do such a
thing!”
“That shows how much of a fool you are. Do you think she would
betray her own father to a stranger like you? You must be a chump!
She never intended to meet you here.”
“Still I refuse to believe it!”
“Waugh! Who cares!” growled Dugan. “We’ve got ye, and we’ll fix ye
so you’ll never worry anybody again. We can’t stand here and chin
all the afternoon with ye. Face around. So. Now march.”
Back along the path Frank marched, with his hands tied behind his
back, his ruffianly captors following him. Now he knew Elder Jones
was no true minister, but was an impostor. Without doubt Jones was
a smuggler, like Dugan.
Back to the float they went, and the men made Frank get into the
boat. They entered also, put up the sail, cast off and headed
toward the great forest that stretched along the shore.
Frank looked at the vast woods and wondered whither they were
taking him. Now for him those woods, so beautiful a short time ago,
were full of terrors. In their dark depths all traces of a crime
might be hidden away forever. If they carried him into the forest,
would he ever come forth alive?
More and more he regretted that he had not made some kind of a
stroke for his life, when he came face to face with Dugan, for now
he was powerless to do anything.
Frank had some friends, good and true, but they were far away, and
could not come to his aid. How he longed for the assistance of the
powerful arm of Bruce Browning!
Would they ever know what had happened to him?
The boat ran into a small cove after crossing from the island, and
soon the three were on shore. Again Frank was compelled to march
before them, and soon they came to a path that led from the cove
into the forest.
The great trees loomed above their heads. It was gloomy there
beneath them, though the sun was shining so brightly.
After proceeding about half a mile, they came to an old wood road,
and along this they marched till they reached a camp hut in the
bosom of the great forest.
“We’ll stop here,” said Dugan.
They compelled Frank to march into the hut, opening the door for
him to enter. The glass in the one small window was broken, and the
place was none too light with the door standing wide ajar.
There were some barrels and boxes there, and Frank immediately
decided that the hut had been used more than once to store goods
smuggled over the border.
“We ain’t got no further use for this place,” said Dugan. “The
officers have been watching it off and on for some time, so we
ain’t been able to keep anything here. Which of the barrels has the
powder in it, Huck?”
“This one,” said Jones, indicating one with a large bung hole in
one end.
“All right. We’ll tie him to that.”
But the time had come when Merry was resolved to make a desperate
struggle for life. He suddenly ducked his head and leaped forward,
butting Jones in the stomach and bowling him over. But a most
unfortunate thing happened to him as he tried to leap over the
fallen man and dodge out by the door.
He tripped and was thrown headlong upon his face. He was stunned,
and, before he could rise, Dugan was on him, pinning him to the
ground.
“No ye don’t, you critter!” grated the man. “You can’t get away
like that! Quick, Huck--give a hand!”
Gasping for breath, the other man assisted, and, in a very few
minutes, Merriwell was bound with his back against the powder
barrel. His last hope of escape seemed gone.
“There,” said Dugan, looking at him with a leer of satisfaction,
“now you are all right. There is enough powder in the barrel to
blow you to kingdom come and destroy the hut. You’ll be blotted out
of existence in a wink, and your friends may search for ye as much
as they like. They’ll never find a trace to tell what became of ye.”
Cold drops of perspiration started out on Frank’s brow, but he
tried to remain calm in the face of the terrible danger.
“All right,” he said, his voice held steady by a great effort. “Go
ahead with your evil work. But your time will come! Just as sure as
the sun shines, there will be an hour of retribution.”
“Sounds like some of your preaching, Huck,” said Dugan. “Can’t you
offer up a prayer for his soul before we touch him off?”
“I won’t waste my breath!” snapped the other man. “Go ahead with
the funeral!”
Dugan produced a fuse from his pocket. It seemed that he had
brought it along with a view of using it there. One end of the fuse
he thrust down through the bunghole into the barrel of powder. Then
he took out a match and deliberately scratched it on the leg of his
trousers.
The match flared up, and then the man touched it to the end of the
fuse!
Hiss--splutter--flare!
The fuse was burning!
Instantly both men turned toward the door, Jones hurrying out in
advance. As he reached the door, Dugan turned to say:
“In one minute the fuse’ll reach ter their powder! Good-by!”
Then he went out, and Frank Merriwell was left in a situation of
frightful peril.