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THE MERRIWELL SERIES No. 117
Frank Merriwell's Pursuit
By Burt L. Standish
[Illustration: Cover, showing Frank outrunning a landslide while
carrying Inza]
Frank Merriwell's Pursuit
OR,
HOW TO WIN
BY
BURT L. STANDISH
Author of the famous Merriwell Stories.
[Illustration: Publisher's logo]
STREET & SMITH CORPORATION PUBLISHERS 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York
Copyright, 1904 By STREET & SMITH Frank Merriwell's Pursuit
(Printed in the United States of America)
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign
languages, including the Scandinavian.
[Transcriber's Note: No Table of Contents was present in the original
edition. The following Table of Contents has been prepared for this
electronic edition.]
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. THE OATH OF DEL NORTE. 5
CHAPTER II. THE TERROR OF O'TOOLE. 12
CHAPTER III. NEW ARRIVALS AT THE LAKE. 21
CHAPTER IV. TWO GHOSTS. 28
CHAPTER V. THE WOLVES. 32
CHAPTER VI. IN THE GRASP OF DEL NORTE. 46
CHAPTER VII. THE SENTINEL. 56
CHAPTER VIII. AT THE FOOT OF THE PRECIPICE. 67
CHAPTER IX. THE KNIFE DUEL. 73
CHAPTER X. THE LANDSLIDE. 82
CHAPTER XI. BURIED ALIVE! 90
CHAPTER XII. IN THE CAVE OF DEATH. 98
CHAPTER XIII. HOW RAILROADS ARE BUILT. 109
CHAPTER XIV. ANOTHER OBSTACLE. 122
CHAPTER XV. HAGAN SECURES A PARTNER. 137
CHAPTER XVI. ARTHUR HATCH. 144
CHAPTER XVII. EVIL INFLUENCE. 169
CHAPTER XVIII. THE POLICE RAID. 182
CHAPTER XIX. ALVAREZ LAZARO. 192
CHAPTER XX. THE AVENGER. 200
CHAPTER XXI. THE FIRST STROKE. 208
CHAPTER XXII. THE SECOND STROKE. 217
CHAPTER XXIII. OLD SPOONER. 226
CHAPTER XXIV. THE FLAMES DO THEIR WORK. 239
CHAPTER XXV. THE PATIENT AND THE VISITOR. 246
CHAPTER XXVI. A SURPRISE FOR FIVE THUGS. 258
CHAPTER XXVII. A DUEL OF EYES. 269
CHAPTER XXVIII. AT NIAGARA FALLS. 284
CHAPTER XXIX. IN CONSTANT PERIL. 300
CHAPTER XXX. THE END OF PORFIAS DEL NORTE. 306
FRANK MERRIWELL'S PURSUIT.
CHAPTER I.
THE OATH OF DEL NORTE.
Rain had ceased to fall, but the night was intensely dark, with a raw,
cold wind that penetrated to one's very bones.
Shortly after nightfall three men crossed the east branch of the Ausable
River and entered the little settlement of Keene.
Of the three only one was mounted, and he sat swaying in the saddle,
seeming to retain his position with great difficulty.
The two men on foot walked on either side of the horse, helping to
support the mounted man. At intervals they encouraged him with words.
A few lights gleamed from the windows of Keene. Before a cottage door
the trio halted, and one of the men on foot knocked on the door.
A few moments later a man appeared with a lighted lamp in his right
hand, shading his eyes with his left as he peered out into the darkness.
"Who are you?" he gruffly asked, "and what do you want?"
"We want a surgeon or a doctor as soon as we can find one," answered the
man at the door. "One of our party has been wounded by accident, and we
wish to have his wound dressed."
"Another city sportsman shot for a deer, eh?" said the man in the
doorway, with a touch of scorn in his voice. "It's the same old story."
"Yes, the same old story," acknowledged the man at the door. "He may die
from the wound if we do not find a doctor very soon."
"There's no doctor nearer than Elizabethtown."
"Is there none in this place?"
"No."
"How far is Elizabethtown?"
"Twenty-five miles."
"How is the road?"
"It might be worse--or it might be better. You can't follow it
to-night."
"We must. This is a case of life or death. See here, my friend, if you
will help us out we will make it worth your while. We will pay you well.
Have you any whisky in the house?"
"Mebbe so."
"It's worth five dollars a quart to us, and we will take a quart or
more."
"I reckon I can find a quart for you," was the instant answer.
"If you will secure two horses and a guide to take us over the road to
Elizabethtown to-night we will pay you a hundred dollars."
This offer interested the man with the lamp.
"Bring your friend in here," he said, "and I will see what I can do for
you. Perhaps I can get the horses, and if I can----"
"Do you know the road?"
"I have been over it enough to know it, but it will be no easy traveling
to-night. Better take my advice and stay here until morning."
The man outside, however, would not listen to this, but insisted that
the journey to Elizabethtown must be made that night. He returned to his
companions, and the mounted man was assisted to descend from the saddle.
One of them held his arm while he walked into the house, and the other
took care of the horse.
The lamp showed that the injured one had bloody bandages wrapped about
his head. He was pale and haggard, and there was an expression of
anxiety in his dark eyes. At times he pulled nervously at his small,
dark mustache.
"Bring that whisky at once," said the wounded man's companion, as he
assisted the other to a chair. "He needs a nip of it, and needs it bad."
The whisky was brought, and the injured man drank from the bottle. As he
lifted it to his lips, he murmured:
"May the fiends take the dog who fired that bullet! May he burn forever
in the fires below!"
The liquor seemed to revive him somewhat, and he straightened up a
little, joining his companion in urging the man who had procured the
whisky to secure horses and guide them, over the road to Elizabethtown.
"We have money enough," he said, fumbling weakly in his pockets and
producing a roll of bills. "We will pay you every cent agreed upon. Why
don't you hasten? Do you wish to see me die here in your wretched hut?"
The man addressed promised to lose no time, and soon hurried out into
the night. He was not gone more than thirty minutes. Those waiting his
return heard hoofbeats, and the light shining from the open door of the
cabin fell on three horses as they stepped outside.
"It's fifty in advance and fifty when we reach Elizabethtown," he said,
as he sprang off. "I will not start till the first fifty is paid."
"Pay him the whole of it," said the wounded man, "and shoot him full of
lead if he fails to keep his part of the bargain."
Stimulated by the whisky, this man had revived wonderfully, and soon the
four rode out of Keene on the road that followed the river southward.
Through the long hours of that black night the guide led them on their
journey. The road was indeed a wretched one, winding through deep
forests, over rocky hills and traversing gloomy valleys. As the night
advanced it grew colder until their teeth chattered and their blood
seemed stagnating in their veins. Many times they paused to give the
wounded one a drink from the bottle. Often this man was heard cursing in
Spanish and declaring that the distance was nearer a hundred miles than
twenty-five.
Morning was at hand when, exhausted and wretched, they entered
Elizabethtown. Soon they were clamoring at the door of a physician, into
whose home the wounded man was assisted as soon as the door was opened.
"Examine my head at once, doctor," he faintly urged, as he sat back in a
big armchair. "Find out where that infernal bullet is. Tell me if it's
somewhere inside my skull, and if I have a chance of recovery."
In a short time the bandages were removed and the doctor began his
examination.
"Well! well!" he exclaimed, as he saw where the bullet had entered. "How
long ago did this happen? Yesterday afternoon? Forty miles from here?
And you came all this distance? Well, you have sand! At first glance one
would suppose the ball had gone straight through your head. It struck
the frontal bone and was deflected, following over the coronal suture,
and here it is lodged in your scalp at the back of your head. I will
have it out in a moment."
He worked swiftly, clipping away the hair with a pair of scissors, and
then with a lance he made an incision and straightened up a moment
later, having a flattened piece of lead in his hand.
"My friend," he said, "you have grit, and I don't think you'll be laid
up very long with that wound. You're not at all seriously injured. It
must have been fired from some one below you. Was he shooting at a
deer?"
"Yes, senor," was the answer.
"Very strange," said the physician. "This is a thirty-two-calibre
bullet, and it's not like the kind used to shoot deer. Most remarkable."
He hastened to cleanse and dress the wound, again bandaging the man's
head.
"You are certain, senor, that this injury is not serious?" questioned
the wounded man, when everything had been done.
"I see no reason why it should be," was the answer. "It is not liable to
give serious trouble to a man of your stamina, endurance, and nerve."
The doctor's bill was paid, and then they sought a hotel, where they
found accommodations, and the wounded one was put into bed. Ere getting
into bed he shook hands with his two companions and said:
"It's not easy, senors, to kill one in whose veins runs the blood of
old Guerrero. They thought me dead, but the dog that fired the shot
shall pay the penalty of his treachery, and I swear I will yet crush
Frank Merriwell as the panther crushes the doe. That's the oath of
Porfias del Norte!"