THE STRUGGLE ON THE CLIFF.
The supper was wholly satisfactory. It was enjoyed by every person, the
host having spread himself on this occasion.
While the shades of evening were gathering at the foot of the mountain
they sat over their coffee in the cool dining room of the hotel and
chatted.
Now, for a wonder, the Mexican was strangely silent. On his face there
lay a soft shadow and his eyes seemed full of dreamy, far-away sadness.
Even when Frank told a humorous story that set all the others in a shout
of laughter, Del Norte remained absorbed and silent, not even smiling
slightly.
Ere the party rose from the table the Mexican got up, excused himself,
and strolled out. He was not on the broad veranda when the others left
the dining room and took their seats outside.
Some of the male members of the party smoked, Browning declining a cigar
and asking leave to light his pipe, which was freely granted, as he had
taken a seat to the leeward of the others.
Creeping along with surprising closeness to the shore, they saw below
them one of the huge white steamers which ply between Boston and Bangor.
At that distance, as it rounded the point and swung into the little
harbor, it looked like a toy boat. The sound of its hoarse whistle came
up to their ears, mellowed and made musical by the distance.
Twilight was on the harbor, and the steamer was glowing with lights when
it crept out once more and continued on its course. Already at a bound
scores of electric lights had gleamed forth down at the foot of the
mountain. The town was illumined.
“Señor del Norte should be here,” said Crossgrove. “I wonder where he
is.”
The stars came out one by one, growing clearer and plainer as the last
remnant of day was smothered by the advancing night.
“Yes, Señor del Norte should be here,” said the captain’s daughter.
“Look yonder to the east. See that glow of light. The moon will rise
soon.”
There was little talk, and that in low tones, as the huge, round moon
came pushing up in the east and flooded the bay with its light. It was
so cool that the ladies gladly accepted the wraps brought them by some
of the men. Still, it was not cold enough to be disagreeable. The air
was clear and winelike. But the beauty of the night took hold of them
one and all.
For some time Inza had been strangely silent and moody. In vain Frank
had tried to arouse her. She protested that nothing was the matter, yet
finally she arose and left the veranda without asking him to join her.
He watched her with a restless feeling, and finally called after her,
asking where she was going.
“Come on and you will find out,” she answered, with a short laugh. “See
if you can catch me.”
The others watched the pursuit with languid interest. They saw Inza flit
from bush to bush, from rock to rock, with Merry laughingly pursuing.
Before long both had vanished, but still, for a few minutes, their
voices were to be heard.
Inza was successful in avoiding Frank for some time. Once he thought he
had her safely overtaken, only to find she was not crouching in a shadow
of a bush where he fancied she must be. At last he paused in perplexity,
realizing he had lost all trace of her.
“Inza!” he called. “Where are you?”
All around him were stunted cedars, and rocks, and shadows.
A sudden fear came upon him. What if something had happened to her? Once
more he called her name.
Out of the shadows something came, moving swiftly, and a moment later a
bareheaded, panting man dashed up and seized Frank’s arm.
“Merciful heavens, señor!” cried the familiar voice of Del Norte, “who
was the lady? I caught barely a glimpse of her! It’s the most frightful
thing! We must hasten to find her, for she may be yet alive.”
“What’s that?” hastily demanded Merry, grasping the Mexican in turn.
“What are you talking about, Del Norte?”
“Why did she do it?” moaned the Mexican, releasing his hold on Frank to
wring his hands. “She seemed distracted. She seemed crazy. I saw her
flit along, but didn’t dream she meant to leap from the precipice.”
With sudden fear, Merry gave the panting man a shake.
“What are you talking about, you crazy imbecile?” he demanded. “It was
Inza Burrage you saw!”
“Merciful saints!” moaned the Mexican, seeming ready to collapse with
horror. “The beautiful Señorita Inza? And I saw her plunge over the
precipice to her death! A moment before I was looking from the brink
myself into the black treetops down below. The shadows are deep and dark
down there.”
“Take me to the spot!” cried Frank.
“Hasten, then!” palpitated the Mexican. “I will show you where it
happened. Oh, the beautiful señorita! She has gone to her death! Not
even a cry did she utter! What a frightful thing, Señor Merriwell!”
Frank followed the Mexican, who quickly led him to the verge of a high
cliff, over which he declared the girl had rushed without pause and
without sound of any sort.
Frank bent forward and peered over. Beneath him the bluff dropped almost
straight down. Far below in the shadows he could see the tops of many
trees growing thickly.
A sudden feeling of doubt and uncertainty swept over him. It seemed
utterly preposterous that Inza in gay spirits should rush blindly over
that precipice. Had she done such a thing by accident or miscalculation,
surely she would have uttered a cry as she fell. Like a flash he whirled
on Del Norte, and he was barely in time to save his own life, for he
discovered the Mexican in the act of thrusting him over the brink of the
precipice.
Quick as thought, Merry clutched Del Norte’s wrists and clung to them.
“You dog!” he said, in a low tone, as they both tottered on the very
edge of the cliff. “If I go, you go with me.”
“Fiends take you!” hissed the vindictive and treacherous Mexican. “Why
did you turn? One second more and you would have found yourself falling
to your death!”
Even as he panted these words, the wretch tried to squirm clear of
Merry’s clutch and send him over the brink. He was like an eel in his
writhings, yet Frank managed to hold fast to him.
“If I go, you go, too!” palpitated the young American.
“You shall not escape!” hissed the other, his dark eyes glaring in the
moonlight.
“Then say your prayers, Porfias del Norte, for your end comes with
mine!”
Frank felt that it was useless to shout for help. Long before any one on
the veranda could answer the cry and reach the spot, the encounter would
be over and one or the other would be victorious.
The moon was well up by this time, and its bright light fell full upon
the two men battling for their very lives at the brink of that frightful
precipice. All around them the world appeared calm, and still, and at
peace. They alone of all human creatures, it seemed, were aroused by
beastlike passions, seeking to destroy each other.
Del Norte had approached Merry in such a manner that Frank was at a
decided disadvantage. He was swaying over the very brink of the cliff
when he clutched the Mexican’s wrist. Being somewhat heavier than his
antagonist, there was danger that Frank’s weight would drag them both to
their doom.
Beneath Merriwell’s foot a portion of the ledge crumbled and gave way.
“Let go!” suddenly urged the Mexican, taking a grip on the collar of the
youth. “Let go and I will hold you. I don’t mean to push you over. It’s
all a joke, señor. Look out! The ground is slipping beneath your feet!”
In this manner the Mexican did his best to deceive Frank, and a moment
later the two men were locked in each other’s arms, each seeking to hurl
the other prostrate.
“May the fiends take you!” panted Del Norte. “What evil spirit saved you
from my hands? You turned just in time.”
“The blood of Guerrero, the bandit, runs strong in your veins,” said
Merry. “You dare not fight the battle out between us in the courts, but
you seek by murder to secure your ends.”
“I shall yet triumph!” snarled the Mexican. “Even though you escape
to-night, my time will come.”
Then Merry crushed him down and hurled him heavily to the ground.
“Tell the truth, you treacherous dog!” commanded Frank, with his hands
at the fallen man’s throat. “Did you see Inza Burrage?”
“Yes, I saw her.”
“Where did she go?”
“She fled past me as I stood in the shadow of some bushes.”
“You lied when you said she fell over the precipice?”
“It was a little stratagem of mine, Señor Merriwell; that’s all. She
didn’t fall over the precipice. No! no! Had she done so my heart would
have been broken! I should have been crushed by the frightful horror of
it. Oh, I am not afraid of you, dog of a gringo! You have me down, but
to your face I tell you that I love her and she shall yet be mine! Now,
do your worst!”
“You poor fool!” laughed Frank harshly. “You’re not worth kicking over
the cliff! Don’t deceive yourself with foolish dreams. And let me give
you this warning: Keep away from Inza Burrage if you value your life!”
“Bah! You speak boldly now, for you have conquered by your brute
strength. It’s not the strength of the brute that wins in the end; it’s
the brains of the wise man. You think you’re wise and crafty, but in the
end you shall know that Porfias del Norte is a thousand times your
superior.”
With an exclamation of scorn and disdain, Frank rose to his feet.
He turned to move away, but as he did so Del Norte, who had risen to his
knees, suddenly clutched Merry by both legs and once more sought to hurl
him over the cliff.
Only by dropping, quickly doubling himself at the hips and clutching the
Mexican about the shoulders, did Frank prevent the treacherous scoundrel
from accomplishing his dastardly design.
Taken thus at a disadvantage, it was not strange Merry could not prevent
his enemy from rising to an upright position. Then once more the Mexican
exerted all his strength to hurl Merry over the brink. To the right and
to the left they swayed. Once they staggered to within a foot of the
edge.
Frank sought to break the other man’s hold, and this he finally
accomplished just as Del Norte made an upward surge and thrust out a
foot in an effort to trip the American.
The Mexican’s heel struck something, and a moment later, with a shrill
cry of horror, he found himself tottering at the edge of the bluff.
Merry leaped forward with one hand outstretched in an effort to grasp
the fellow and save him from that fall.
Too late!
Beneath Porfias del Norte’s feet the ledge crumbled, and, with another
cry of despair, the miserable wretch dropped from view, turning over and
over as he fell.
It happened that Inza Burrage, who had concealed herself some distance
away, being directed by the sound of voices during the struggle, had
approached the cliff just in time to witness Del Norte fall. To her
horrified eyes it seemed that Frank sprang forward with hand outthrust
and hurled the wretched Mexican over the precipice. She stopped in her
tracks, turned to stone by what she had witnessed.
Merry stood for a moment or two as if horrified. As he dropped on his
hands and knees and peered over the brink, he heard a crashing sound
amid the treetops far, far below.
“They will find a dead Mexican down there!” he muttered.
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