IN THE HANDS OF DEL NORTE.
“Pard,” said Brad Buckhart, edging his chair close to Dick as they sat
on the veranda of the hotel, “this yere business is a whole lot like a
Sunday-school picnic to me. I sure am getting some weary of it. I don’t
want to kick any, but it seems to me you’re not having a hilarious old
time yourself.”
“Oh, I am enjoying it all right,” answered Dick.
“Still don’t you feel a heap like a misfit in this crowd? If it were our
bunch it would be different. We don’t seem to pair up any. There’s
Rattleton, he’s satisfied to sit and look on, and Browning is too lazy
to be disturbed over anything, while the rest of the party kind of pair
up and go it first-rate. I don’t want to make a holler, but I’d some
prefer to be down on the _Sachem_ about now, and I think we can add to
the bliss of the others if we vamoose.”
“Well, if you’re anxious to go——” began Dick.
“Not exactly anxious, but I am tired of keeping still. We won’t break up
the congregation any if we pull out by our own selves, partner.”
“All right,” said Dick, “we will do so. I fancy we’ll have no trouble in
following the wagon road down the mountain.”
Young Merriwell told Rattleton of their decision, and asked him to
inform Frank when Merry returned to the hotel.
A few moments later Dick and Brad set out, taking the wagon road. At
intervals they passed through dark strips of timber, where the moonlight
failed to penetrate. There were other spots where it shone through in
patches upon the winding road.
“Don’t suppose there are any panthers or catamounts?” said the Texan.
“It’s quite improbable,” answered Dick. “There are few wild creatures in
this vicinity.”
“Seems a whole lot strange to me. You know out in Texas we kind of
reckon Maine as being made up of woods, and bears, and creatures of that
sort. Down here I find lots of folks think Texas is all prairie, and
cattle, and cowboys. I didn’t get back home this summer, but I’ve had a
mighty fine vacation, Dick. I will never forget it. Pard, we certain did
a big thing by landing the pennant in the Trolley League. When I think
it over now, I don’t wonder any at all that the people in the league
laughed at us a heap and fancied we would finish at the bottom. They
didn’t know us, though. We were out for scalps, and we took ’em. Those
last two games in Fairhaven were corkers. How old Hammerswell did fight
to lug off one of those games! They say he went clean busted by losing
them both.”
“That’s right,” said Dick. “I understand he didn’t have a dollar left in
the world when the season was ended.”
“Money wouldn’t have been much good to him.”
“Possibly you’re right, Brad, for if Arlington told the truth,
Hammerswell stood in the shadow of a murder charge. For he it was who
hurled Sullivan into Rapid River and thus caused Sullivan’s death by
drowning.”
“Don’t talk to me about Chet Arlington!” exclaimed Brad growlingly.
“Don’t mention that coyote to me! The sound of his name makes my fur
stand. Pard, do you reckon he’ll have the nerve to show his nose at
Fardale after what he’s done this summer?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me to find him there.”
“Why, dern his pesky hide! he went plum back on us the very day we
landed in Maplewood. He turned traitor. Then he had the crust to crawl
around you and try to excuse himself.”
“He has plenty of crust,” agreed Dick. “It’s his cheek that keeps him up
in the world.”
“When do you plan to start for Fardale?” asked the Texan.
“In a day or two. I wish to be with Frank as long as possible. I have
thought he may be ready to go on to New York by the time we have to
start for school.”
“Well, I don’t know, but I’ll be glad to get back to the old school,”
confessed the Texan. “There will be doings this fall. I suppose you will
jog out the bunch and commence football practice just as soon as we
strike there?”
“I will not waste time about it. The more practice we get the better it
will be.”
“We ought to have a hot old team this year, partner.”
“I think we’ll have a good one. Frank wants to come on to Fardale for a
few days, but he’s afraid he can’t do it. He’s going to have his hands
full directly with that railroad business.”
“How would you like to go down there into Mexico with him and see the
railroad pushed through?”
“I should like it,” confessed Dick; “but there’s nothing of the sort for
me. It’s school for me now.”
“I don’t take much to greasers. They are a-plenty treacherous. Now
there’s that smooth, smiling chap, Del Norte—he don’t hit me at all
fine. He’s too slick and oily for my fancy. Oh, we see lots of them down
on the Rio Pecos. You know we’re some near the Mexican border. I have
had dealings with the varmints, and you can never depend on them to any
great extent. They are not all bad, but a Texan never takes stock in any
of them. He can’t afford to. Where you find one that’s white all the way
through, you find a hundred who will eat your bread and stick you
between the shoulder blades. I reckon old Del Norte is one of those.”
“I myself don’t like Del Norte,” confessed Dick. “I have seen him
watching Inza in a way I didn’t fancy. He had better be careful or Frank
will teach him a lesson if he gets too forward in that direction.”
“What is he doing on the _Sachem_, anyhow? I heard him talking yesterday
with Mr. Crossgrove about mines and a railroad and one thing and
another. I believe he’s a promoter.”
“I think he’s a schemer of some sort. There’s not much doubt about
that.”
Having reached the foot of the mountain and the main road, the boys
turned toward town and Dick began singing “Fair Fardale.” Brad joined
in, and the rocks and cliffs of the mountainside reverberated with the
melody of the beautiful song.
At length they passed the cemetery at the foot of the mountain and came
into the village.
“How will we get off to the yacht, partner?” asked the Texan.
“Oh, we can find some one to set us off, I think,” said Dick. “If not we
will signal, and one of the sailors will row ashore for us.”
Arriving at Fishmarket Wharf, they were just in time to see a boy row in
with a small boat.
“Hello!” said Dick. “Do you want to make fifty cents?”
“Sure thing,” was the reply. “Just made a dollar, and fifty more will
keep it from being lonesome. What can I do?”
“Set us off to the yacht _Sachem_.”
“Hey?” exclaimed the boy, with a slight show of surprise. “Are you in a
great hurry?”
“No.”
“Don’t want me to rip things in getting you on board, I suppose?”
“No; you may take your time. We have the whole night before us.”
“Well, I didn’t know,” muttered the boy, a touch of disappointment in
his voice. “I thought mebbe you was in the same hurry t’other chap was.
He gave me a dollar to hump myself and put him off to the _Sachem_.”
“To the _Sachem_?” questioned Dick.
“Sure thing.”
“I wonder who it was.”
“Didn’t ask his name,” said the boy; “but I guess he just got through
some sort of an accident. His hat was gone and his clothes were all
torn, and his cheek was scratched and cut. Is there a doctor on the
_Sachem_? Mebbe he wanted the doctor to patch him up.”
“This is some interesting, pard,” said Buckhart, as they settled in the
boat and the boy pushed off. “I wonder who the chap was.”
“What did he look like?” asked Dick, directing his question toward the
rower.
“Well, from what I saw he was kind of slim and had dark eyes and hair,
and a little pointed mustache.”
“That description fits Porfias del Norte right well,” said Buckhart;
“but it can’t be the greaser, for he’s up yonder on the mountain.”
“No, it can’t be Del Norte,” agreed Dick. “We will find out very soon
who it was, for yonder lies the _Sachem_.”
As they swung in at the side of the yacht a sailor appeared and watched
them come aboard.
Dick questioned the sailor, and both boys were greatly astonished when
they were told that the man who had just preceded them was none other
than Porfias del Norte.
“He had a bad fall on the mountain, sir,” said the sailor. “His clothes
were torn, and he was cut and bruised. Said he slipped and fell over a
steep ledge.”
“Hey there!” called the boy from the boat. “When do I get that fifty
cents? You fellers clean forgot me.”
“I will pay him, Dick,” said Buckhart.
Brad paused to pay the boy, but Dick turned at once toward the main
saloon of the magnificent yacht.
The singular and unexpected return of Del Norte had filled the boy with
wonderment and speculation.
The _Sachem_ was large enough to have a number of staterooms, and Dick
turned at once toward the one occupied by Frank and himself.
To his surprise through the keyhole of the door to this room he saw a
gleam of light.
“What’s this?” he exclaimed, in a low tone. “There’s a light in that
room!”
Softly stepping to the door, he stooped and peered through the keyhole.
Some one was in the room, for he saw the person moving, but the room was
very small, and the person was so near the door that Dick could not tell
who it was.
Immediately the boy seized the knob of the door and flung it open.
Porfias del Norte himself, still wearing his torn clothing, was standing
beside the berths, on the upper one of which sat a small iron box. This
box had been opened, and in the hands of Del Norte was an outspread
paper that looked like a map.
Instantly Dick realized that the Mexican was rifling Frank’s private
papers. In some manner Del Norte had opened the iron box, and now he was
going through the papers to find the valuable ones he desired.
The opening of the door caused the rascal to wheel instantly, uttering a
suppressed exclamation.
“What are you doing?” cried Dick, lifting a hand and pointing an
accusing finger at the Mexican.
For a moment the rascal was taken aback. Then he swiftly folded the
paper and thrust it into his trousers pocket.
“I beg your pardon, young señor,” smiled Del Norte, seemingly to recover
his ease. “You startled me a trifle when you opened the door so
suddenly.”
“What are you doing, you scoundrel?” cried the boy. “Give up that
paper!”
“What paper?” asked the man, with pretended innocence.
“The one you thrust into your pocket.”
“Oh, it belongs to me. Why, what’s the matter with you? You seem greatly
agitated. Has anything happened to excite you?”
“I should say something had!” said Dick. “How dared you enter this
room?”
“This room? Why, I have a right in my own room, have I not?”
“But this is not your room.”
“Not my room?”
“You know it’s not. This room is the one occupied by my brother and
myself. How dared you enter it?”
“Is it possible I have made a mistake?” exclaimed Del Norte, lifting his
eyebrows and looking very much surprised. “Why, I really believe I have!
I trust you will pardon me.”
He made a move as if to leave the room.
“Stop!” cried Dick, planting himself squarely in the doorway. “You have
made a serious mistake, Porfias del Norte. Now I know why you were in
such great haste to reach the _Sachem_. You had a key by which you
entered this room. You had another key by which you opened my brother’s
strong box. You have stolen a paper from that box, but you must put it
back. If you refuse——”
Del Norte exposed his beautiful teeth as he laughed in the boy’s face.
“If I do not,” he purred, “if I do not put it back, what will you do,
señor?”
“I will make you!” cried Dick.
The Mexican laughed.
“Why, you child! You can’t make any one do anything! Get out of my way!”
With a stride he attempted to pass Dick. A moment later the boy grappled
with him, and a struggle began in the saloon of the _Sachem_.
“Poor fool!” snarled Del Norte, “what do you think? Do you fancy you can
interfere with me? Why, I will crush you!”
“I hardly think you will!” grated Dick, as he back-locked the man and
hurled him to the floor.
Although Dick had thrown Del Norte with comparative ease, the Mexican
was like an eel in the grasp of the boy. As Dick attempted to pin the
fellow down, he realized that he had failed and that the Mexican had
squirmed from beneath him.
Together they arose. Dick hastened, in order that the man might not get
the advantage.
By this time the look on the face of Del Norte, as revealed by the
lamplight shining from the open door of the stateroom, was one of savage
ferocity. All his smiling and sweetness had vanished, and his eyes
glared with a deadly light. His small white teeth were keen and
pantherish beyond his curling lips, which were stretched tightly over
them.
“Poor fool!” he once more snarled. “It’s your brother who nearly
destroyed me to-night! We fought up there on the mountain, and he pushed
me over the precipice! I fell through the air, feeling that my hour had
come! The horror of it is something that never touched me before. I
believed I would be killed when I struck, but I landed in the treetops,
and I was saved! Though my clothes were torn and I was bruised and
battered, not even one bone was broken!”
He panted forth these words as they were again struggling for the
mastery.
“I hate your brother!” he grated. “It will give me pleasure can I kill
you here and now! That much revenge on him will I have!”
“But you can’t do it,” said Dick, as he again wound his leg round those
of the man and started to hurl him to the floor.
As he was falling, Del Norte caught at the edge of the table, which
enabled him to turn while coming down. He had clung to Dick, and this
turn had flung the boy sidewise, Dick’s head striking a chair with great
violence.
A moment later Porfias del Norte was kneeling astride Dick Merriwell,
with his hands on the boy’s throat. As if from a great distance, the boy
heard the scoundrel saying:
“It’s my time, and this is my revenge on your brother! Now you die!”
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