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[Illustration: "'What's that!' howled the little professor, dancing
about in his night robe." (See page 109)]
Frank Merriwell Down South
BY
BURT L. STANDISH
AUTHOR OF "Frank Merriwell's School-Days," "Frank Merriwell's Chums,"
"Frank Merriwell's Foes," etc.
PHILADELPHIA DAVID McKAY, PUBLISHER 610 SOUTH WASHINGTON SQUARE
Copyright, 1903 By STREET & SMITH
Frank Merriwell Down South
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I--A Wonderful Story 7
II--Gone 13
III--Held for Ransom 19
IV--Unmasked 27
V--Kidnaped 31
VI--Carried into the Mountains 37
VII--The Camp in the Desert 42
VIII--The Treasure Seeker 46
IX--The Professor's Escape 51
X--The Stranger 57
XI--The Awakening Volcano 62
XII--Doom of the Silver Palace 68
XIII--A Stampede in a City 75
XIV--The Hot Blood of Youth 80
XV--Mystery of the Flower Queen 85
XVI--Professor Scotch Feels Ill 90
XVII--Led into a Trap 95
XVIII--Barney on Hand 100
XIX--A Humble Apology 106
XX--The Professor's Courage 111
XXI--Frank's Bold Move 116
XXII--The Queen is Found 121
XXIII--Fighting Lads 127
XXIV--End of the Search 132
XXV--The Mysterious Canoe 138
XXVI--Still More Mysterious 144
XXVII--In the Everglades 149
XXVIII--The Hut on the Island 155
XXIX--A Wild Night in the Swamp 160
XXX--Frank's Shot 165
XXXI--Young in Years Only 170
XXXII--A Mysterious Transformation 177
XXXIII--Gage Takes a Turn 181
XXXIV--A Fearful Fate 186
XXXV--The Serpent Vine 192
XXXVI--Right or Wrong 196
XXXVII--Frank's Mercy 200
XXXVIII--In the Mountains Again 206
XXXIX--Frank and Kate 212
XL--A Jealous Lover 218
XLI--Facing Death 222
XLII--Muriel 228
XLIII--Saved! 240
XLIV--Frank's Suspicion 248
XLV--The Greatest Peril 257
XLVI--The Mystery of Muriel 263
[Transcriber's Note: The following list of illustrations has been
created for this electronic edition. Some illustrations have been moved
to positions closer to their appearance in the text.]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"'What's that!' howled the little professor, dancing
about in his night robe." (See page 109)
"Frank began shooting, and his first bullet brought
down one of the ponies of the pursuers." (See page 14)
"The white canoe had stopped, and was lying calmly on
the inky surface of the shadowed water." (See page 147)
"Kate grasped the assailant by the collar, and with
astonishing strength, pulled him off the prostrate
lad." (See page 218)
Frank Merriwell Down South.
CHAPTER I.
A WONDERFUL STORY.
"It is in the heart of the Sierra Madre range, one hundred and
twenty-five miles west of Zacatecas," said the dying man. "Across the
blue chasm you can see its towers and turrets glistening in the
sunshine. It is like a beautiful dream--dazzling, astounding, grand!"
"He wanders in his mind," softly declared Professor Scotch. "Poor
fellow! His brain was turned and he was brought to his death by his
fruitless search for the mythical Silver Palace."
The man who lay on a bed of grass in one corner of the wretched adobe
hut turned a reproachful look on the little professor.
"You are wrong," he asserted, in a voice that seemed to have gained
strength for the moment. "I am not deranged--I am not deceived by an
hallucination. With my eyes I have seen the wonderful Silver
Palace--yes, more than that, I have stood within the palace and beheld
the marvelous treasures which it contains."
The professor turned away to hide the look on his face, but Frank
Merriwell, deeply interested, bent over the unfortunate man, asking:
"By what route can this wonderful palace be reached?"
"There is no route. Between us and the Silver Palace lie waterless
deserts, great mountains, and, at last, a yawning chasm, miles in width,
miles in depth. This chasm extends entirely round the broad plateau on
which the wonderful palace stands like a dazzling dream. The bottom of
the chasm is hidden by mists which assume fantastic forms, and whirl and
sway and dash forward and backward, like battling armies. Indians fear
the place; Mexicans hold it in superstitious horror. It is said that
these mist-like forms are the ghosts of warriors dead and gone, a
wonderful people who built the Silver Palace in the days of
Cortez--built it where the Spaniard could not reach and despoil it."
Despite his doubts, the professor was listening with strong interest to
this remarkable tale.
The fourth person in the hut was the Dutch boy, Hans Dunnerwust, who sat
on the ground, his back against the wall, his jaw dropped and his eyes
bulging. Occasionally, as he listened to the words of the dying man, he
would mutter:
"Chimminy Gristmas!"
For several weeks Frank Merriwell, our hero, Hans, his chum, and
Professor Scotch, his guardian, had been exploring the country around
the city of Mendoza, Mexico. They had come to Mexico after having
numerous adventures in our own country, as related in "Frank Merriwell
Out West," a former volume of this series.
Only a short hour before they had run across the sufferer, whose head
seemed so full of the things he had seen at what he called the Silver
Palace. They had found him almost dead in a hut at the edge of a sandy
plain, suffering great pain and calling loudly for aid. They had done
what they could, and then he had begun to talk, as related above.
With surprising strength the man on the bed of grass sat up, stretching
out his hands, gazing across the sunlit sand-plain beyond the open door
of the hut, and went on:
"I see it now--I see it once again! There, there--see it gleaming like a
dazzling diamond in the sunshine! See its beautiful towers and turrets!
That dome is of pure gold! Within those walls are treasures untold!
There are great vaults of gold and silver ornaments, bars and ingots!
There are precious stones in profusion! And all this treasure would make
a thousand men rich for life! But it's not for me--it's lost to me
forever!"
With a stifled moan, he fell back into Frank's arms, and was lowered on
the bed of grass.
Professor Scotch hastily felt the man's pulse, listened for the beating
of his heart, and then cried:
"Quick, Frank--the brandy! It may be too late, but we'll try to give him
a few more minutes of life."
"That's right!" palpitated Frank. "Bring him back to consciousness, for
we have not yet learned how to reach the Silver Palace."
"There is no such place as the Silver Palace," sharply declared the
professor, as he forced a few drops of brandy between the lips of the
unfortunate man. "The fellow has dreamed it."
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps! Why, Frank, I took you for a boy of more sense! Think--think
of the absurdity! It is impossible!"
"It may be."
"I know it is."
"Vell, maype you don'd nefer peen misdooken, brofessor?" insinuated
Hans, recovering for a moment from his dazed condition.
The professor did not notice the Dutch boy's words, for the man on the
bed of grass drew a long, fluttering breath and slowly opened his eyes.
"I thought I saw the palace once more," he whispered. "It was all a
delusion."
"That is true," nodded the professor, "it is all a delusion. Such a
place as this Silver Palace is an absurd impossibility. The illness
through which you have passed has affected your mind, and you dreamed of
the palace."
"It is not so!" returned the man, reproachfully. "I have proof! You
doubt me--you will not believe?"
"Be calm--be quiet," urged the professor. "This excitement will cut your
life short by minutes, and minutes are precious to you now."
"That is true; minutes are precious," hastily whispered the man. "It is
not the fever I am dying of--no, no! The water from the spring you may
see behind the hut--it has destroyed many people. This morning, before
you came, a peon found me here. He told me--he said the spring was
poison. The water robs men of strength--of life. I could not understand
him well. He went away and left me. I could see him running across the
desert, as if from a plague. And now I am dying--dying!"
"But the Silver Palace?" observed Frank Merriwell. "You are forgetting
that."
"Yah," nodded the Dutch lad; "you peen forgetting dot, ain'd id?"
"The proof," urged Frank. "You say you have proof."
"Yah," put in Hans; "you say you haf der broof. Vere id peen?"
"It is here," declared the unfortunate, as he fumbled beneath the straw.
"You are my countrymen--you have been kind to me. Alwin Bushnell may
never return. It is terrible to think all that treasure may be
lost--lost forever!"
"Who is Alwin Bushnell?"
"My partner--the one who was with me when I found the palace."
"Where is he now?"
"Heaven knows! He went for another balloon."
"Another balloon?"
"Yes; it was with the aid of a balloon that we reached the Silver
Palace. Without it we could not have crossed the gulf."
"Absurd!" muttered the professor.
Despite the fact that the word was merely murmured, the miserable man on
the bed of grass did not fail to catch it.
"Oh, I will convince even you!" he exclaimed, gasping for breath, and
continuing to fumble beneath the straw. "You shall see--you shall know!
But our balloon--we had no means of obtaining a further supply of gas.
It was barely sufficient to take us across the gulf, with a few pieces
of treasure. We struck against the side of the bluff--we were falling
back into the abyss! Barely were we able to scramble out of the car and
cling to the rocks. Then we saw the balloon rise a little, like a bird
freed of burden; but it suddenly collapsed, fluttered downward, and the
mists leaped up and clutched it like a thousand exulting demons,
dragging it down from our sight. We crawled up from the rocks, but it
was a close call--a close call."
He lay exhausted, his eyes closed, his hand ceasing to fumble beneath
the straw. Once more Professor Scotch gave him a little of the brandy.
Frank Merriwell was more than interested; he could feel his heart
trembling with excitement. Something seemed to tell him that this man
was speaking the truth, and he was eager to hear more.
For a long time the unfortunate lay gasping painfully for breath, but,
at last, he was easier. He opened his eyes, and saw Frank watching him
steadily, with an anxious expression.
"Ah!" he murmured, exultantly, "you believe me--you do not doubt! I must
tell you everything. You shall be Jack Burk's heir. Think of it--heir to
wealth enough to make you richer than Monte Cristo! Witness--witness
that I make this boy my heir!"
He turned to the professor and Hans, and both bowed, the former saying:
"We are witnesses."
"Good! We escaped with our lives, but we brought little of the treasure
with us. I was determined to find the way back there, and I made a map.
See, here it is."
He thrust a soiled and crumpled piece of paper into Frank's hand, and
the boy saw there were lines and writing on it.
"How we found our way out of the mountains, how we endured the heat of
the desert I cannot tell," went on the weak voice of the man on the bed
of straw. "We reached Zacatecas, and then Bushnell went for another
balloon. He knows friends who have money and power, and he will get the
balloon--if he lives."
"But the proof--the proof that you were going to show us?"
"It is here! Look!"
From beneath the straw Jack Burk drew forth a queer little figure of
solid gold--a figure like the pictures of Aztec gods, which Frank had
seen.
"This is proof!" declared the man. "It is some of the treasure we
brought from the palace. Bushnell took the rest."
The professor excitedly grasped the little image, and gazed searchingly
at it.
"It is all right--it is genuine!" he finally exclaimed.
"Of course it is genuine!" said the man on the bed of grass. "And there
are more in the Silver Palace. There the treasures of the Aztecs were
hidden, and they have remained. The country all around is full of fierce
natives, who hold the palace in awe and prevent others from reaching it.
They have kept the secret well, but----"
"Vot vos dot?" interrupted Hans.
At some distance on the plain outside the hut were wildly galloping
horses, for they could hear hoof-beats and loud cries. Then came a
fusillade of pistol shots!
[Illustration: "Frank began shooting, and his first bullet brought down
one of the ponies of the pursuers." (See page 14)]