LED INTO A TRAP.
Frank ate alone, and went forth alone to see the parade. The professor
remained in bed, apparently in a state of utter collapse.
The night after Mardi Gras in New Orleans the Krewe of Proteus holds its
parade and ball. The parade is a most dazzling and magnificent
spectacle, and the ball is no less splendid.
The streets along which the parade must pass were lined with a dense
mass of people on both sides, while windows and balconies were filled.
Shortly after the appointed time the parade started.
It consisted of a series of elaborate and gorgeous floats, the whole
forming a line many blocks in length.
Hundreds of flaring torches threw their lights over the moving
_tableau_, and it was indeed a splendid dream.
Never before had Frank seen anything of the kind one-half as beautiful,
and he was sincerely glad they had reached the Crescent City in time to
be present at Mardi Gras.
The stampede of the Texan steers and the breaking up of the parade that
day had made a great sensation in New Orleans. Every one had heard of
the peril of the Flower Queen, and how she was rescued by a handsome
youth who was said to be a visitor from the North, but whom nobody
seemed to know.
Now, the Krewe of Proteus was composed entirely of men, and it was their
policy to have nobody but men in their parade. These men were to dress
as fairies of both sexes, as they were required to appear in the
_tableau_ of "Fairyland."
But the managers of the affair had conceived the idea that it would be a
good scheme to reconstruct the wrecked flower barge and have the Queen
of Flowers in the procession.
But the Queen of Flowers seemed to be a mystery to every one, and the
managers knew not how to reach her. They made many inquiries, and it
became generally known that she was desired for the procession.
Late in the afternoon the managers received a brief note, purporting to
be from the Flower Queen, assuring them that she would be on hand to
take part in the evening parade.
The flower barge was put in repair, and piled high with the most
gorgeous and dainty flowers, and, surmounting all, was a throne of
flowers.
Before the time for starting the mysterious masked queen and her
attendants in white appeared.
When the procession passed along the streets the queen was recognized
everywhere, and the throngs cheered her loudly.
But, out of the thousands, hundreds were heard to say:
"Where is the strange youth who saved her from the mad steer? He should
be on the same barge."
Frank's heart leaped as he saw the mysterious girl in the procession.
"There she is!" was his thought. "How can I follow her? How can I trace
her and find out who she is?"
As the barge came nearer, he forced his way to the very edge of the
crowd that lined the street, without having decided what he would do,
but hoping she would see and recognize him.
When the barge was almost opposite, he stepped out a little from the
line and lifted his hat.
She saw him!
In a moment, as if she had been looking for him, she caught the crown of
flowers from her head and tossed them toward him, crying:
"For the hero!"
He caught them skillfully with his right hand, his hat still in his
left. And the hot blood mounted to his face as he saw her tossing kisses
toward him with both hands.
"What's it mean?" asked a spectator.
"Don't know," answered another.
But a third cried:
"I'll tell you what it means! That young fellow is the one who saved the
Queen of Flowers from the mad steer! I know him, for I saw him do it,
and I observed his face."
"That explains why she flung her crown to him and called him the hero."
"Yes, that explains it."
"Three cheers for the hero!"
"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"
The crowd burst into wild cheering, and there was a general struggle to
get a fair view of Frank Merriwell, who had suddenly become the object
of attention, the splendors of the parade being forgotten for the time.
Frank was confused and bewildered, and he sought to get away as quickly
as possible, hoping to follow the Queen of Flowers. But he found his way
blocked on every hand, and a hundred voices seemed to be asking:
"What's your name?"
"Where do you belong?"
"Won't you please tell us your name?"
"Haven't I seen you in New York?"
"Aren't you from Chicago?"
Somewhat dazed though he was, Frank noted that, beyond a doubt, the ones
who were so very curious and who so rudely demanded his name were
visitors in New Orleans. More than that, from their appearance, they
were people who would not think of such acts at home, but now were eager
to know the Northern lad who by one nervy and daring act had made
himself generally talked about in a Southern city.
Some of the women declared he was "So handsome!" and "So manly!" to
Frank's increasing dismay.
"I'd give a hundred dollars to get out of this!" he thought.
He must have spoken the words aloud, although he was not aware of it,
for a voice at his elbow, low and musical, said:
"Come dis-a-way, senor, an' I will tek yo' out of it."
Frank saw Manuel Mazaro close at hand. The Spaniard--for such Mazaro
was--bowed gracefully, and smiled pleasantly upon the boy from the
North.
A moment Frank hesitated, and then he said:
"Lead on; I'll follow."
Quickly Mazaro skirted the edge of the throng for a short distance,
plunged into the mass, made sure Frank was close behind, and then
forced his way through to a doorway.
"Dis-a way," he invited.
Frank hesitated.
"Where does it lead?"
"Through a passage to annodare street, senor."
Frank felt his revolver in his pocket, and he knew it was loaded for
instant use.
"I want to get ahead of this procession--I want to see the Queen of
Flowers again."
"I will tek yo' there, senor."
"Lead on."
Frank passed his hand through the crown of flowers, to which he still
clung. Without being seen, he took his revolver from his pocket, and
held it concealed in the mass of flowers. It was a self-cocker, and he
could use it skillfully.
As Mazaro had said, the doorway led into a passage. This was very
narrow, and quite dark.
No sooner were they fairly in this place than Frank regretted that he
had come, for he realized that it was a most excellent chance for
assassination and robbery.
His one fear was of being attacked behind. He was quite ready for any
that might rise in front.
"Dis-a way, senor," Mazaro kept repeating. "Dis-a way."
Frank fancied the fellow was speaking louder than was necessary. In
fact, he could not see that it was necessary for Mazaro to speak at all.
And then the boy was sure he heard footsteps behind them!
He was caught between two fires--he was trapped!
Frank's first impulse was to leap forward, knock Mazaro down, and take
to his heels, keeping straight on through the passage.
A second thought followed the first quite swiftly.
He knew not where the passage led, and he knew not what pitfalls it
might contain.
At that moment Frank felt a thrill of actual fear, nervy though he was;
but he understood that he must not let fear get the best of him, and he
instantly flung it off.
His ears were open, his eyes were open, and every sense was on the
alert.
"Let them come!" he almost exclaimed, aloud. "I will give them a warm
reception!"
Then he noticed that they passed a narrow opening, like a broken door,
and, the next moment he seemed to feel cat-like footfalls at his very
heels.
In a twinkling Frank whirled about, crying:
"Hold up where you are! I am armed, and I'll shoot if crowded!"
He had made no mistake, for his eyes had grown accustomed to the
darkness of the passage, and he could see three dark figures blocking
his retreat along the passage.
For one brief second his eyes turned the other way, and it seemed that
Manuel Mazaro had been joined by two or three others, for he saw several
forms in that direction.
This sudden action of the trapped boy had filled these fellows with
surprise and dismay, and curses of anger broke from their lips, the
words being hissed rather than spoken.
Frank knew he must attract attention in some way, and so of a sudden he
fired a shot into the air.
The flash of his revolver showed him several dark, villainous faces.
"Upon him!" cried Mazaro, in Spanish. "Be quick about it!"
"Back!" shouted Frank, lifting the revolver. "I'll not waste another
bullet!"
"Thot's th' talk, me laddybuck!" rang out a familiar voice. "Give th'
spalpanes cold lead, an' plinty av it, Frankie! O'im wid yez!"
"Barney Mulloy!" Frank almost screamed, in joyous amazement.