FRANK MEETS A HIGHWAYMAN.
Frank passed the next day in making up for the sleep he had lost the
night before. About three o'clock in the afternoon he arose refreshed,
and visited his uncle, whom he found fast asleep. Now that Archie was
gone, the old house was quiet and lonesome--too much so, indeed, to suit
Frank, who, after trying in vain to find some way to amuse himself until
supper time, saddled Roderick, and set out for a short gallop over the
prairie. As he was about to mount his horse, Marmion came out of the
court, and frisked about his master as lively as ever, apparently none
the worse for the ugly-looking wounds he had received during his
encounter with the robber.
"Go home, sir," said Frank. "Don't you know that you are under the
doctor's care?"
If Marmion did know it, he didn't bother his head about it. He had a
will of his own; and having always been permitted to accompany his
master wherever he went, he did not feel disposed to remain behind.
Instead of obeying the command to go home, he ran on before, and Frank
made no further attempts to drive him back.
Frank, having by this time become well acquainted with the country for
twenty miles around his uncle's rancho, knew where he wanted to go, and
about an hour after he left home, he was stretched at full length beside
a spring among the mountains, where he and his friends often camped to
eat their dinner during their hunting expeditions. Roderick stood close
by, lazily cropping the grass, but Marmion was not in sight. The last
time his master saw him, he was trying to gnaw his way into a hollow log
where a rabbit had taken refuge.
Frank lay beside the spring until his increasing hunger reminded him
that it was nearly supper time, and then he mounted his horse, and
started for home. Roderick being permitted to choose his own gait,
walked slowly along a narrow bridle-path that led out of the mountains,
and Frank sat in his saddle with both hands in his pockets, his
sombrero pulled down over his eyes, and his thoughts wandering away to
the ends of the earth. He had ridden in this way about half a mile, when
he was suddenly aroused from his meditations by a commotion in the
bushes at his side, and the next moment a man sprang in front of the
horse, and seized him by the bridle.
"Pierre Costello!" exclaimed Frank, as soon as he had somewhat recovered
from his astonishment.
"Ay, it's Pierre, and no mistake," returned the Ranchero, with a
triumphant smile. "You thought I had left the country, didn't you?"
"I was in hopes you had; but I see you are still on hand, like a bad
dollar-bill."
"We are well met," continued Pierre. "I have been waiting for an
opportunity to thank you for the very friendly manner in which you
treated me last night."
"You need not have put yourself to any trouble about it. You are under
no obligations to me. As I am in something of a hurry, I will now bid
you good-by."
"Not if I know myself, and I think I do," said Pierre, with a laugh.
"You are just as impudent as ever. Climb down off that horse."
Frank's actions indicated that he did not think it best to obey this
order. He sat perfectly still in his saddle, looking at Pierre, and
wondering what he should do. He could show no weapon to intimidate the
robber, for he was entirely unarmed, not having brought even his lasso
or clasp-knife with him; while Pierre held in his hand, ready for
instant use, the bowie that had rendered him such good service during
the fight in the court. At first Frank entertained the bold idea of
riding over the Ranchero. Roderick was as quick as a flash in his
movements, and one touch of the spurs, if his rider could take Pierre
off his guard, would cause the horse to jerk the bridle from his grasp,
and before the robber could recover himself, Frank would be out of
danger. But Pierre had anticipated this movement, and he was too well
acquainted with his prisoner to relax his vigilance for an instant. More
than that, he held both the reins under Roderick's jaw with a firm
grasp, and stood in such a position that he could control the movements
of both the horse and his rider.
A moment's reflection having satisfied Frank that his idea of running
over Pierre could not be carried out, he began to look around for his
dog. But Marmion had not yet come up, and Frank was compelled to
acknowledge to himself that he was as completely in the villain's power
as he had been when Pierre had the lasso around his neck.
"Get down off that horse, I say," commanded the Ranchero.
"So you have turned highwayman, have you?" said Frank, without moving.
"Do you find it a more pleasant and profitable business than herding
cattle?"
"Are you going to get off that horse?" asked the robber, impatiently.
"What's the use? You will not find a red cent in my pockets."
"I suppose not; but if I take you with me, I'll soon find out how many
yellow boys your uncle carries in his pockets."
"If you take me with you!" repeated Frank. "What do you mean?"
"I mean just this: I shall find it exceedingly lonesome living here in
the mountains by myself, and I don't know of any one in the world I had
rather have for a companion than yourself."
"Humph!" exclaimed Frank; "that's a nice idea. I won't go."
"Of course," continued the Ranchero, not heeding the interruption, "when
you fail to make your appearance at home for three or four days, your
uncle will think he has seen the last of you. He will believe that you
have been clawed up by grizzlies, or that you have tumbled into some of
these gullies. He will raise a hue and cry, search high and low for you,
offer rewards, and all that; and, while the fuss is going on, and people
are wondering what in the world could have become of you, you will be
safe and sound, and living like a gentleman, with me, on the fat of the
land."
"But, Pierre," said Frank, now beginning to be really frightened, "I
don't want to live with you on the fat of the land, and I won't do it.
Let go that bridle."
The Ranchero, as before, paid no attention to the interruption. He
seemed to delight in tormenting his prisoner.
"After you have been with me about six months," he went on, "and your
friends have given up all hope of ever seeing you again, I'll send a
note to Mr. Winters, stating that you are alive and well, and that, if
he will give me twenty thousand dollars in gold, I will return you to
him in good order, right side up with care. If I find that we can get
along pretty well together, I may conclude to keep you a year; for the
longer you remain away from your uncle, the more he will want to see
you, and the bigger will be the pile he will give to have you brought
back. What is your opinion of that plan? Don't you think it a capital
way to raise the wind?"
Frank listened to this speech in utter bewilderment. Cruel and reckless
as he knew Pierre to be, he had never for a moment imagined that he
could be guilty of such an enormous crime as this. He did not know what
reply to make--there was nothing he could say or do. Entreaties and
resistance were alike useless.
"Well, what are you thinking about?" inquired the Ranchero.
"I was wondering if a greater villain than yourself ever lived," replied
Frank.
"We will talk about that as we go along," said Pierre. "Get off that
horse, now; I am going to send him home."
Frank, seeing no way of escape, was about to obey this order, when the
truant, Marmion, came in sight, trotting leisurely up the path, carrying
in his mouth the rabbit, which he had succeeded in gnawing out of the
log. He stopped short on discovering Pierre, dropped his game, and
gathered himself for a spring.
"Take him, Marmion!" yelled Frank, as he straightened himself up in his
saddle. "If it is all the same to you, Mr. Pierre, I'll not go to the
mountains this evening."
The Ranchero did not wait to receive the dog. He was an arrant coward,
and, more than that, he stood as much in fear of Marmion as if he had
been a bear or panther. Uttering a cry of terror, he dropped the bridle,
and, with one bound, disappeared in the bushes. Marmion followed close
at his heels, encouraged by terrific yells from his master, who, now
that his dog was neither bound nor muzzled, looked upon the capture of
the robber as a thing beyond a doubt. There was a loud crashing and
snapping in the bushes, as the pursuer and pursued sped on their way,
and presently another loud yell of terror, mingled with an angry growl,
told Frank that the dog had come up with Pierre.
"He is caught at last," thought our hero; "how shall I get him home?
that's the question. How desperately he fights," he added, as the
commotion in the bushes increased, and the yells and growls grew louder.
"But he'll find it's no use, for he can't whip that dog, if he has got a
knife. Now, I ought to have a rope. I'll ride up the path, and see if I
can find Pierre's horse; and, if I can, I'll take his lasso and tie the
rascal hand and foot."
Frank galloped up the path a short distance, but could see nothing of
the horse. The Ranchero had, doubtless, left him in the bushes, and
Frank was about to dismount and go in search of him, when, to his utter
astonishment, he saw Pierre coming toward him. His face was badly
scratched; his jacket and shirt had disappeared altogether; his breast
and arms were covered with blood, and so was his knife, which he still
held in his hand. But, where was Marmion, that he was not following up
his enemy? The answer was plain. The dog had been worsted in his
encounter with the robber, and Frank was left to fight his battles
alone. He thought no more of taking Pierre a prisoner to the rancho. All
he cared for now was to escape.
"Well, now, it was good of you not to run away when you had the chance,"
said the Ranchero, who appeared to be quite as much surprised at seeing
Frank as the latter had been at seeing him.
"If I had thought that you could get away from that dog, I should have
been a mile from here by this time," replied Frank. "I was looking for
your horse, and, if I had found him, I should have gone to Marmion's
assistance."
"Well, he needed you bad enough," said Pierre, with a laugh. "I have
fixed him this time."
"You have!" cried Frank, his worst suspicions confirmed. "Is Marmion
dead?"
"Dead as a door-nail. Now we must be off; we have wasted too much time
already."
If the Ranchero supposed that Frank would allow himself to be captured a
second time, he was sadly mistaken. The boy was free, and he determined
to remain so.
"Pierre," said he, filled with rage at the words of the robber, "I may
have a chance to square accounts with you some day, and if I do I'll
remember that you killed my dog."
"Come, now, no nonsense," said the Ranchero, gruffly. "You are my
prisoner, you know."
"I think not. Stand where you are; don't come a step nearer."
While this conversation was going on, Pierre had been walking slowly up
the path, and, as Frank ceased speaking, he made a sudden rush,
intending to seize Roderick by the bridle. But his rider was on the
alert. Gathering his reins firmly in his hands, he dashed his spurs into
the flanks of his horse, which sprang forward like an arrow from a bow,
and thundered down the path toward Pierre, who turned pale with terror.
"Out of the way, you villain, or I'll ride you down," shouted Frank.
This was very evident to the Ranchero, who, seizing upon the only chance
for escape offered him, plunged head-foremost into the bushes. He barely
missed being run down, for Roderick flew by before he was fairly out of
the path, and, by the time he had recovered his feet, Frank was out of
sight.
When Frank reached home, he shed a great many tears over Marmion's
untimely death; but, as it happened, it was grief wasted. One morning,
about a week after his adventure with the highwayman, while Frank and
Archie were out for their morning's ride, a sorry-looking object crawled
into the court, and thence into the office, where Mr. Winters was busy
at his desk. "Mad dog!" shouted the gentleman, when he discovered the
intruder; and, springing to his feet, he lifted his chair over his head,
and was in the very act of extinguishing the last spark of life left in
the poor brute, when the sight of a collar he wore around his neck
arrested his hand. It was no wonder that Uncle James had not recognized
the animal, for he looked very unlike the lively, well-conditioned dog
which Frank was wont to regard as the apple of his eye. But,
nevertheless, it was Marmion, or, rather, all that was left of him. He
had been severely wounded, and was nearly starved; but he received the
best of care, and it was not long before he was as savage and full of
fight as ever. Although he had failed to capture the robber, he had
rendered his master a most important service, and no one ever heard him
find fault with Marmion after that.
Frank's reputation was by this time firmly established, and he was the
lion of the settlement. Dick Lewis was prouder than ever of him. Of
course, he called him a "keerless feller," and read him several long
lectures, illustrating them by incidents drawn from his own experience.
He related the story of Frank's adventures with the robber every time he
could induce any one to listen to it, and ever afterward called him "the
boy that fit that ar' Greaser." Old Bob Kelly beamed benevolently upon
him every time they met, and more than once told his companion that the
"youngster would make an amazin' trapper;" and that, in Dick's
estimation, was a compliment worth all the rest.
Meanwhile, the country had been made exceedingly unsafe for Pierre
Costello. The neighbors had turned out in force, every nook and corner
of the mountains for miles around had been searched, and a large reward
offered for the robber's apprehension; but it was all in vain. Nothing
more had been heard of Pierre, and Frank hoped that he had seen him for
the last time. Fate, however, had decreed that he was to have other
adventures with the highwayman.